Snape Only Hopes I'm Disfigured (Seeking Follow-up Reads, Seeking Monthly Votes)

Hermione and Ron watched Harry's retreating back.

Even though his gait was no different from his usual walk, in their eyes, it suddenly took on an air of tragic heroism, as if he were marching toward his own execution.

He really had nerves of steel.

He still had to go find Snape after class.

"Potter." Snape was organizing his lesson plans when he heard footsteps. He looked up abruptly, his gaze sweeping over Harry's face and eyes, and the disgust that had just subsided surged back up instantly. "Is there something else?"

"Thank you for your instruction." Harry nodded in acknowledgment, trying to ease the atmosphere.

Snape's features twisted as if he had heard something impossibly nauseating: "Oh... to actually hear a 'thank you' from the mouth of a Gryffindor—the sort of people who would rather have their heads chopped off and placed on the top of a tower."

"Disgusting!"

"It's like hearing a Troll profess its love to a Unicorn."

"Wipe that pathetic, detestable look off your face, Potter. Say what you have to say."

Harry said, "I heard from Headmaster Dumbledore that you have some of my mother's potion notes. I would like to..."

"Yes." Snape narrowed his eyes, his expression becoming sharper and more dangerous. "Lil—"

He stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, and continued: "Evans does indeed have several notebooks in my possession, but I do not believe you are qualified to inherit them at this time."

"You can barely brew a simple Boil-Cure Potion. If they fell into your hands, it would be like a Troll finding a wand—you'd only use them as a fire poker."

Harry stared straight at Snape without saying a word.

Snape's temper flared even higher; he picked up his wand and poked Harry in the chest: "When you make a request of someone, you lower your posture. If no one taught you that before, I am teaching you now!"

"Potter, you will remember this well!"

Harry pushed the wand aside: "I may be able to understand the Professor's feelings, but please also remember that this is my mother's legacy."

He emphasized the words "mother" and "legacy" slightly.

Bang!

Snape slammed a fist onto the desk, gritting his teeth: "Potter!"

"Professor." Harry did not fear him; his hand had already reached into the Sorting Hat.

"Very well, very well." Snape clenched his fists. Harry's small movement had not escaped his eyes, which only poured oil onto the flames of his rage. "I thought you might have changed a little, but you are still that arrogant, foul-smelling, insufferable Gryffindor."

"There are twenty-three volumes of Evans's potion notes in total. After the final exams this year, come to my office, and I will personally set a task for you."

"If you don't get an 'O', don't even think about those notes again."

"Not even if Dumbledore comes—that is my final word!"

Harry let go of the hat and nodded: "Thank you, Professor Snape."

Snape snorted coldly, threw down what he was holding, and left the classroom without looking back. He truly did not want to see Potter for even one more second.

"I thought you were going to fight the Professor." Ron clutched his chest, feeling a phantom pain.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry was puzzled: "Weren't we having a pleasant conversation? Why would you think we were going to fight?"

"You had your hand inside your hat!" Hermione couldn't keep her voice down. Did Harry have some sort of misunderstanding about the word "pleasant"?

What was in the hat?

The Sword of Gryffindor.

Harry shook his head: "I was just wondering if I should offer the Professor a storage fee."

"Why would you give him money?" Ron clenched his fists. "He hates you so much; maybe there's some conspiracy behind him keeping your mother's belongings."

Harry's tone grew heavier: "Ron, the Professor is a good man."

Hermione looked at Harry with concern: "Potter, I don't mean anything by it, but perhaps... are you under too much pressure?"

"Professor Snape must have loved my mother." Harry put on his schoolbag and started walking out first, with the two of them following behind. "He was my father's romantic rival."

"But it must be more than that."

A romantic rival!

The news was so shocking that Ron and Hermione nearly collided with each other.

"Oh, how do you know that?" Hermione readjusted the way she was holding her bag, feeling both curious and gossipy. "Did Headmaster Dumbledore tell you?"

Harry shook his head: "It's too obvious."

But... such intense emotions were highly abnormal.

It was like the pair of rivals Harry knew, Yennefer and Triss, who fought over the White Wolf; they had even been best friends once.

But even that hadn't reached the level of Snape's intensity.

He had to find a way to figure out the reason—he had to admit, Snape was the most accessible Potions Master Harry had, and a casual word or two of guidance from him had already benefited him immensely. What if he could learn all of his skills?

They walked together toward the outside of the castle.

Ron and Hermione couldn't help but be consumed by curiosity.

What kind of history could Snape possibly have had with Harry's parents to make him harbor such intense hatred?

Harry, however, had no idea.

They discussed it the entire way, filling in the blanks with plots from countless novels—like Jane Eyre or Clarissa. Naturally, Harry's mother wasn't the heroine in these scenarios; the one with the tragic past was, quite logically, reimagined as Professor Snape.

They soon arrived at Hagrid's hut—which, relative to Hagrid's size, was indeed a hut.

Harry knocked on the door.

Amidst a chorus of barking, Hagrid opened the door.

Harry was just about to offer a greeting, but as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes widened in sheer astonishment.

Ron and Hermione were taken aback—they hadn't known him long, but they had never seen an expression on Harry's face other than "expressionless." Even when the atmosphere with Snape was at its most hostile, Harry had always maintained the composure of a man watching a mountain collapse before him without blinking.

What could possibly be in the room?

They leaned forward to look.

It was ordinary, even somewhat crude, giving Ron a sense of being back home.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hagrid asked, holding Fang back, looking a bit uneasy. "Is there something wrong with my place?"

Harry shook his head, pulling his expression back into place. "No, I just didn't expect... Hagrid, you're quite extravagant."

Extravagant?

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry with curiosity, staring intently into his eyes.

Could those amber lion-like eyes really see a world different from theirs? The Gryffindors whispered among themselves that Harry's eyes could pierce through magic and see through life and death, and that the Dark Lord himself had perished beneath that very gaze.

Hagrid was equally bewildered.

He lived a comfortable life, but extravagant? That was a stretch, surely?

"A dog bed and blanket made of Unicorn hair," Harry said, raising a hand to rub his face. "Wind chimes made of Mermaid scales, and those—are those several Bowtruckles?"

"And those, are they Salamanders?" He pointed toward the hearth, where faint figures could be seen leaping about.

Harry only named the ones he recognized.

There was far more in the room than just that.

On the windowsill sat over a dozen jars, each radiating a thick aura of magic—venom, blood, or saliva from magical creatures.

The room was also filled with materials he couldn't identify: massive carapaces that looked like they had been shed by giant spiders, and some ancient but still razor-sharp teeth...

Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Harry, that's brilliant! Do you like these cute little creatures too?"

"No," Harry replied decisively. "I just really like the materials they provide."

Ron and Hermione didn't yet grasp the value of these materials; they were just eyeing the dog bed with envy. They might not know about the other items, but they knew the value of Unicorn hair—a single strand cost ten Galleons.

This dirty, unassuming dog bed was likely worth thousands of Galleons.

"Oh, well," Hagrid muttered, though he didn't take it to heart. Most wizards shared Harry's attitude, save for the occasional oddity like that small pockmarked fellow. "Are you getting used to Hogwarts? I heard from the professors that you're performing quite well."

"It's alright," Harry replied dismissively, his gaze still circling the room.

Ron poked his head in, reaching out to take the large biscuit Hagrid offered. "Hagrid, do you know anything about the business between Professor Snape and Harry's father?"

"Harry's father?" Hagrid froze. Distracted, his hand twitched, and a large biscuit fell, landing squarely on Hermione's head.

Hermione clutched her head in pain. "Harry says Professor Snape might have been his father's romantic rival."

"Oh, Harry, how did you know that! Who's been whispering in your ear?" Hagrid exclaimed, his voice booming like thunder.

Harry glanced back. "No one told me, but it's so obvious, it's hard not to see."

"But being a romantic rival shouldn't warrant such intense malice toward me."

"I want to know about their past, too."

Hagrid lowered his head. "Harry, I'm just the Keeper of Keys; I don't know much about what goes on in the castle."

"But... Snape and James never got along. They were always fighting, hexing each other."

"Lily was very close to Snape before their fifth year, but they weren't a couple—just good friends. Then they suddenly parted ways. By their seventh year, she was with James, and they were married not long after graduation."

A stolen love.

Ron and Hermione's expressions turned fascinating.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You should know more than that, shouldn't you?"

"Damn it! How do I remember Lily and James never being this sharp?" Hagrid clenched his fists and sighed. "Talking to you is just like talking to Dumbledore. How are you both so good at seeing through people?"

"But Harry, I mean it—that's all I can tell you."

"Perhaps you think Snape's attitude is terrible, but please trust him. In all of Hogwarts, even including Mr. Dumbledore, he is perhaps the one who least wants anything to happen to you."

Ron muttered a challenge. "But Professor Snape's attitude looks like he'd love to shove Harry into a Troll's nest."

"Professor Snape is reliable; Dumbledore trusts him," Hagrid emphasized, his tone heavy.

Harry agreed. "I trust Professor Snape, too. He might wish I were disfigured, blinded, or perhaps even changed my gender, but he definitely doesn't want to see me come to harm."

Oh...

Ron's mouth hung open, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Hagrid was the same; his hand loosened, and another Rock Cake landed on Hermione's head.

Hermione suppressed a sob. "I don't think that sounds like goodwill at all..."

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