HRHL# Chapter 68: Truly Can’t Understand You Slytherins

In the blink of an eye, the new school term began as scheduled.

Most students were listless and unmotivated, still lost in the afterglow of the holiday—except for a few academic overachievers like Hermione.

The teachers, on the other hand, were as they usually were, especially Professor Snape, who appeared to be in a far better mood than during the break.

This was evident from the ever-dwindling number of rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass.

But there were exceptions.

During the first Potions class after the holiday, Harry, under Snape’s watchful eye, skillfully completed a cauldron of potion.

"Not bad potion-making skills," Professor Snape remarked from behind him.

Harry turned his head, feeling a slight discomfort in his shoulder. Using his other hand to rub it, his face was partially obscured by his arm, leaving only a pair of green eyes visible.

Was it an illusion, or did Professor Snape’s expression soften, even show a trace of delight?

“Three points to Gryffindor for your potion skills,” Snape declared.

Ron, seated nearby, widened his eyes in shock, which then rapidly narrowed.

Merlin’s socks! Professor Snape… gave points to Gryffindor?!

What in bloody hell? Did the sun rise in the west today?

He stole a glance upward, wondering if Snape had washed his hair that morning.

Unfortunately, Snape’s hair remained as greasy as ever, matching his usual demeanor.

Draco Malfoy’s expression grew darker. He sneered disdainfully but said nothing.

By lunchtime, all of Gryffindor was buzzing about this unprecedented event.

“My word, Professor Snape actually gave points to Gryffindor!” Ron exclaimed in disbelief. “Merlin knows Gryffindor hasn’t earned any points in Potions since Snape became the professor!”

“Forget about Snape for a moment!” Hermione whispered urgently. “Before the holiday, I asked you two to find out where Fluffy is guarding something in the school. Don’t tell me you’ve come up with nothing over the break!”

Had Snape not been mentioned earlier, she might have forgotten about the matter entirely.

“Uh…” Ron hesitated, choking on his words. Over the holiday, aside from staying at the Grangers’ house, he’d been preoccupied with eating extra drumsticks or playing wizard chess.

As for finding Fluffy, he’d completely forgotten about it.

Come on, I didn’t get any free time before the holiday. Was I supposed to have none during it either? Wouldn’t that mean my holiday was a total waste?

“What about you, Harry?” Hermione turned to him.

Harry cleared his throat. Over the holiday, he’d been engrossed in reading Cassandra’s notes—or perhaps they were her diary—and hadn’t given Fluffy much thought.

But in a pinch, inspiration struck.

“Remember how Professor Dumbledore mentioned that room on the fourth floor at the beginning of the school year?” Harry said in a low voice. “If my guess is correct, that abandoned classroom must be where Fluffy is.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hermione frowned.

Meeting Hermione’s skeptical gaze, Harry replied softly, “Because it’s the one place Professor Dumbledore expressly forbade us from visiting. Either way, we’ll know for sure if we check it out.”

“No way,” Hermione said, pursing her lips. “You know it’s strictly off-limits. I’m not risking expulsion because of your suggestion.”

“She’s right, Harry,” Ron added in a whisper. “I’m sure Dumbledore has his reasons.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, not pressing further. He didn’t want to drag his friends into something dangerous anyway.

He’d wait until he was serving detention with Snape and then sneak off to investigate alone.

As long as he protected the Philosopher’s Stone, he could borrow it from the Flamel over the summer, and everything would be fine.

By then, he could safely enter the Chamber of Secrets.

“At least you’ll have it easier now,” Ron said to Harry. “Snape won’t be as hard on you during detention. That photo clearly worked wonders.”

“What photo?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

“Harry’s aunt sent him a few pictures of his mum from her school days. One of them was a photo of her with Snape,” Ron explained. “Harry picked out that one and gave it to Snape as a gift. He even got a vial of Felix Felicis in return.”

“It seems your hunch was right, Harry,” Hermione said, though she was still curious. “But why was there a photo of your mum and Snape, but not one with your dad and Snape?”

“No idea,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Maybe the ones with my dad and Snape are hidden somewhere else.”

“That must be it,” Ron said. “Snape must’ve been pretty touched to receive that photo.”

Indeed, he had been.

That evening, when Harry arrived at Snape’s underground office for detention, Snape didn’t make him handle unpleasant potion ingredients as usual. Instead, he had him brew a potion.

“Thunderbrew,” Snape drawled in his slow, greasy tone. “When thrown, it creates a lightning storm to harm enemies. The recipe, by the way, was…”

Snape paused abruptly.

“What is it, Professor?” Harry asked.

“…Discovered by your mother in a lost text,” Snape said, his voice suddenly gentle. “With your potion skills, I suppose you’re ready to learn it.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry replied dutifully, though he thought to himself: We used Thunderbrew all the time back then…

It had been Gareth’s favorite potion, with ingredients frequently pilfered from Professor Sharp’s potion store.

But the true master of Thunderbrew had been Cassandra.

The Malfoys certainly lived up to their reputation as a platinum-tier family. Cassandra’s supply of Thunderbrew seemed endless—no one knew just how many magical items her tiny pouch could hold.

“Two ounces of leech juice, two shriveled fig fruits, and three and one-third ounces of corpse stench,” Snape explained slowly and clearly. “Typically, you’d find corpse stench on wights. But I wouldn’t recommend you face those creatures at your age—after all, wights aren’t something a young troll like you can handle.”

“Understood, Professor,” Harry said obediently, deliberately ignoring the “young troll” comment.

After a live demonstration by Snape on how to brew Thunderbrew, Harry was unceremoniously kicked out of the office.

In his hands was a freshly brewed vial of Thunderbrew.

Truly can’t understand you Slytherins, Harry thought.