"The Half-Blood Prince is truly a genius. Not only is his skill in Potions first-rate, but his spells are also top-
notch. I learned two spells from him, each one more powerful than the last." Snape nearly laughed out loud at Damon's praise. He had never seen Damon praise anyone so highly. Even Dumbledore, this kid rarely had a good word to say about him. He was the one who, despite his outward respect, was actually the most disrespectful to Dumbledore.
Now, he was actually praising his past self?
If he ever learned that the Half-Blood Prince he so fervently admired was merely a minor achievement he had achieved as a student, wouldn't this arrogant brat blush with shame?
The mere thought of it made Snape laugh, but the more he did, the more he sneered,
"A coward who doesn't even dare to reveal his true name deserves such praise?"
At this point, his expression suddenly became strange. Could this kid know who the Half-Blood Prince was and was deliberately teasing him?
But was that even possible? He probably hadn't left any clues, unless the boy had consulted Dumbledore beforehand.
"They say jealousy makes a person ugly.
Professor, you're the very embodiment of jealousy right now.
The Half-Blood Prince is so proficient in spells and potions at such a young age, his future achievements are bound to surpass yours."
Seeing Damon's sincerity, Snape's doubts were somewhat dispelled. After all, he had never told anyone about the Half-Blood Prince.
"Are you saying I'm jealous of him?" His expression grew increasingly strange.
"Isn't that so, Professor?"
"Yes, perhaps I am. I hope you can bring the Half-Blood Prince to me one day."
Snape's temper was strained. "
Don't worry, Professor, you'll see."
Damon feigned a hint of anger and was about to leave the classroom.
"Wait. You haven't given me Lily's photo yet?"
"..." Damon pulled out a photo and handed it to Snape.
The old bat still remembered the photo, so it seemed impossible for him to be fooled by such a small thing.
"Bang."
The office door closed, and Damon's footsteps faded. Snape pressed two fingers to his lips, trying to contain himself for a long time, but finally gave up.
In the classroom, a laugh like the entrance of a demon king in a game of Brave vs. Demon rang out.
"Hmmmmmm, hahahahaha."
Outside, just across the door, Damon, using Transfiguration to simulate his footsteps, quietly cast a silencing spell and laughed like a fool.
If anyone saw him, they'd think he'd lost his mind.
Damon hummed a song as he prepared to return to the Room of Requirement when he suddenly stopped.
Behind him, a ghost stared at him intently, its gaze full of scrutiny.
Damon turned his head sharply, seeing nothing.
Lately, he'd been having this feeling—as if something was watching him from around the corner, harmless but unsettling nonetheless—the gaze was too intense.
Besides Dumbledore, there was probably no one else in this school who could evade his detection and still monitor him.
Or... not a person?
Damon glanced around. It was Friday night, close to the time for a night out, so he figured he could go a bit overboard without anyone noticing.
He turned and swung his cane.
The second and third floors of Hogwarts Castle were like a sheet of paper cut vertically with scissors. The left building tilted to the left, then to the right, revealing a transparent figure hidden within.
"Oh, it's you,"
Damon quickly restored the castle before any noise could be made. Even so, he could hear Filch's exclamation from afar.
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Fortunately, he seemed frightened by the startling noise and didn't attempt to come over, instead going to find Professor McGonagall.
A ghost floated at the end of Damon's sight. She was slender in a dark blue robe, her features vaguely visible, her expression cold and her eyes pierced with deep scrutiny.
Spotted by Damon, she was about to leave, but he said,
"Ms. Grey, being caught peeping and then leaving without saying goodbye—is that your etiquette?"
The beautiful ghost's face scowled, and she stopped dead in her tracks, even floating directly in front of Damon.
"Do you know me?"
"I only know you're a Hogwarts ghost,"
Damon lied.
There was no need to expose someone so completely right away; it would scare them away. He certainly knew the ghost across from him: Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four Hogwarts masters.
"Oh,"
Helena paused, unsure of what to say in such a situation.
But after thinking it over, she decided to be frank:
"Be careful. I'll keep an eye on you at school."
"Watch me? Why?"
"You're just as ambitious and talented as that guy. Now it seems you're even stronger than he was as a student. I won't let you follow in his footsteps!
If you attempt any evil, I'll tell Dumbledore immediately!"
"Who was that guy? Isn't it unfair for you to suddenly accuse me of something like that without any context?"
Looking at the serious-looking beautiful ghost, Damon became interested and wanted to tease her.
"Okay, you have a point, but it's too late today. You can't break the ban on nighttime wandering. Please go back immediately."
"No way. You've insulted my soul for nothing. I can't let this happen overnight."
Damon stepped forward and waved his wand.
The place where they landed began to rise rapidly. The ceiling above them seemed to be cut by some sharp blade, like paper splitting in two. They stood rising higher and higher, soon reaching the top of the castle's tallest tower. Daemon took a step forward, leaping to the tower's summit, and extended his hand to the blue ghost, inviting him:
"Let's talk things over. The moon is so beautiful today, I don't think you'll refuse."
Helena looked at Daemon warily.
But the moonlight tonight was indeed as beautiful as the young man had described. The moonlight now shone on him, making him seem luminous.
"Okay, but this is to make things clear with you, not for any other reason."
Helena floated to Daemon's side, not sitting down. The hem of her skirt billowed in the air like waves—Daemon glanced at it, amused—he wondered what the principle behind this was.
They had come to this height to discuss that person's story.
But when they settled down, gazing at the moon and the September starry sky above, they suddenly stopped talking.
The wind at the top of the tower was strong, and Damon felt a slight warmth in the breeze, feeling comfortable and at ease. He didn't mind sharing his comfort with a stranger he had ju
st met, who even had prejudices against him.
Because this open-mindedness was what the world had given him.
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(End of this chapter)