The winter air outside was biting and sharp, but the lawn in front of the castle had been transformed into an enchanted grotto, thick with roses and flowering shrubs—a perfect sanctuary for students seeking romantic privacy. The front doors stood wide open, and as Snape descended the stone steps, fairy lights twinkled like scattered diamonds throughout the garden. Some students perched on ornate carved benches, while many more had disappeared into the layered depths of the foliage, lost in intimate embraces.
Snape wandered through the pathways with deliberate casualness, occasionally interrupting couples in the midst of their clandestine encounters. The sight of their flustered, panicked faces stirred an inexplicable satisfaction within him.
These foolish young students had endless time to squander, could recklessly indulge in sweet affections without considering any consequences... He refused to acknowledge the envy that surged from the deepest recesses of his subconscious. Instead, he deliberately ventured deeper into the shrubbery, his presence scattering even more disheveled students like startled birds.
Just then, he heard someone quietly calling his name.
"Severus? Severus, finally—a chance to speak with you alone." Snape turned to find Karkaroff. Gone was his usual arrogant bearing; instead, his face betrayed barely concealed panic.
"Well, Igor, willing to admit you know me now?" Snape offered a smile that was more sneer than warmth.
"I'll never forget the 'great favor' you did me back then."
"Oh, old friend, Severus, I truly had no choice." Karkaroff was half-bent over, as if suffering from stomach pains and unable to stand straight.
"You know what Azkaban is like—I had no other option... And Dumbledore protected you, didn't he? Look at you now—you're doing quite well as a professor..."
"Save your excuses for someone who needs to hear them." Snape circled him slowly, his voice dropping to a serpentine hiss.
"I'm eager to see whether they'll forgive you when the time comes."
Karkaroff visibly shrank back.
"You've noticed it too, haven't you? That mark..."
"You're being hysterical, Igor." Snape replied with studied indifference.
"After all these years, haven't you learned to wait and observe? You should know by now how people like us... survive, how we hide..."
"Severus, you can't pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice trembled with hoarse terror, as if afraid of being overheard.
"For months now, it's been growing clearer. I'm genuinely terrified—I can't deny it—"
"Then run." Snape said with sharp impatience.
"Run—I'll make excuses for you. But I intend to remain at Hogwarts."
They rounded a corner. Snape, wand in hand, blasted rose bushes aside with casual violence. His face remained stone-cold as he docked points from every student he encountered—anything to avoid prolonging this conversation with Karkaroff.
"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!"
"Ten points from Hufflepuff as well, Stebbins!..."
Just then, he spotted Harry Potter and Ron Weasley crouched behind a cluster of bushes along the pathway.
"What are you two doing?" Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry Potter. He had no idea how much they'd overheard, but it hardly mattered. As long as Potter wasn't completely brain-dead and remembered to be wary of Karkaroff, perhaps Waters' annual efforts to keep him safe wouldn't be entirely wasted.
"We're taking a walk." Ron replied with characteristic bluntness.
"That's not against the rules, is it?"
"Then keep walking!" Snape strode past them, his long black robes billowing dramatically behind him. He didn't bother docking points from these two irritating obstacles—suddenly, he'd remembered how to find Waters. Last summer, he'd placed an Avenseguim tracking charm on her. Perhaps some residual effect still lingered.
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