Chapter 64: Mysterious Potion

“Oh, are you alright, Wizard Sean?”

Justin’s voice rang out.

In truth, Wizard Sean wasn’t doing well—he felt as if he had already seen what was about to happen.

He silently shifted his position, then heard a murmur:

“What’s Seamus trying to do, Ron?”

He’s trying to conjure wine into the goblet—he managed light tea the other day, but then…

“Then?”

Suddenly, a massive, scorching black smoke erupted, engulfing Seamus entirely.

Shattered glass shards and droplets flew everywhere; the young witches and wizards around them screamed and scrambled back.

Hermione recoiled in terror, eyes wide.

The smoke slowly cleared, revealing Seamus’s condition.

His face was pitch black, as if he’d just crawled out of a chimney; his hair stood on end, still smoking in thin wisps.

He coughed uncontrollably, his gaze vacant—clearly stunned by the sudden failure.

A moment of silence swept across the long table, then erupted into roaring laughter.

Ron laughed so hard he pounded the table, spilling pumpkin juice;

Harry also couldn’t suppress his grin and quickly lowered his head to hide it.

Only Justin stepped forward quickly and handed him a handkerchief:

“Are you alright, Seamus?”

At that moment, owls flooded the Great Hall as usual, delivering letters and diverting everyone’s attention.

Only Hermione regarded Wizard Sean with suspicion:

“Did you feel that magic?”

…

Since Professor Snape had given Wizard Sean that magical potion,

every time Wizard Sean left the dungeon, another bottle—or sometimes two—would appear on him,

with annotations occasionally reading: Drink;

sometimes nothing at all.

But if Wizard Sean brought a full crystal vial of potion into the dungeon, Professor Snape’s mockery would rain down like a machine gun’s barrage.

The Swelling Potion progressed quickly—it was unlocked in less than two days,

and simultaneously, Professor Snape taught Wizard Sean how to brew the Shrinking Potion,

because:

“With your troll-like technique, you’ll need it.”

Regardless, Wizard Sean had learned another potion.

The interface updated to:

【Title: Potion Novice】

【Wart-Curing Potion: Apprentice Level (220/300)】

【Swelling Potion: Apprentice Level (1/300)】

【Shrinking Potion: Locked (1/30)】

【Advancement: Three beginner-level potions unlock the Beginner Potion Domain title】

Compared to the slow, steady progress in Potions, his progress in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms had accelerated significantly.

Tuesday.

Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“N-now, who can t-tell me three types of T-trolls?”

Professor Quirrell stammered, his fearful gaze sweeping over the Slytherins and Ravenclaws,

until Anthony stood up:

“Mountain trolls, River trolls, and Sea trolls.”

He replied,

“Mountain trolls are the largest, with pale gray skin, bald heads, and skin rougher than a rhinoceros’s; they’re stronger than ten men combined.

But their brains are the size of peas, so they’re easily confused.”

“V-very good, thank you.”

As Professor Quirrell mechanically called on students to answer questions,

Michael was flipping through Wizard Sean’s Defense Against the Dark Arts notes.

“Classification of Dark Magical Creatures—Regional Index, Alphabetical Index… corresponding Dark Arts defense spells and counter-spells…”

He treated it like a sacred scripture,

“Wizard Sean, how did you come up with this?!”

He compared it with “Dark Forces: A Making Guide to Self-Protection” while opening Wizard Sean’s light blue notebook,

discovering that the spell section was even more detailed than the textbook,

“I guess you didn’t just rely on the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook… Good heavens! This is as astonishing as the History of Magic!”

Wizard Sean ignored him. His desk was littered with “Fundamentals of Defense Against the Dark Arts,” “Introduction to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” and other books.

Since Professor Quirrell had no teaching ability, Wizard Sean had to figure things out himself—but soon, he clarified the framework of Dark Arts.

In fact, he’d had a question in his past life:

Both Dark Arts and Charms used incantations and wand movements,

so why were they so distinctly separated?

Later, after synthesizing multiple books, he found the answer.

Charms and Dark Arts were entirely different; Dark Arts were divided into three categories:

Jinxes, Hexes, and Curses.

Jinxes: Least harmful, annoying but amusing. Examples: Knockback Jinx, Multi-Shot Jinx, Disarming Jinx;

Hexes: Moderately harmful, causing noticeable pain or injury. Examples: Bat-Bogey Hex, Knee-Backwards Hex, Toenail-Growth Hex;

Curses: Most harmful, causing intense or irreversible pain or damage. Examples: Cruciatus Curse, Imperius Curse, Killing Curse.

The spells taught by Professor Flitwick belonged to another category: Charms.

Everything made sense now—this meant Dark Arts talent and Charm talent were not interchangeable.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts class,

Michael held Wizard Sean’s notes, while Terry and others stared at him eagerly.

“Cough—feel free to look—”

Michael finished speaking, and even Anthony raised an eyebrow,

“Too bad!”

Then Michael ran off, leaving behind angry young witches and wizards chasing after him.

He muttered to himself:

“Oh, these are Wizard Sean’s gold coins—he doesn’t care much, but I can’t let them go to waste,

I’ve got to help spread them around, hehe, the effect seems great…”

Then he turned and slapped Terry on the head,

“Terry, I’m sick of you—I told you Wizard Sean agreed to let you and Anthony share them,

and you just forgot?!”

…

At noon,

the Quidditch pitch.

After practicing Charms, Wizard Sean mounted his broom with practiced ease.

Once airborne, he was no longer the boy who struggled to run or jump.

The old Comet 260 leapt into the sky like a silver fish; his pale cheeks flushed red from the wind, his body pressed tightly against the broom, like a vine finding something to cling to.

Dive, turn, rise…

He meticulously followed Madam Hooch’s instructions.

His proficiency increased steadily:

【You practiced flying to expert standards—proficiency +50】

【You practiced flying to expert standards—proficiency +50】

…

His frail body traced precise, elegant arcs in the air, making Madam Hooch’s lips curl upward.

She turned to the tall witch beside her and said:

“Mr. Green is a natural-born Quidditch star—anyone can see that.

Those brooms—the outdated, obsolete ones—are more than enough for clumsy beginners,

though this boy seems content, you can see—they’re beneath him.”

The tall witch watched the boy, finally free again, her eyes softening further.