As almost everyone knows, Hogwarts' real holidays are only Christmas and the end of the school year. The so-called Easter holidays are just two weeks crammed with work that would normally take two months.
This year was no exception. Not only was the workload heavier than usual, but the assignments were also more difficult.
On the first day of the holidays, the library was packed, and the few truly important books were checked out within an hour. Those who arrived later had to rely on friends or classmates who knew the Doubling Charm to get by. If they didn't know the charm—or if no one from their house had managed to snag the books early enough—they had to wait.
"This is crazy..." Ron muttered, fumbling to get his robes on in the Gryffindor common room. "I'm getting up this early just to go to the library. Normally, I don't even wake up until after nine on weekends, and it's not even seven-thirty yet!"
"Will you stop talking?" Harry, who was also getting dressed, shot back. "Hermione made it very clear on the enchanted coin that the library is filling up fast. If we don't go now, she won't be able to keep saving seats for us." He gave Ron a pointed look. "Do you want to do your homework alone in the common room?"
Hearing that, Ron subconsciously quickened his pace.
The assignments were so difficult that if he had to tackle them alone, he wouldn't finish them in two weeks—probably not even in two months. And neither would Harry. That was why they had to get to the library. With Hermione's help, they at least stood a chance of completing their work before term started again.
"Mad. Everyone's mad—professors and students alike," Ron grumbled under his breath as he and Harry bolted out of the common room.
The corridors were empty. The two of them raced down the stairs.
"Harry, have you thought about how you're going to handle Slughorn?" Ron asked between breaths. "Has he invited you to dinner or anything?"
"No," Harry said. "He hasn't invited me in a while, but I hear McLaggen goes almost three times a week, and Hermione goes twice a week."
"Why don't you just go?" Ron suggested. "He likes you so much—he wouldn't say no."
"No, that would be too obvious." Harry shook his head. "I'm not just trying to attend a dinner party. I need to get that memory about Voldemort from Slughorn. If I just show up, he'll know exactly why I'm there."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted with a sigh. "Hermione said last night that she'd help, but she didn't say how."
"I guess she definitely wants to help you." Ron frowned in thought. "You just said she goes to the dinner parties twice a week—she'll definitely find a chance."
"I hope so."
…
Perhaps it was because he was thinking about Dumbledore's mission, or because he was too engrossed in the conversation, but for a moment, Harry wasn't paying attention. He almost collided with someone walking from the opposite direction.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Harry apologized instinctively.
He didn't see who it was at first, but he caught sight of a familiar black robe—a color and style he would never forget, even if he lived another fifty years.
No way...
His heart skipped a beat.
"Ah, Potter... Has no one ever taught you to watch where you're going when walking up or down stairs?"
A cold voice drifted toward him.
"Or do you think the entire castle exists solely to serve you, the... ah, Chosen One?"
There was no mistake.
Harry looked up, straight into the sallow face and greasy black hair of the man approaching him.
"Snape..." he blurted out.
"You will address me as Professor Snape, Potter," Snape said icily. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect."
"And ten more for making such an intolerable amount of noise in the corridors."
"I wasn't!" Harry retorted, his voice rising before he could stop himself. "I wasn't making any noise!"
"That's not for you to decide, Potter," Snape said, his gaze sharp. "Just because people call you the Chosen One, do you think you're above the rules?"
"I'm not above them, and I don't want people calling me that!" Harry snapped, his pulse quickening as frustration burned through him. His breath came heavier, his eyes reddening, his fists clenched. He felt like an angry bull, ready to charge.
"We were just having a normal conversation!" he continued hotly, his hand moving unconsciously to the wand in his pocket.
He didn't even realize he'd done it. But if Snape made one more taunting remark, he wasn't sure he could hold back.
Snape, of course, saw everything. And his intentions were clear.
"What, are you going to attack me?" Snape sneered. "Thirty points from Gryffindor."
"To be honest, I'd almost hope you draw your wand. That way, you can pack your bags early. There's a return train today, in exactly two hours."
"If you're lucky, you'll have the whole carriage to yourself."
Harry's face burned an even deeper red, his hands trembling with the force of his fury. He was ready to explode.
Ron, still standing nearby and thankfully more level-headed, quickly stepped in before Harry could fully pull his wand from his pocket.
Snape lingered for a moment, watching, waiting—but when Harry made no move, he clicked his tongue in disappointment and swept past them without another word.
As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Harry gritted his teeth so hard it hurt.
"Bastard.I swear I'll get him for this!" he seethed.
"I know. I was thinking the same thing," Ron said quickly. "But it's not worth it, Harry. Snape's a professor. You can't risk getting expelled just to get back at him."
"I don't care!" Harry yanked his wand free at last, his grip tight. "Even if I get expelled, I'll make him pay!"
"Yes, yes, I know… but it's really not worth it," Ron said hurriedly, pulling on Harry's arm as they started down the stairs. "Using a charm to attack a professor? If you actually did that, you'd definitely get expelled. Not even Dumbledore could protect you then."
"Think about the task he gave you. Maybe Snape did that on purpose, just to get you out of school."
Harry stopped in his tracks.
"Come on, Harry," Ron urged, tugging him forward again. "We know what Snape is like. You really don't need to risk expulsion over him."
"Ron, maybe you're right," Harry muttered after a moment.
"You've come to your senses?" Ron said, relieved. "Great. Then let's hurry to the library—Hermione's waiting for us."
"No." Harry shook his head and glanced up the stairs. "You go to the library. I have something to do."
"What?" Ron looked at him in surprise. "Don't tell me you're going to see Snape again. You just said—"
"Ron," Harry interrupted, lowering his voice. "What I meant was, Snape might actually want to get rid of me."
His expression darkened.
"Snape and Malfoy have always been close, but we know Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. And Snape—he has to be one too. He just somehow managed to gain Dumbledore's trust."
Ron hesitated. "...What are you going to do about it?"
Harry's voice was steady. "We've suspected it for a long time, but no professor ever listens to us, right?"
"Because we have no proof," Ron admitted.
"Exactly." Harry's eyes gleamed with determination. "As long as we find proof, we can expose Snape's lies. And now is the perfect opportunity—because Snape actually went to the eighth floor."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ron frowned. "He's a professor—he can go wherever he wants."
"But we've never seen him on the eighth floor before," Harry said firmly. "And Professor Dumbledore isn't at school today, so he can't be going to the Headmaster's office."
"You mean… he has another purpose?" Ron was catching on now.
"Exactly." Harry nodded. "So I have to see what he's up to. If he's doing something shady, I can expose him in front of all the professors!"
Maybe it was the sting of losing fifty points, or maybe it was sheer conviction, but Harry's mind was made up. He turned and ran back up the stairs.
Ron stood frozen for a moment, hesitating—then clenched his jaw, cursed under his breath, and sprinted after him.
"Wait for me, Harry! You're in danger alone!"
…
The two of them returned to the eighth floor, and for some reason, as soon as they stepped into the corridor, they both instinctively slowed down, moving as quietly as thieves.
"Do you know where Snape went?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry said, "but the eighth floor is small. We can take our time looking."
"How long do you think it'll take?" Ron suddenly felt a twinge of regret.
But since they were already here, he had no choice but to follow Harry and continue searching for Snape room by room.
What they didn't expect was that after circling the entire eighth floor, they still hadn't found him.
Undeterred, Harry decided to try again. This time, he not only quickened his pace but also abandoned any attempt to be discreet, pushing open the door of every suspicious-looking classroom without hesitation.
Still, no sign of Snape.
"Strange. Why isn't he here?" Harry scratched his head, his face full of confusion.
"Could he have gone to Professor McGonagall's office?" Ron suggested hesitantly.
"Impossible," Harry said, shaking his head.
He was already convinced that Snape was up to something. If that were the case, why would he willingly walk into Professor McGonagall's office? That would be like stepping into a trap.
"It could be the Room of Requirement," Ron said, his eyes landing on the tapestry of dancing trolls nearby.
"Don't forget, the Room of Requirement is broken," Harry reminded him. "We've tried countless times over the past few days—there's no way to get inside."
"Yeah… so where the hell did Snape go?"
The two were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice someone storming up behind them until—
"Ouch!" Ron yelped in pain and spun around, ready to yell. "Who threw that at me—Hermione?! What are you doing?"
"I should be asking you that!" Hermione snapped, still fuming as she raised her hand and hurled a small mirror.
This time, Ron, now on guard, managed to dodge it—only for the mirror to hit Harry squarely on the head.
"What on earth are you doing? Why haven't you gone to the library yet?"
"We're looking for Snape," Ron said automatically, before suddenly realizing something. "Wait—why are you back?"
He would have been better off keeping quiet because the more he spoke, the angrier Hermione became.
Of course, she had been thrown out of the library. She had turned down at least seven or eight people in order to save seats for the two of them. But the library was only so big, and the rest of the space had already filled up.
Eventually, Madam Pince lost patience and threw her out too, promptly freeing up three seats for others.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She had sent them a message an hour ago, yet they had wasted all this time dawdling.
"I'm sorry," Harry said hastily, quickly explaining everything that had happened.
…
"So you docked Gryffindor fifty points?" Hermione was at a loss for words. "Didn't I warn you earlier, Harry, not to go against Snape? It won't do you any good."
"I'm not going against him," Harry said, stubbornly sticking out his neck. "He's always coming up with excuses to dock my points."
"Then you should talk to Professor McGonagall and see if she can get those points back." Hermione, too exhausted to argue any further, turned around and walked away.
Harry silently cursed Snape in his heart.
What he didn't know was that the very person occupying his thoughts was just a wall away.
Half an hour earlier, Snape had been standing in that exact spot, his emotions tangled, as he pounded on the wall twice.
…
At that moment in the Room of Requirement, Snape had already finished his rough inspection and returned to the foyer.
"Where's Kanna?" he asked coldly, his sharp gaze fixed on Kyle, who stood in front of him.
"In the Runes classroom," Kyle replied. "The third classroom on the left on the second floor. If you don't have anything important to do, you'd better not bother her."
Don't bother Kanna?
Snape felt as if he had just heard something utterly absurd. He resisted the urge to draw his wand, his voice cold as he asked, "Do you know what you're saying?"
"Of course, Professor," Kyle shrugged nonchalantly. "But what's the problem? Learning Runes requires concentration, and sometimes the slightest distraction can prevent you from understanding what comes next. You're not thinking of causing trouble, are you..."
Snape's expression froze.
"What?" Kyle suppressed a laugh. "What did you think I meant?"
"Of course that's what I meant," Snape took a deep breath, masking his true thoughts behind a composed exterior.
"I'm warning you—stay away from her."
"I can't do that." Kyle met Snape's eyes head-on. "Yes, you heard me right. No way. I can't do that. Don't even think about it."
Snape immediately bristled, whatever small bit of satisfaction he had gained from docking Gryffindor fifty points vanishing in an instant.
But then, as if realizing something, he forced himself to calm down.
"Then you'd better behave yourself," he said through gritted teeth, his voice slow and deliberate. "Don't let me catch you doing anything excessive again, or you will regret it. I promise."
"Don't worry," Kyle agreed without hesitation this time.
That sentence, of course, only meant one thing—he wouldn't let Snape see it.
With a polite, almost insincere smile, Kyle said solicitously, "Then, Professor, the Potions classroom is on the third floor. I'll take you there."
Having familiarized himself with the castle over the past few days, he knew exactly which classroom belonged to which subject.
Snape didn't say anything else and simply followed Kyle to the third floor. Neither of them spoke along the way, and the atmosphere between them was noticeably tense.
It was only when they reached the third floor that Kyle finally broke the silence.
"Professor, have you ever considered changing jobs?"
"What do you mean?" Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Don't get me wrong," Kyle said, stopping in front of a classroom door. "I mean, opening a magic shop or something. I happen to have a shop in Diagon Alley that Sirius gave me."
"Really? That's very generous of him," Snape said darkly. "Thanks. So, what exactly are you getting at?"
"Nothing," Kyle shrugged. "It's just that... well, if Professor Dumbledore ever makes an unreasonable request—like sending you on a dangerous mission or something—you can actually refuse."
"Even if that means losing your position as a professor, you could still sell magic potions in Diagon Alley. My friends, the Weasley twins, own a shop there, and to be honest, they make a pretty good living. Far better than a professor's salary, at least."
Snape's expression stiffened.
"What do you mean?" His voice was guarded, his posture tense, as if trying to decipher Kyle's intentions.
His instincts immediately suggested a certain possibility—but he quickly dismissed it.
No.
Dumbledore would never have told anyone his identity.
Even if he had lost his mind, he wouldn't have confided in a student.
His sharp gaze bore into Kyle's, searching for answers.
But unlike Potter, Kyle wasn't so easy to read. Occlumency shielded his mind completely, revealing nothing.
Snape's fingers twitched slightly before slipping into his robe pocket, where a small vial rested.
Veritaserum.
He had brought it with him deliberately today.
Kyle, however, didn't seem to notice—or care. He simply smiled and pointed to the door beside them.
"This is the Potions classroom," he said casually. "But Professor, I must say, there's really nothing interesting to see here. You might be a little disappointed."
Potions was probably the one subject that had remained largely unchanged. Apart from the specific potions assigned for practice, the overall teaching process was almost identical to what it had always been.
Just as Kyle was about to leave, Snape stopped him.
"What do you know?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.
"I don't know anything," Kyle replied smoothly, his expression unreadable. "But the Death Eaters are becoming more active. If Dumbledore ever asks you to go up against them, just come up with a reason to refuse… even if it's just for Kanna."
Snape fell silent.
Something in his expression shifted as he stared at the floor, lost in thought.
A long pause followed before he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.
"A professor's duty is to protect his students."
"I know," Kyle nodded. "I was just saying. You don't have to worry about it."