Assigned by Professor McGonagall, Aiden began a new round of intensive writing.
Because the massive amount of data collected before the experiment wasn't recorded in sufficient detail, Aiden could only return to the four-point, one-line life of the library, classroom, dormitory, and dining hall.
"Well, well, who is this? Hogwarts' famous social butterfly, the Rose of Ravenclaw, who goes wherever he pleases. Why has he condescended to grace the Slytherin long table with his presence?" Astoria teased from across the Great Hall.
Absorbed in his thesis, Aiden had handed over his daily life to his artificial idiot—the virtual personality he'd created. As it turned out, even a demigod's computing power wasn't enough to handle a major academic project while simultaneously managing daily affairs.
This led Aiden to seriously consider whether he should embezzle some of Avalon's psychic computing power.
'Perhaps I can split off the virtual personalities and borrow other people's brains,' one of the virtual personalities suddenly suggested to him.
'A good idea, but where am I supposed to find such fresh, lively brains?' Aiden retorted mentally.
"Hey, Aiden, what are you staring into space for? Have you been too tired recently?" Astoria asked with genuine concern.
"No, just simple overuse of my brain."
Aiden snapped out of his reverie and brought Astoria into a blind spot of consciousness, rendering them invisible and unheard to those around them.
"Since I'm over at Slytherin, I have some things to assign to you," Aiden said, his tone turning serious.
"Every time you look for me, it's to give me an assignment," Astoria muttered under her breath.
"For the time being, I need you to dispatch the members of our dark wizard team and spread our influence across Europe as much as possible," Aiden said, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.
"Are you planning to start a wizarding war all over Europe?" Astoria asked, a hint of dark pleasure in her voice.
"Pleased?" Aiden asked, catching her emotion.
"Don't read my mind," Astoria replied, hurriedly suppressing her true feelings.
"No, Astoria. We need to expand the forces for a certain Dark Lord. Loyalty isn't important—this is a time when we need manpower. All they need to do is add my name after their usual prayers."
The demigod confidently adjusted the monocle on his eye, his expression unreadable.
"Alright, I'll do as you say," Astoria nodded, her own ambitions stirring.
The conversation between the two concluded amidst the strange, charged atmosphere of the Slytherin table at lunch.
On Monday night, Harry was in his room, poring over the Marauder's Map.
"Spiders! The spiders want me to tap dance!" Ron suddenly yelled in his sleep.
"Hehe." A certain dragon, wandering through the dreamscape, let out a pleasant, mischievous laugh.
Harry was momentarily stunned. "Just tell the spiders you don't want to dance," he whispered into the darkness.
"Oh, right... I can tell them," Ron mumbled, drifting back to sleep.
Harry continued to study the Marauder's Map when suddenly, he saw a familiar name on its surface: Peter Pettigrew.
Professor McGonagall's words echoed in his ears. He realized this was a dead man! A dead man wandering the halls of Hogwarts at this very moment.
He immediately got up, crossed the Gryffindor common room, and followed the footsteps on the map into the dimly lit corridor.
Harry checked the map again. Filch was just up ahead, so he quickly extinguished the light from his wand.
But another wand lit up, illuminating his face.
"Wandering the castle so late at night, Potter?" Snape's oily voice rang out, dripping with suspicion.
"I'm sleepwalking," Harry replied quickly.
"You're so much like your father, Potter. Always strutting around the castle with such arrogance," Snape continued sarcastically.
"My father wasn't arrogant, and neither am I. If you don't mind, please lower your wand," Harry retorted quietly but firmly.
After a tense moment, Snape lowered his wand slightly.
"What's in your pocket?" Snape's sharp eyes had spotted the telltale bulge.
Harry remained silent, not wanting the map to be discovered at any cost.
"Take it out," Snape commanded.
Reluctantly, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket.
Snape tapped the parchment with his wand. "Reveal your secret." He immediately saw writing appear. "Read it."
"...Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present their compliments to Professor Snape, and..." Harry trailed off, his voice faltering.
"Go on," Snape demanded.
"...request he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business," the honest boy finished reading the words on the map, his face pale.
"Why, you insolent..." Professor Snape began, but was interrupted by a calm voice.
"Professor," Lupin said, appearing at the end of the corridor.
Snape pointed his wand behind him without looking. "Well, well. Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?"
"Perhaps the moonlight will be a good companion for me in the future," Lupin replied meaningfully. He then looked at Harry. "Harry, are you alright?"
Snape snatched the map from Harry's hand. "Perhaps I've confiscated something interesting from him. Have a look, Lupin. This is right up your alley, full of Dark Magic."
Lupin took the map, examining it with a thoughtful expression. "I doubt it's Dark Magic. It looks like a Zonko's product—the kind that insults anyone who tries to read it."
"Let me take it back and study it," Lupin said, tilting his head at Harry. Harry quickly followed him out of the corridor.
Snape watched Lupin lead Harry to safety and, when he thought he was alone, breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"If you care about him so much, you should just say so, Professor." A boy's voice, carrying a melodious, almost hypnotic rhythm, reached Snape's ears.
"Aiden Prewett." Turning to see the memorable heterochromatic eyes, Snape immediately recognized the student.
"Shall we take a walk, Professor?" Aiden invited, his presence unsettlingly calm.
"Hmph. A young wizard, out after hours, and so bold in front of a professor," Snape said, preparing to give Aiden a hard time.
But the Manipulator merely gave him a look. For a fleeting moment, Snape found he couldn't control his own movements. The brief domination ended as quickly as it began, but the message was clear.
"You...?" Newly freed, Snape seemed to understand something profound had just occurred.
"Let's go, Professor," Aiden said, leading Snape forward as if he had no choice in the matter.
"What is your ultimate goal? For someone like you to be lurking in this school... are you planning to get rid of Dumbledore and establish yourself as king?" Snape demanded, his voice low and intense.
"Professor, don't think so ill of people. For an Audience, the only reason to stay in the theater is to watch the play. Besides, what are you talking about? A young wizard my age, where else can I go but to class at school?" Aiden put his hands together by his cheek, acting impossibly cute and innocent.
"Hmph. Evil little imp," Snape muttered, recalling his assessment of Aiden from two years ago.
"Now that I'm done talking about myself, let's talk about you," Aiden said, casually tossing the topic back to him.
"Me? What could I possibly have going on?" Snape replied stubbornly, his defenses immediately rising.
"Sigh. You are, in a way, my teacher. My achievements in Potions today are partly thanks to you. Watching you torture yourself like this... I find it hard to bear."
White mist floated from Aiden's mouth, quickly condensing into frost in the cold night air.
"What are you trying to say?" Snape's patience seemed to have finally run out.
"That child, Harry Potter... Lily Evans's son. Do you want him to misunderstand you forever?"
Aiden's lowered eyelashes seemed to carry the weight of all the injustice Snape had endured.
"How did you... no, for you it wouldn't be difficult. But this has nothing to do with you. Now, if you still consider me your professor, get back to bed."
Snape stood firm, using all his strength to raise his hand and point toward the Ravenclaw common room.
"Sigh." The dragon, feeling as though he had been foolishly sentimental, turned into a swarm of butterflies and dissipated into the air, leaving Snape alone in the silent, dark corridor.