Flitwick shifted uncomfortably, his expression turning awkward.
Harry looked at him intently. "Professor, don't tell me you also have…"
"That's the Gryffindor sword!" Flitwick defended himself adamantly. "Even if it's not the real one."
"Harry, you don't realize how popular you are. From what I've heard, Ragnok sold over a hundred replicas last month alone."
"Some of them are even full-scale."
Harry glanced back at the workshop hidden by magic. "The Ministry hasn't shared any royalties with me."
"Strictly speaking, the Gryffindor sword still belongs to Hogwarts," Flitwick corrected him. "They're just skirting the rules."
Harry smirked. "Give it a year or two, and that won't be the case anymore."
"Another drink?" Flitwick offered.
Harry shook his head. "I plan to go home and take a look."
From the outside, the Potter family home hadn't changed much from the previous year. The weeds had grown a bit thicker, and the deceptive sign at the entrance had been removed.
Flitwick didn't accompany him. He wanted to enjoy a few more drinks while he could, knowing that carefree days like these would soon be a thing of the past.
Harry pushed the door open and walked inside.
"Harry?" A voice called out—Fleamont Potter.
"It's me, Grandpa," Harry responded.
Fleamont's voice became lively. "You're finally back! Euphemia's been talking about you constantly. It sounds like Hogwarts has been quite eventful this year."
Harry sighed. "Hagrid told me Hogwarts is the safest place in the world."
"It certainly is," Fleamont agreed.
"But for two years in a row, I've encountered very unsafe situations," Harry said flatly, spreading his hands.
Fleamont's voice faltered. "Those were just exceptions—very rare occurrences. You just happened to run into them. Back when James was at school, the Dark Lord was wreaking havoc, and yet Hogwarts remained safe."
"Hopefully, things will be calmer this year," Harry said as he sat cross-legged beneath the portrait. "Grandpa, I have some questions for you."
Fleamont hummed in acknowledgment.
"Do you know Severus Snape?" Harry asked, looking up. Even with the portrait's mobility, he couldn't see its nose from this angle.
He hadn't asked this question the previous year. Back then, he'd thought of Snape as merely his father's romantic rival, and it didn't seem appropriate to bring up such things before his late grandfather.
Now, however, the "romantic rival" label attached to Snape felt far more complex.
"Snape?" Fleamont blinked. "That fellow is still alive?"
"He's now the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Didn't you know?" Harry asked.
Fleamont shook his head. "I haven't left this house in ages, and Euphemia hasn't mentioned it."
After a pause, he gritted his teeth. "Dumbledore must be losing his mind, letting someone like that become a professor at Hogwarts. No wonder the castle doesn't feel safe anymore."
Harry stayed silent.
Fleamont continued, "Let me think… Snape, that man…"
"James always said he was bad news, even back in their first summer at Hogwarts. Dirty, foul-mouthed, and certainly worse than you are now."
Fleamont chuckled.
"By third year, James started mentioning Lily—your mother. At the time, she disliked James and was quite close to Snape."
"But he wasn't reliable. Slytherins rarely are. During that period, they were staunch supporters of the Dark Lord."
"Snape was no exception."
"Later, James mentioned him less often. I only heard that after graduation, Snape became a Death Eater and was highly trusted by the Dark Lord."
Harry's head shot up. "A Death Eater?"
He had long suspected Snape's connection to Voldemort, particularly given his use of the term "Dark Lord." But he hadn't realized the relationship was so direct.
"Yes, a Death Eater," Fleamont confirmed. "I heard it clearly, more than once. James often talked about it with his… friends. Snape was definitely a Death Eater."
Fleamont's voice wavered at the end, as if he'd nearly mentioned someone he shouldn't.
"I need Euphemia to give Dumbledore a piece of my mind," Fleamont said quickly, his words rushing out in fear that Harry might press further. "It's outrageous to keep a Death Eater at Hogwarts, even if the Dark Lord is…"
Harry cut him off. "Did Snape kill my mother?"
Fleamont froze.
"Is that what happened?" Harry asked again.
Fleamont hesitated. "That doesn't align with what I know."
"Lily was at home, protected by the Fidelius Charm. Snape couldn't have known the location. If anyone was responsible, it was him."
"Him? My father's friend—and Snape's?" Harry pressed.
Fleamont's tone turned odd. "Friend?"
"No, no, no. Snape and he weren't friends. They were enemies—sworn enemies who'd have gladly killed each other. Though in the end, they both became the Dark Lord's pawns."
Harry fell silent.
His grandfather was, after all, just a portrait. He couldn't know everything.
There had to be secrets about Snape and his mother's deaths that even Fleamont didn't know.
"Who is this person? Can you tell me?" Harry finally asked.
Fleamont, who had been considering how to console his grandson, suddenly froze, as if wishing he could flee from the portrait.
But he knew he couldn't avoid the question.
Grinding his teeth, he spat out the name with difficulty: "Sirius Black."
"Black?" Harry was startled. "The famous Slytherin family? How did he become friends with my father?"
"And how did he get the chance to betray him?"
Gryffindors and Slytherins were like fire and water. Becoming friends, let alone sitting down for a civil chat, seemed nearly impossible.
"The Blacks are an evil, old-fashioned Slytherin family. But Sirius Black was an exception," Fleamont said, suppressing his anger. Even as a portrait, he struggled to maintain composure. "He was a Gryffindor."
"The Blacks hated him. He and James hit it off before they were even sorted into houses. He even stayed with us for a while."
"He was lively and full of ideas. Euphemia and I treated him like a son."
"But in the end, he was still a Black."
"James trusted him, made him our Secret Keeper. But he turned around and gave the address to the Dark Lord, leading him straight to us."
"Fortunately… fortunately…"
"Harry, you survived. Others survived too."
Harry closed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall as he muttered two names: "Sirius Black, Severus Snape."
"Harry, don't think about revenge," Fleamont said nervously. "Black has already been caught and sent to Azkaban. No wizard can escape from there."
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Powerstones?
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