Snape Is Very Angry

Harry could swear that after tonight, every time he pulled back his blankets, he would see an illusion of Snape in his bed.

In the middle of the night, it was terrifying.

He threw on a thin, loose robe, slipped into his slippers, and left the dormitory with Snape.

After passing through the small hole at the entrance, the Fat Lady stared at them as though she had seen a ghost.

"Professor Snape, where are you taking Harry?"

"Just a small matter."

The door remained open.

She could not find a suitable word to describe Snape, not even the worst or most unwelcome one.

As the uneasy Harry walked down the corridor, he had already come up with more than a dozen possibilities.

A Bal Masqué was the least likely; needing his help to leave the school was the most likely.

If it was forever, he would definitely be moved to tears.

This was not alarmist talk, but a premonition he had had since their very first meeting.

Snape said nothing. In the dim torchlight, Harry could not make out his expression at all.

If it was good news, it was definitely expulsion.

If it was bad news, then it really might be a Bal Masqué.

The stairwell was even darker and gloomier. Harry instinctively pulled his thin robe tighter around himself.

Snape still did not say a word.

When they reached the sixth floor, he suddenly stopped and raised a hand to block the way ahead.

"What is it, Professor?"

He did not answer, merely drawing his wand with his other hand.

Though it was extremely faint, something unusual had indeed appeared.

It flashed past in an instant, as if it had appeared and vanished at the same moment.

"Lumos—"

Harry, blocked behind him, grew very tense.

He remembered the little bedtime story his roommates had just told.

Wizards who could speak Parseltongue were usually evil to the extreme.

Especially Salazar Slytherin, as Ron had described him.

It was said that he was the origin of pure-blood supremacy and a thoroughgoing Muggle-hater.

Without considering the context of the era, he really would be misunderstood that way.

Expulsion?

Harry's face went completely pale as he carefully asked, "Professor, am I going to be—"

"Shut up." Snape surveyed the surroundings with complete focus. "If you do not want to die, you had better stay quiet."

Danger was lurking nearby.

He did not know whom those faint magical traces belonged to, but knowing they were hostile toward him was enough.

"Homenum Revelio—"

This Revealing Charm was extremely powerful, far stronger than the one used on Vincent not long ago.

A dazzling blue curtain of light appeared, stretching all the way down the staircase.

Snape, whose nerves were stretched taut, swiftly turned around, pressed a hand to Harry's shoulder, and swung his wand.

A skinny arm blocked the spells flying toward them without end.

The membrane-like barrier actually defended against them one after another.

Snape stopped, his wand pointed straight at the small figure before him, clad in a shabby pillowcase.

"It's you!" Harry recognized the House-elf.

The one who had kept obstructing him, controlling the car and the Bludger.

"Harry Potter, get away from him!" The House-elf snapped his fingers and immediately appeared behind Harry.

"Stupefy—" Snape's spell struck the skinny arm reaching toward Harry.

The hit elf flew down the stairs, his back slamming heavily into the wall.

Before he could slide down, Snape's wand was already touching his forehead.

"Tell me, who sent you!"

"I won't—"

"Tell me!" Snape grabbed the shabby pillowcase and lifted him into the air along with it.

"Dobby will not let you succeed. Dobby will definitely protect Harry Potter."

With another snap of his fingers, the elf named Dobby vanished.

Snape spun around sharply, his eyes beneath the bat helmet gleaming coldly.

"Sectumsempra—"

Half of Dobby's body was cut open,

and the neatly sliced pillowcase slowly became stained with blood.

Harry, standing frozen in place, finally saw what Snape looked like when he was angry.

Yet strangely, he only found it somewhat cruel. He did not reject that feeling of wanting to tear everything apart.

"Dobby... Dobby must protect Harry Potter..." Dobby kept muttering those words weakly as he lay on the ground.

Snape's taut nerves relaxed slightly. Frowning, he pointed his wand at the savage wound.

"Heal—Heal—"

Each time he repeated the incantation, Dobby's wound healed at a visible rate.

"Tell me, who exactly sent you?"

He did not heal the wound completely. "You said you wanted to protect Potter, so why were you trying to make him leave Hogwarts?!"

The weakened Dobby opened his large eyes wide, as if trying hard to identify the Bat-Person before him who had injured him and then treated him.

Harry looked toward Snape, whose gaze was unfriendly.

His clothes did not make him look like a good person, and his attacks were as terrifying as Dark Magic.

"Your name is Dobby? He is our Potions Class professor."

Dobby blinked his round, large eyes, then shifted his gaze aside the instant it met Snape's.

"Do not think of running!" Snape's wand once again touched his forehead. "I am not Dumbledore. Do not expect me to treat you kindly."

"Dobby never thought of running." He struggled into a sitting position. "The conspiracy has begun. This place is no longer safe."

"Nonsense!" Harry's agitated emotions calmed slightly. "Hogwarts is the safest place in the world. Professor Dumbledore will definitely destroy every conspiracy."

"He cannot protect you at all times." Dobby's eyes darkened. "My—my person—my person said that many people would die this year."

"Who?" Snape's right hand tightened slightly around his wand.

"Dobby—Dobby cannot say."

He tightened his grip again. "Who is the master you serve!"

Dobby lay back down, painfully tearing open the wound on his body that had nearly healed. "Dobby can never say it, never—"

Just as Snape was about to continue, Harry's small hands tightly gripped his wand.

"That is enough, Professor."

"Enough?" He cast him a cold glance. "Not valuing your precious life, Potter! Do you know how many people that would disappoint?"

"I—"

"Of course you do not! Ignorant, reckless, smug...

If he had truly wanted to do anything to you, you would already be dead!"

Harry shut his mouth in astonishment.

One would rather hurt himself than reveal who his master was, while the other had protected him the entire time.

Putting himself in Snape's shoes, Snape really should be angry.

But no matter how hard Harry tried, he could not help feeling sorry for Dobby.

"He is hurt."

Snape shook off his little hands and lifted the wand he had pressed against Dobby's forehead.

"Exactly the same."

"What?"

He did not look at Harry's pair of astonished eyes, instead moving his wand to the wound that had nearly healed before being violently torn open again.

After three incantations, everything, including the blood on the shabby pillowcase, returned to its original state.

"Thank you, Harry Potter." Dobby's large eyes grew wet,

"No wizard has ever cared about Dobby's wounds. Only you—" He suddenly sat up and viciously smashed his head into the wall.

"Dobby is terrible. Dobby should not have let you care about him—"

Snape's face remained cold, as though he had long expected this to happen.

Lowly House-elves were born to serve noble wizards; it was a mark engraved deep into their souls from birth.

What was more, to them, Harry was the true savior who had once driven away Voldemort and allowed them to return to their normal lives.