In the potion class, students stopped their work, their attention drawn between Harry and Snape.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
"I-I'm just checking the steps," Harry stamred.
"What do you have there? Show it to !"
Harry showed clear reluctance, trying to hide the parchnt behind him, but Snape approached and snatched it away. He began reading the text.
Harry felt frustrated. He hadn't done anything wrong, unlike Crabbe and Goyle who were loudly mixing their cauldron, breaking class rules. Why was he being targeted?
Soon, Snape's expression turned uncertain. He moved between the parchnt and Harry, his unsettling gaze making Harry instinctively use Occluncy.
A sneer ford on Snape's lips.
Harry felt an inexplicable sense of relief. He was almost looking forward to Snape questioning him, asking where he got those notes. He could say, 'I got so help from Professor Snape and the Half-Blood Prince. Honestly, I find their teachings better.'
He didn't care about Snape's recent papers on new materials for exploding snail sli or the newspaper's praise about his proximity to the rlin dal. He only knew their mutual animosity, and whenever it seed to diminish, Snape always found a way to rekindle Harry's resentnt with a few words or just a glance.
But Snape didn't engage with Harry.
Moving to the other side, he picked up a textbook from the table. Ron and Neville emitted faint groans, as if soone had choked them, but Harry shook his head at them, reassuring them.
Hermione let out a light huff from her nose.
Snape flipped through the book, but it seed ordinary except for two pages of parchnt he found inside. Even without looking, Harry knew they contained simplified steps for potions, sothing he had inserted.
Snape read carefully, the classroom filled with nothing but the bubbling of cauldrons. Soon, white steam began filling the room, but the students forgot their work, their gaze fixed on the commotion.
Setting down the parchnt, Snape's hooked nose faintly visible in the steam.
"I underestimated you, Potter," he said calmly. "Clearly, once again, you've acquired sothing not rightfully yours through unexpected fa. Perhaps I should peruse the mbership list of the 'Harry Potter Fan Club'; the nas there might surprise ."
"That's interesting. I'd love to see that," Harry gritted his teeth, but couldn't help thinking, "Just ask where this stuff ca from. I can't wait."
"You should address
as 'Sir' or 'Professor'," Snape said coldly, cutting through the haze as he returned to the lectern. "Harry Potter, tampering with textbooks, unauthorized handling, disrespecting a teacher—how many points should I dock from Gryffindor?"
Though unseen, Harry felt an unpleasant gaze directed at him.
Gryffindor students glared at Snape.
"I thought a normal professor would reward innovative thinking within norms!" a voice, strangled, echoed in the mist.
"Who!" Snape angrily demanded, but the voice vanished. He waved his hand, the windows flew open, and the pearly-white fog in the classroom vanished instantly. The students below stared blankly at him. Harry noticed Seamus discreetly moving his hand away from his throat. He was certain a wand hid within that oversized robe.
"No one confesses? Hmm?" Snape spoke leisurely. The students were visibly frightened. Satisfied with the class's atmosphere, Snape conjured a piece of parchnt and picked up a quill from the lectern, the nib soaked in ink:
"Let
see, five points from each Gryffindor—"
"Wait!" Harry shouted, feeling the need to do sothing. Snape cooperatively halted, his eyes revealing the seasoned cunning of a predator cornering its prey. Harry realized his struggles were futile. Suddenly, a mory of Professor Slughorn presenting this textbook set flashed in his mind. Harry yelled, "You can't deny this thod unless you deny yourself—"
As the words left his mouth, both Harry and Snape froze.
Hermione also froze, realizing sothing, inhaling softly, looking incredulously at Snape.
"Shut up, Potter," Snape said. "Sit down— and you all, let's see what you can produce in this class!" He ignored Harry, walking around the classroom, pointing out students' mistakes.
Dazed, Harry sat down, staring blankly at his cauldron.
"You're sothing, Harry!" Ron said nearby. "We need to hurry; there's not much ti left. Huh? I thought I was over-brewing before, but now it's just right."
Harry barely listened during the afternoon class. Sirius even asked him what was wrong, and he brushed it off as a stomach ache. In the evening, he and Ron and Hermione did howork in the library. Ron was surprisingly efficient today, finishing an hour earlier than Harry.
He even had ti to peruse the fifth-year Potions textbook given by Professor Slughorn.
"It's a sha I can only read Professor Snape's writing; the other person's handwriting is too ssy," Ron grumbled, eyes almost glued to the page, staring at a black ink blotch.
Hermione's attitude was complicated. She helped organize notes but adamantly refused to follow their content.
"Hermione, Snape is teaching it all wrong," Ron pointed out the steps in the textbook.
"That's the textbook's mistake," Hermione said calmly.
"Well—what?"
"If you paid attention, Snape always displays ingredients and thods on the board. Do you think it matches the textbook exactly?"
Ron stared at her dumbfounded, and even the slightly annoyed Harry was staring.
Hermione sighed, "Harry, you can't just listen halfway. While Slughorn hinted that Snape might be the Half-Blood Prince, he also ntioned that Snape taught the orthodox thods—"
"Wait!" Ron exclaid, "Half-Blood Prince? Who? Snape?" He stared at Harry and Hermione, successfully seeking so evidence. "You... both knew? When did this happen? Why wasn't I aware?"
He fired a series of questions, but neither Harry nor Hermione answered. Harry was in a gloomy mood and didn't want to respond. Hermione swiftly packed her things, stuffing parchnt, ink bottle, and textbooks into her bag, zipping it up efficiently.
"Where are you going?" Ron called out.
"Of course, to flee before Mada Pince shows up, approximately ten seconds," she hurriedly slipped away.
Harry and Ron were stunned for a few seconds, shouting in unison, quickly packing their things. As expected, a few seconds later, the severe-faced librarian Mada Pince appeared, furious.
"Screaming in the library! What's this? Scribbling and doodling in books? Serious desecration! Vile behavior—"
"This is my book!" Harry exclaid, grabbing the Potions textbook from her and clutching various odds and ends as he dashed out of the library, followed by a flying feather duster, both he and Ron getting a few swats.
"Terrible, couldn't Hermione have warned us earlier?" Ron rubbed the back of his head angrily. "It's swollen."
Back in the common room, Hermione was sitting elegantly, reading a book.
Ron imdiately exploded in anger, berating her, causing Hermione's eyebrows to twitch. Though Harry had so
sympathy for her, he still wanted to know what was going on.
"Okay, Hermione, why didn't you tell us about the 'Half-Blood Prince'?"
She looked up from her book. "Because I was wrong."
"What?"
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