After obtaining the information about the Golden Apple from the Tree of Wisdom, Archer let out a long breath of relief. The original purpose of the ritual was to enhance the power of a magical item, though Archer had never actually tested it himself. He wasn't entirely sure what the exact effect would be. This time, however, he was trying a modified version of the ritual.
With the guidance of the Tree of Wisdom, the modification process went surprisingly smoothly. Even more fortunately, on his very first try, Archer succeeded in transforming an ordinary apple into a Golden Apple, greatly enhancing its purification properties.
Plant Poison stared at the glowing apple on the table. A flash of astonishment passed through his eyes.
He couldn't help asking, "Did it actually work?"
Archer nodded. "Good fortune, I suppose."
Plant Poison stepped closer, inspecting the Golden Apple with care. "What does this do, exactly? Just turn an apple into gold? Honestly, the gold powder you used seems worth more than this golden fruit."
"It's not that simple," Archer replied, shaking his head.
He picked up one of the Golden Apples and handed it to Plant Poison.
"?"
Plant Poison took it, weighing it in his palm with confusion. "It doesn't even feel like gold."
"Of course not," Archer said, giving him a mysterious wink. "But you'll find it useful—maybe sooner than you think."
This new version of the Golden Apple might be able to affect Plant Poison's lycanthropy condition.
Archer didn't stop there. He continued transforming the rest of the apples into Golden Apples. Unfortunately, right as he was finishing up the ritual, his cauldron inexplicably exploded. As a result, he was only able to salvage three more Golden Apples. Including the one given to Plant Poison, there were only four in total.
Once the process was complete, Archer returned to Hogwarts.
Walking through the corridors, he immediately sensed something unusual in the atmosphere. Everyone seemed overly energized—almost too excited. Curious, Archer casually stopped a passing student, a girl with thick, bushy brown hair.
"Is something going on today?" he asked. "Everyone seems more excited than usual."
Hermione, holding a book tightly to her chest, paused and looked at Archer with a slightly startled expression. She hadn't expected him to speak to her. While she knew who he was, she hadn't had any real interaction with him before. Since she hadn't yet started Care of Magical Creatures, she'd only seen him at the welcoming feast and heard about him from other students.
"Oh—it's probably the Quidditch match, Professor," she replied, brushing her hair back and adjusting her tone to be more formal. "It's the first match of the semester today."
Archer raised his eyebrows in realization. "Ah. Quidditch."
That made sense.
Back when he was a student, Quidditch always caused a stir. The inter-house matches were the most exciting part of the year.
He had a certain respect for the sport. Quidditch demanded physical endurance, sharp reflexes, and high magical control. Wizards who performed well on the pitch were rarely weak in other disciplines. Archer himself had once played for Hufflepuff, although only for a single semester. In the end, he had to quit due to the time-consuming training.
"Thank you for the reminder, Miss Granger."
Hermione blinked. "You know my name?"
Archer gave her a gentle smile. "Of course. Professor Flitwick often praises you. He says you're among the most brilliant students he's ever taught—even better than many upper years."
"Please just call me Hermione, Professor," she said with a faint blush.
"All right then, Hermione. You should head back. Oh—what time does the match start?"
"Eleven o'clock."
That afternoon, Archer arrived at the Quidditch pitch right on time. He had even brought a camera along with him.
Nearly the entire school had gathered for the event. As he scanned the Professor's section, he saw familiar faces: Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape… All four Heads of House were present. Clearly, everyone was interested in this game.
After all, it was a major match involving all four houses.
Archer silently made his way to an empty spot beside Professor Quirrell and sat down without making a sound. At that moment, Quirrell seemed distracted, his mind clearly preoccupied.
It wasn't hard to guess why.
Just moments earlier, the entity living in the back of Quirrell's head—Lord Voldemort—had issued him an order: to sabotage the broomstick of a student named Godric during the Quidditch match, forcing him to fall.
Quirrell had initially thought the task would be simple. Since being possessed by Voldemort, his mastery over dark magic had increased dramatically. Sabotaging a broomstick should've been a basic assignment.
But now, looking around at the packed stadium—especially the professors seated close by—Quirrell's confidence wavered. Casting a curse unnoticed under so many eyes was far more difficult than anticipated.
Still, Voldemort didn't care for excuses. His commands were absolute. Any delay or hesitation would be punished. Quirrell had already experienced Voldemort's cruelty—torture so excruciating that it made the Cruciatus Curse feel tame in comparison.
Failure was not an option.
With a deep breath, Quirrell steeled himself and began watching the game, waiting for the right moment.
Madam Hooch's whistle blew sharply, and the match began.
Cheers erupted like a tidal wave across the stadium.
Archer's gaze swept the field, quickly locking on to Godric, who moved across the pitch like a lightning bolt. His flying skills were superb. From the very beginning, Gryffindor and Slytherin launched into an intense battle.
As the game unfolded, Archer noticed Quirrell's eyes darting toward Godric repeatedly, his unease growing more visible. He was clearly waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
Meanwhile, Lee Jordan was providing rapid-fire commentary from the booth.
"Angelina has the Quaffle! Oh! She passed it—look at that form! She's amazing—such an elegant Chaser! And, well, she's very charming too…"
Archer couldn't help raising an eyebrow at how frequently Lee mentioned Angelina. It was hard not to suspect a personal bias.
Back on the field, the game entered a heated phase.
Suddenly, Godric's Nimbus 2000 began trembling erratically, as if trying to throw him off. He held on tightly, but the broom twisted and jerked as though it had lost all control.
The audience gasped in shock.
Archer's eyes immediately snapped to Quirrell. The professor's lips were moving ever so slightly—he was silently casting a spell.
Without a moment's hesitation, Archer stood up.
"Professor Quirrell!" he called loudly, his voice cutting through the crowd noise.
Quirrell froze.
Everyone around turned to look at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
But the spell was already in motion, and Godric's broom continued its wild, chaotic movement in midair.
Archer narrowed his eyes.
Quirrell looked nervous. Beads of sweat trickled down his temple. Voldemort was screaming in his mind, furious at the interruption. But now, with so many eyes on him, continuing the spell was out of the question.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall leapt up, wand in hand. Professor Snape had also noticed the disturbance and had begun casting counter-charms to stabilize the broom.
Working together, they managed to interrupt the curse just in time.
Godric's broom gradually steadied. He gasped for breath, gripping the handle as the terrifying moment passed.
The entire stadium erupted in cheers.
Back in the stands, Quirrell sat frozen, face pale. His hands trembled beneath his robe.
Archer leaned in closer and whispered, "Whatever you're doing, Quirrell, you'd better stop before someone does more than call your name."
Quirrell didn't answer. He stared straight ahead, lips tight and blood drained from his face.
The match continued, the energy in the stadium undiminished. Godric, despite his near-disastrous fall, soared back into action as if nothing had happened. His determination was evident.
Archer sat back in his seat, eyes calm but alert.
One thing was certain—this wasn't the last time dark forces would try something within the walls of Hogwarts. But now, they'd know Archer was watching.
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