Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 132 Mibu Mibao
The weather in September was still hot, and the doors and windows of the Three Brooms were wide open.

"jingle--"

The brass bell on the door frame rang out clearly when no one touched it.

Upon entering the small bar, they were immediately enveloped by a scent that blended sweetness, spiciness, and the aroma of aged wood.

"Oh dear, aren't these our young geniuses from Hogwarts?" Madam Rosmerta looked up from behind the bar. Today, she was wearing a light blue, low-cut robe, and her lightly dyed curly hair was casually draped over her shoulders. "What brings you all to this corner?"

"Good morning, Ms. Rosmerta," Abbott greeted cheerfully and walked toward an empty table.

“I miss your beauty, madam.” Snape nodded slightly as he passed the bar. He noticed that Mrs. Rosmerta seemed to have dark circles under her eyes and asked, “You look a little tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

“There is one thing,” Mrs. Rosmerta yawned, her long fingers lightly pressing her temples, “Strangely enough, the Screaming Shack was unusually quiet last night; there wasn't a single scream heard during the night—”

“That’s definitely unusual, isn’t it?” A Hogsmeade villager, who also looked somewhat tired, chimed in. “I live nearby, and the ghost’s calls are as punctual as an alarm clock. The sudden silence is actually quite unsettling.”

“Who can argue with that?” Ms. Rosmerta sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been going on for over six years, and suddenly stopping feels like something’s missing. It’s really hard to get used to. I tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning last night before I finally fell asleep.”

"Should we go and see what happened?" another villager suggested, but his voice was clearly lacking in confidence.

“Are you tired of living?” Ms. Rosmerta rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be the next person to disappear in the Screaming Shack.”

While they chatted, Snape and his group had already sat down.

“Speaking of which, it’s been quite a while since you’ve been here, Severus,” Mrs. Rosmerta said, wiping a glass with a clean white linen cloth and giving him a teasing look. “More than three months, haven’t you? I thought you’d forgotten which way the door with three brooms opens.”

“We’re here for the first event of the semester,” Snape said, sitting down next to Pandora. “Who wouldn’t want a cool, chilled butterbeer on a hot day?”

"Come on," Ms. Rosmerta said, expertly pouring several glasses of butterbeer. She swayed gracefully out from behind the bar, carrying a tray. "I haven't seen you all summer. Of everyone at this table, you're the only one who hasn't been here. Young people should get out more."

She bent down and placed the wine glasses in front of them one by one, a faint scent of perfume mixed with the aroma of alcohol naturally wafting close to their noses.

"What?" Snape looked at his companions in surprise. "You all came here during the summer vacation?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“We’ve already passed the Apparition test,” Pandora said. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Alas,” Mrs. Rosmerta straightened up, holding the tray to her chest, and shook her head. “He simply doesn’t remember me because he’s with a beautiful woman by his side.” With that, she turned and walked back to the bar.

“What did you do all summer, Siever?” Pandora asked, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t write a single letter in all that time.”

"You didn't receive his letter?" Barty Jr. looked at Pandora, then turned to Snape. "You wrote me one."

“That was a congratulatory letter for Barty.” Snape’s lips twitched involuntarily. “I wrote it in advance and sent it to him.”

“During the summer vacation,” he began, organizing his thoughts, “ever since…ever since I met Nagini, I’ve been trying to figure out how to solve her problem. I haven’t had any time for anything else.” He finished speaking and gave Pandora a helpless look with a troubled expression.

"Has her condition improved recently?" Pandora's expression softened immediately, her eyes revealing genuine concern. Ever since Snape told her about Nagini's tragic past, she had always felt endless sympathy for the little snake.

“Not bad,” Snape replied cautiously. “With Professor Dumbledore’s help, things have improved considerably.”

“I really hope she recovers,” Pandora sighed. “I just can’t imagine someone spending half a century alone in that condition…”

“It will,” Snape comforted her. “Let’s not talk about unhappy things. Come on, let’s have a drink.”

There weren't many guests at the moment. Ms. Rosmerta poured herself a small glass of Flaming Whisky, walked gracefully to their side, leaned against the edge of the next table, and took a small sip of her whisky.

This pose made her curves appear and disappear beneath her robes, drawing several glances from the boys. Snape, however, forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on his wine glass; he couldn't afford to make another mistake now.

“Friends, I heard a new joke during summer vacation,” Abbott said eagerly. “It’s a joke about a witch, a healer, and Mibumibo.”

Ms. Rosmerta immediately looked at Abbott, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Abbott perked up and began to tell the story vividly: "A witch, a healer, and Mibumi were drinking in a pretty little bar. The witch, coughing, said to the healer, 'I've been coughing a lot lately, friend, do you have any ideas?'"

The therapist said, "I have a solution, but the side effect will be that you'll laugh uncontrollably." Seeing the witch nod in agreement, he took a medicine bottle from his pocket and handed it to her.

The witch took the liquid and drank it down in one gulp. "It tastes really good. What is this?" She laughed heartily, and the healer, infected by her laughter, grinned at her as well.

"'Why aren't you laughing?' the witch asked Mibumibao with a smile."

“‘I can’t laugh,’ Mibumibao said calmly. ‘What you’re drinking is the juice he squeezed out of me.’”

After the joke was told, a brief silence fell over the table as everyone silently held their wine glasses.

Unexpectedly, Ms. Rosmerta covered her mouth and laughed.

“Oh, Abbott, that’s hilarious,” she exclaimed, even clutching her stomach dramatically. “Thank you, that was a really good joke… By the way, I recently launched a Dragon’s Blood vintage wine, would you like to try it? It’s only five a glass…”

Snape glanced at Madam Rosmerta out of the corner of his eye, puzzled. He clearly remembered that when Ron told her the joke, she hadn't even moved a muscle. Ron had sulked for half an hour because of it, and Hermione had mercilessly mocked him.

Why is her reaction so different now? It can't be because Abbott is prettier than Ron—looking at Abbott's pleasing round face, he immediately dismissed that idea.

But Abbott was clearly pleased with Ms. Rosmerta’s reaction, and he downed his glass of wine with gusto: “Give me a glass of Dragon’s Blood, madam, I have complete faith in your taste!”

Ms. Rosmerta happily noted down the order and turned to fetch the wine.

Just then, a greywood owl swooped in through the open window and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet precisely in front of a guest.

The man unfolded the newspaper and immediately frowned.

"What's wrong?" his companion asked.

“Sigh, another one,” he sighed, his voice tinged with suppressed fear. “It’s really not peaceful; another attack.”

“The mysterious man and his cronies,” his companion leaned closer to look, “this time in Liverpool, a Muggle village, a dozen people have died.”

Ms. Rosmerta silently placed her glass in front of Abbott and looked over there.

The atmosphere in the bar instantly became tense, and the conversation gradually turned to the current situation.

Amidst the murmurs, a wizard with a thick beard slammed his hand on the table: "This is terrifying. Protecting yourselves and your families is the most important thing. Let's not talk about this anymore."

“The Ministry of Magic will catch them.” A firm voice suddenly rang out. Snape turned and saw Georg Podmore, a square-chinned, straw-haired fourth-year Gryffindor student, stand up. “Justice is more important than self-preservation. I want to be an Auror and catch those Death Eaters.” “Don’t be silly, child,” an older wizard shook his head wearily. “We are pure-blood wizards; we only need to protect ourselves. Besides, what good would it do to disobey him?”

"What good is it to fight the world's most evil wizard?" Georg's face darkened with anger, and he raised his voice. "It's just to save some innocent lives, sir!"

His classmates at the table nodded in agreement with his point of view.

"Easy for you to say, students," the bearded wizard scoffed. "You won't say that once you see the power of the Mystic with your own eyes."

Snape stared at Georg, recalling how he had attended Order of the Phoenix events with his father, Stogwie Podmore, during the summer holidays. Stogwie was a brave man, and it seemed his son had inherited that trait.

Suddenly, Snape's thoughts were struck as if by lightning. He stared wide-eyed, jumped up abruptly, and the chair scraped loudly on the floor.

“I understand!” he blurted out.

He finally understood why Lady Rosmerta's behavior had changed so drastically: when Ron told her jokes, she was already under the Imperius Curse and controlled by the Death Eaters. Now, she was still the free Lady Rosmerta.

Everyone in the bar turned to look at him.

"What do you understand?" Little Barty asked curiously.

“Uh…” Snape said somewhat awkwardly, “I… I understand what was so funny about Abbott’s joke just now.”

Everyone looked puzzled. Abbott, however, grinned smugly: "See! Even Severus appreciates my humor! Ms. Rosmerta, give him one of mine too!"

When the glass of Dragon's Blood, worth five Galleons, was placed before him, Snape managed a weak smile. At least this unexpected windfall wasn't bad.

As he left the bar, Ms. Rosmerta saw him off at the door. “Thank you, Severus,” she winked slyly, “you got me to sell an extra drink. You’ve done a fine job as a bartender.”

Snape hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice and asked, "Do you really think that joke is funny?"

“Of course not,” Ms. Rosmerta replied casually, waving goodbye to the other customers. “Giving an appropriate response to a customer’s joke is a basic courtesy of a bar owner.” Her expression suddenly turned serious. “Did you really think that joke was good? Good heavens…”

“No, not at all,” Snape winked at her, “but I hope you’ll laugh next time I tell you this joke.”

Ms. Rosmerta responded with a wink, "No problem, I'll definitely smile, even if it's fake."

It was noon, and according to Little Barty's plan, Saturday evening was the day for all grades in the club to have a group activity.

“I’m going to buy some things,” Snape said to his companions, “to prepare for tonight’s activities.”

"Great! You're finally willing to do more!" Little Barty's eyes lit up. "That's more like what a club president should do! Do you need any help?"

“No need,” Snape shook his head. “I already have a plan.”

Before them, he drew his wand, waved it, and disappeared into the streets of Hogsmeade.

After the familiar feeling of being squeezed subsided, Snape appeared in a quiet alley in London. Muggles hurried past, and no one noticed the suddenly appearing boy in black robes.

“Civilize its spirit…” he muttered as he walked toward the famous Foyle Bookstore in London.

The bookstore window was filled with new books. Snape pushed open the door and, guided by the clerk, began to sweep up books: *Two Treatises of Government*, *The Social Contract*, *The Struggle for Rights*, and so on. He practically emptied the political philosophy section of enlightenment books.

He then moved on to the history, science, literature, fitness, and comics sections. After several carts were full, the staff's gaze shifted from curiosity to delight.

“I want all of these,” he said. “No need to pack them.”

When the clerk stared in disbelief as he grabbed a stack of books that almost blocked his view and stuffed them into his small wallet, he had to cast a confusion spell to make the clerk continue scanning the barcode in a daze.

"Next, it was time to toughen his body..." An hour later, Snape not only bought dumbbells, barbells and several other sets of fixed equipment, but also ravaged the snack section of the nearby supermarket—potato chips, spicy strips, chocolate, all kinds of strange carbonated drinks... and even several boxes of instant noodles.

Once everything was stuffed into his purse, Snape patted the bulging pocket with satisfaction. These Muggle items would be an eye-opener for the One Heart members—especially the pure-bloods, many of whom still firmly believed that Muggles were savage barbarians who ate inferior food and toiled aimlessly.

When they returned to Hogwarts, Barty Jr. and Abbott were setting up the venue for the evening.

Snape waved his wand, and several tables and chairs automatically combined to form a bookshelf, while the books in his bag flew up and arranged neatly. The exercise equipment was placed in the space on the other side.

“These Muggle books,” Snape explained to the two, “you can look at them whenever you have time, and then we can exchange ideas.” He walked over to the equipment and made a gesture of flexing his muscles. “As for these, they can help us improve our staff-swinging speed, or,” he smirked, “break another wizard’s nose with a punch.”

"This thing really makes people stronger?" Abbott curiously touched the butterfly machine. "Without potions?"

“Not only that,” a fitness magazine flew toward them, and Snape flipped to a page to show them, “it can also make you more masculine…”

As the members arrived one by one, Snape took out the Muggle food and piled it on the table.

The Muggle-born wizard immediately recognized the snacks with delight and began enthusiastically introducing them to his classmates.

"Is...is this really edible?" a second-year Slytherin student asked, poking at a bag of potato chips.

“Oh, you can’t eat it directly. This is plastic packaging, you need to open it.” A Muggle-born Gryffindor skillfully tore open the packaging. “Try it, it’s cheese and onion flavored.”

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of crunching and exclamations of surprise.

"It's so delicious, how can there be such amazing things in the world..."

Snape stood at the front, looking at the faces from the different houses. He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent, save for the rustling of packaging bags.

"How about it? The Muggle stuff is pretty good, isn't it?" he said kindly, pointing to the bookshelves. "There's also the knowledge that Muggles have accumulated over thousands of years. Don't look down on them. Just like these foods, Muggles can produce massive amounts of resources in a short time. They don't have magic, but their productivity still far surpasses ours."

"It may not seem as magical as magic, but the supplies that Muggles produce in a day are more than any wizard in the world could ever make, even if they broke their wands."

“Moreover,” his gaze casually swept over several students wearing obviously ill-fitting robes, “the club also offers rewards such as a year's supply of new robes and textbooks if you are willing to read them and write down your thoughts.”

"Any book will do?" A pure-blooded wizard held up a Green Lantern comic book.

“Any book on the shelf,” Snape nodded, “knowledge knows no distinction of value.”

　Thanks to Pig Can Fly, Blitz Pheasant, Plate Armor Spirit Master, panzer5, Malic Acid Loves Oxaloacetic Acid, Book Friend 20170331123122159, and Book Friend 20220616201728814 for their monthly tickets.

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　　This chapter actually has more than 4700 words. I almost didn't finish writing it, so I posted it ahead of schedule and revised it again.

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(End of this chapter)