On the Wednesday after Christmas, Harry soon had another Potions lesson taught by Horace Slughorn.

This made Harry somewhat look forward to it, because he might finally have the opportunity to bring up the matter of asking Horace Slughorn to teach him Occlumency once again in front of Horace Slughorn.

Maybe it was discussed with Tierra, maybe it was just his own whim or whim, Horace Slughorn also decided to take a quiz after Christmas—

Horace Slughorn announced the news last Wednesday, the first class after Christmas, and said that there would be a quiz for everyone in this class.

The quizzes are on everyone's desks the moment they step into the classroom—

There are two groups of people, and each group has a glass bottle filled with medicines of different colors on the test bench.

Their task today is to spend one class time brewing an antidote that can undo the toxicity of the poison on the table.

Harry was so annoyed by this unrestrained, free and unscrupulous way of testing that he uncapped the bottle of poison that was on his and Ron's bench, the color of a tacky pink fruit drink, and poured it into the cauldron. And a fire was lit below.

He doesn't have any idea of ​​what to do next. He glanced at Ron, who stood there imitating everything Harry did, looking even clumsier.

"Are you sure the Prince didn't have any hints?" Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry pulled out his trusty old copy of Advanced Potion-Making and turned to the chapter on antidotes. It's all the third rule of Gretel, just like Hermione has memorized it, and the prince didn't write a word to suggest that it has no different understanding.

"Nothing," Harry said dejectedly.

Hermione was feverishly casting a spell on her cauldron.

Unfortunately, they couldn't imitate her spells, because she's pretty good at silent spells now, where she doesn't have to say them out loud.

However, a Hufflepuff girl, Arnos muttered loudly into her cauldron: "Special boiling!"

It sounded impressive, so Harry and Ron hurried to imitate her.

Five minutes later, Harry realized that the voice calling him the best potion maker in the class would ring in his ears.

Slugger looked hopefully into his cauldron on his first round of the dungeon, ready to exclaim with delight as usual, but he turned his head hastily and coughed because there was no A trace of pride.

He hated not being able to finish every Potions class.

Hermione, who was packing her mysterious potion ingredients into ten different vials, seemed to have a clue.

In order not to watch this irritating scene, Harry took out the Half-Blood Prince's book again and flipped back a few pages meaninglessly.

Under the long list of antidotes, some words were scrawled:

"Just shove bezoar down their throats."

Harry stared at the words for a moment.

Has he ever heard of something called bezoar before?

ah! correct!

Harry suddenly remembered the dozen notebooks that Tierra had stuffed into him before Potions class in the first grade. There seemed to be such a sentence on it—

"A stone taken from the stomach of a cow will cure most poisons."

This wasn't answering Grebaut's question, Harry wouldn't have dared to do that had Snape been their teacher, but now was the time to use desperate methods.

He needs the favor of Horace Slughorn—

At least for this class.

Harry looked around helplessly—

He didn't see Tierra in today's Potions class.

To be precise, he hadn't seen Tierra in any class other than Dark Arts since Christmas.

If it wasn't for Professor Tierra who was still taking breakfast, lunch and dinner step by step in the Hogwarts auditorium, Harry would have thought that Tierra had all left Hogwarts.

But this is not a world where Harry has time to think about where Tierra has gone. The time for this small assessment is coming soon. Harry hurried to the storage cabinet, rummaged around in it, and took the unicorn horn. Pushing aside the messy herbs, he found a cardboard box at the very back with "bezoar" scrawled on it.

"Time's up!" Horace Slughorn said cheerfully. "Okay, students, let us see your results! Ballas... what have you done?"

Horace Slughorn moved slowly around the room, examining the various antidotes.

No one had finished the job, though Hermione tried to add some more ingredients to the bottle before Slugger came.

Ron gave up completely, he was just trying to avoid breathing in the strong putrid smell coming from his cauldron.

Harry stood waiting, bezoar clutched tightly in his hand.

Horace Slughorn reached their table last.

He belittled Ernos's potion and grimaced as he passed Ron.

He didn't stop at Ron's cauldron for even a second, and quickly left with his back turned, looking disgusted.

"And you, Harry," he said, "what will you show me?"

Harry held out his hand, the bezoar in the palm of his hand.

Horace Slughorn stared at it for ten seconds.

Harry was waiting for Horace Slughorn's criticism to come, but soon—

He turned his head and laughed out loud.

"Son, UU Reading www.uukanshu.com is very good... very good...you are very courageous!" Horace Slughorn announced loudly, and raised his bezoar to let the whole class See. "Oh, you're just like your mother...I can't blame you...Bezoar does act as an antidote for these potions!"

Hermione looked livid, her face beaded with sweat and her nose was covered in soot.

She was halfway through the antidote, using fifty-two materials including some of her own hair, watching Harry intently behind Slugger.

"You, quite, thought of using bezoar yourself, didn't you, Harry?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth.

"That's the personal energy a true potion maker needs!" said Horace Slughorn cheerfully before Harry had a chance to answer. "Like her mother, she has the same thoughts and instincts when it comes to potions, no doubt he inherited it from Lily... yes, Harry, yes, if you have bezoar in your hand, of course that's a trick ...but they don't work for everything, and they're so rare, it's still worth learning how to mix antidotes..."

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