Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Snape will not really poison the students, but if he lets someone spend Christmas in bed, he can still do it.

If no qualified antidote was prepared, this risk can occur at any time.

Especially for students above the fourth year, they couldn’t miss the Yule Ball because of Snape’s poison.

“Evil, he is!” Ron said angrily in the Gryffindor Common Room. “Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying.”

“Well, you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes.

Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack, a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

“Please, Hermione, it’s Christmas,” said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.

He sat in an armchair by the fire and read “Flying with the Artillery Team” for the tenth time.

Hermione turned her head and looked severely over at him.

“Christmas?!” Hermione said, “If you don’t want to vomit and lie in bed all vacation, you have to concentrate on making antidotes according to Snape’s requirements. He’s sure to poison you, Harry, he said he would and no one can help you!”

“I know!” Harry said nonchalantly as he watched Joey Jenkins of the Cannons belt a Bludger toward a Ballycastle Bats Chaser.

“Yeah, if we can’t find a partner, maybe we shouldn’t be at that damn ball,” said Ron.

“You have to participate, Ron, you are a champion!” Hermione stared at him with anger.

“Just kidding.” Ron didn’t dare to look at Hermione. He dodged backwards to show that he knew about it.

When Hermione lowered her head again to study her Potions notes, he lowered his voice and asked Harry, “What’s the matter with her?”

Hermione looked more violent than usual, and the words “Don’t mess with me” could be read clearly off her face.

“She didn’t find a partner. I heard Evan say that they haven’t talked about this topic yet.” Harry whispered.

Ron nodded realizing what it was about. He placed the last two cards on top of the castle and, with a bang, the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows.

“Nice look, Ron … that will go well with your dress robes,” said Fred.

He and George pulled Evan over, and the three of them were just discussing new prank products and how to collect debts from Bagman.

After trying various methods that didn’t work, they finally asked Evan to help them figure it out.

Although in Evan’s opinion, it was almost impossible for them to expect Ludo Bagman to pay back the money.

Bagman had already gone bankrupt. He owed a lot of gambling debts and had no way to pay them off. With the money he owed to Fred and George, he might as well run away.

Finally, Evan helped them write a stern letter, ready to send it.

They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron touched his eyebrows to check how much he had been burned.

“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked.

“Why?!” said Ron, staring at him suspiciously.

“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically.

“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George.

“Who do you two keep writing to, eh?” asked Ron.

“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So … you lot got dates for the ball yet?”

This sentence was obviously very sensitive. Even Hermione was not pretending to read, raising her head and frowning at Fred.

“Nope,” said Ron, shaking his head, frustrated.

“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone.” Fred paused, noticed Hermione’s gaze, and had to add, “The same is true for good boys. If you don’t hurry, they’ll be chosen by others!”

“Who are you going with, then?” said Ron.

“Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

“What?!” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked her?”

“Good point,” said Frey. He turned his head and called across the Common Room. “Oi! Angelina!”

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, heard the shout and looked over at him.

“What?” she called back.

“Want to come to the ball with me?”

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look and was not shy at all.

“All right,” she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

“There you go,” said Fred to Evan, Harry, and Ron. “It’s that simple. Piece of cake.”

Under everyone’s astonished gaze, he got to his feet proudly, yawning, and said, “George, since Ron isn’t going to lend us Pigwidgeon, we’d better use a school owl, come on.”

They left, but Evan stayed and didn’t follow them.

None of the four spoke. They looked at one another for a moment and Evan noticed that Hermione was hiding from his gaze.

Then she lowered her head to study her Potions notes.

Evan wanted to say something, just like Fred, but he opened his mouth and said nothing.

Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Evan and Harry.

“Guys, we should get a move on, you know … ask someone. He’s right. We don’t want to end up dancing with a pair of trolls.”

With a thud, Hermione closed the book in her hand. She was obviously so angry that she even stuttered a little.

“Ron, what did you just say?!” she asked with a frown.

“Well … you know,” Ron shrugged and said in a clear tone. “I’d rather go alone to the ball than with … with Eloise Midgen, say. “”

“Her acne is loads better lately … and she’s really nice!”

“Come on, she’s ugly enough. It’s not just acne. I think her nose is off-center,” said Ron.

“Oh, I see, I finally understand what you guys are thinking!” Hermione was angered and stood up. “So basically, you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?”

“Well, yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron.

“Okay!” Hermione took a deep breath and said angrily, “I’m going to bed!”

She glanced at Evan and Harry, who didn’t say a word, and swept off toward the girls’ staircase without another word under their stunned gaze.

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