Potions Class Detention

Harry had not read that book, nor did he know what exactly was written in it.

But he could tell from Hermione's expression that those curses... were probably...

"Where on earth did you find that book?!" Hermione still did not seem to have calmed down. She looked up and rolled her eyes. "My God, I'm terrified this book is going to land me in Azkaban..."

"What I need to correct," Ron said, raising a hand, "is that you're a witch now. God won't bless you. He'd much rather see you turned into a human torch—"

Hermione shot him a vicious glare.

"Er, what's wrong with this book?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Do you know what the first 'Minor Curses' in this book is?!" Hermione growled in a low voice. She looked around, and after making sure no one was paying attention to them, continued, "It's the Imperius Curse! Imperio! How is that supposed to be 'harmless'?!"

Harry remembered now. This was the book Sebastian had stolen from the Gaunt family.

Well... that was rather in keeping with Gaunt family traditions. After all, this was the family that forced its own children to use the Cruciatus Curse on Muggle children. It was only reasonable for them to consider Imperio a Harmless Minor Curse.

"This should be part of the Gaunt family collection." Harry did not hesitate to sell out his friend. "When I took the book, I saw a name beside it. I think it said 'Aurelius Gaunt.'"

"Oh, if it's Gaunt, then it's no surprise," Ron cut in. "You know, the Gaunt family are descendants of Slytherin, and Slytherin himself was a Dark Wizard."

"One of Hogwarts's Founders?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Mr. Slytherin was a Dark Wizard? How could that be?"

Harry did not argue. Back in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, he had read Slytherin's manuscript. Its contents truly did not seem like the sort of thing any decent person would write.

Ron merely shrugged and said nothing more.

"You are not allowed to read this book again!" Hermione said in a low voice once more. "I don't want to get dragged down by these so-called 'Minor' Curses and sent to Azkaban—or worse, expelled from school!"

"You really can't tell which one's worse, can you?" Ron shrugged.

All he got in return was an eye roll.

After November began, the weather turned bitterly cold.

After all, the Scottish Highlands lay at a high latitude. Even with the North Atlantic Current, it was still nearly as far north as Moscow.

The mountains around the school were shrouded in mist and blanketed in ice and snow. The lake had frozen over with a thick layer of ice, cold and hard as quenched steel.

Every morning, frost covered the ground.

From the upstairs windows, they could see Hagrid wrapped from head to toe in a long moleskin coat, wearing rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaver-fur boots as he defrosted Flying Broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch.

For some reason, Hermione seemed even more nervous than Harry himself about his first Quidditch match, and Ron was the same.

Ron oiled and maintained Harry's Flying Broomstick every day, while Hermione borrowed a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages from the library so Harry could quickly learn the rules of Quidditch.

Because the weather was so cold, Hermione conjured several handfuls of blue flames that could be carried around in jam jars—not only Harry and Ron got some; even Seamus and Neville received their share.

Seamus had long since stopped holding a grudge. For the sake of that handful of portable fire, he even felt an urge to call her Mother.

During Friday's Potions Class, Harry accidentally brought Quidditch Through the Ages into the classroom.

Snape still stood beside him, watching every step of his potion-making without blinking.

After Harry brewed a perfect cauldron of Draught of Living Death, Snape made a nasal "Tch."

Harry had no idea whether he was pleased or displeased. In any case, Harry took it as classic Slytherin House hypocrisy.

However, Snape was soon drawn to the book on Harry's desk. He swiftly picked it up, and when he saw the title on the title page, a sinister smile curled across his lips.

"Well, well, Potter." Snape looked down at Harry. "Bringing unrelated books into Potions Class, two points from Gryffindor—and you will serve detention in my office every Wednesday and Saturday evening."

Harry opened his mouth. He truly had not expected Snape to deduct Gryffindor points over a Quidditch book.

This was the first time Snape had deducted points from him for no reason—the last time, he had deserved it.

When class ended, Ron and Hermione came over together.

"Harry..." Ron said quietly. "Did you notice that Snape seems to be limping when he walks? Like he's been injured somehow?"

"Maybe a little." Only then did Harry recall Snape's strange gait, one moment seeming six feet tall, the next barely five foot seven.

"But more importantly, I think I should get that book back," Harry said again.

"You're hopeless." "You're insane." Hermione and Ron spoke at the same time.

But Harry did not see it that way. He felt that Snape actually liked him quite a bit. As for hating him—how could that be? How could his mum and dad's friend possibly hate him? He probably just hated Gryffindor.

With that thought in mind, he headed downstairs, intending to try his luck at the staff room.

He knocked, but there was no response. He pushed the door open a crack and saw that only Snape and Filch were inside, while Snape had lifted his robes.

Whoa, Harry marveled inwardly. Now he knew why Snape had been limping—blood streamed down the exposed leg, and the wound had split open so badly that bright red muscle was visible.

"Professor, this..." Filch handed him a bandage.

"That damned thing," Snape cursed. "How could you possibly keep an eye on three heads at once?"

Three heads?

Harry frowned. Could Professor Snape's injury have something to do with some three-headed animal?

Before he could think any further, he heard a roar.

Snape had spotted him.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up and saw Snape let his robes fall, staring at him with a dark expression.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry asked tentatively. "I was wondering whether I could have that book back?"

"Get out!" Snape roared, pointing at the door.

Without another word, Harry turned and left.

Luckily, Professor Snape seemed to have forgotten to deduct points from Gryffindor. That was a blessing in disguise, he thought.

But... what exactly had injured Professor Snape?

Harry decided to ask Hagrid. He seemed to know quite a lot about Magical Creatures, so perhaps he would know.