Harry's detention finally arrived. It was the day after the Troll incident, which was Friday. After Potion Class that morning, Professor Snape angrily told Harry to get to his office that night.
He found it hard not to wonder why Snape held such animosity towards him. That afternoon, he went to Hagrid's hut, hoping to find out something.
"Yes, Professor Snape and your father didn't get along very well in the past," Hagrid said, holding a rock cake and a large mug of hot tea.
"Alright, that's all I can say. Snape is just strict, there's no way he'd take out grudges from over a decade ago on a child."
"I don't think so," Harry replied while fending off the enthusiastic Fang.
Fang was Hagrid's large black dog, and Harry thought he was a bit of a people-pleaser; he'd snort and pounce whenever he met someone, making him a bit difficult to handle.
"I heard he used to be a Death Eater, didn't he?" Harry said.
Hagrid suddenly stiffened, his face paling considerably: "Oh, where did you hear that?"
"The common room. Slytherin knows more about these things."
"What's a Death Eater?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled.
"They're Lord Voldemort's followers, the guys who do bad things with Lord Voldemort."
Bang! Hagrid, caught off guard, fell backward, covering his chest with a pale face: "Harry, no, don't mention that name!"
"Uh… sorry, it just slipped out," Harry said, feeling a bit awkward.
Hagrid struggled a bit to get back up and sit on the chair. He composed himself for a while before saying, "We have to trust Dumbledore. If Snape wasn't trustworthy, how could he be involved in that plan?"
"What plan?" Hermione immediately caught the key point in Hagrid's words.
"Oh, no. Don't ask, it's classified!" Hagrid suddenly realized, looking a bit distressed.
Harry said indifferently, "Is it related to the fourth-floor corridor? Or to vault 713? Or are they the same thing?"
Hagrid looked at Harry as if he were a monster: "Oh, where did you find out?! Who… No, no, none of that, don't guess wildly."
"Hagrid, don't be so nervous, I don't really care about these things," Harry shrugged helplessly.
The more something piqued his curiosity, the more he deliberately chose not to investigate it.
His main philosophy was, it has nothing to do with me.
Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts; if the sky fell, the tall ones would bear the burden.
Well, though that wasn't entirely accurate, as they had just been chased by a Troll yesterday.
Even though people still didn't know how the Troll appeared at Hogwarts, it was certainly not normal.
You see, it didn't come from the main gate or the Forbidden Forest, but from the underground classrooms!
Someone was deliberately doing this. Unless you're saying that big, dumb brute with skin like a rock can Apparate and randomly teleport into the underground classrooms.
Harry suspected this might also be related to the fourth floor and vault 713.
But think about it, the Troll was surely just an aftershock of this matter, and that was already hard enough for him to handle. Why would he be curious about the fourth floor? Did he want to die faster?
However, on the way back, Hermione was very curious about vault 713 that Harry mentioned.
"Vault 713 was robbed," Harry said, which was also news he had heard in the common room.
"So?" Hermione was a bit confused.
"Remember the day we went to Gringotts? Hagrid went to that vault to retrieve something. Afterward, that vault was robbed," Harry explained.
"A Dark Wizard was coveting what was in that vault, and Dumbledore had Hagrid retrieve it beforehand." He then looked at Hermione: "Guess where that thing is now?"
Hermione reacted quickly, clapping her hands and saying, "The fourth floor?!"
Harry nodded: "That's likely it."
The reason Harry was willing to tell Hermione everything was because he knew Hermione valued school rules and wouldn't do anything foolish, which is why he spoke to her like that.
If it were someone else, like Draco with his restless nature, he wouldn't have been willing to say anything, as it would only cause more trouble.
After dinner, he bid farewell to Hermione, who was heading to the library, and went down to Professor Snape's office in the dungeons.
Knock, knock, knock—
The door slowly opened. Snape's office perfectly matched Harry's impression of him: it was a dim room, with hundreds of glass jars on shelves, sticky animal and plant specimens floating in colorful Potions.
Harry instinctively felt that this wasn't all. Because he didn't see any Potion-making equipment here.
Perhaps deeper within the office, there was another room, and that's where the real abundance of things was.
"Come in, Potter, do you think you can stand outside and waste detention time?" Snape's low, oppressive voice appeared.
"Sorry, Professor," he quickly walked inside.
As soon as he entered, Harry smelled blood. Snape's desk was very new, with blood-stained bandages on it.
He noticed Harry's gaze, and suddenly looked up, glaring at him.
"Get the Dittany, it's on your left," he said with a warning: "Mind your eyes."
Harry nodded and walked towards the shelf on his left.
Dittany was also part of this school year's curriculum, but they probably wouldn't learn about it until the Easter term.
Fortunately, Harry had already mastered this knowledge. Before long, he found the Dittany.
This was an extremely potent, all-purpose external wound Potion.
"Professor," Harry handed the Potion to Snape. The other man took it and bent down to change the dressing. By the flickering candlelight, he could vaguely see the deep, ghastly wound on Snape's leg, visible to the bone.
Harry's stomach churned a bit, and his mind became foggy.
He sharply slapped his own head. Snape heard the sound, looked up at him, and said disdainfully, "It seems you realize there's something wrong with your brain."
"No, I'm just a bit displeased with my body's reaction," Harry explained, then asked, "Excuse me, Professor, why not use magic to heal it?"
"Shut up! No questions allowed," Snape rebuked: "If I could use magic, would I need Dittany? If you were using your brain to think, you wouldn't ask such a question."
"Sorry, Professor," Harry lowered his head and apologized readily, his gaze fixed on Snape's wound.
It wasn't a cut; the flesh was extremely rough at the edges, and it couldn't possibly be from a blunt instrument… It shouldn't be a wound caused by a spell either, otherwise there should at least be magical effects like burning, freezing, or petrification…
Bite?!
Harry remembered, Snape was the last Professor to arrive at the scene last night. Plus, the Troll appeared from the underground classrooms.
Underground, besides the Potion Classrooms, Snape's office, and two common rooms, there were only some empty classrooms…
Snape?!
Harry's gaze was a bit strange, and he quickly dismissed the idea.
If even I can link all the clues to Snape at a glance, then that's far too unprofessional.
Moreover, he's openly showing this wound to a student? Isn't he afraid I'll blab about it?!
That's a bit too ridiculous.
So, first, rule out Snape!
After he finished treating the injury on his leg, Harry was led by him into the inner room.
Snape was much more formidable than he had imagined; his walking pace was completely unaffected, just as usual.
Regardless of whether it affected the recovery of his injury, to achieve such a feat, one must possess an incredibly strong mind.
Soon, he withdrew his admiration for Snape.
Snape took out an entire bucket of frogs, then demanded that Harry process them, ensuring that every eyeball remained intact, and that all the blood was collected.
Harry looked down at the frogs, piled together in large numbers, their bodies covered in intertwined mucus, and his face turned bitter.
"Ribbit-ribbit—"
"Ribbit—"
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