novelraw Chapter 53: The Eyes Observing in the Dark
Chapter 53: The Eyes Observing in the Dark
Chapter Fifty-Three: The Eyes Observing in the Dark
The two most gossipy women at Hogwarts were none other than Poppy Pomfrey and Irma Pince. One was a gentle matron carrying a medicine tray, the other a stern librarian wielding a feather duster. On the surface, they appeared completely different from head to toe.
However, few people knew that these two women, who seemed to have nothing in common, were actually longtime best friends who met every weekend to chat and gossip.
After all, their work environments—the hospital wing and the library—allowed them to collect the freshest, most scandalous gossip from Hogwarts.
The kind, slightly plump Madam Pomfrey possessed a particular talent. She was remarkably perceptive and could always sniff out budding "little romances" from unexpected visitors and the frequency of visits to certain patients.
The stern, gaunt Madam Pince had her own methodology. She excelled at gathering facts and evidence, and from students she'd observed for years, she could always identify the "young couples."
In their incredibly monotonous work lives, what could be more entertaining than gossip? In Poppy and Irma's words, their shared interest brought them together: they were both devoted gossips.
This hobby allowed them to forget the crow's feet around their eyes and constantly reminisce about their youth.
If anyone visited the famous Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade on a weekend, they'd almost certainly spot these two animated women. They often spent entire afternoons in a secluded corner of the tea shop, discussing gossip and secrets even Professor Dumbledore didn't know.
"The Chamber of Secrets business is finally over—that's wonderful. We can finally work in peace without living in constant fear." Madam Pince leaned back comfortably in her armchair, casually placing her pointed hat on the empty seat beside her.
"Indeed," Madam Pomfrey said with satisfaction, signaling the staff to take their order.
"Any interesting gossip lately?" Madam Pince asked languidly, resting her chin on her hand as she passed the tea menu to Madam Pomfrey.
"I believe... that Weasley boy named Percy has developed a special relationship with a certain Ravenclaw girl," Madam Pomfrey said mysteriously, glancing at the menu.
"I know! Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect. They often study together in the library. Quite a well-matched couple, aren't they? Both prefects, excellent students, and both fond of books." Madam Pince nodded knowingly, as if she had everything under control.
"Speaking of Ravenclaw, I suspect their Seeker, Cho Chang, and Hufflepuff's Seeker, Cedric Diggory, have developed feelings for each other," Madam Pomfrey said casually as she handed the menu to the server.
"How did you discover that?" Madam Pince asked, eyes widening in surprise. She hadn't noticed anything at all.
"Once, when she was injured during training, Mr. Diggory came to visit her—bringing flowers and chocolates," Madam Pomfrey said with a smile. "They're perfectly matched, aren't they?"
"I hadn't noticed. They don't appear together in the library very often," Madam Pince said, frowning. "Perhaps I should consult Madam Hooch. She spends more time with Quidditch players."
"Indeed, players! They're the most likely to spark romances," Madam Pomfrey sighed, eyes filled with wistfulness. "The romance of soaring through the air... especially when both are Seekers meeting on the pitch, the feelings that arise from those encounters are simply irresistible..."
It was during the Easter holidays, and the sunshine and breeze at the end of March carried warmth.
Through the shop window, one could see tender green shoots sprouting beside the tea shop steps. The two women swayed contentedly in rocking chairs, each holding their favorite tea, lost in daydreams.
"Speaking of which, what about Seekers from the other Houses? Gryffindor's Seeker visits the hospital wing most frequently, doesn't he? Didn't he come in just days ago? Did you notice anything unusual?" After a moment, Madam Pince emerged from her reverie and resumed the topic.
"You mean Mr. Potter?"
"Yes! He's been giving me terrible headaches these past two years, always sneaking into the Restricted Section..." Madam Pince said, sighing helplessly.
Madam Pomfrey said dismissively, "I don't think that one's quite ready yet! His happiest moments are probably when Mr. Ron Weasley visits him in the hospital wing."
"Mr. Potter's close friends aren't just Mr. Weasley, but Miss Granger as well!" Madam Pince lifted her teacup, took a sip, and regarded Madam Pomfrey. "I sometimes see them studying together in the library. She's always pushing them to complete their homework."
"Oh... perhaps... he did seem quite pleased when she visited before." Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly stirred her tea with a spoon.
"What's with that dismissive tone?" Madam Pince asked.
Madam Pomfrey glanced around, then suddenly lowered her voice and leaned closer. "I don't believe Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are romantically involved at all. In fact, I've recently discovered something that will absolutely shock you!"
"What? Tell me quickly!" Madam Pince exclaimed excitedly, nearly spilling her tea. She knew Poppy's mannerisms intimately—such expressions often preceded enormous gossip.
"Slytherin's Seeker—Mr. Malfoy—and Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, quickly raising a tea towel to shield herself. Across from her, Madam Pince, predictably, sprayed a mouthful of tea onto the towel.
"Are you serious?" Madam Pince's eyes practically sparkled. This was starkly different from her usual stern library demeanor.
"I was astonished at first too. It all started when Miss Granger was petrified..." Madam Pomfrey launched into a lengthy, detailed explanation...
Twenty minutes later.
"My word—" Madam Pince clasped her hands together, eyes shining. "Goodness! His only vial of restorative draught was given to Miss Granger. If that isn't love, then I don't believe in love anymore!"
"And he carried her to the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey said wistfully. "Young romance..."
"I thought Mr. Malfoy was rather aloof," Madam Pince said. "He seems quite proud and doesn't speak to people much, does he?"
"But he wasn't cold toward Miss Granger at all—quite the opposite, he was incredibly gentle. You should have heard how he spoke to her! He kept coaxing her so tenderly and patiently," Madam Pomfrey said knowingly. "This is highly unusual. Something is definitely happening."
"But I thought the Malfoys despised Muggle-borns... Who would have imagined? If Lucius Malfoy discovered this, he'd be apoplectic! Setting aside the long-standing rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor... just the pure-blood versus Muggle-born issue is scandalous enough... I could eat two extra bowls of rice tonight!" Madam Pince waved her teaspoon childishly, predictably earning a disapproving look from Madam Pomfrey.
"Mind your manners. There are other patrons present!" Madam Pomfrey chided. Madam Pince coughed and regained some composure.
"I must keep a close watch on those two! If something truly is developing between them, I refuse to believe they're completely disconnected in the library." Madam Pince set down her teaspoon, clenched her fists, and made her resolution.
Meanwhile, the young man these two women were discussing was brewing a Mandrake Restorative Draught in Professor Snape's dungeon classroom. This was the final step—next, they would wait for it to simmer, then extinguish the flames and let it steep.
He wiped the fine perspiration from his forehead and finally released a soft breath.
"Not bad, Draco," Professor Snape said slowly from behind. Draco smiled wryly.
With Professor Snape overseeing the entire potion-brewing process, nobody dared relax their vigilance. Even Draco, considered Snape's favorite student, was no exception.
Favoritism sometimes meant holding higher standards.
"If I were you, I would add several plantain leaves while it simmers to alleviate the fatigue patients experience from prolonged petrification." Professor Snape waved his wand, and a plate of prepared plantain appeared before Draco.
"I see. Thank you for the guidance, Professor." Draco smiled slightly.
The newly added plantain leaves floated and sank in the simmering potion, quickly integrating with the restorative draught.
Draco observed the potion, recalling Hermione's exhausted, fragile state after being freed from petrification, and felt his face warm. He once again admired Professor Snape's potion-making expertise.
Simply following the textbook wasn't difficult. What was challenging was refining and innovating within the existing framework of potions.
"I must admit, your potion-making talent is exceptional among your peers, and your ingredient handling is quite skillful." Professor Snape's expression softened marginally. "With proper guidance..."
"If you don't mind that I'm slow to learn..." Draco said humbly. He was dutifully playing the role of an "admirer," just as in his previous life.
"If you're slow, then Mr. Longbottom is probably a troll," Snape said irritably. He recalled Longbottom's homework from the previous lesson—a wretched lump of slag—and mentally assigned it a zero.
Professor Snape wasn't difficult for Draco to please.
If you were a Slytherin student, you were halfway there. If you demonstrated effort in Potions and convinced him you were intelligent, his harshness wouldn't reach you.
Of course, students from other Houses were never on Snape's radar. Especially Gryffindors—Professor Snape particularly enjoyed mocking Harry, Ron, and Neville.
He could somewhat understand mocking Neville. After all, a clumsy, careless student was disastrous for a Potions teacher who demanded meticulous precision.
But Hermione? Why her? Even though she always provided correct answers, she only received Professor Snape's sarcastic remarks in return. Every time he saw the girl bristling after losing House points, he felt she was being treated unfairly.
While lost in thought, the potion finished brewing.
Professor Snape nodded with satisfaction as his prized student precisely extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron. He asked tentatively, "Draco, I've noticed you've been spending considerable time with Potter from Gryffindor lately."
"Yes, Professor," Draco replied, watching the cauldron's contents still bubbling faintly.
"Perhaps Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger as well," Professor Snape said slowly.
"Yes, Professor." Draco's attention sharpened.
Professor Snape never discussed such trivial matters without purpose—he seemed to be implying something, or perhaps testing something.
"I thought you demonstrated better judgment in selecting friends." When discussing Harry and his companions, Professor Snape resembled a venomous serpent, hissing out nothing kind.
"Professor, don't you consider Miss Granger among the top students academically?" Draco countered calmly.
"Top student? You mean she merely recites textbook answers verbatim whenever questioned in class?" Snape said dismissively.
"Not everyone possesses your groundbreaking talent," Draco said carefully. "She's remarkably intelligent compared to other young witches and wizards her age."
Snape snorted derisively.
"As for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, there's no question they excel at finding trouble—" He glanced furtively at Professor Snape, finding him relatively composed.
"But they're not bad people, and they've been reasonably friendly toward me," Draco said with a shrug.
"A proper Slytherin should assess situations and avoid entangling himself in unnecessary difficulties," Professor Snape said softly.
"Of course, Professor," Draco agreed. "However, I also believe even the most cunning Slytherin requires one or two genuine friends."
"Genuine? All I see is an ignorant, arrogant, trouble-seeking, reckless, brainless dolt." Snape shifted his gaze to the now-still potion and spoke quietly.
Draco remained silent. He knew arguing with Professor Snape wouldn't benefit him.
But somehow—perhaps because Professor Snape's reaction wasn't as intense as expected, or perhaps because he'd just brewed a potion earning Professor Snape's approval—he couldn't resist asking, "Do you know where I first met Potter?"
"Why would you think I'm interested in such trivial matters?" Professor Snape frowned, waved his wand, and returned the remaining plantain to the cabinet across the room.
Draco ignored him, tidying the potion supplies around the cauldron as he continued, "At Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He wore ill-fitting, worn Muggle clothes, staring nervously at the enchanted measuring tape as if he'd never seen a magical object before... He didn't even know how many Houses Hogwarts had then... He'd never even eaten a Chocolate Frog..."
He keenly noticed the fleeting displeasure crossing Professor Snape's face.
Why? Draco didn't have time to analyze further and could only continue, "You say he's ignorant? I agree he's ignorant. He's famous throughout the wizarding world, yet knows nothing about his origins. He doesn't even have a photograph of his mother."
Professor Snape paused in his organization. He asked casually, tone even, "Are you pitying him?"
"No. I'm simply saying his ignorance and even recklessness have explanations. He doesn't understand the consequences of his actions or the magical world's dangers," Draco explained cautiously.
This was his honest assessment—the truth he'd gradually recognized over two years alongside Harry.
He glanced at Professor Snape, who appeared lost in thought, then boldly continued, "The Potter family is an ancient wizarding family, and its sole heir has been reduced to such a state—without guidance, stripped of his heritage. I just... feel it's unfortunate. I wanted to remind him occasionally, prevent him from straying too far astray."
"How astonishing that a Slytherin could possess such compassion," Professor Snape said, emphasizing each word.
Draco chuckled awkwardly but didn't respond.
Know when to stop, lest Professor Snape's anger turn toward you.
"Naturally, I respect Slytherin students' freedom to choose friends. But don't bring disgrace to Slytherin House, and don't cause trouble." Professor Snape remained expressionless. "You may leave."
Draco bowed politely, then walked briskly from the dungeon classroom, closing the heavy door behind him.
He didn't see the indescribable pain that crossed that stern face the instant the door shut.
The Headmaster's office door opened.
A figure in billowing black robes, emanating a chilling aura, swept into the office. Snape strode forward, chest filled with fury, his black cloak billowing behind him.
"Severus, I didn't expect you quite so soon." Dumbledore sat smiling in the large armchair behind his desk, stroking his beloved phoenix, Fawkes.
Snape stood in the office's center, eyes blazing with fury, saying nothing. The air around the carpet where he stood grew frigid.
If Harry witnessed this scene, he might think the acerbic Potions professor had acquired a new ability—functioning as a freezer.
"Well?" Dumbledore's blue eyes peered curiously at Snape through his half-moon spectacles, seemingly unconcerned by the dark aura radiating from him, instead attempting to deduce conclusions from his cold expression. Fawkes also cried out, scrutinizing him alongside Dumbledore.
"I'm genuinely curious why this phoenix hasn't molted into a bald chicken yet," Snape said ominously. Fawkes, as if understanding, squawked at him indignantly.
"It seems the outcome wasn't as favorable as I'd hoped." Dumbledore glanced at him nonchalantly and shrugged.
"Quite the opposite. Our young, foolish Mr. Malfoy considers Potter a friend," Snape said through gritted teeth.
Snape's words caused Dumbledore to display mild surprise. However, he quickly composed himself.
"As I've said before, never underestimate a Slytherin," he said with a smile. "We might discover surprising friendships among them."
"Perhaps I shouldn't have overestimated Gryffindor!" Snape raised his voice, his usually measured speech suddenly accelerating. "What did you promise me? You promised to care for him properly! To protect Lily's son! And then what? Abused by Muggles, completely ignorant of our world—this is what you call proper care? How dare you..."
"We reached consensus from the beginning. Early fame and excessive recognition would ruin him," Dumbledore said calmly. "It was the best decision we could have made."
"Isolation from the magical world doesn't necessitate complete ignorance about magic or his own history. You're ruining him! No wonder he couldn't answer anything when I questioned him at term's start! I thought he was merely lazy and ignorant... I should have known! How could Lily's son be lazy and ignorant... The absurd part is, he doesn't even know what Lily looked like!" Snape stood rigidly before the Headmaster's desk, his dark eyes staring down at Dumbledore in his armchair, fury overflowing.
A flicker of pain crossed Dumbledore's blue eyes. He remained seated, unmoved, but his smile vanished. "In that respect, it was indeed my oversight... I didn't anticipate his aunt's family would be so averse to magic, even blaming their own nephew for Lily's death."
"Don't make excuses! I warned you long ago what kind of person Petunia Evans was—" Snape said angrily.
"At least he has blood protection. At least he's alive, isn't he?" Dumbledore said calmly.
"Alive? Like an ignorant pig—mere survival is sufficient?" Snape sneered.
"Severus, don't be foolish. You know how dire circumstances were then." Dumbledore rubbed his temples and closed his eyes wearily. "At that time, many Death Eaters remained uncaptured, and people believed Voldemort would return... It was fortunate we were alive at all."
Snape stopped staring at Dumbledore. He pressed his lips together tightly and gazed blankly at the dark Hogwarts grounds beyond the Headmaster's office window.
"And now, I fear Voldemort is already stirring." Dumbledore stood and paced the room. "I believe you remember—last year, when Quirrell was petrified, Voldemort's fragmented soul remained in his body. We still haven't found an ideal method to resolve Quirrell's petrification while trapping that soul to prevent its escape."
Snape remained silent. The surging waves of anger subsided somewhat as reason's shores returned to his mind. Deep down, he knew Dumbledore was right.
"This year's Chamber of Secrets incident was also intimately connected to Voldemort. He used a diary from his youth as a vessel to bewitch people, almost certainly employing the Horcrux knowledge I mentioned to you earlier." He tapped the charred diary on the table with his finger—he'd been keeping it close for recent study and examination.
"According to Harry's account, the Voldemort in the diary attempted to kill him. I'm uncertain exactly how many Horcruxes Voldemort created, but one thing is certain: if they were activated, the first target would likely be Harry Potter." Dumbledore frowned.
Snape's gaunt face turned ashen. He turned from the window. "So?"
"As long as Voldemort isn't completely destroyed, Harry will always be endangered. The future will only grow more perilous than ever before. He needs friends. He should be surrounded by allies, not enemies. I believe we should respect young Mr. Malfoy's right to choose friends. Naturally, there are also Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger—they can all help him," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
Snape emitted a disgusted sound from his hooked nose.
"For the foreseeable future, I'll spend considerable time investigating any Horcruxes Voldemort may have created. I suspect this will be an enormous undertaking. I can no longer monitor the school constantly as before. During periods when I'm unable to attend to Hogwarts, you must protect Harry—as a Hogwarts professor, and even more so as Lily's friend," Dumbledore said.
"...like a dutiful nursemaid," Snape said sarcastically. "A babysitter."
"Yes. That's one way to phrase it." Dumbledore's blue eyes regarded him calmly, as if knowing he would agree.
"Don't tell anyone." Snape's face was ashen. He coldly uttered these words and strode from Dumbledore's office.
On the final evening of Easter holidays, the boy about to receive Snape's special attention sat in a library corner, whispering with his two friends.
"Hermione, I'm begging you," Ron said, exasperated. "Just let us see it for a moment..." Harry, beside him, also looked up hopefully, staring pleadingly at Hermione.
"No, you should write it yourselves—that's the entire point of homework!" Hermione said indignantly.
"I'm still eight inches short... who can write such lengthy History of Magic essays? Three feet!" Ron exclaimed.
"I wrote four feet seven inches," Hermione said proudly, waving the writing-covered parchment before their noses.
Harry noticed the text was densely packed... and much smaller than Ron's handwriting.
Ron attempted to grab the parchment, but Hermione deftly pulled it away, thwarting his scheme.
"I think I should give you space to work independently. I'm going to find Draco." She frowned at them, shook the parchment with one hand, creating a rustling sound, and quickly departed, carrying a precariously tall stack of books in the other.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances and sighed.
"I truly don't understand—since there are no end-of-year exams, why must we still complete homework..." Ron looked despondent, worrying over his essay.
Apart from Defense Against the Dark Arts, all the professors had regained their enthusiasm for teaching and spared no effort assigning homework, apparently hoping to compensate for time lost during the Chamber of Secrets incident.
According to Professor McGonagall, this demonstrated "responsibility toward students."
"She said it was preparation for future O.W.L. examinations." Harry listlessly scratched his black hair.
"They're mad! We have years until those exams!" Ron exclaimed in horror, his face reddening with alarm.
"At least we don't have end-of-year exams this term," Harry said, counting on his fingers.
"This is worse than exams! The essays keep getting longer!" Ron said, annoyed.
"Anyway, let's add something more." Harry opened a book, and Ron quickly leaned over to discuss plagiarism techniques with his best friend.
The two boys were so engrossed in identifying information about medieval European wizarding gatherings, attempting to fabricate something convincing, that they didn't notice a concealed figure in a corner nearby.
Madam Pince lurked behind bookshelves in the library, lifting her skirts and tiptoeing after Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's famous top student.
Passing rows of massive History of Magic tomes, turning a corner in the Charms section, beyond the shelf of Ancient Runes dictionaries... she watched as Hermione Granger, carrying her towering stack of books, walked casually into the Restricted Section, passed through a cluttered area filled with broken artifacts, and vanished.
Madam Pince knew, naturally, that this was a VIP study area specially arranged by school governors. She also knew that currently only the young Malfoy heir used this space.
"Goodness!" A blush crept onto her thin, pale cheeks, and Madam Pince's eyes gleamed. "Finally—I've caught them!"
Hiding behind a row of thick forbidden tomes, she excitedly retrieved the small mirror from her sleeve and whispered, "Poppy, you were absolutely right! I've found their secret meeting place!"
From the hand mirror came Madam Pomfrey's smug voice: "Of course I'm right! I'm never wrong about gossip—"
"Oh, hush, you boastful woman!" Madam Pince returned the hand mirror to her pocket, hummed a Celestina Warbeck song with satisfaction, and pretended to dust nearby books with her favorite feather duster.