The medicine-feeding process went exceptionally smoothly this time.
Without prompting, Michael took the numbered potion bottle and drank it down in big gulps. His expression gradually contorted — the potion clearly tasted as awful as ever — but he didn't waste a single drop.
He even smacked his lips after finishing it and remarked, "Good medicine."
His words might have been more convincing if his face hadn't turned a sickly greenish-black, his features scrunched together like a prune. With that expression and his comment about "good medicine", he could have passed for a poison connoisseur.
Kyle couldn't fathom what was going through his mind — this must be what they call pleasure through pain.
✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭
As the weather warmed up, the Quidditch season passed its halfway point.
Gryffindor held the lead in both victories and points, though Hufflepuff followed close behind with only a narrow gap between them.
Slytherin lagged in third place with significantly fewer points, having been hit with specially-made dungbombs that left them involuntarily gagging at the mere sight of broomsticks for weeks.
After the Christmas holidays, though, they had recovered and were now frantically scoring points in matches, attempting to close the gap with the top teams.
True to Slytherin tradition, they couldn't resist playing dirty during matches. In a recent game, they knocked Gryffindor's Chaser Angelina off her broom.
"This isn't over, Rozier." Charlie said menacingly as he helped Angelina off the field, "We'll see about this."
Rozier just shot Charlie a provocative look, seemingly unconcerned.
However, at dinner that same day, owls dropped over twenty broomstick-shaped packages onto the Slytherin table.
Rozier's face turned green immediately. The Gryffindors made no attempt to hide their involvement — led by Fred and George, they loudly urged him to open the packages to see their carefully prepared surprise.
This quickly caught Professor Snape's attention. After hearing from one of his little snakes about the commotion in the Great Hall, he came storming in, his cloak billowing behind him.
"What dungbombs? I don't know what you're talking about, Professor." Charlie said innocently, "Those are just fireworks we specially ordered to celebrate Slytherin's victory in today's match."
"Just fireworks?" Snape clearly didn't believe it.
"Of course. Rozier is a worthy opponent who won beautifully, so naturally I wanted to congratulate him." Charlie grinned, "What, doesn't he like his gift?"
Since he would be graduating next year to study in Romania, he wasn't as nervous around this professor as the others were.
Snape's expression darkened as he drew his wand and opened the packages in front of everyone.
Just as Charlie had said, they were indeed fireworks. When opened, gold and red sparks shot up to the ceiling, then exploded with a boom, forming the word "VICTORY" in mid-air.
Still, he deducted ten points from Gryffindor, citing disturbance in the Great Hall and disrespect toward a professor.
But the Gryffindors didn't care. Their house points were almost down to single digits now. Unless they could somehow earn five hundred points at term's end, they had no hope for the House Cup.
So the lions and cubs collectively decided to… give up!
As the saying goes, giving up feels good for a moment, but perseverance feels good forever. Yet the Gryffindor students suddenly discovered how enjoyable life at Hogwarts could be.
Just like now — even when Snape deducted points with such a ridiculous excuse, they didn't feel the slightest bit upset.
George even tempted fate by saying, "I think disrespecting a professor is a very serious offense. You should deduct thirty points from us."
His logic was simple: since they couldn't get first place, they might as well aim for the opposite — the lowest score possible.
Notoriety was still a form of fame, after all.
Snape's expression darkened further.
He wanted to grant George's request, but the Gryffindor hourglass held only a thin layer of gems — probably worth about twenty points.
He couldn't empty it completely — he had to consider Professor McGonagall's feelings.
Besides, he still needed the Deputy Headmistress's signature on his potion ingredients requisition forms, so he had to think about his private stores.
"You're right, Mr. Weasley." Snape said with a sinister look at George, "But instead of deducting points, let's make it detention. You'll go to the Potions classroom tonight and clean all the old cauldrons. Remember, by hand only, no wands allowed. Filch will be watching you."
The smile froze on George's face.
He remained in a daze even after Snape left the Great Hall.
"Merlin's flowered socks, detention? For what?"
"Because he's a professor." Fred patted George's shoulder sympathetically, "Look on the bright side, it's only one night."
"You'll help me, right?" George asked hopefully.
Fred fell silent, clearly unwilling.
"Percy?"
"..."
"Charlie!"
"..."
No one responded.
Years of brotherly bonds seemed so fragile in the face of detention. George was almost in tears, feeling the world turn gray around him.
"Ahem..." Just as he was getting deeper into his act, Charlie gave him an exasperated tap on the head, "Enough pretending. Don't think I don't know about the auto-cleaning kit you and Fred have hidden away."
George's almost-tears vanished instantly, replaced by his familiar grin, showing no trace of his previous distress.
"You're no fun, Charlie."
As the students with the most detentions under their belts, the twins naturally came prepared. The auto-cleaning kit was specifically for detention tasks involving "cleaning things" — cauldrons included, of course.
"But I have to say, your method really worked well." Charlie said, looking at the scattered wrapping paper, "I can't believe Rozier was so scared he dropped his plate. Why was that anyway?"
"That's a secret." George and Fred said in unison, winking without revealing more.
Fortunately, Charlie wasn't particularly curious, so when the twins didn't want to explain, he didn't press the issue.
As long as they had a way to deal with Slytherin, that was good enough.
✭✭✭
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