Snape's Revenge

"Ha! I did it! I made it!"

Draco Malfoy announced excitedly in the Slytherin Common Room.

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!" Pansy said with a smile, congratulating Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle, his loyal lackeys, clapped enthusiastically.

Seeing this, Theodore, his dormmate, became a little curious.

He patted Pansy on the shoulder and asked quietly, "What did Draco make?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you so happy?"

"Draco's happy, so I'm happy."

"..."

Theodore was a little speechless at the way this little group acted, but fortunately, Malfoy didn't keep them in suspense—he couldn't help himself.

"I'm going to become a Slytherin Seeker ahead of schedule, even though I'm only a first-year!"

Judging from how the applause around them abruptly stopped in shock, it really was something worth bragging about.

"Really?!" Pansy said, eyes widening.

"That's right. Professor Snape already agreed. I can start training with the team right away. If I do well, I'll be playing in the next match." Malfoy lifted his chin.

At that, Crabbe and Goyle resumed their applause, clapping even more enthusiastically. Even Theodore wanted to ask for more details.

Just then, the door to the Slytherin Common Room opened.

Glenn and Blaise returned, chatting after finishing their meal.

The atmosphere suddenly grew awkward.

No first-year thought they could fly better than Glenn.

If anyone could be granted an exception and become a Quidditch player in their first year, apart from Harry Potter, it would surely be this newcomer who had appeared out of nowhere. After months of Flying Lessons, that was the conclusion they couldn't help but reach.

Pansy's smile stiffened. She glanced cautiously at Malfoy, afraid an argument might break out.

If they'd been from another House, she would have mocked them without a second thought. But they were all Slytherins, and such an undignified scene was best avoided.

Although Gemma Farley was still sitting by the fireplace, reading, if any hint of a scuffle broke out, the prefect would appear beside them in the next instant.

Fortunately, what Pansy had imagined didn't happen.

Glenn took in the room with a quick glance and understood what was going on.

"Congratulations, Draco. You'll be the next first-year Quidditch player after Harry Potter." He smiled.

His words melted the tense atmosphere like spring sunshine melting snow, and the others couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks." Malfoy nodded, feeling conflicted.

On the one hand, he was genuinely relieved that Glenn hadn't thrown his hat into the ring.

On the other hand, he'd been raised to inherit his father's status as a Pure-blood wizard. Having a nobody Half-blood like Glenn outshine him at every turn was truly uncomfortable.

It didn't quite fit with what he'd been taught since childhood: weren't Pure-blood wizards supposed to be the most talented?

"Say, doesn't it bother you? That open spot on the Quidditch team was yours, if you'd wanted it." After they'd walked a little farther away, Blaise lowered his voice.

If he'd had such an opportunity to join the Slytherin Quidditch Team, he wouldn't have let it pass for anything.

"The answer is in the question itself," Glenn replied casually.

Blaise paused, then shook his head helplessly.

Before meeting Glenn, he'd thought no wizard could dislike Quidditch. After all, it offered not only fun but also honor and fame.

But the classmate in front of him seemed to be something of an exception.

"Fine." Blaise yawned. "I'm going back to sleep for a while."

After a full day of classes, it was hard not to feel tired.

"See you," Glenn said with a nod.

After saying goodbye to Blaise, he found a chair near the fireplace and sat down, picking up the latest issue of the Daily Prophet from the table.

Glenn thought a lot of what it printed was biased, but it never hurt to keep up with what was happening in the Wizarding World.

"Nicely handled." Gemma's cool voice drifted over.

"Maintaining a proper appearance is always a safe bet for a Slytherin."

Gemma looked surprised at that.

It was hard to imagine hearing those words from a first-year.

As a prefect who had studied in Slytherin for five years, she thoroughly agreed.

Whether it was victory, glory, or the so-called aristocratic manners that Slytherin House upheld, it could all be summed up in one word: "propriety."

"That's a good way of putting it," she said after a pause.

"By the way, Professor Snape came looking for you earlier. He said you should make time outside class—he wants to give you some advanced Potions lessons on your own."

At that, Glenn's hand paused slightly as he held the newspaper.

For an ordinary student, hearing that a professor wanted to give them private lessons in an advanced subject would surely bring one thought to mind: Great! The teacher sees my talent! He's going to give me special tutoring!

But when Glenn heard that Snape wanted to teach him privately, his first thought was: That man's definitely out for revenge!

Ahem. Honestly, both sides had played their part in things turning out this way.

Leaving aside his status as a transfer student from a century ago, if you judged Snape purely as a teacher, his teaching skills were disappointing.

And if a student also had to take private lessons from him, it would probably be a living hell for anyone.

As for Glenn, his offense was simple: he'd used up all the Horklump Juice in the classroom, making Professor Snape's already poor mood even worse.

He knew because, while he'd been eating in the Great Hall earlier, students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had gone out of their way to thank him...

"Tsk. This Slytherin Head of House isn't very generous," Glenn muttered to himself.

But it wasn't a big deal. He'd just listen to the lessons. It wasn't as if Snape could teach him anything about Potions beyond his grasp. If he could, then Snape's terrible teaching skills could be overlooked.

It was no exaggeration to say that as a master among Potions Masters, simply showing up in person was already a great favor to Hogwarts.

As for teaching?

The people sitting in the audience ought to be Dumbledore and the other professors, not students.

As it turned out, the saying "If you can't stop thinking about something, it will come back to you" held true sometimes.

For instance, just as Glenn thought of Dumbledore, Jema added,

"Besides Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore also wants you to go see him..."