My Brother Isn't Like This!

Ron was still in the stands, unfurling the banner he'd made from a bedsheet, lost in thought about the expensive Essence of Dittany – especially after he'd pressed Hermione for the exact price.

"Why is Snape being so nice?" he asked, staring at the glittering "Gryffindor Wins!" lettering on the banner, genuine confusion welling up inside him.

Neville, holding the other end of the banner with him, flinched and the pole clanged against Seamus's head.

Seamus, dazed like a gopher, ignored the pain on his head and both he and Neville looked at Ron in alarm.

"Mate, are you seriously losing it over Gryffindor?" Seamus's voice was all wrong. "Snape… nice? How do those two words even go together?"

Neville, pale-faced, nodded frantically, the flesh on his cheeks jiggling with the force of his trembling.

"It's not me," Ron quickly denied, realizing his mistake. "I meant, why is Snape being so nice to Eliana?"

"Oh, which teacher doesn't like Eliana?" Seamus seemed a little calmer now – at least he didn't look like he was about to haul Ron off to the school hospital. "Eliana is Snape's star student. A little favoritism is normal, right?"

Is Snape really that rich? A little favoritism means giving out such expensive Essence of Dittany??

Ron couldn't believe it. He was seriously considering whether he should buckle down and study Potions Class, to become Snape's second favorite student.

"Foul!!" a huge roar erupted from the crowd – Harry had just spotted the Golden Snitch, but Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, had deliberately crashed into Harry, nearly knocking him off his broomstick.

"Give him a red card! Send him off! Where's the ref – the ref!" Dean Thomas shouted.

"What's a red card?"

Ron's attention was immediately diverted – or perhaps he really couldn't imagine himself becoming Snape's favorite student, no matter how he thought about the method or the outcome.

"It's a warning card that gets a player sent off for fouls like that. Flint looks like a cross between a troll and a baboon," Eliana said, glaring unhappily at Flint in the air, her tone sharp and sarcastic. "I really don't understand why magical creatures can play friendly matches with humans? Is it the animal welfare organizations finally stepping up?"

Ron and Dean, who had been fuming, almost burst out laughing at her words.

But Quidditch didn't seem to have a tradition of sending off fouled players, and the game continued.

Eliana grew even more indignant. "No, it can still continue like this? Then why bother playing Quidditch at all, why not just hit the Bludgers at the opponent's heads from the start? It'd be more efficient, more intense, and more spectacular!"

Hagrid agreed with Eliana. "They should punish Flint. He almost knocked Harry off just now."

The balls flew through the air, and the spectators in the stands, holding their telescopes, turned their heads to follow the action.

The ball was with Slytherin – snatched by Gryffindor – Slytherin tried to get it back – intercepted.

The match was tense and fierce. Before Eliana arrived, she had been debating whether to act calm when Gryffindor scored – after all, Snape was the Head of Slytherin. But now, she was jumping up and down in her seat, waving a small flag, and screaming insults at the opposing team.

When Marcus Flint of Slytherin had his face hit by a Bludger from Fred, she excitedly jumped out of her seat.

"Well done, Fred! With Flint's face, that hit was like cosmetic surgery for him! He should thank you!"

She yelled, her voice shrill and loud, like a piercing whistle, and laughter erupted from the Gryffindor stands.

Flint, who happened to be flying nearby, shot her an angry look.

Eliana wasn't intimidated at all. She blinked and playfully whistled at him, "You really did look a bit better –"

Before she could change her expression to mock him further, Flint had already flown away with a whoosh – his face actually looked a little red.

"Wait, I wasn't finished – did he actually take that seriously?"

Eliana stomped her feet in frustration. "For heaven's sake, if this gets out, won't people think I have weird taste?"

"El, El," Hermione whispered, tugging on her sleeve. "Harry looks a bit… off."

"Hmm?"

Eliana looked up and immediately understood what Hermione meant. Among the Quidditch players gracefully showcasing their superb flying skills, Harry stood out like a Remus wild buffalo with its tail on fire.

His broomstick seemed to have come alive – and was extremely displeased with its rider, bucking and weaving wildly in the air, every branch seemingly trying to throw Harry off.

Hermione gripped her telescope in horror. "It's Snape! He's staring at Harry, his mouth is moving!"

Ron snatched the telescope. "I told you he wasn't a good guy – he's casting a curse on Harry – and you insisted he wasn't! Eliana!"

Eliana was speechless for a moment – because she too saw Snape's moving lips, and his expression was indeed not friendly.

"Ah, this, ah." She closed her eyes in pain.

Imagine you have a favorite idol. You know this idol has significant flaws, is sharp-tongued and harsh, but through your persistent efforts, your idol remembers you and treats you better than others. When he treats everyone else with disdain, he occasionally gives you a kind look. This morning, he even transferred a million to you for something that wasn't his fault at all. Now, you learn that your ruined idol is seemingly about to have another scandal. What do you choose:

1. He's a complete piece of scum. I'm taking back all my affection immediately, cutting all ties with him, and throwing that million back in his face with interest. 2. There must be some misunderstanding. Even though he's a mess, he's not that kind of person!

"It, it might not be him, right? This is Quidditch, so many people are watching. Even if he wanted to harm Harry, why would he do it now? He's a Potions Master. He could just brew some poison and kill Harry silently, couldn't he?"

Eliana's eyes snapped open, as if she was defending him.

Just like a die-hard fan who absolutely refuses to believe their idol has fallen from grace.

This definitely wasn't done by our idol. He's so successful and capable. If he wanted to do it, he would have done it long ago. Why wait until today and have it exposed like this?

While defending him, she raised her telescope to look at the teachers' stand.

"Professor Snape might be a bit strict, but he's truly not a bad person. He brewed most of the potions for the Hospital Wing free of charge; he wouldn't harm students."

"Look, even though his expression is serious, there's no killing intent or malice in his eyes. His lips are moving, and he might even be casting a counter-curse to protect Harry—he's taking the blame for someone else."

--My brother is always doing good deeds; he's a very good person and would never do something like this. Someone must be trying to frame him and smear his name!

Hermione and Ron's mouths dropped open, their brows furrowed and faces contorted as they tilted their heads back, looking at her with expressions of disbelief.

How could anyone tell such blatant lies with a straight face?

But Eliana didn't notice them. She was currently immersed in her damage control efforts, oblivious to the world around her.

--What if everyone still doesn't believe me? Let's find the scapegoat with the worst public image and shift the blame first.

Eliana's gaze swept over Professor McGonagall, glanced at Professor Flitwick, skimmed past Professor Sprout, and finally landed on—

"It could also be Quirrell!"

She opened her mouth and began to spread rumors.

"Look, Quirrell has been staring at Harry the whole time, and his eyes are very fierce, completely unlike his usual timid, subservient demeanor—I knew he wasn't a good person. What kind of decent person wears such a strong-smelling garlic-scented turban all day, claiming it's to ward off vampires? What vampire could even get into Hogwarts? I suspect he has something to hide, like maybe he's practicing dark magic and stinks, needing such an intense scent to cover it up!"

She analyzed earnestly.

"Although his lips aren't moving, I've read in books that many curses can be cast just by staring. However, there's a slight overflow of magic during the process. If you observe carefully, you can still find traces. Look at the tassels at the end of his scarf; aren't they moving, and moving very strangely—completely against the wind."

As she spoke, she shifted her telescope towards Harry on the Quidditch pitch. "And the arc is somewhat similar to Harry's broomstick's trajectory."

As she spoke, her tone began to falter.

"Why do I feel like it really is Quirrell?"

If you think this book is good, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you don't lose it next time.