Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 293 Bait
Christmas, noon.

The festive atmosphere wasn't quite at its peak yet. The luncheon wasn't as grand as the dinner. George and Fred weren't there; they were probably hiding in some abandoned classroom plotting a prank, or they were being chased by Percy and would only show up after the student council president calmed down.

Hagrid brought the last fir tree at 10 a.m., and Flitwick told him that the Pighead Bar had free whiskey, after which he disappeared without a trace.

Most of the elective course professors had left the school, and Remus claimed to be ill and went into hiding. Because there were not many people, there was no distinction between the main guest table and the college long table; everyone ate at a single square table.

The creamy mushroom soup made in the kitchen was fragrant and tempting, with a perfect balance of sweet and savory. Lifting the lid released a delicious aroma that filled the entire table. Ron was afraid he wouldn't be able to eat his fill, so he spread various meat sauces and jams on slices of toast and stuffed them into his mouth. His cheeks bulged, and he made muffled noises, unable to speak clearly.

As the deans ate, they reminisced about how it was Christmas again, and they couldn't remember how many Christmases they had spent at Hogwarts.

"Severus, pop a lucky firecracker."

Dumbledore greeted them warmly, handing a silver firecracker to a cold-faced employee.

Snape glanced at him, then reluctantly pulled the trigger. The firecracker burst open, revealing a purple witch's hat with a hawk-shaped specimen on top, its exaggerated shape and vibrant colors.

"..."

Looking at the female wizard hat, Snape pursed his lips and silently pushed the hat back.

Dumbledore didn't mind at all. He happily took the wizard's hat, put it on his head, shook it a few times, and showed a satisfied smile.

Melvin counted the number of people at the table: a principal, four deans, Mr. Filch, the three who violated school rules, and three students who stayed at school.

There were exactly thirteen teachers and students, no more and no less.

Is it really such a coincidence?

Melvin recalled a prophecy from a distant memory.

"What's wrong, Melvin?"

Flitwick asked from the side, as he was about to tell a joke about a careless wizard mispronouncing a spell.

“I’m reminded of an old Muggle fable.” Melvin paused briefly. “In the myth, Jesus and his twelve disciples had their Last Supper together. He was the first to leave that evening and soon met with misfortune.”

Flitwick hesitated for a moment: "What is the lesson of this parable?"

"When thirteen people are dining at the same table, the first person to get up and leave will encounter misfortune and die a violent death."

“Oh, Melvin, this joke is even less interesting than Dumbledore’s story.” Flitwick waved his hand, looked around, and didn’t see Trelawney. “Even Sybil wouldn’t make such an unlucky prediction on Christmas Day.”

Just as Melvin was about to reply, the auditorium doors were pushed open again.

Trelawney strode in, wearing a green robe adorned with sequins, exuding a faint scent of sherry, his face slightly tipsy.

"Sybil, it's a pleasure to have you here!" Dumbledore greeted cheerfully, beckoning a chair to him.

“Headmaster, I’ve been looking at the crystal ball…” Trelawney said in that charlatan-like, ethereal voice, “Fate led me here, so I gave up having lunch alone, came down from the North Tower, and came to attend this gathering. I sincerely ask for your forgiveness for my lateness.”

"Of course, of course."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Please sit down. We haven't even started dismantling the turkey yet!"

Trelawney nodded and was about to agree when he suddenly froze, looking hesitantly at the guests at the table. He then screamed, "The divine eye's prophecy is correct! I have come here to save you and drive away the ominous signs of death!"

All eyes at the table turned to her, especially Professor McGonagall, who stared at her with a cold expression.

"Let me tell you, Principal! If I hadn't been guided by fate to this banquet, there would be thirteen people at your table! There's no more unlucky number than thirteen!"

Trelawney muttered incoherently, completely ignoring Professor McGonagall's increasingly grim expression, "If thirteen people eat together, the first person to stand up after the meal will be the first to die!"

Flitwick turned to look at Melvin, his expression strange, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Melvin returned the smile.

Finally, Professor McGonagall impatiently urged, "We're willing to take the risk. Sybil, sit down, the roast turkey is getting cold."

"..."

Trelawney sat down, muttering to herself. She was still a little uneasy during the meal, asking about Hagrid's absence and Lupin's condition. Professor McGonagall snapped at her a few times before she finally calmed down.

Melvin savored the fried meat, glancing at the divination professor with amusement.

He was also unsure whether the professor had truly seen it or was faking it to save face.

The atmosphere was very harmonious during the latter half of lunch. Trelawney and Ron were the most full, their bellies were round, and they couldn't help but cover their mouths when they burped, as the pudding was almost coming back up from their throats. Dumbledore wore his witch's hat the whole time and smiled.

Flitwick told several jokes, only slightly better than the principal's lame jokes.

After the meal, Snape was the first to leave.

……

"How about we go to the stadium for a test flight!" Ron shouted excitedly.

Harry carefully descended the stairs, holding a fire bolt that was longer than himself, afraid of bumping into anything.

Beside them walked the little witch, her brow furrowed, holding the instruction manual for the Firebolt and comparing it to the address information on the shipping label. Hermione walked beside them, glancing at the broom, then at Harry, hesitant to speak.

Ron found her appearance too offensive and couldn't help but ask warily, "What are you trying to say? If we want to play together, you can't cut in line even though you're a girl. You have to wait in line after me."

Hermione sighed, biting her lip. "Don't you guys think something's a little strange? I mean, this should be a pretty good broom, right?"

“This is the best flying broomstick, Hermione.”

"Then it must be very expensive."

"It could very well cost more than all the brooms a team has right now."

"Who would give Harry something so valuable without telling him who it is?"

"Who cares about that?" Ron waved his hand dismissively, then turned and hooked his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Listen, Harry, how about we ride off as soon as we get out of the hall and fly all the way to the pitch?"

Harry was somewhat tempted, but smiled shyly: "This isn't a good idea..."

Hermione persisted from behind, "I don't think anyone should ride it right now!"

"What do you think Harry's going to do with it, sweep the floor?"

"..."

Watching the two figures disappear into the distance, Hermione pursed her lips, pondered for a moment, and then ran towards Professor McGonagall's office on the second floor.

……

On the other side, the two carrying the fire crossbow bolts arrived at the entrance hall, beaming with joy as they prepared for the first test flight. Ron sensed someone following closely behind and, thinking it was Hermione about to nag, impatiently turned around. He caught sight of the dark figure beside him and suddenly his eyes widened as he cried out in surprise, "Batman... Snape... Professor!"

Snape appeared in the foyer at some point, expressionless, looking down at them. Torches were behind him, casting shadows over them, and his scrutinizing gaze was suffocating.

Harry's hand gripping the broom tightened unconsciously, his knuckles turning white.

"You mean the old bat, right?"

Snape said quietly, "Insulting a professor, violating school rules, I'm going to punish you with detention."

"Now?" Ron looked incredulous.

Harry also looked up sharply, meeting Snape's deep eyes with resentment.

Facing their anger, Snape lowered his head slightly, his eyelids drooping, a hint of mockery and contempt in his eyes. He said lightly:
"Now."

……

The basement level, the Potions Department office.

As they opened the door, a cold wind blew in, causing Harry and Ron to hold their breath.

The shelves along the wall were filled with various glass jars containing all sorts of animal and plant specimens, including snakes, scorpions, toads, lizards, and even skeletons resembling infants, which was quite gruesome.

“It’s a holiday, you can’t put us in solitary confinement!” Harry shouted, mustering his courage.

Snape shoved the two into the room, gave Harry a cold look, and glanced at the clock on the wall: "There are four hundred hibernating toads here. You need to remove the largest tubercles from their backs. If you're quick and efficient, you might make it in time for Christmas dinner."

"The confinement is only for this afternoon. If you continue to resist, I don't mind making you spend your entire holiday here! I'll be leaving for a while later, so don't try to escape. The door has a reverse-lock spell, so you can't go anywhere! And don't try to fool me; I'll be checking your work tonight..."

Snape's tone was completely flat, his eyes were calm, and his face was terrifyingly cold.

There were two wooden boxes in the room, from which you could smell the unique, fishy odor of toads.

Harry dragged his heavy steps to the box, head down, his eyes swirling with anger. The back of his head still ached; it felt like a lock of hair had been pulled out during the shoving.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape snatch the fire bolt, casually hold it in his hand, lock the inner storage room, and close the door after leaving the office.

"Click..."

[Anti-Alajo Cave Open]

The two finally looked up. Ron was furious, his teeth itching with hatred: "Why? Why does he have the right! That damned old bat, I'm going to yell, 'Old bat! Old bat!' I really want to smash this place up!"

Harry looked up at the shelves and suddenly noticed that the fireplace by the wall was lit. The newly lit flames licked the red bricks around the fireplace, and the firelight illuminated half of the room, casting shadows of the two people on the walls and carpet, and the whole office was tinged with a light orange-red.

After the commotion subsided, Ron calmed down and said dejectedly, "I'm sorry, Harry. I made the old bat angry, and now you have to stay here with me for Christmas."

Harry felt a slight jolt; perhaps his anger had subsided, or perhaps Ron's apology had worked, but he actually calmed down.

During this time, Snape seemed to have been secretly monitoring him. Christmas's sudden attack was more like a sign that his patience had run out and he could no longer wait, so he imprisoned him in an office where he could be observed at any time.

But why leave?

"Snape...it seems like he did it on purpose?" He was a little uncertain.

……

During this time, Snape was very unsettled because Peter Pettigrew revealed information that made him toss and turn at night thinking about how to arrest Black. As a result, he kept a closer eye on Potter, not letting Potter out of his sight for even a moment.

Snape knew that Black was definitely lurking in the shadows, possibly even hiding in the castle, but he couldn't find any trace of him. He even wanted to see Black launch an attack, but nothing happened.

Melvin's guess that the Firebolt was sent by Black that morning, without any evidence, but it gave Snape the idea that the guy must be hiding somewhere watching Potter.

To lure the hunting dogs out, you need sweet and suitable bait.

Snape left the office and heard Weasley cursing loudly inside. For some reason, Potter didn't join in.

He didn't leave immediately, but went to the Potions classroom next door.

On the workbench lay a bottle of compound potion. By the aroma emanating from the bottle, the potion master could quickly identify the potion's ingredients: lacewings that had been brewed for 21 days, sapwort gathered on a full moon night, powdered two-horned beast horn, and fragments of African tree snake skin...

The process of boiling requires a lot of preparation, is time-consuming and labor-intensive, and is quite expensive.

All it takes is some biological samples from other people to transform the drinker into that person's appearance.

Snape opened his palm, revealing a few fine, soft strands of hair, tossed them into the medicine bottle, and slowly shook it, waiting for the potion to fully react.

This was collected just now when Harry was being shoved.

Even for a potions master, it would be impossible to brew Polyjuice Potion in a short time, but a morning would be enough for him to go out and search for it. Coincidentally, the Hogshead pub in Hogsmeade was serving whiskey today, and the patrons came from all over the world. As long as the price was generous, he could get any kind of illegal drug.

One sip, and the taste is indescribable, resembling the juice of autumn grass, with a fresh grassy fragrance and a faint earthy smell.

The tall, thin figure of the adult wizard began to shrink, and his broad shoulders became thin.

……

A small, thin figure slipped out of the foyer, stood in the swirling snow, mounted a broom, took a deep breath, and gazed at the vast white expanse.

This is Hogwarts territory, and people often stand in the castle to observe. The figures moving in the snow are not well concealed, so it is not a good place to hide. The Forbidden Forest has game guards and hounds, so it is not convenient to hide there either. After considering all factors, the bushes by the Black Lake and the area around the stadium are the most suitable.

He had little athletic talent and was not good at Quidditch. Sitting on a broomstick, which was marketed for its speed and agility, he felt as if he were riding a mountain cable car, feeling both dangerous and light, like a lone goose struggling in the wind and snow.

Crossing the school gate, I could see Hogsmeade Village adorned with colorful ribbons in the distance, and a series of brightly lit signs hidden in the snow.

Above them hovered and howled Dementors, their cloaks billowing in the wind, mingling with the accompanying white mist and snow clouds. They avoided Hogwarts' territory out of fear and command, like crows and vultures circling and waiting for carrion.

Being too close to the Dementors, their magic affected his thoughts, and he remembered the prophecy he had leaked, and Lily Evans.

After calling out the Mudblood that day, he asked Lily to meet him at the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, claiming that he would have to sleep at the entrance of the Portrait Cave in order to get the meeting and a chance to apologize.

Lily said it was too late. For so many years she had been looking for excuses to forgive him, but he had already chosen to become a Death Eater and a servant of Mystic. And her origins were no different from other Mudbloods. The two of them could no longer pretend.

"You chose your path, and I chose mine."

Lily said this without any regret, even with a hint of contempt in her eyes.

The images in Snape's mind kept churning, and regret overwhelmed him, just like every night for the past ten years, when he watched the Dementors being drawn closer and closer, like vultures that had smelled decay.

Snape released the broom and let himself fall to the ground.

At that moment, a black dog started running wildly in the snow below.

(End of this chapter)