Snape Fools a Fool

For the next two days, Snape began to follow Samuel and Lina.

I didn't follow them all the time, as that would make him look suspicious; I just appeared precisely where they were likely to be.

On the way from the cellar to the Great Hall before breakfast, in the Corridor from the Great Hall Common Room after lunch, and on the path from the side gate of the Castle to the courtyard after class.

He memorized their route, including when they would take which route, how long it would take, whether they would stop, and where they would stop.

Then he discovered something: other people would occasionally appear around Samuel and Lina.

Alex Roxier watched them pass by from the corner of the Corridor, with Avery Cuthbert trailing far behind.

Snape didn't care; they watched their own shows, he did his, each performing their own act without interfering with the others.

He wrote all of this down so he could tell Rababstan later.

That's exactly what that young master wanted: someone chasing, someone running, someone watching—that's what makes it interesting.

Sunday morning.

In a corner of the Slytherin common room, Avery leaned back on a dark green velvet sofa, his legs crossed and his hands clasped on his stomach.

He tried to imitate Regulus's style, but he didn't quite get it right.

Avery was a bit tense, his back was too straight, his shoulders were hunched, trying to project an imposing presence, but it was getting a little tiring.

He himself felt he exuded a powerful aura; sitting there, he looked like a big shot.

Snape stood before him, his face so dark it could wring water out of it.

He knew it was an act, that it was for the people around him to see, but he still felt embarrassed to be called over and made to stand in front of everyone by a younger student.

He wanted to hate Avery, the Cuthbert family's son, a second-year student, a year below him, who sat there putting on airs and made him stand.

But he couldn't bring himself to hate him; it was his own choice, and he would be rewarded for standing here.

He didn't hate Rababstan either, because he was an idiot, so stupid that he couldn't see that the whole thing was a performance for him.

Hating an idiot is a waste of your emotions.

He only hated that he had no power, only hated that he could only stand here.

But he knew that standing now was so that he wouldn't have to stand anymore in the future.

He swallowed his anger, his face still grim.

Avery didn't offer him a seat; the sofa opposite was empty, but Snape remained standing without Avery speaking.

He's the young master of the Cuthbert family, even if he's only in second grade, even if his Magic is just so-so.

But his last name Cuthbert, and if he made a Half-bloods stand, then that Half-bloods had to stand.

In Slytherin's logic, this makes perfect sense.

There were still a few people in the Common Room.

Two fourth-grade girls were sitting near the fireplace, flipping through a magazine. Their gazes drifted over here briefly before returning to their own.

Near the middle, a sixth-grade boy was writing something, his quill pen scratching on the parchment, without looking up.

A few younger students huddled on a sofa some distance away, whispering to each other, their eyes glancing this way every now and then.

Avery's voice wasn't loud; he lowered his throat to make it sound deep, "Those two are Black's men. Mind your own business."

Snape didn't say anything.

Avery stared at him for a couple of seconds, then raised his chin slightly. "If I see you with them again, you'll regret it."

Snape remained silent.

Avery waited a while, but received no response. He then curled his lip slightly and said, "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you." Snape's voice was wooden and dry.

Avery stared at him for a while longer, then waved his hand as if shooing away a fly.

Sunday afternoon, before dinner.

The corner of the Corridor not far from the Common Room was dimly lit, with torches spaced far apart, their light unable to reach this corner.

Rababstan stood there, arms crossed, chin slightly raised, looking down at the wall with an air of superiority.

He wore a dark robe today, with the Lestrange family crest pinned to the collar, and his hair was neatly combed back, revealing his forehead.

Snape stood opposite him, his tone flat and emotionless. "Those two are tight-lipped. We asked them to their faces, and they wouldn't say a word."

Rababstan didn't speak, he just looked at him, silent for a moment, then silent again.

He wanted to create a sense of oppression, a silence that only exists when a superior exerts pressure on their subordinates.

This made him feel like a big shot, a big shot who could get things done, a big shot who needed subordinates to report to him.

This silence made him feel incredibly powerful.

Snape lowered his head, hiding his twitching lips from the shrug. "After observing them, we discovered that there were always people watching them— Roxier, Cuthbert, taking turns appearing."

Snape took a breath, composed himself, and then looked up. "Cuthbert warned me in the Common Room to mind my own business."

He said those two were Black's men, and anyone who messed with them would be in trouble.

"That's all?" Rababstan finally spoke, his tone tinged with impatience.

Snape nodded. "That's all."

Rababstan's expression changed, as if he could no longer keep up the act.

He intended to give a profound response, listen, slowly nod, say "I understand," and then let Snape leave.

But he already knew all of this, including what Snape was saying.

He sent Snape to inquire, hoping to find out more, but what Snape reported was the same as what he already knew.

What was the point of him sending Snape?

Wouldn't that make his arrangements seem completely useless?

Snape looked up and glanced at him.

Rababstan's expression had dropped; his feigned profound silence had shattered, and his irritation was written all over his face, which he couldn't even be bothered to hide.

"There's another way," Snape said.

Rababstan frowned. "What method?"

"Veritaserum."

Rababstan's eyes narrowed slightly.

Snape's tone remained flat and monotone. "I worked as an assistant in Slughorn's office, I've seen the recipe, I can make it."

Rababstan stared at him without saying a word. They were in the same grade, and he knew Snape's Potions skills.

Snape continued, "The finished product costs five hundred Galleon, but if you make it yourself, the material cost will be around three hundred."

Rababstan's eyebrows furrowed even more.

Seeing his hesitation, Snape added, "The brewing process requires waiting for the lunar phase; it's the full moon in two weeks. Any later and it'll be a holiday."

Rababstan remained silent for a long time.

Three hundred Galleon was nothing to him; he could easily pull them out of his pocket.

However, Veritaserum is not an ordinary Potions; giving it to students and being Veritaserum is no small matter.

A scene suddenly popped into his mind.

Bellatrix.

Her black curly hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a velvet robe draped over her chest. The deep neckline revealed a section of her collarbone and the gleaming skin beneath.

But the dark silver lace button at the neckline was fastened tightly, neither too high nor too low, just enough to cover the most vulnerable spot.

He stared at that button many times, wondering when it would come undone.

As she turned, the lines of her hips were faintly visible beneath her robe; her waist twisted slightly, but enough to keep him watching for a long time.

His throat was dry, and he had only one thought in his mind: to get closer, to smell her scent, and to see her neckline droop down when she bent over in front of him.

She was his elder brother's wife, and he should call her sister-in-law, but his relationship with her brother was never close, and there was no love between them.

If he could find Black's secret, find evidence of what that heir Bellatrix was really up to.

If Bellatrix knew he had accomplished this, would she give him a second glance?

When we pass each other in the Corridor, will I treat him not like a child, but like a man?

He swallowed hard and pressed the image to the back.

It's not the right time yet.

Rababstan looked at Snape again.

Three hundred Galleon. That's the cost of materials. Snape, a Half-bloods, was dirt poor; his robes were even frayed at the cuffs. Yet, his eyes would light up at the sight of three hundred Galleon.

He saw right through it; this guy was trying to make a quick buck.

Rababstan's lips twitched into a smug grin.

"I'll buy the ingredients, you just need to cook it." His voice returned to its condescending tone.

Snape's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered, as if he had been seen through and was momentarily flustered, a little annoyed, a little resentful.

Rababstan caught that look in his eyes, and his conviction deepened.

Sure enough, this poor guy was just trying to scam money, and he saw through his scheme.

"Fine." Snape's voice remained calm, but his expression darkened, as if his objective had not been achieved.

Then he began to list the materials. "Moonpetal juice, three ounces, collected on a full moon night, the best quality; African Tree Snake Skin, one ounce, dried and ground into powder."

Half an ounce of Quintaped horn, ground into powder; twelve fresh Mistletoe Berries, or twenty dried ones; and two ounces of Flowing Grass.

Standard ingredients: distilled water, crucible wax.

Rababstan listened, his brow furrowed.

Snape continued, "Prepare an extra portion of Moonpetal juice, an extra portion of African Tree Snake Skin, and half a portion of Quintaped horns. It's the first time I've made this, so I'm afraid of making a mistake."

Rababstan stared at him for a few moments; the extra items added up to another two hundred Galleon.

He was almost about to ask, "What does this have to do with me if it's your first time staying up late?"

But he swallowed the words back down his throat.

Veritaserum is a high-level Potions, but it's nothing special for the Lestrange family; they can easily find it by rummaging through their Potions.

But he can't take it from home. His elder brother is now the Patriarch, and he'll ask, "What do you need the Veritaserum for?"

What could he say?

He said he wanted to know what the Heir of the Black family was up to at school?

Or was he trying to impress his sister-in-law?

Buying it outside won't work either; those shops in Diagon Alley have records of who sells Veritaserum.

It's all crystal clear who bought it, what they bought, and when they bought it.

What was the Lestrange family scion planning to do by buying Veritaserum?

So Snape's suggestion is perfect.

He provided the ingredients, Snape brewed the Potions, and when things went wrong, Snape took the blame.

He was just a kind-hearted young master buying materials for his poor classmates. Who knew Snape would take the materials to brew Veritaserum? And then give it to his students?

He knew nothing about it.

As Rababstan thought of this, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards.

His mind works incredibly fast; he thinks everything through perfectly, leaving no room for error.

He suppressed his smugness and put on his usual serious expression again.

He nodded, said "Wait," then turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the Corridor, growing fainter and fainter.

Snape stood at the corner of the Corridor, head down, a slight upturn of his lips that he quickly reversed.

Five hundred Galleon —he had never seen so much money in his life, and the materials for five hundred Galleon were the same.

Veritaserum? Where Veritaserum from?

It's just for fooling idiots.

The materials are real, the price is real, and the wastage is real, but the Veritaserum is definitely not real.

Rababstan would buy double the ingredients; he would use a little to brew a pot of something that looked like Veritaserum, and the rest would end up in his pocket.

Those materials will be exchanged for money, or brewed into Potions and then exchanged for money; in short, they won't stay in our hands.

Perhaps after this incident, the Black family will have his Potions on display in their Potions in Diagon Alley.

The bottle bears his mark, sealing Rune, and small engravings on its shoulder.

Snape discovered the truth: there are fools among Pure-bloods, and not only are there fools, there may be many.

He used to look up at these people, feeling that he could never reach them.

Now he looked down and found them still standing there, their minds blank.

This is the case in Rababstan, and it will happen to others in the future.

The thought made his chest feel hot, but the heat subsided in less than two seconds.

Because he thought of Black again; what could he have done without Black handing him the opportunity?

He wouldn't even have a chance to lie.

That's not right either. He can still fool people, but what happens after he succeeds?

Discovered, then retaliated against?

It was Black who pushed Rababstan into his path, and it was Black who made this scam a reality.

He was simply taking what was rightfully his part in the story.

He thought he saw through the Pure-bloods ' stupidity, but what good did it do?

He was still being pushed along, only the person pushing him had changed.

He completely suppressed the slight smile on his lips, turned around, and left.