The scene shifts to a young boy. He's skinny, with black hair, and looks nearly identical to Harry—or rather, Harri—before she ate the biscuit. Especially that rebellious tuft of hair sticking up on the crown of his head.
"Who wants to be a Slytherin? I wouldn't go there if you paid me. What about you?"
James asks the question to the boy sitting casually opposite him. The boy has handsome features, and his clothes, like James's, are expensive and stylish. You can tell at a glance that they come from a similar background: old money and status.
"That is your father, James Potter," Snape explained to Harri, his voice dripping with undisguised distaste. "And beside him is his self-proclaimed most loyal friend, Sirius Black."
When he mentioned Sirius Black, Snape almost ground his teeth, seeming to hate him even more than James.
"Sirius..."
"Don't speak his name."
Snape interrupted Harri irritably, but then he seemed to realize his tone was inappropriate. He quickly added, "He betrayed your parents. He allowed the Dark... Voldemort to find your home. There is no more vile son of a Muggle-loving dog in the world!"
"Voldemort never should have been able to find you," Snape continued, slumping slightly into the chair as if exhausted.
Harri silently watched the projection of the four students' less-than-pleasant first encounter. The memory faded as Snape and Lily left the compartment.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have told you this so soon, Harri."
Snape looked regretful. This information was undeniably heavy for Harri to bear.
"But I would have found out eventually," Harri shook her head. She was not as fragile as she looked; like her mother, Lily, Harri possessed a core of courage and resilience.
"Well, let's see how your mother fared at school." At this, a subtle smile played across the corner of Snape's mouth. "In the eyes of all the professors, your mother was an outstanding witch. All the teachers adored her, even the most critical of all—Professor Slughorn, who is quite the snob."
In Snape's memory, Lily was the brightest person in any crowd. Although they were Sorted into different Houses, they spent a lot of time talking shortly after arriving at Hogwarts. Snape would eagerly share his discoveries in Potions, and their relationship was once very close.
All of this confirmed the fact that Snape and Lily were the best of friends.
Snape recalled this warm memory carefully, but when the clock struck eleven o'clock, he stopped the playback.
"That will be all for today."
Snape spoke calmly, but the depths of his eyes were anything but peaceful. As a participant in those events, he knew very well that as time went on, he had gradually started spending less time with Lily and more time with the Slytherins, delving into things Lily thoroughly disliked—like the Dark Arts.
Snape was a man, and naturally, he had his own personal concerns. He didn't want his image to completely crumble in front of Harri, who looked so much like Lily, even if he didn't want to deceive her.
"You both should head back to your Common Rooms to rest. Off you go."
Snape nodded to Harri, but when Lynn stood up, Snape reached out and held his shoulder. He leaned in and whispered, "Look after Harri. You two are good friends, aren't you?"
"If we weren't, I wouldn't be here today."
Lynn nodded. "Honestly, she can look after herself, Professor. Don't worry too much."
"Perhaps," Snape waved his hand. A book flew off a shelf and into his grip. "You might want to take a look at this sometime."
He pressed the book into Lynn's arms, released his shoulder, and let him leave.
"Go on. You need your rest."
---
"What did Professor Snape tell you?"
After they had walked a short distance, Harri was walking backward in front of Lynn, her hands clasped behind her back.
"He gave me a book. Looks like some of his old notes or something. I didn't look closely."
"Oh," Harri nodded. "Hey, Lynn, what do you think of my dad?"
"The leather-jacketed rogue who stole the school's most beloved beauty queen?"
Lynn shrugged, not particularly interested in commenting on James. "What matters isn't what others think, but what you think. The good and bad about your father are in the past. The dead can't be brought back."
"That's true, but..."
Harri pouted a little. "I just don't understand why Mum married him."
"Oh, right! About Hagrid, Lynn, have you found any clues yet?"
"This happened fifty years ago, and it might not have been a small thing. I suspect quite a few people in the school know about it. Hagrid won't talk, so maybe we should try asking around somewhere else."
"Like the ghosts?"
Harri offered her idea. "The Hogwarts ghosts have been here for ages, right? They must know something. Maybe I could ask Sir Nicholas? He seems to enjoy talking to us."
"Nick is certainly friendly and very helpful. You could give it a shot. Once we figure out what actually happened, maybe we can find a way to help Hagrid."
"You're right. Let's go back now. I don't want to climb any more stairs."
Harri smiled brightly and held out her hand. "Carry me to the entrance, will you?"
"Get some rest, Harri. Goodnight."
As he spoke, Harri vanished down the corridor. They both slipped through the portrait hole behind the Fat Lady and parted ways in the Common Room.
Lynn was also ready to head back, but at the entrance to the boys' dormitory, he saw Neville sitting in a nearby armchair.
"Lynn."
Neville stood up when he saw Lynn approach. "I finally caught you."
"What's wrong, Neville?"
Lynn pulled up a chair and sat opposite Neville, looking at him calmly.
"It's Professor Quirrell..." Neville lowered his voice, his chubby, round face looking quite serious. "What do you think... of Professor Quirrell?"
"He's pretending to be an idiot," Lynn shook his head slightly. "You noticed, didn't you?"
"Yes—I mean... Professor Quirrell used to teach Muggle Studies. I asked around this afternoon. Although very few people took that class before, some people did. They told me that before last year, Professor Quirrell was actually a very capable and brilliant person. He used to travel the world every holiday, meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures. He wanted to understand the essential difference between wizards and Muggles, why magic chooses a witch or wizard, and what the true nature of magic is."
"Professor Quirrell was amazing. He used to share his insights from different countries in class. He was even very good at non-verbal spellcasting, because, as he told the older students, 'in unfamiliar environments, you always encounter sudden emergencies.'"
"And then, the day after the Quidditch match, I accidentally overheard him muttering things like 'a three-headed dog' and 'how to get past it.' He seemed really anxious, almost scared of something."
"Do you remember what Professor Dumbledore said on the first day of term?"
"If you don't want to die a most painful death, don't go near the room on the third-floor corridor," Lynn nodded, repeating Dumbledore's warning.
"It's that room. It has a three-headed dog in it." Neville lowered his voice again, leaning in closer. "That's a Greek Cerberus. My family uses one to guard our vault at Gringotts. They are the best treasure guardians in the world. He's plotting something, isn't he?"
"Why do you think that?" Lynn looked at Neville, suddenly curious.
"Because..." Neville frowned, troubled. "It's a feeling, I guess... I just get a sense from Professor Quirrell... that feels familiar. And it's a very bad kind of feeling..."
Neville suddenly shivered. "It feels evil. The night after the Quidditch match, I had a dream..." Neville's voice suddenly dropped. "I once witnessed my parents being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr. I was hidden by my mum and dad, and they never found me, but I saw everything. That night, I dreamed of it again, clearer than ever."
"I will never forget that horrible sight, and I will never forget those four people!"
Neville's eyes were lowered, but his tightly clenched fists betrayed the depth of his feelings.