Hogwarts: I'm Cousin Harry.

"I'm brewing a potion, Professor." Dudley repeated, looking at him without fear.

Snape was about to laugh angrily. He saw his three steps turned into two steps and came in front of Dudley, looking at the potatoes, kale, and white and tender tofu lumps in the cauldron, his face was as ugly as it was ugly.

You call this a potion?

What is this if not a one-pot dish?It's still a pot of clear soup!

He didn't know why Dudley did it, but he knew he was angry, very angry.

Don't think that you are talented

Just when Snape was about to get mad, a voice suddenly sounded outside the door.

"Professor Snape!"

A junior wizard stood at the door.

"What's the matter?" Snape turned to look at him impatiently, the gloomy look almost scared the little wizard to tears.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to take Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley upstairs." He said very awkwardly: "Mr. Bagman wants them to go, and all the warriors are going as if there is something important Need to explain."

"Very good, very good." Snape squinted his eyes at Dudley and said sharply, "Dursley, Potter, you two get out of my sight, immediately!"

"Professor, I know you may have misunderstood, but"

Dudley filled a bowl of fragrant soup and put it in front of Snape: "This is really a potion."

After he finished speaking, he didn't explain much, and led Harry to follow the little wizard who informed him and disappeared outside the gate of the Potions classroom.

Watching Dudley leave, Snape hesitated for a while, then gently picked up the bowl of soup, put it under his nose and sniffed it carefully.

Soon his face changed slightly, and he quickly started to stir with the spoon in the crucible. When he lifted the spoon, he saw a special material in the center of the spoon.

It is the key ingredient of the antidote he described in this class.

At this point, Snape's face looked slightly better.

He took a meaningful look at the location where Dudley disappeared.

'I'm only in the fourth grade, and I've already found my own way, although I'm not very mature yet.'

Chapter 279 Chapter 277 That's Poison

"Weasley!" Snape called suddenly.

It startled Ron, who was staring at Dudley's cauldron and swallowing continuously.

I saw Snape walked up to Ron and took out a pill.

"Eat this."

"Okay, Professor."

Knowing that he had just offended Snape, Ron must not argue with him now, so he obediently took the pill and swallowed it in one gulp.

After I finished, I smacked my lips, feeling the taste of bitter almonds in my mouth, which was not particularly delicious.

As soon as he thought of the word delicious, his eyes couldn't help but aim at the pot of soup, if only I could eat a bowl of it.

Not much, just one bowl is enough.

The mouth is constantly secreting saliva.

what to do?I want to eat it!

After that, I begged Brother D to cook a bowl for himself alone.

"What is this? Professor."

It was a while before Ron thought of asking Snape.

"poison."

Snape said flatly, addressing the pill very briefly and directly.

Ron: "???"

"Since Dursley said that what he did was an antidote, and now he is going to attend the meeting of the warriors, then you can do it for him."

"Aren't you mates?"

Ron tried to squeeze his throat and spit it out, but the pill melted in his mouth and had already flowed down the esophagus.

Snape handed Ron the soup Dudley had given him.

"Of course, if Dursley fails. Then we can only collect the body for Mr. Weasley. Don't worry, we will put your ashes in a box and bury them in the back garden of Hogwarts. I think everyone will remember him."

At that moment, Ron's face was green, and he was in an extremely bad mood. Snape's face changed from black to normal, and the brows were stretched, and he was in a good mood.

You thought you were Dursley?Dare to sleep in my Snape class.

This is just a small punishment.

Well, the potions professor can't lose face.

----

Dudley and Harry followed the little wizard to a room. Besides Viktor and Fleur who participated in the competition, there were several other people in the room. Next to Bagman stood a witch with heavy makeup and a magenta robe— — Rita Skeeter.

Star reporter for the Daily Prophet.

"Dear warriors, please wait here for a moment, Dumbledore is waiting for the other referees, so that the ceremony of testing the wand can be carried out. Before that, you can accept an interview with Ms. Skeeter, who is preparing to write an essay for the Triwizard Tournament. Big news," Bagman said.

Hearing this, Fu Rong asked suspiciously: "Wand detection?"

"Yes, before the official start of the competition, you must check whether your wands are fully functional and in good condition. This is an important prop for you to break through."

"Okay everyone, I'll go up first, I wish you a happy chat with Ms. Skeeter."

Bagman hurried upstairs after a brief explanation, as if he really didn't want to stay here for one more minute.

"I didn't expect to meet you here for the first time, Mr. Dursley."

Rita Skeeter completely ignored the other heroes, her eyes were fixed on Dudley, her expression was half a smile.

She had been chasing after her to do an exclusive interview with herself, but Dudley had mercilessly rejected them all.

As for why Dudley didn't like the Daily Prophet, it was as simple as that.

The contradiction between him and the Daily Prophet can be traced back to the initial submission of the manuscript. At that time, the publishing house under the Daily Prophet clearly rejected Dudley's submission and devalued his work as worthless.

"Can I talk to you alone? Go to the small room next to it and do an exclusive interview. Of course, I also want to do an exclusive interview with the most legendary Mr. Potter." Rita Skeeter pointed to the small room next to him , tried to make a smiling expression, and tried to be polite in her tone, but the thick foundation on her face made her smile look very weird.

"It's not necessary. Is there anything that cannot be said publicly? Just do it here." Dudley said lightly, without any intention of getting up: "Besides, I don't need to do any special interviews, no need."

Seeing that Dudley was so shameless, Rita Skeeter wanted to pull him away forcibly, but she could only give up when she thought of the huge gap in size between herself and the other party.

"Well then."

Rita Skeeter was very unwilling to say that she took out a shorthand pen and a notebook and started the interview.

"Ms. Skeeter" However, the two of them hadn't chatted for a few words, only to hear Dudley suddenly say: "I don't want to say something that I didn't say on the Daily Prophet tomorrow, or to abuse me in any form or way." Unreasonable speculation, can this be done?"

Rita Skeeter nodded without thinking and replied, "The Daily Prophet has always been fact-based."

"Really?" Dudley asked, "Are you sure?"

"of course."

Unexpectedly, Dudley stood up suddenly, and grabbed the shorthand pen and the manuscript next to Rita Skeeter before the other party could react: "Then what is your shorthand pen recording?"

"Obviously I haven't said anything yet, why is there a five-page manuscript?"

With just a glance, Dudley's expression darkened immediately.

'Dursley, Potter, Granger freak love triangle', 'Scarhead, past life'

He just knew that this woman was choreographing him.

"give me back!"

Rita Skeeter tried to snatch the manuscript, but Dudley didn't get her way.

"I think I, as the subject of the interview, have a right to know."

Dudley tore the manuscript to shreds with two swipes.

"Ms. Rita Skeeter, I solemnly warn you that based on your dishonesty, I will not accept any kind of interview with the Daily Prophet if I see any false news about me in the Daily Prophet. "

"I would be glad to see you at the court of the Wizengamot."

"Harry, I think we should go up."

After he finished speaking, he didn't even look at Rita Skeeter, and threw the pieces casually. Countless scraps of paper ignited out of thin air, and disappeared without a trace when blown by the breeze.

Dudley is not interested in playing a game of catching 'bugs' threats with the other party. The content on the shorthand pen has already made him angry. If the other party dares to push forward

Then don't blame him for being unpredictable.

He is not Dumbledore, his temper is not that good, and the other party has affected two important people of his—brother and um.

Rita Skeeter's face was black and blue, and this was the first time she had encountered this kind of treatment in her career. Her big bulging eyes were staring at Dudley's leaving back resentfully.

So what if the manuscript is torn up?She can write more, she vowed to make the other party pay for today's behavior.who is she?She is Rita Skeeter, a righteous female reporter who 'defies power' and 'dare to speak out'. Why worry about the threat of a mere underage wizard?

Even Fudge, the Minister of Magic, has to give him three points of courtesy.

She had already figured out how to get revenge in her heart.

Obviously, the first post of the Daily Prophet did not take Dudley's words seriously.

Chapter 280 278 Have you oiled him?No, I'm leaving it!

By the time Dudley made it to the second floor, the wand-testing experts had arrived, along with several of the judges.

Dudley and Harry had left, so it was impossible for Viktor and Fleur to stay there, so they followed.

"Allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander."

Standing next to Dumbledore was an old man of some age, who had met Dudley once, Ollivander, the only wand manufacturer in England.

"He's going to check your wands to make sure they're in good shape before the game."

Ollivander stepped forward, glanced at Fleur first, and said politely: "Miss Delacour, you come first, okay?"

Fleur walked lightly to Ollivander and handed him her wand.

The so-called wand detection is actually Ollivander touching the wand with his fingers, then tapping and waving the wand here and there, and then releasing a few small magics.

"Hmm" Ollivander put his ear on the wand and listened, as if he was listening to the whisper of the wand, and then let the wand rotate between his slender fingers like a baton, and the wand sprayed out a lot of pink and gold sparks.

"Not bad." Finally Ollivander returned the wand to Fleur: "Nine and a half inches. Very strong. It's made of maple wood and contains, oh, a Veela hair."

"It's my grandma's hair." Furong admitted decisively. The silver-haired girl smiled and her two rows of white teeth glistened in the sun. She didn't deny the fact that she had Veela blood, but was very proud of it.

The mixed blood of magical creatures and wizards is still relatively discriminated against in the wizarding world, even worse than the situation of Muggle wizards. At least there are a lot of Muggle wizards.

As for mixed races, especially mixed races like Veela, many male wizards treat them as... um... deal with them, and female wizards will be very unfriendly to them, preventing them from seducing their husbands, or even spurning them.

For example, Dudley felt that Bagman couldn't help but glance at Fleur when he heard that Fleur had Veela blood.

If the veela is difficult to understand, you can replace the veela with a succubus mixed blood succubus, or a female. It is destined to be treated unfriendly.

"Very nice design, very suitable for you, Mademoiselle Delacour."

Ollivander returned the wand to Fleur with a normal face. At his age, he had never seen such a big storm.

Not to mention little witches with [-]/[-] Veela bloodlines, he has seen little witches with [-]/[-] or [-]/[-] Veela bloodlines.

"Mr. Krum, it's your turn." Ollivander turned his gaze to Victor.

Victor stepped forward with splayed steps, and handed Ollivander his black, thick, heavy wand.

When the wand was put into Ollivander's hand, it was obvious that his body sank. Victor's wand was full of weight.

Ollivander tapped on the wand for a while and said: "Grigovitch's product, this is an excellent wandmaker, although I don't know his style very well."

"But very healthy."

It's hard to imagine someone using health to describe a wand, but this is Ollivander's characteristic, in his eyes there is not much difference between a wand and a person.