Snape's office was shrouded in an eerie silence.
The candlelight flickered, casting his upside-down figure onto the stone wall like a bat pinned inside a specimen frame, his disheveled black robes serving as bat wings.
To be honest.
Being The Hanged Man was truly miserable.
Because of that bizarre posture, Snape felt utterly humiliated and annoyed. He somewhat regretted not wearing trousers, leaving his pale ankles and slender calves, which rarely saw sunlight, exposed as he hung upside down.
His face was indeed very red, though not from shame. It was flushed from the blood rushing to his head, while his black hair hung toward the floor like a tangled spider web.
Throughout Hogwarts.
It seemed as though a dense air of resentment was about to spread everywhere.
How could his resentment not be intense?!
"That person isn't an ordinary student! He's not a student at all!" Snape was now utterly certain of this. He suspected that Rirym was Grindelwald disguised as a student.
Yes.
With blood flooding Snape's head, his cerebellum had become especially nimble and useful—if it had been Voldemort, he might have survived, but Hermione definitely would not have.
Would Voldemort pass up a chance to use Avada Kedavra?
Any Voldemort who didn't use Avada Kedavra was a fake Voldemort!
Besides.
No matter how much Voldemort's mind had gone wrong, he would never humiliate him like this. After all, Snape counted as one of the few talented people at Voldemort's side.
If Voldemort had learned his secret, he would have immediately used Avada Kedavra and given him no room to maneuver. At most, he would have asked why Snape had betrayed him before killing him.
Thinking about it this way.
The possibility that the bizarre Ravenclaw student was Voldemort could naturally be ruled out at once—the only