The scene shifted to a boy. He was thin with jet-black hair, looking seventy or eighty percent similar to Harry before she ate the cookie, especially that tuft of hair on the top of his head, standing up rebelliously.
"Who wants to go to Slytherin? I wouldn't want to stay there, what about you?"
James asked the boy sitting leisurely opposite him. The boy was handsome, dressed as exquisitely and luxuriously as James. At a glance, one could tell their backgrounds were similar—either rich or noble.
"This is your father, James Potter," Snape explained to Harley, his tone revealing undisguised disgust. "And his self-proclaimed most loyal friend, Sirius Black."
When mentioning Sirius Black, Snape almost ground his teeth; it seemed he hated him even more than James.
"Sirius..."
"Do not mention his name."
Snape interrupted Harley with some irritation, but immediately felt it was inappropriate, so he added, "He betrayed your parents and let the Dark... let Lord Voldemort find your home. There is no scummier cur in the world than him!"
"Lord Voldemort should never have been able to find you..." Snape leaned back against the chair as if drained of strength.
Harley silently watched the projection of the four's unpleasant first meeting. The image vanished when Snape and Lily left the compartment.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have told you this so early, Harley."
Snape felt some regret; this matter was indeed too heavy for Harley.
"But I would have found out sooner or later." Harley shook her head. She wasn't as fragile as she looked. Like her mother, Lily, Harley had courage and strength deep in her heart.
"Then let's look at your mother's performance in school." Saying this, a hint of a smile inadvertently tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth. "In the eyes of all the professors, your mother was an outstanding witch. All the professors liked her, even the pickiest Professor Slughorn, and he's a snob."
In Snape's memory, Lily was the brightest one in the crowd. Although they were sorted into different houses, shortly after entering Hogwarts, they often chatted together. Snape would enthusiastically share his discoveries in Potions, and their relationship was once very good.
All of this corroborated the fact that Snape was Lily's good friend.
Snape reminisced about these warm memories earnestly, but when the clock pointed to eleven o'clock sharp, Snape stopped the playback.
"That's it for today."
Snape spoke calmly, but deep in his eyes, it was not calm. As the person involved, he knew best that as time passed, he gradually reduced his meetings with Lily and instead hung around with people from Slytherin House, researching things Lily didn't like—such as the Dark Arts.
Snape was human; naturally, he had his own selfishness. He didn't want his image to completely collapse in front of Harley, even though he didn't want to deceive Harley, who looked eighty or ninety percent like Lily.
"You should go back to your dormitories to rest. Go on."
Snape nodded to Harley, but as Lynn stood up, he reached out and pressed down on his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "Take good care of Harley. You and she are good friends, right?"
"Otherwise, I wouldn't have come today."
Lynn nodded. "Actually, she can take care of herself, Professor. Don't worry too much."
"Perhaps." Snape waved his hand, and a book flew over from the shelf into his grasp. "Read this when you have time."
He stuffed the book into Lynn's arms and released his hand to let him leave.
"Go on, you two should rest."
"What did Professor Snape say to you?"
After walking some distance, Harley walked backward with her hands behind her back, leading Lynn.
"He gave me a book. It's probably his notes or something; I haven't looked closely."
"Oh." Harley nodded. "By the way, Lynn, what do you think of my dad?"
"A punk with dyed hair riding a modified bike who abducted the school's most beloved beauty?"
Lynn shrugged. He wasn't particularly interested in commenting on James. "What matters isn't what others think, but what you think. Whether your father was good or bad is in the past. The dead cannot be brought back to life."
"Even so..."
Harley pursed her lips. "I just don't really understand why Mom married him in the first place."
"By the way, about Hagrid. Have you found any leads yet, Lynn?"
"It was fifty years ago, and likely not a small matter. I guess quite a few people in the school should know about it. Since Hagrid isn't willing to talk, perhaps we can ask around elsewhere."
"Like the ghosts?"
Harley voiced her idea. "The Hogwarts ghosts have been at the school for a long time, right? They must know something. Maybe I can ask Sir Nicholas? He likes talking to us."
"Nick does have a good personality, and he's helpful too. You could give it a try. Once we figure out what actually happened, maybe we can find a way to help Hagrid."
"You're right. Now let's go back. I don't want to climb the stairs."
Harley smiled and extended her hand. "Send me back to the entrance."
"Then get some rest early, Harley. Goodnight."
As his voice fell, Harley vanished from the corridor. The two entered the passage behind the Fat Lady one after the other and parted ways in the common room.
Lynn also prepared to go back to rest, but at the entrance to the boys' dormitory, he saw Neville sitting in an armchair nearby.
"Lynn."
Neville stood up when he saw Lynn arrive. "I've finally waited for you."
"Did something happen, Neville?"
Lynn pulled out a chair and sat opposite Neville, looking at him calmly.
"It's Professor Quirrell..." Neville lowered his voice, his round, chubby face looking somewhat serious. "What do you think... of Professor Quirrell?"
"He's playing the fool." Lynn shook his head slightly. "You noticed it too, didn't you?"
"Yes—I mean... Professor Quirrell used to teach Muggle Studies. I went to ask around this afternoon. Although few people took that class before, some did take his course. They told me that before last year, Professor Quirrell was actually a very capable and smart man. He would travel around the world every holiday to contact wizards and Muggles everywhere. He wanted to figure out the essential difference between wizards and Muggles, why magic chooses wizards, and what the essence of magic actually is."
"Professor Quirrell is very impressive. He once shared his insights from visiting different countries in class. He was even good at wandless magic. 'Because in unfamiliar environments, one always encounters various sudden accidents'—that's what he told the upperclassmen at the time."
"Just the day the Quidditch match ended, I accidentally heard him muttering something about a 'three-headed dog' and 'finding a way.' He looked very anxious, even afraid of something."
"You remember what Professor Dumbledore said on the first day of school, right?"
"If you do not wish to die a painful death, do not go to the room at the end of the corridor on the fourth floor." Lynn nodded, repeating Dumbledore's words.
"That's the room. There's a three-headed dog inside." Neville lowered his voice further, leaning in close to speak. "That is a Greek three-headed dog. My family's vault at Gringotts is guarded by one. Three-headed dogs are the best treasure-guarding dogs in the world. He's planning something, isn't he?"
"Why do you think that?" Lynn suddenly looked at Neville with some curiosity.
"Because..." Neville frowned in conflict. "It's a feeling... I just feel there's something about Professor Quirrell that gives me... a feeling of déjà vu. It's a very bad feeling..."
Neville suddenly shuddered. "It's a very evil feeling. After that day, I had a dream that night..." Neville's voice suddenly dropped low. "I once witnessed my parents being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr. I was hidden by my mom and dad. They didn't find me, but I saw everything. That night, I dreamed of it again, clearer than any other time."
"I will never forget that terrible scene, and I will never forget those four guys!"
Neville lowered his gaze, but his tightly clenched fists betrayed the thoughts deep in his heart
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