"We've got to step up our game from here on out!" James declared, giving his wand a determined flourish. "If we can master becoming Animagi in three years, beating Snivellus should be a walk in the park!"
"Beating Snivellus? So that's your big goal? Scary!" Padfoot sidestepped dramatically. "Keep away from me, mate!"
"Padfoot!" James barked, and the two of them chased each other around Hagrid's hulking frame, laughter echoing through the air.
Hagrid chuckled along with them. "All right, you lot, have your fun—but remember to get back to class soon! It's only the start of term, so don't get too wild!"
…
As the memory faded, Wyzett carefully organized what he'd seen.
It was clear now: Snape wasn't just a potions prodigy—he was skilled at dueling and knew far more about the Dark Arts than most students.
"That's a true all-rounder," Wyzett thought to himself. "All those curses and hexes he knew before even coming to Hogwarts…"
"He probably knows more than most seventh-years. I've got a long way to go—I need to work harder!"
He kept sifting through Hagrid's memories, and soon stumbled across another: a battered, bloodied young Snape, looking utterly defeated.
…
Diving into the memory, Wyzett found himself beneath the night sky at Hogwarts. The Whomping Willow loomed not far away, its trunk still slender with youth, and above it hung a perfect, silvery full moon.
Young Snape was cradled in Hagrid's arms, his chest rising and falling in shallow, painful breaths—clearly, he'd taken a beating.
James was there too, walking beside Hagrid. He looked a bit better off than Snape, able to keep pace with Hagrid's long strides, but drops of blood occasionally splattered from his robes. He wasn't unscathed either.
"I have to say… Padfoot really went too far this time," James muttered, his tone tight with frustration.
Young Snape tried to stand, wanting to glare down at James from above. But his body wouldn't cooperate; he could only manage a feeble, defiant whisper. "I… don't need… don't need your help! I'd… rather… die there!"
"You can't die there!" James shot back, deadly serious. "That's my line in the sand."
"Heh… cough, cough, cough…" Young Snape tried to sneer, but the effort sent him into a fit of coughing, pain etched across his face.
"Just hold still!" Hagrid said gruffly. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing."
But Snape ignored him, spitting out, "Potter… you're just afraid of getting expelled…"
"Say whatever you want!" James folded his arms, clearly angry now, his voice rising. "Maybe I shouldn't have saved you!"
At that moment, Hagrid stopped in his tracks, surprise and nervousness in his voice. "Professor Dumbledore? What are you doing here…?"
It wasn't just Hagrid who was startled—James and Snape both froze, eyes wide.
Snape strained to turn his head, wanting to see for himself if Hagrid was telling the truth.
James quickly dropped his arms, glancing uneasily at the Whomping Willow, then ruffling his hair in agitation, clearly scrambling for an excuse.
It was Wyzett's first time seeing Dumbledore like this: much younger, yes, but with exhaustion and sorrow etched deep into his face. His emerald-green robes were stained with wide swathes of blood—an unsettling sight.
"St. Mungo's has been attacked. They're short-staffed, so I was going to send Poppy over to help…" Dumbledore said, his gaze falling on the battered Snape in Hagrid's arms.
He glanced up at the full moon, then at the anxious James, and his expression hardened.
With a wave of his wand, he sent out a swirl of emerald light, which floated gently around young Snape's body. "Good… they're all superficial wounds."
Lowering his wand, Dumbledore's voice grew somber. "Who did this?"
James clenched his jaw and shouted, "It was… me!"
"Not just him!" Snape spat, a twisted satisfaction in his voice. "And that Black… all four of them—you know who they are!"
"James, look at me," Dumbledore said quietly, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes sharp and searching.
James met his gaze for only a few seconds before dropping his eyes in shame, scuffing the grass with his shoe.
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of exhaustion and grief deepening in his eyes. "How do you propose to resolve this?"
Young Snape's voice was raw with pain, but there was a vindictive edge to it. "Expel them!"
"Is that so?" Dumbledore looked up, fixing his gaze on Snape in Hagrid's arms. "I will report everything truthfully, including all that happened tonight."
A flicker of suspicion crossed Snape's face. "What exactly are you going to say?"
James looked up too, searching for answers.
"I will keep James, because he saved you," Dumbledore said. "But I will expel Sirius, since he was the instigator."
"Everything I've just said will be published as an announcement for the whole school to see. What do you think of that outcome?"
Hagrid's hesitant voice broke in. "Professor Dumbledore…"
"No!" Snape and James protested in unison.
Madam Pomfrey hurried over, lugging a large suitcase. "Albus, we're ready to go!"
"Right away, Poppy," Dumbledore replied. "The second option: what happened tonight must never be spoken of. James and his friends will serve a month's detention."
"In my view, maintaining Hogwarts' stability is paramount. Severus, what do you think of this second option?"
"Heh, do I really have a choice?" Young Snape slumped back, his voice laced with both sarcasm and a hint of bitter disappointment.
Dumbledore nodded. "Then it's settled. No one is to speak of tonight. Poppy, tend to Severus, and then let's go."
A moment later, Madam Pomfrey left a small bottle of potion and followed Dumbledore into the darkness.
Young Snape struggled free from Hagrid's arms, shooting James a venomous glare. "Aren't you lot impressive!"
With that, he turned and ran for the castle without a backward glance.
Hagrid scratched his head. "James, it's a full moon tonight. You don't think Sirius—"
"Don't say it," James cut him off. "Professor Dumbledore said not to mention it…"
He looked toward the castle gates, a bitter smile flickering across his face.
Standing there wasn't just Snape, but also red-haired Lily.
It wasn't until both Snape and Lily had disappeared inside that James let out a long, weary sigh. "Hagrid, I've still got things to do…"
"You're heading back to the Whomping Willow?" Hagrid asked.
"They can't manage without me!" James nodded. "And remember—not a word about tonight. Not to anyone!"
"You can count on me!" Hagrid promised, though worry lingered in his eyes. "But what about your wounds…?"
"It's nothing! I'm off!" James called over his shoulder, already striding away into the night.
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