Snape, Lily, and the Lion Head

In the Room of Requirement, Glenn was watering the White Fresh as part of his routine.

He had to admit, with the nourishment of Moonlight, the White Fresh was indeed growing gratifyingly.

In just over a month, it had already sprouted, with seedlings reaching about five inches in height.

If this pace continued, it would only take another two weeks to harvest a full eight pots of White Fresh!

This was already the fastest growth rate possible without any additional fertilizer.

At that point, he could hand over five of those eight pots as homework to Professor Sprout and complete her assigned task.

He just didn't know what the next stage of magical plants would be.

But it probably wouldn't be Biting Cabbage—it should be something slightly dangerous, but not lethal.

After all, White Fresh was just an introductory magical plant; there was no reason to make someone who just passed their elementary graduation exam take a college entrance exam, unless Professor Sprout wanted to hear about a student dying from Biting Cabbage...

Of course, that was impossible.

So Glenn was already prepared to cultivate the next stage of magical plants.

Thinking this, he looked at the door in the middle of the Room of Requirement.

Inside, there was a hidden grassland.

A hundred years ago, Glenn had raised some magical creatures in there, protecting them from poachers while also collecting a bit of protection fees...

Of course, now it was completely empty.

So he was considering that if he ever got a chance to break into the Forbidden Forest, he would have to bring a few magical creatures in.

At the very least, he could achieve self-sufficiency in fertilizer, without having to constantly run to Greenhouse One to scrounge supplies.

The last time, Glenn had packed up all the fertilizer from Greenhouse One and taken it away...

Cough, no help for it—he wasn't a professional herbologist after all.

To speed up growth, aside from climate control, the only option was brute force—though fortunately, the fertilizer in Greenhouse One had been specially treated, so even if he added a bit too much, it wouldn't burn the seedlings.

After watering and fertilizing, Glenn first used "Revelio" to check outside the Room of Requirement door, and only when he was sure no one was there did he step out.

"Sir, was today's duel to your satisfaction?" Glenn asked with a smile in front of Sir Cadogan's portrait, which everyone else avoided.

"Hmph, a bit lacking in force. I'll soon triumph in this noble and great knightly duel!" Sir Cadogan said, lying on his back with all four limbs splayed.

His short-legged pony gently licked Sir Cadogan's cheek, as if accustomed to his failures.

Honestly, Glenn thought he was somewhat warlike himself.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone on a massive purge of dark wizards and dangerous magical creatures back then.

Aside from them being genuinely harmful, it was also a matter of personal interest.

It was only because current conditions didn't allow it, and dark wizards had been nearly wiped out back then—now as rare as protected species—that Glenn had become more subdued. Since returning to the magical world, he'd only seen one fragment of a dark wizard.

But this Sir Cadogan in front of him was neither a dark wizard nor even much of a wizard—he insisted on calling himself a "knight" instead.

Even though he was just a portrait, actually killing him would obviously be inappropriate—it would be discovered by students or professors.

Clearly, the "Glenn" in the painting thought so too.

But every time Glenn came to the Room of Requirement, Sir Cadogan would aggressively challenge him, as if to say, "If you don't kill me today, you're not leaving."

"How about you paint an 'Invigoration Draught' into the painting? Otherwise, at the rate he comes to the Room of Requirement once a day, he'll really get beaten to death," the Glenn in the painting said helplessly.

Faced with his own portrait's request, Glenn pondered for a moment.

Honestly, he couldn't paint.

The portrait of himself in the frame was painted by Ominis a hundred years ago.

Even though he was blind, it didn't affect his daily life.

On the contrary, as a wizard, this special condition made his perception of things and magic far surpass others.

As long as he used magically infused paint, he could create paintings that would make even masters of magical art sigh in admiration at his talent.

If he had been born into another family, he would probably have been raised as an artist—but unfortunately, it was that pure-blood fanatical Gaunt Family.

To them, any skill that couldn't defend the glory of pure blood was something only lesser wizards would do...

So only at Hogwarts did Ominis secretly pick up his brush, occasionally painting for himself or Sebastian.

"I'll give it a try when I get back."

"You say, what's this thing called? It's so good," Ron said while wolfing down his food.

In the kitchen—no, in the kitchen downstairs—Harry had invited him to enjoy Glenn's cooking.

At first, Ron had refused.

Not that he didn't like eating—on the contrary, he had a strong interest in food.

He just couldn't understand why they had to go all the way to the kitchen to eat—wasn't the food the house-elves made already excellent?

But when he tentatively took the first bite, he suddenly understood why.

If he'd eaten this in the Great Hall, it would have been snatched up in an instant.

"Braised Lion Head."

"Is this made from lion meat?" Hearing that, Ron jerked his head up and stared at Glenn with surprise.

"It's made from pork, that's just the name." Glenn shook his head with a smile.

He didn't blame Ron for thinking that—in fact, when he'd first heard the dish's name, his own first reaction had been the same.

"Oh, I see." After nodding, Ron plunged back into the fray with the food.

As for Harry's portion, it had already been devoured in a whirlwind.

After eating his fill, Harry turned his mind to another question.

"Layla..."

Before Harry could even ask his question, the house-elf named Layla scurried over and said in a soft, delighted voice, "Yes, sir? Haven't had enough? Would you like some jam tart? The one you ate earlier."

"Uh, no need, I'm full now... What I wanted to ask is, since you've been working here for a long time, do you know what my parents were like?"

Hearing this, Layla and the house-elves behind her looked a bit regretful, but they still chose to answer Harry's question patiently.

"Mr. Potter—ah, not that I mean you—your father was excellent. Even though the professors said he was mischievous, among that year's Gryffindor students, Mr. Potter was the most dazzling. Many thought he would become a great professional Quidditch player..."

For some reason, hearing this, even though he had never met his father, Harry felt a swell of pride—because he believed he too would become an excellent Quidditch player.

"And your mother, Lily—oh, sorry, she allowed Layla to call her that... The professors say she was also a very outstanding student, especially in Potions. She was very favored by Professor Slughorn, who taught Potions at the time..."

Hearing this, Harry let out a deep sigh.

Quidditch, or any other subject, would have been fine—but it had to be Potions.

Whenever he thought of Potions, he inexplicably remembered Professor Snape's annoying face.

Sometimes, he even dreamed of Professor Snape whispering in his ear: Gryffindor, minus one hundred points!

"Then I guess I'm not much like my mother..."

Layla instinctively retorted, "Sir, at least your eyes are very similar—both green."

"...Thanks," Harry said, unsure whether to be happy or sad.

After thinking for a moment, Harry's gossipy curiosity inexplicably stirred: "So their relationship must have been good during school, right?"

He had already assumed the answer in his mind, but Layla's reply was unexpected: "No, sir. Your parents' relationship at school was very ordinary. Especially your mother toward your father—she practically despised him."

When she said this, Layla's tone was certain, and it wasn't something she'd heard from the professors.

Hearing this, Harry was stunned.

Their relationship was bad?

"Then who did my mother get along with at school?"

"Professor Snape! At least before fifth year." Layla said without hesitation.

Hearing this answer, Harry was so shocked his mouth hung open, and his mind went blank for a moment.

Bloody Snape is still haunting me!

"It seems there's quite a story here..." Glenn thought to himself, politely looking away.

But at the very least, his goal had been achieved—he had indeed found a suitable person to investigate.

He just didn't know if Professor Snape would be willing to share what happened back then.

After Layla left, the table fell into a long silence, each of the three lost in their own thoughts.

"I've got it!" Ron suddenly exclaimed.

At this, Glenn and Harry both looked at the guy who had been wolfing down food moments ago, curious to hear his brilliant insight.

"This Lion Head should be eaten with bread!"