Harry's confinement finally arrived. On Friday, the day after the troll incident, following the morning potions class, Professor Snape angrily summoned Harry to his office in the evening.
It was difficult for him not to ponder Snape's animosity towards him. That afternoon, he visited Hagrid's hut seeking answers.
"Yes, Professor Snape and your father didn't have a good relationship," Hagrid said, grabbing a rock cake and holding a large vat of hot tea.
"Alright, that's all I can say. Snape is just stern. How could he carry the grudges of over ten years onto his students?"
"I'm not so sure," Harry replied, managing the enthusiastic Fang.
Fang, Hagrid's large black dog, seemed a bit wild to Harry. It would bark and jump on people, making him a bit wary.
"I heard he used to be a Death Eater, is that true?" Harry asked.
Hagrid's body suddenly tensed, his expression changing drastically. "Oh, where did you hear that?"
"In the common room, Slytherins seem to know more about these things."
"What are Death Eaters?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled.
"They're Voldemort's followers, individuals who do his bidding," Harry explained.
Crash! Hagrid accidentally toppled backwards, clutching his chest and turning pale. "Harry, no, don't mention that name!"
"Uh... sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Harry said, feeling a little embarrassed.
After a moment, Hagrid regained his composure and returned to his seat. "We have to trust Dumbledore. If Snape can't be trusted, how could he be involved in Dumbledore's plan?"
"What plan?" Hermione quickly seized on the key part of Hagrid's words.
"Oh, no, don't ask, it's confidential!" Hagrid reacted suddenly, looking troubled.
Harry interjected calmly, "Is it related to the corridor on the fourth floor? Or the vault 713? Or are they connected?"
Hagrid stared at Harry as if he were a ghost. "How did you know about that?! Who told you... No, no, none of them. Stop guessing."
"Hagrid, don't worry, I'm not really interested in those things," Harry said, shrugging helplessly.
The more his curiosity was piqued, the more he decided not to delve into it. His main concern was something that didn't involve him.
Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts. As the saying goes, when trouble arises, there's always someone taller to handle it. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate, considering they had encountered a troll just yesterday.
Although the origin of the troll at Hogwarts remained unknown, it was certainly abnormal. Trolls didn't just appear in the underground classrooms out of nowhere!
Someone was behind this. Unless you're suggesting that a large, stone-skinned creature could apparate and teleport into an underground classroom randomly.
Harry suspected this incident might be connected to the events on the fourth floor and vault 713.
But upon reflection, the troll incident was already overwhelming. Why was he curious about what was happening on the fourth floor? Was he hoping for a quicker demise?
However, on the way back, Hermione expressed great interest in vault 713.
"Vault 713 was robbed," Harry said, echoing the news he'd heard in the common room.
"And?" Hermione looked puzzled.
"Remember the day we went to Gringotts? Hagrid retrieved something from that vault, and then it was robbed," Harry explained.
"There's a dark wizard who desires whatever is in that vault, and Dumbledore instructed Hagrid to retrieve it in advance," he added, looking at Hermione. "Can you guess where that thing is now?"
Hermione's eyes lit up as she exclaimed, "Fourth floor?!"
Harry nodded. "That seems likely."
Harry was willing to confide in Hermione because he knew she respected school rules and wouldn't do anything reckless.
If it were someone like Draco, with a more volatile temperament, he wouldn't share this information. It would only lead to more trouble.
After dinner, bidding farewell to Hermione who headed to the library, Harry descended to Professor Snape's office.
Dong dong dong——
The door creaked open. Snape's office matched Harry's expectations – a dimly lit room with shelves lined with hundreds of glass bottles containing various potions and specimens of slimy creatures and plants.
Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. He didn't see any potion-brewing equipment here.
Perhaps there was another room deeper within the office, filled with more items.
"Enter, Potter, do you think you can spend detention loitering around?" Snape's voice, dripping with disdain, filled the room.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry hurriedly stepped inside.
As Harry stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by the scent of blood. Snape's desk, gleamingly new, was adorned with blood-stained bandages.
Noticing Harry's gaze, Snape sharply raised his head to glare at him.
"Fetch the White Fresh Essence from the shelf on your left," he instructed, his tone carrying a warning. "Be cautious."
Harry nodded and made his way toward the indicated shelf.
White Fresh Essence was part of their curriculum for this school year, though they likely wouldn't cover it until the Easter term.
Fortunately, Harry was already familiar with it. It didn't take him long to locate the White Fresh Essence.
This was an exceptionally potent all-purpose trauma medicine.
"Professor," Harry handed the medicine to Snape. Once Snape took it, he leaned over to begin changing the dressing. In the flickering candlelight, Harry could barely make out the gruesome wound on Snape's leg, the depth of which revealed bone.
Harry's stomach churned, his mind foggy.
He gave his head a sharp shake. Snape heard the movement, lifting his head to gaze at Harry, his expression one of disdain. "It seems you've realized something's amiss with your head."
"No, I just find it unsettling how my body's reacting," Harry explained, then inquired, "Professor, why don't you use magic to heal it?"
"Silence! Don't question," Snape scolded. "If I could use magic, would I need fresh essence? If you applied your brain to think, you wouldn't ask such a question."
"Apologies, Professor," Harry bowed his head, keeping his apology brief, and focused on Snape's wound.
It wasn't a clean cut; the torn flesh and bloodied fracture were exceedingly rough. It didn't seem likely to be from a blunt object either... and it lacked the distinctive effects of a magical spell—burning, freezing, or petrifying...
A bite?!
Harry recalled Snape being the last professor to arrive at the scene last night, plus the troll's emergence from the underground classroom.
Underground, besides the Potions classroom and Snape's office, there were only a few empty classrooms...
Snape?!
Harry's eyes flickered strangely, swiftly dismissing the notion.
It would be unprofessional to connect all the dots to Snape so readily.
And exposing such a wound to a student—wasn't he afraid of word spreading?!
It seemed preposterous.
So, Snape was ruled out for now!
After tending to the wound, Harry was led into the adjoining room.
Snape appeared much more composed than Harry had anticipated, his stride unaffected, as usual.
Regardless of how it might impact his recovery, one needed a strong constitution to handle such a task.
Harry promptly rescinded his admiration for Snape.
He watched as Snape produced a bucket filled with frogs, instructing Harry to deal with them—ensuring each eyeball remained intact and collecting all the blood.
Harry grimaced at the sight of the frogs, piled in a gooey mess, his expression bitter.
"Crooaaackk——"
"Croooackk——"