The portraits of Hogwarts swore they had never seen a young wizard run through the corridors that fast.
"Child, slow down. There isn't a werewolf chasing you!"
"Yes, little wizard, what if you crash into someone!"
Karmit ignored them completely.
True, there wasn't a werewolf behind him. But in the Potions classroom, there was something far more terrifying waiting.
However, as if purposely making things worse, the staircases began shifting wildly. The more anxious Karmit became, the more chaotically they moved.
His face darkened.
Then he clenched his teeth and jumped—straight off the corridor railing, diving right between the shifting staircases and plummeting toward the floor.
The portraits screamed.
"Heavens!"
"The child's gone mad. He's going to splatter!"
"From that height? Not splatter—paste!"
"Young wizards these days are insane!"
"Merlin have mercy, what do we do—"
But just as Karmit was about to hit the ground, he snapped his fingers. His body halted sharply in midair, then drifted down like a feather.
Karmit resumed running toward the dungeons.
Who said the Levitation Charm needed to be used on other objects? He truly was a genius.
He sprinted all the way to the dungeon corridor.
The Potions classroom was here.
He pushed the door open—
Before he could speak, he felt a cold, venomous gaze lock onto him.
"Well, well. Look who it is. Today's rising star, Mr. Black."
Karmit silently praised the performance. Yes, this was exactly the tone he expected.
Snape never disappointed.
"Apologies, Head of House. Something came up and delayed me."
He emphasized the words Head of House.
Snape's irritation eased very slightly. He shot Karmit a freezing glare. "Do you need an invitation to come in?"
Karmit wisely shut his mouth and went to find a seat.
Of course, he didn't pick just any seat.
The place he chose was, in his opinion, absolutely safe.
First, it was far away from Neville Longbottom.
Being far from Neville also meant being far from Neville's partner, Seamus Finnigan— one was a walking disaster, the other was a demolition artist.
Karmit respected them both… from a distance.
Second, he was far from Harry, Draco, and even further from Ron, that useless lump.
All in all, this was a prime location. After today, this spot might become a battleground.
The best part?
He didn't have a partner at the table.
Which meant no risk of an unpredictable seatmate blowing something up.
Snape gave Karmit one last cold glance before sweeping his icy gaze across the class.
He was in a foul mood. And if he was in a foul mood, someone was going to suffer.
Snape's eyes drifted instinctively toward Harry Potter. He had not planned to trouble Harry today.
Truly, he hadn't— in honor of Slytherin's reputation.
But Harry had a special talent for choosing the worst possible moment. There he was, hunched over his desk, writing something instead of paying attention.
Snape's eyes turned frigid.
"It seems some people believe their fame excuses them from listening in my class. Or perhaps their mastery of potions is already beyond my teaching."
Instantly, half the class looked at Karmit.
The other half looked at Harry.
Karmit's mouth twitched.
If you want to pick on Harry, just do it directly. Why say something that makes it sound like I'm involved?
Draco nudged Harry urgently.
Before Harry could react— Snape was already beside him. Karmit barely saw him move.
So fast.
Too fast.
And silent.
Karmit suspected their dear Professor had used some kind of magic.
Snape snatched the notebook from under Harry's hand. Harry jumped, looking up— And met Snape's eyes.
For a heartbeat, Snape froze.
Those green eyes…
Harry said quietly, "S-sorry, Professor."
The moment Karmit heard Harry speak, he knew it was over.
If Harry had stayed silent just a little longer, Snape would have kept staring at those eyes, drifted into memory, and maybe let him go.
But he spoke.
And Snape returned to reality.
He saw Harry's face— the face that so closely resembled James Potter's.
The undisguised disgust appeared instantly. Snape never held back.
If not for those green eyes, Karmit suspected Snape might have thrown a Sectumsempra on impulse.
Snape slammed the notebook onto the table.
"Well then, the famous Harry Potter, tell me. When powdered asphodel root is added to an infusion of wormwood, what do I obtain?"
Karmit sighed inwardly.
Here it was.
The infamous three questions had arrived. And Snape's questions were never random.
The first question: asphodel means love. Wormwood means sorrow.
Snape was alluding to his own painful love.
The second question: bezoars are antidotes. Connected to the first question, he was asking how to cure the poison of his grief.
The last question: aconite. Both varieties symbolized malice.
Snape was using the question to speak to another pair of green eyes.
Saying he was sorry. Saying he would love her always, no matter how much malice surrounded him.
Such a heartbreakingly devoted man.
Unfortunately, Harry never failed to disappoint. He didn't know a single answer.
Snape sneered at him.
Or rather, sneered at the face that looked exactly like young James Potter.
He wasn't attacking Harry.
He was attacking the memory of James.
"It seems fame means nothing. Though I still cannot fathom how someone with a mind full of fluff, with an intelligence lower than a troll's, entered Slytherin—
I will not allow you to embarrass this House. Starting today, every afternoon after class, you will come to my office."
Snape let out a cold laugh and swept back to the front of the room.
Karmit's eyes lit up.
Interesting. A new development.
Was this punishment… or private tutoring?
__________
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