HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

"I believe it."

Harry lay on the ground, panting heavily. "I give up, really."

Draco crouched down beside him and poked Harry's shoulder with his wand. "Are you alright?"

The Hungarian Horned Bee Dragon was also lying to one side, tilting its head to look at Harry, its long tail covered in iron spikes tapping the ground again and again, perhaps thinking to itself whether to give Harry another blow.

Which of the two little dragons would you choose?

Harry decisively extended his hand to Draco, "Let's call it a day."

Draco pulled Harry up.

"Alright, it's been three hours already," West checked the time. "We'll continue the day after tomorrow."

The Hungarian hornet scorpion slumped back into its nest with a look of regret. Harry let out a mournful cry; when would this ever end?

"Just two more training sessions and you'll be fine. Look, you succeeded several times today." West patted Harry on the shoulder, almost knocking him to the ground.

Harry leaned against Draco and sneered, "Yes, we tried the Summoning Charm twenty-six times and succeeded three times."

West took out a healing potion and forced it down Harry's throat. "Shut up and get some rest."

Hermione had just received a lot of information from West and Snape to support her research, and was now taking notes in her notebook, full of energy.

The group returned to the cellar via the attic. After shooing the children back inside, West walked over to Snape and asked, "What would you like to eat tonight, Severus?"

"Whatever." Snape leaned back on the sofa, looking somewhat dejected.

"Hmm?" West squeezed next to Snape. "What's wrong?"

Snape looked up at him in confusion, narrowed his eyes slightly, and let out a sticky, cold snort. "What? What's wrong?"

West glanced at Snape's flushed cheeks, a dark glint in his eyes.

He moved closer, pressing his forehead against Snape's.

Snape was startled and shrank back.

"Don't move," West pulled Snape into his arms. "Severus, you have a fever."

West felt a pang of guilt. Snape had seemed to have been burning up for quite a while, and he hadn't even noticed.

"How could that be...?" Snape frowned in confusion, pursing his lips. "I'm not that weak."

This cannot be entirely blamed on West, after all, adult wizards rarely get fevers.

Snape struggled to get up, but West held him in his arms.

"What are you doing, moving around like that? You have a fever and you're still so restless," West said in a low voice.

Snape stopped struggling and looked at West incredulously. "You yelled at me?"

"It's over," West muttered, "he's going to be brain-dead from the fever."

It must be said, wizards are truly amazing.

Who would have thought that wizards didn't have any magic potions that directly worked for colds and fevers?

West sighed, coaxed Snape to eat some dinner, drink a packet of Muggle cold medicine, and then took him to bed, saying, "Get some sleep."

Snape kicked West twice in annoyance. "A wizard taking Muggle medicine? What a disgrace!"

"So what do you want to eat? A pick-me-up? Pepper mead?" West, lying next to Snape, chuckled softly upon hearing Snape's words.

Snape glared at West, thinking he was being fierce. "I can heal myself!"

"No, you can't," West interrupted Snape mercilessly. "Go to sleep."

As they talked, the cold medicine took effect, and a wave of drowsiness washed over him. Snape drifted off to sleep.

Early in the morning, Snape stared blankly at West's magnified sleeping face.

He must still be dreaming.

Snape closed his eyes, then opened them again. It was real.

Snape, his face dark, tried to get up, only to find West's arm still wrapped around his waist.

What should I do? I'm even angrier now.

West was jolted awake by a sharp pain in his arm.

He opened his eyes abruptly, and Snape withdrew his hand without any hesitation. "Get up, I have to go to class."

West, still half-asleep, raised his hand and placed the back of his hand on Snape's forehead. "Hmm... he still has a slight fever. You're not allowed to go."

Snape was speechless: "I'll just drink some energy drinks, you can relax now."

West sighed, coming to his senses. "How about this, I'll go to class for you, okay, honey?"

Snape, mouth agape in astonishment, slapped West (very lightly, just teasingly, don't be offended), "Are you awake? What did you call me?"

"...Now you're really awake." West got up resentfully. "I'm serious, you need to rest. I'm going to my Potions class."

"No, what if they misunderstand?" Snape objected.

"Severus, haven't you heard the rumors? They've been misunderstanding for a long time," the demon West whispered.

"..."

Finally, West stood in the Potions classroom as he had hoped.

The students below chattered amongst themselves, secretly glancing at Vester.

Harry and the others were shocked.

West calmly said, "Good morning, students. Because Professor Snape is not feeling well, I will be teaching this class today. Today, we will learn how to prepare an antidote..."

A few small cheers erupted from below.

The atmosphere in this class was relaxed. West seemed easy to get along with at first glance, but he was no gentler than Professor Snape; he was just as strict.

Halfway through the class, there was a knock on the door of the underground classroom, and Colin Clifton rushed into the classroom.

Colin walked to the front of the stage and curiously peeked at West.

"Sir, I need to take Harry Potter upstairs."

West seemed to already know what was going to happen, and without asking any further questions, said, "Harry, go."

Harry scratched his head, stood up, and followed Colin out of the classroom, not returning until the end of get out of class.

West required the students to work in groups, stipulating that class could only end when they successfully concocted a suitable potion. Ultimately, the class ended fifteen minutes later than usual.

Neville fared the worst; he failed twice and barely managed to complete the reassignment in the last minute before get out of class ended, sweating profusely, fearing that he would make the whole class stay for another fifteen minutes.

Actually, the person most eager to leave get out of class was none other than Professor Somerset himself. As soon as the bell rang, he vanished in the blink of an eye, as if he had been apparated.

Ron shook the antidote in his hand and grunted twice. "Well, at least now we don't have to worry about Professor Snape poisoning us."

He turned to Hermione and muttered, "I never imagined West would be such a strict professor. To be honest, I even miss Professor Snape a little."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "That's the spirit of scholarship."

Ron complained, "I wasn't praising them..."

Draco leaned over and handed Hermione and Ron two badges. "Put them on, quick!"

"What's this?" Hermione flipped through the badges. "Harry Potter...will win?"

Ron grinned. "What's this? Can I not wear it? It's lowering my class a bit."

"You dare!" Draco slammed his fist on the table. "Didn't you see the Hufflepuffs and the others wearing badges?"

Ron then noticed that the Hufflepuffs passing by, and even some students from other houses, were wearing a yellow badge.

"Support Cedric Diggory—a true champion of Hogwarts…?" Hermione keenly sensed the discontent of the other houses towards Harry.

Draco pulled out a small box filled with "Harry Potter Will Win" badges. "Take these back and give them to the Gryffindor students, you hear me? I'll give them out here in Slytherin."

Hermione was touched. "Oh, Draco, Harry will be so happy to know you did this."

Draco grimaced uncomfortably. "I don't care what he thinks."

Ron's eyes widened. "Have you considered that Slytherin students wouldn't wear this medal?"

"They dare," Draco said menacingly, "unless they want to be enemies with Potter and Malfoy."