Snape is Very Angry

Harry could swear that after tonight, every time he pulled back the covers, he'd have a hallucination of Snape.

In the middle of the night, how terrifying.

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

After passing through the small hole in the entrance, the Fat Lady stared at them as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Professor Snape, where are you taking Harry?"

"Some minor matters."

The door remained open.

She couldn't find a suitable word to describe Snape, not even the worst or most disliked.

Anxious, Harry walked through the corridor, his mind already conjuring up a dozen possibilities.

A fancy dress ball was the least likely; helping him leave the school was the most.

If the term was forever, he would be moved to tears.

This wasn't alarmist talk, but a premonition he'd had since their first meeting.

Snape didn't speak, and his face was impossible to make out in the dim torchlight.

If it was good news, it must be expulsion.

If it was bad news, it really might be a fancy dress ball.

The stairwell was even darker and gloomier, and Harry subconsciously tightened the thin coat he was wearing.

Snape still didn't say a word.

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

"What's wrong, Professor?"

He didn't answer, but drew his wand with his other hand.

Although very faint, there was definitely something abnormal.

A fleeting flicker, as if it appeared and disappeared in an instant.

"Lumos—"

Harry, standing behind him, was very nervous.

He remembered the bedtime stories his roommates had just been telling.

Wizards who could speak Parseltongue were usually extremely evil.

Especially Salazar Slytherin, according to Ron.

It was said that he was the source of pure-blood supremacy and an outright Muggle hater.

Without considering the historical context, it was easy to misunderstand him that way.

Expulsion?

Harry's face was bloodless as he cautiously asked, "Professor, am I going to be—"

"Shut up." Snape was intently surveying his surroundings. "If you don't want to die, you'd better be quiet."

Danger was lurking nearby.

He didn't know who the faint magical aura belonged to, but knowing they were hostile towards him was enough.

"Homenum Revelio—"

This revealing charm was very powerful, much stronger than the one used on Vincent not long ago.

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

Highly alert, Snape quickly turned around, pressed Harry's shoulders, and waved his wand.

A small, thin arm blocked the incoming spells.

The barrier, like a thin film, successfully defended against them one after another.

Snape stopped, his wand pointed directly at the small figure in front of him, draped in a tattered pillowcase.

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

Constantly obstructing, controlling cars and Bludgers.

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

"Stupefy—" Snape's spell struck the small, outstretched arm.

The hit House-elf flew down the stairs, his back slamming heavily against the wall.

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

"Tell me, who sent you here!"

"I won't—"

"Tell me!" Snape grabbed the tattered pillowcase, lifting him into the air along with it.

"Dobby won't let you succeed, Dobby will protect Harry Potter."

With a snap of his fingers, the House-elf named Dobby disappeared.

Snape whirled around, his eyes gleaming coldly from beneath his bat-like cowl.

"

Sectumsempra

—"

Half of Dobby's body was slashed open, and the neatly sliced pillowcase was gradually stained with blood.

Harry, who had been standing there dumbfounded, finally witnessed Snape's anger.

But strangely, he only felt a little cruel, and wasn't repulsed by this feeling of wanting to tear everything apart.

"Dobby—Dobby must protect Harry Potter..." Dobby, lying weakly on the ground, kept repeating this sentence.

Snape's tense nerves relaxed slightly, and he frowned, pointing his wand at the terrible wound.

"

Vulnera Sanentur

—

Vulnera Sanentur

—"

With each repetition of the spell, Dobby's wound healed at a visible rate.

"Tell me, who sent you?"

He didn't heal the wound completely. "You say you want to protect Potter, so why make him leave Hogwarts!"

The weak Dobby opened his big eyes wide, as if trying to recognize the bat-like monster in front of him who had injured him and then healed him.

Harry looked over at Snape, whose eyes were unkind.

His attire didn't suggest a good person, and his actions were as terrifying as Dark Magic.

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

Dobby blinked his round eyes, and looked away the moment his gaze met Snape's.

"Don't think about escaping!" Snape pointed his wand at his forehead again. "I'm not Dumbledore, don't think I'll treat you favorably."

"Dobby wasn't thinking of escaping." He struggled to sit up. "A plot is beginning, it's no longer safe here."

"Nonsense!" Harry calmed his agitated emotions slightly. "Hogwarts is the safest place in the world, Professor Dumbledore will dismantle all plots."

"He can't protect you all the time." Dobby said with dim eyes, "My—that person—that person said that many people will die this year."

"Who is it?" Snape's right hand, holding the wand, exerted a little force.

"Dobby—Dobby can't say."

He increased his strength again. "Who is the master you serve!"

Dobby lay back on the ground, painfully tearing open the almost healed wound on his body with his hands: "Dobby can never say, never—"

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

"That's enough, Professor."

"Enough?" He glanced at the other person coldly. "Not cherishing your precious life, Potter! Do you know how many people this will disappoint?"

"I—"

"Of course you don't know! Ignorant, reckless, complacent...

If he really wanted to do something to you, you would already be dead!"

Harry closed his mouth in astonishment.

One would rather hurt himself than reveal who his master was, and the other had been protecting him the whole time.

Putting himself in their shoes, Snape really should be angry.

But no matter how hard Harry tried, he still couldn't help but feel sorry for Dobby.

"He's injured."

Snape shook off his small hand and raised the wand that was pressed against Dobby's forehead.

"Exactly the same."

"What?"

He didn't look at Harry's astonished eyes, but moved his wand to the wound that was almost healed, but had been brutally torn open again.

After three spells, even the blood on the tattered pillowcase was restored to its original state.

"Thank you, Harry Potter." Dobby's big eyes were wet, "No wizard has ever cared about Dobby's wounds, only you—" He suddenly sat up and slammed his head hard against the wall, "Dobby deserves to die, Dobby shouldn't have let you care—"

Snape's face was cold, as if he had expected this to happen.

Humble House-elves are born to serve noble wizards, this is an imprint that is engraved in the depths of their souls from birth.

What's more, Harry is the true savior who once drove away Voldemort and restored their normal lives.