Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

This was an angle Harry had never considered before; Henry's words had opened up a new situation for him.

The following evening, Harry went to Hagrid's hut alone.

He didn't call Ron and Hermione, not because he didn't want to, but because he felt the matter was a bit private and he wanted to ask them himself first.

Hagrid's cottage looked especially warm in the twilight, with smoke rising from the chimney and orange light shining from the windows. Tooth was lying at the door, and when it saw Harry, it excitedly pounced on him and licked his face several times.

What a sycophant.

"Hey, Tooth, stop messing around." Harry rubbed its big head, walked to the door, and knocked.

"Come in!" Hagrid's voice came from inside the house.

Harry pushed open the door, and a warm breeze rushed in.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and a huge bronze kettle hung above it, hissing and steaming.

Hagrid sat at the enormous table, bandaging an injured hedgehog.

"Harry!" Hagrid greeted him with a broad smile. "Perfect timing! The tea's just brewed, and the rock cakes are fresh out of the oven—they really won't be hard this time, I promise!"

Harry smiled and sat down at the table. Hagrid poured him a large cup of strong tea and pushed over a plate of rock cakes.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Hagrid asked.

"They've got something going on," Harry said, picking up a piece and cautiously taking a bite.

It's still as hard as before, and I don't know how Hagrid could tell.

"Hagrid," he put down the rock bread, hesitated for a moment, "I want to ask you something."

"What is it?" Hagrid put down the hedgehog he was holding and looked at him seriously.

"About Professor Snape," Harry said, "why...why does he hate me so much?"

Hagrid's smile froze. He remained silent for a moment, his thick fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of his teacup, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

"Why did you suddenly think of asking this?" he asked.

Harry lowered his head, staring at the tea leaves floating in his teacup, his gaze somewhat unfocused.

"He always looks at me like that, as if... as if I'm something dirty. I don't know what I did to make him hate me so much."

Hagrid sighed and placed the teacup on the table.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Harry. This isn't your problem."

"What's the problem?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hagrid fell silent again, clearly trying to make what he was about to say sound less direct.

After a long while, he finally spoke.

"Professor Snape's relationship with your parents is... very complicated," he said. "He was a classmate of your parents when they were both at Hogwarts."

Harry suddenly looked up.

"Do they know each other?"

"Yes, I know them." Hagrid nodded. "They were in the same class. Your father was in Gryffindor, and Snape was in Slytherin."

Harry frowned.

"Then they...they must not be friends, right?"

Hagrid shook his head, then nodded: "Yes and no."

This confused Harry. He scratched his head and asked, "So, is it yes or no? You're confusing me..."

Hagrid sighed.

"It's hard to say." His large beard twitched. "They just didn't get along. Your father would sometimes cause trouble for Snape, and Snape back then... wasn't very likable either. He liked to study things like dark magic, and he was always gloomy."

Harry's expression was complicated. He remembered what Henry had said—there is no love without a cause, nor is there hatred without a cause.

"But," he said hesitantly, "that's between them, what does it have to do with me? I'm not my father."

Hagrid looked at him with an extremely complicated gaze, as if he was trying hard to suppress his urge to confide.

“Harry, some people…aren’t so rational,” he said. “When they see you, they’ll be reminded of the past. The good, the bad, the happy, the painful. When Snape sees you, he’ll be reminded of the conflicts between you and your father. Even though it has nothing to do with you, you just remind him of your father.”

He paused for a moment, his tone extremely complex.

"And you look so much like your father, the same hair, the same face shape, even your smile is the same, and you're even just as good at Quidditch..."

Harry was stunned; he had never thought of this before.

"And...and what about my mother?" he asked. "Did Snape know her?"

Hagrid's expression changed.

It was very slight, but Harry noticed it.

"I know her," Hagrid said. "Lily... your mother. She's a good person, kind to everyone. Even when Professor Snape was obsessed with dark magic, she was still able to befriend him."

Harry's eyes widened.

"My mother and Snape are friends?" he asked incredulously.

"They used to be," Hagrid mumbled. "They got along really well when they first enrolled, but then... a lot of things happened, and they gradually drifted apart."

At this point, he looked at Harry and began to change the subject.

"Harry, all of that happened a long time ago. Right now, your priority is to focus on your studies, live your life well, and don't overthink it."

Harry lowered his head, remained silent for a long while, and then slowly spoke: "Hagrid, Snape... was he a bad person?"

Hagrid smiled and said, "I don't know, Harry. All I know is that Dumbledore trusts him, and Dumbledore rarely misjudges people. Besides, he's your mother's best friend. I can guarantee that no one in this school would harm you, not even Snape—even if he hates you to death."

It was completely dark when we left Hagrid's cabin.

Harry walked back to the castle, his mind a jumbled mess.

He learned a lot—Snape didn't get along with his father and used to be friends with his mother. He looked like his father, so every time Snape saw him, it reminded him of the past.

Furthermore, Snape hates his father, but seems to have a good relationship with his mother, and Hagrid even dares to guarantee that Snape would never harm him for his mother's sake.

Hagrid's words didn't make him understand better; instead, they confused him even more.

Why is there such a contradiction? What kind of person was Snape? Why was he so complex? Why—

"Harry?"

A voice came from ahead.

Harry looked up and saw Henry standing at the castle gate, holding a book in his hand.

"Your Highness." Harry walked over.

Henry glanced in the direction he had come from, smiled, and asked, "Went to Hagrid's?"

Harry nodded, looking somewhat dejected.

"Have you found out?" Henry continued to ask.

Harry shook his head: "Even more confused."

Henry nodded slightly to him: "Then take your time to think about it. These things can't be rushed."

"Your Highness, how do you manage to see everything so clearly?" Harry looked up and asked.

"Because I was forced to learn to understand things from a young age," Henry said, looking into the distance. "Every person and every word in the royal family has a deeper meaning, and if you don't understand it, you'll suffer."

He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze to Harry nearby.

"But you're different. You have friends, people you can trust, and you don't have to carry everything on your own."

Harry smiled knowingly. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Henry nodded and looked toward the auditorium.

"Come in, dinner will be starting soon."