Hermione and Ron watched Harry's retreating figure.
Even though there was no difference from his usual walking posture, in their eyes, it suddenly carried a sort of tragic, heroic air, as if he were marching off to his execution.
He certainly had a lot of nerve.
Going to find Snape after class, of all times.
"Potter." Snape was organizing his lesson plans when he heard footsteps. He raised his head abruptly, his gaze sweeping over Harry's face and eyes, and the disgust that had just faded flared right back up. "Is there something else?"
"Thank you for your instruction." Harry nodded in acknowledgment, hoping to ease the atmosphere.
Snape's features twisted as if he had heard something unimaginably revolting. "Oh... To actually hear thanks from the mouth of a Gryffindor—people who look as if they're just dying to rip their own heads off and stick them on top of the astronomy tower."
"Disgusting!"
"It's like hearing a Troll confess its love to a Unicorn."
"Put away that pathetic, obnoxious face of yours, Potter. Say what you're here to say."
Harry said, "I heard from Headmaster Dumbledore that you have some of my mother's Potion notes. I was wondering—"
"Yes." Snape narrowed his eyes, his expression growing sharper and more dangerous. "Li—"
The word cut off abruptly. He took a deep breath before continuing, "Evans indeed left a few journals in my possession, but I hardly think you are qualified to inherit them right now."
"When you can barely manage to brew a mediocre batch of Cure for Boils, handing them over to you would be like giving a wand to a Troll—you'd only use it for firewood."
Harry stared straight at Snape without speaking.
Snape's temper flared even higher. He picked up his wand and poked Harry in the chest. "When you ask someone for a favor, you lower your stance. If no one taught you that before, I'm teaching you now!"
"Potter, you will remember this!"
Harry pushed the wand aside. "I can perhaps understand the Professor's feelings, but I must also ask the Professor to remember that these are my mother's heirlooms."
On the words "mother" and "heirlooms," he placed a slight emphasis.
Bang!
Snape slammed his fist down hard on the desk, gritting his teeth. "Potter!"
"Professor." Harry showed no fear, his hand already reaching into the Sorting Hat.
"Fine. Very fine." Snape clenched his fist. Harry's little maneuver did not escape his eyes, which only added another ladle of boiling oil to his rage. "I thought you might have changed just a little bit, but you're still the same arrogant, stinking, insufferable Gryffindor."
"There are twenty-three volumes of Evans's Potion journals in total. After the final exams this year, come to my office, and I will personally set a test for you."
"If you don't get an 'O', you can forget about the journals."
"Even if Dumbledore comes himself, it won't change a thing. Mark my words!"
Harry released his grip and nodded. "Thank you, Professor Snape."
Snape let out a cold snort, tossed down what he was holding, and stormed out of the classroom without once looking back. He didn't want to lay eyes on Potter for even a single second longer.
"I thought you were going to fight the Professor," Ron said, clutching his chest with phantom pains.
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Harry looked puzzled. "Didn't we have a very pleasant conversation? Why would you think we were going to fight?"
"You reached your hand right into the hat!" Hermione couldn't keep her voice down. Did Harry have some sort of bizarre misunderstanding of the word "pleasant"?
What was inside the hat?
The Sword of Gryffindor.
Harry shook his head. "I was just wondering whether I should pay the Professor a storage fee."
"Why give him money?" Ron clenched his fists. "He hates you so much—keeping your mother's heirlooms probably means he's up to something."
Harry emphasized his tone slightly. "Ron, the Professor is a good man."
Hermione looked at Harry with worry. "Potter, I don't mean any offense, but perhaps... are you under too much pressure?"
"Professor Snape must have loved my mother." Harry shouldered his schoolbag and started walking ahead, the other two following close behind. "He was my father's rival in love."
"Though there's likely more to it than that."
A rival in love!
The news was so staggering that Ron and Hermione nearly bumped into each other.
"Oh, how do you know that?" Hermione readjusted how she was holding her schoolbag, consumed by curiosity and gossip. "Did Headmaster Dumbledore tell you?"
Harry shook his head. "It's too obvious."
Still... such intense emotions felt abnormal.
Take the romantic rivals Harry knew, like Yennefer and Triss fighting over the White Wolf; they had even been best friends once.
Yet none of them reached Snape's level of intensity.
He had to find a way to figure out the reason behind it. He had to admit that Snape was the most accessible Potion Master he had, and a stray word or two of guidance from him had already proved immensely beneficial. What if he could learn all of Snape's skills?
They walked together toward the grounds outside the Castle.
Ron and Hermione couldn't suppress their curiosity.
What sort of story could possibly have existed between Snape and Harry's parents to make Snape hate him this much?
Not even Harry knew.
As they walked, they discussed it endlessly, imagining countless scenarios straight out of novels—Jane Eyre, perhaps, or Clarissa—though naturally, Harry's mother wasn't the heroine of those tales; the one bearing the scars of a tragic past was inevitably cast as Professor Snape in their daydreams.
Soon they reached Hagrid's hut—which was indeed tiny compared to Hagrid himself.
Harry knocked on the door.
Hagrid opened it amidst a chorus of barking from Fang.
Harry opened his mouth to greet him, but as his gaze swept across the interior of the room, his eyes widened in astonishment.
Ron and Hermione paused. They hadn't known Harry long, but they had never seen any expression on his face other than complete blankness. Even when the atmosphere with Snape was at its most glacial, Harry had remained as unshakeable as a mountain.
What on earth was inside the house?
They craned their necks to look.
It was ordinary, even somewhat crude, giving Ron a sudden feeling of being back home.
"Harry, what is it?" Hagrid asked, holding Fang back with a somewhat constrained expression. "Is there something wrong with my place?"
Harry shook his head and smoothed his expression. "No, I just didn't expect... Hagrid, you live so extravagantly."
Extravagantly?
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry curiously, staring especially hard into his eyes.
Could those amber, lion-like pupils really see a world different from the one they saw? Gryffindors whispered among themselves that Harry's eyes could pierce through magic and see right through life and death, and that the Dark Lord himself had perished beneath that very gaze.
Hagrid was equally baffled.
He lived comfortably enough, but extravagantly? That was a stretch.
"A dog bed and blanket made of Unicorn hair." Harry raised a hand and rubbed his face. "Wind chimes made of merpeople scales, and over there—are those a few Bowtruckles?"
"And those, are those Firecrabs?" He pointed toward the fireplace, where faint shapes could be seen scuttling about.
Harry only named the ones he recognized.
There were far more than that scattered around the room.
On the windowsill sat more than a dozen jars, every single one radiating a dense aura of magical power—venom, blood, or saliva from magical creatures.
There were also plenty of materials he couldn't identify: massive carapaces that looked as though they had been shed by giant spiders, and old yet still razor-sharp teeth...
A bright light shone in Hagrid's eyes. "Harry, that's brilliant! Do you love these cute little creatures too?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head decisively. "I just really like the materials on them."
Ron and Hermione didn't yet understand the value of these materials; they were simply eyeing the dog bed with envy. They might not know about the other things, but they knew the value of Unicorn hair—a single strand cost ten Galleons.
This dirty, unassuming dog bed was probably worth thousands of Galleons.
"Oh, well, alright," Hagrid muttered, though he didn't take it to heart. Most wizards shared Harry's attitude anyway, with the exception of certain peculiar types like a certain freckled fellow. "Settling in alright at Hogwarts? I hear the professors say you're doing brilliantly."
"It's fine," Harry replied perfunctorily, his gaze still wandering around the room.
Ron poked his head forward and reached out to take the large rock cake Hagrid offered him. "Hagrid, do you know anything about what happened between Professor Snape and Harry's father?"
"Harry's father?" Hagrid froze. Lost in thought, his hand gave a sudden twitch, and a rock cake slipped from his grasp, landing squarely on top of Hermione's head.
Hermione clutched her head and cried out in pain. "Harry said Professor Snape might have been his father's rival in love."
"Oh, Harry, how did you find out? Who's been gossiping with you?" Hagrid gasped, pulling back his shoulders and letting loose a voice that boomed like thunder.
Harry glanced back over his shoulder. "No one told me, but it's so obvious it's hard to miss."
"Still, being just a rival in love shouldn't give him such deep malice toward me."
"I want to know about their past too."
Hagrid lowered his head. "Harry, I'm just the keeper of keys. I don't know much about what goes on up at the Castle."
"But... Snape and James never got along. They were always fighting and casting hexes at each other."
"Lily was very close with Snape before fifth year, but they weren't a couple—just good friends. Then they suddenly drifted apart, and by seventh year she was with James. They got married not long after graduation."
Stealing someone else's love.
Ron and Hermione's expressions turned dramatic.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You must know more than that."
"Bloody hell! How is it that neither Lily nor James were ever this sharp?" Hagrid clenched his fists and let out a sigh. "Talking to you is just like talking to Dumbledore. Why are both of you able to read people's minds like that?"
"But Harry, I mean it—that's all I can tell you."
"You might think Snape's attitude is awful, but please trust him. In all of Hogwarts, perhaps even including Mr. Dumbledore, he is likely the one who least wants anything bad to happen to you."
Ron muttered his doubts. "But Professor Snape's attitude looks like he wants to shove Harry straight into a Troll's nest."
"Professor Snape is definitely reliable. Dumbledore trusts him implicitly," Hagrid said, his voice dropping to emphasize the point.
Harry agreed. "I trust Professor Snape too. He might wish I were disfigured, blinded, or turned into a different gender altogether, but he certainly doesn't want to see me come to harm."
Oh...
Ron's mouth hung open, completely at a loss for how to respond to that statement.
Hagrid was the same; his hand loosened, and another rock cake crashed down onto Hermione's head.
Hermione held back tears as she whimpered. "I really don't think that sounds like good intentions..."