Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [29]

“Professor?”

Harry squinted, frowning as he looked at Snape. Had he just called out his mother’s name?

Snape snapped out of his daze, his gaze darting around the classroom, realizing he hadn’t been dreaming. But what was going on with this girl standing in front of him?

Every single student’s eyes were now trained on Snape, with expressions lit by the fires of curiosity. They all wanted to know: who was this “Lily” he had just mentioned?

Snape had to say something.

And then, it hit him—a plausible explanation. He straightened, looking sternly at the class. “That was a question,” he announced coolly. “Can anyone tell me what occurs when powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood? Clearly, none of you were astute enough to grasp my meaning.”

As he said this, Hermione shot her hand up almost instinctively, though Snape ignored her entirely—after all, he wasn’t actually expecting an answer. His focus was entirely on the red-haired girl before him who looked so disconcertingly familiar. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Lily. Except… her eyes. Her eyes were closer to that insufferable James Potter’s.

“Since you’re all apparently clueless,” Snape sneered, “we’ll move on.” He then fixed his gaze on Harry and asked, “And you—what’s your name and which house do you belong to?”

“Professor, I’m Harry Potter,” Harry whispered, his voice small. “Someone pulled a prank on me. That’s why I look like this.”

The words had barely left Harry’s mouth when Malfoy and his gang erupted into laughter.

“Quiet!” Snape’s voice cracked through the room, filled with a rare and intense fury as he fixed Malfoy with a chilling glare. “Is something about this funny to you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s laughter died in his throat as he shrank back, nodding his head frantically. “N-no, sir, not funny at all…”

“Then keep your mouth shut,” Snape hissed. “Students should treat each other with respect. Because of your disrespect, Mr. Malfoy, Slytherin will lose ten points.”

Malfoy’s face blanched, his expression one of stunned betrayal. Did he hear correctly? Had his Head of House just docked points from Slytherin?

Snape dismissed Malfoy with a cold flick of his robes before turning back to Harry with a more composed demeanor. “So, Potter… you’re saying someone pranked you with a potion?”

“I think so,” Harry admitted. “Madam Pomfrey said it might have been a potion, but she couldn’t tell which kind…”

“I see.” Snape gave a small nod, his tone oddly approving. “Well, there certainly are… clever—no, I mean wicked potions out there. This is why you must all understand the importance of Potions class!”

The students nodded fervently.

“Potter,” Snape continued, his tone softening. “Stay after class, and I’ll help you figure out exactly what potion was used. In the meantime, do you happen to know the answer to my earlier question?”

Harry looked bewildered and shook his head. “I don’t, sir.”

“Hmm, very honest.” Snape gave a short nod. “Honesty deserves to be rewarded. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

The room went deathly silent. Every student stared, questioning if everything they’d ever heard about Snape was a lie. Or, could it be? Was this man actually an imposter?

Snape wasn’t done, though. He quickly turned to Harry and posed another question.

“Let’s try something else, then. If I asked you to find bezoar, where would you go?”

“I… don’t know, sir.”

“Hmm, a sign of true humility,” Snape remarked, nodding again, his eyes shining as if this were the most satisfying answer. “A true master of any craft must always possess the heart of a learner. Ten more points to Gryffindor!”

The quiet in the classroom had turned into outright gasps.

Could it be that Snape, the teacher who supposedly favored no one but Slytherin, was actually so fair-minded?

Harry was starting to sense something off as well. Was Snape even interested in the answers, or was he simply trying to hear his voice?

Around him, students began squirming with impatience. After Snape’s recent displays of leniency, students were eager to try their luck, particularly Draco Malfoy, who shot up from his seat with his hand high in the air.

Snape glanced at Malfoy with an expression bordering on annoyance but gave a nod for him to answer.

Malfoy, grinning broadly, declared with complete confidence, “Sir, I don’t know!”

Certain that mimicking Harry’s cluelessness would yield points, he looked around, waiting for Snape’s praise.

“Idiot!” Snape snapped with unexpected fury. “Is ignorance something to flaunt, Mr. Malfoy? Because of your stupidity, Slytherin loses ten more points!”

“I-I…” Malfoy stammered, clearly bewildered. No one had ever chastised him like that. Not even his mother had spoken to him that way!

Malfoy’s lower lip began to tremble, and Hermione leaned toward Ron, whispering, “See? That’s what crying really looks like.”

“If you need to cry, Mr. Malfoy, you’re welcome to do so outside the classroom,” Snape said with disdain before once again fixing his attention on Harry. “As for you, Potter—your performance today has been quite admirable. Take your seat.”

Harry dropped into his seat, feeling as though he were in some kind of surreal dream.

This… this was Hogwarts?

The Potions lesson continued without further incident for Harry. Snape had students partner up to create a simple cure for boils, and as he drifted through the class, he scrutinized every pair’s work.

Almost every student earned a reprimand—except Harry, who was repeatedly complimented by Snape, a phenomenon as rare as finding unicorn hair.

“You have a unique knack for potions,” Snape noted as he passed by Harry for the fifth time. “I’ve never seen snake fangs crushed into such… imaginative shapes. Another five points to Gryffindor.”

As Snape finally moved away, Ron scooted closer to Harry, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Harry, how are you doing this?”

It seemed that after witnessing Harry’s transformation, Ron didn’t feel awkward around him at all. Just then, as if sensing Ron’s proximity, Snape spun around, his wand flashing as he wordlessly moved Ron several feet away from Harry.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said icily, “were you never taught to complete assignments independently? For your overstep, Gryffindor will lose ten points.”

—

T/N: AAAHAHHAHA i’m screaming rn