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This is the second chapter of the day.
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Snape's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. His eyes widened momentarily in shock, a rare break in his usually impassive facade. If there was something he prided himself on, besides potion-making, it was his skill in Legilimency. To think that he had been detected by an eleven-year-old boy was both alarming and embarrassing. Not only was what he did extremely illegal, but he had also done it to the Heir of a most Ancient and most Noble House. That alone, if reported, would promise him a stay in Azkaban. His mind raced for a suitable response, weighing the options of lying or admitting his actions, but he was reluctant to commit to either.
Harry, observing Snape's internal struggle, sighed softly. "I'm not going to report it, sir. I was just curious. This is our first time meeting, so any hostility you hold toward me must be due to my parents. I don't know what happened between them and you, but I am not my parents. I will not apologize or defend them, but blaming me for their actions isn't fair, is it?" His tone was sincere, seeking not to confront but to understand and clear the air, recognizing the seven years of study under Snape that lay ahead.
Looking into the deep green eyes seeking answers, Snape felt an undeniable tension in his jaw. Those eyes, so reminiscent of Lily's, yet framed in the face of James Potter, provoked a mixture of emotions in him. It was a painful reminder of a past he had long struggled with - the bitterness towards James Potter, the profound loss of Lily, and the complicated feelings that came with them. But as he stood there, confronted by the living result of those tangled histories, Snape found himself grappling with a truth he had long avoided. It wasn't fair to project his unresolved grievances onto Harry, who, though a reminder of his pain, was not responsible for it.
Snape's expression, usually a well-crafted mask of indifference, betrayed a flicker of conflict. Here was Harry Potter, not the arrogant image of James he had expected, but a boy with a depth and curiosity that was unexpectedly disarming.
"Sir, I would like to apply for the Quidditch tryouts," Harry said, shifting the topic.
Harry's question about the Quidditch tryouts momentarily derailed Snape's train of thought. The disdain in his voice was almost reflexive, "You want to waste your talent, Potter? To think I acknowledged your potential." His sarcasm, a defensive mechanism, was as sharp as ever.
Harry remained unflustered by Snape's tone. His response was straightforward and devoid of any pretense. "I want the title," he admitted openly, meaning Serpent of the Crown title. Since even its name couldn't be uttered outside of Slytherin walls, Harry couldn't tell what he meant, but he didn't have. Understanding what he meant, Snape looked at his resolute eyes. It wasn't a child's dream of glory on the Quidditch pitch; it was a calculated move. Harry understood the symbolic power of the title within Slytherin House, and he intended to use every available avenue to achieve it, including Quidditch.
Snape, taken aback by Harry's bluntness, reassessed the boy before him. This wasn't a simple case of a child chasing after a fleeting moment of glory on a broomstick. Here was a young wizard with a deep-seated ambition, using the game as a means to an end, much like a true Slytherin would. A begrudging sense of respect started to form in Snape's mind.
As Harry stood before Snape, his demeanor neither arrogant nor meek, he represented a conundrum to the seasoned Potions Master. Snape, known for his ability to read people, found himself at a rare loss. Harry was different, an enigma that challenged his preconceived notions. The boy's potential was undeniable, and his ambitions, though lofty, seemed well within his reach.
"Very well, Potter," Snape finally conceded, albeit grudgingly. "I'll make an exception for the tryouts. But don't mistake this for favoritism. You'll have to prove your worth on the field just like everyone else."
Harry nodded, understanding the unspoken terms of Snape's acquiescence. The Potions Master, despite his harsh exterior, had a sense of fairness that Harry could appreciate. It was a small but significant step in their complicated relationship.
As Harry left the dungeon, his mind was already strategizing the path ahead. The Quidditch tryouts were just one piece of the larger puzzle. Every move he made at Hogwarts was a step towards his ultimate goal and even becoming the Serpent of the Crown, a symbol of leadership and cunning within Slytherin House was just a bigger step.
The corridors of Hogwarts, usually bustling with the chatter and laughter of students, seemed quieter as Harry made his way back to the common room. His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of Nigel in his mind, "A bold move, Master Harry. But then again, boldness is a virtue well-respected in Slytherin."
Harry chuckled softly at Nigel's comment, the irony of their situation not lost on him. "I promised Ms. Granger I would meet up with her after Potions," he remembered, his stride purposeful as he made his way to the library. Throughout his time at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger had been a constant presence, her piercing gaze in the Potions class both envious and curious. Harry was suspicious Dumbledore had cast a compelling spell on her to bring her closer to him. As he entered the library, he muttered to himself, "Let's see if I can break Dumbledore's spell."
At the library's entrance, Madam Pince, the stern librarian, scrutinized Harry, her eyes sharp and assessing. She was a guardian of knowledge, fiercely protective of the books under her care. Observing Harry, she seemed to weigh his intentions, ensuring he posed no threat to her realm of books and quiet study. After a brief moment, she seemed satisfied with her assessment and returned her attention to the book in her hands, her expression softening slightly as she lost herself in its pages.
Harry, meanwhile, scanned the library for Hermione. The library was a sanctuary of knowledge, its high ceilings and tall windows casting an air of grandeur. The smell of old books filled the air, a comforting scent that spoke of centuries of wisdom and learning. Rows of shelves, laden with books of all sizes and colors, stretched out before him, creating a labyrinth of knowledge that few students ever fully explored.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he spotted Hermione sitting at a corner table, deeply engrossed in a thick tome. Her bushy hair framed her face, casting shadows as she bent over the book, her expression one of intense concentration. Harry made his way towards her.
Hermione, sensing his approach, looked up, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken, a connection that went beyond mere words. Harry wondered if the spell Dumbledore had allegedly cast was influencing this moment, or if Hermione's interest was genuinely her own.
"Hello, Ms. Granger," Harry greeted, his tone friendly yet cautious. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her, his eyes scanning the book she was reading. "What are you studying?"
Hermione closed the book with a soft thud, her gaze fixed on Harry. "Oh, just trying to get ahead in Charms," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and modesty. "But I'm more curious about what you did in Potions today. Your potion was quite different from the standard formula."
Harry leaned back in his chair, considering how much to reveal. "I enjoy experimenting with potions," he said, his voice measured. "Sometimes, following the standard formula isn't enough to understand the full potential of a potion."
Hermione nodded, her curiosity piqued. "But how do you know what changes to make? Aren't you afraid of making a mistake?"
Harry smiled, a hint of mystery in his eyes. "Potion-making is a bit like a puzzle. You need to understand each piece and how it fits into the larger picture. As for mistakes, they're a part of learning. The key is to make them in a controlled environment."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, impressed by his perspective. "That's a very mature approach," she commented. "I usually prefer to stick to the instructions."
Harry shook his head gently, a knowing smile on his lips. "If you stick to the books, Ms. Granger, you'll never go beyond them," he said softly.
Hermione, her brown eyes wide with a mix of astonishment and contemplation, paused to digest Harry's words. The idea of deviating from the well-trodden path of established knowledge was both thrilling and daunting to her. "But... but the books," she stammered, her voice trailing off as she grappled with this new perspective. "They're written by experts, people with years of experience and knowledge. Surely, they know best?"
Harry leaned forward, his green eyes reflecting a depth of understanding beyond his years. "Experts, yes, but even they started as learners, explorers. They pushed boundaries, experimented. Without that spirit of discovery, we'd still be brewing potions from centuries-old recipes without understanding why or how they work."
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