Snape's face darkened instantly. He said viciously, "Potter, I hear you have some talent for flying?"
Harry replied, "Yes, that's right. The first time I tried, I could make a Flying Broomstick fly into my hand.
If Madam Hooch hadn't forbidden us from flying at the time, perhaps I would already be able to handle a Flying Broomstick skillfully.
It seems my talent is quite good. Maybe I can become a Quidditch player in the future."
"If I were you, I'd toss that damned Flying Broomstick aside!" Snape said sarcastically. "Compared to the profound art of Potions, a crude children's game like Quidditch isn't worth mentioning. You should spend more time studying Potions."
Harry shook his head, rejecting Snape's suggestion.
"Potions are indeed fascinating. With different combinations of potions, you can accomplish almost anything.
But I still won't give up Quidditch. It isn't some barbaric sport. If Professor McGonagall heard what you said, she would be very unhappy."
The reason he wanted to become a Quidditch player was to make the identity of the Chosen One more well-rounded. He needed to excel in every aspect—not merely as the Chosen One, but also as a Potions Master, and of course, as a genius Quidditch star.
Snape wanted to continue disparaging Quidditch, but he had no desire to have that elegant old lady blocking his door either. He could only snort coldly.
"Get out. Now that we're done talking, why are you still standing here? Want to eat slugs?"
Harry spread his hands and turned to leave.
Poor Snape, living his entire life in James and Lily's shadows.
Lily had possessed an exceptional talent for Potions and had become a Potions Master at a young age. Snape's current deep mastery of Potions might have had something to do with her influence.
And