On Resurrection and the First Lesson

He Shenyan naturally heard the Space Gate opening and the slow footsteps behind him.

He was not surprised by the arrival of Severus Snape; he had seen many of his kind, especially since Dumbledore had also hinted at it in his roundabout way. It seemed that in every world, the British loved to beat around the bush.

Snape entered the room and discovered that the space had become more than five times larger than it had been before.

The portraits of past headmasters were gone, and the desk where Dumbledore used to pile all sorts of clutter had vanished as well. Only the walls and the floor retained their original colors. Beyond that, there was nothing—just an empty room. He saw the man standing in the very center of the room, his back turned toward him.

He walked a little closer and said loudly, "Mr. He! Do you remember me? We met this afternoon. I am Severus Snape, and I have come to ask you—"

"About resurrection or something similar, right?" He Shenyan replied without even turning around.

Snape felt as if he had been struck by lightning; no one would feel good having a thought buried deep in their heart for over a decade poked at so abruptly. However, he could only nod in silence.

He Shenyan finally turned around.

He was holding a book, flipping through it. On the thick brown cover, the words Standard Book of Spells were written in calligraphy, with a line of smaller text beneath: One book is better than six.

He flipped through the pages and said nonchalantly, "Of course it's possible. Such things are not difficult for mages."

"However." The mage looked up, leaving the second half of his sentence unsaid, drawing out the sound.

Here it comes; he was going to set conditions.

Snape's heart trembled, but conditions were only to be expected. A brand-new, better, more advanced way of casting spells, and even magic capable of resurrecting the dead.

It would be strange if there were no conditions.

He was already prepared to do whatever He Shenyan asked, even if it meant killing Dumbledore.

But what he didn't expect was that He Shenyan simply posed a question.

He looked up and said, "Why do you wish to disturb the dead?"

After a long silence, Snape spoke with difficulty. He tried hard to make his words clear, but the harder he tried, the more he failed; his tongue felt like a rusty nickel in his mouth.

"Because... because she died by accident. She shouldn't have died like that. And she... she was very brave. She died to protect her daughter. She, she..."

He spoke slower and slower, yet clearer and clearer. It was as if every word required the strength of his entire body: "And, I still owe her an apology."

"I will not help you."

As expected.

Snape lowered his head, his untrimmed fingernails digging into his palms until they bled.

"But I will teach you. You have talent. It all depends on how much you can learn within this month. After a month, I must go back to teaching students, and the pace will be set by them."

Snape looked up abruptly, the joy on his face undisguised; the speed at which his expression changed rivaled some ancient secret technique.

He Shenyan said calmly, "Don't be too happy yet, Mr. Snape. I have requirements for my students. Especially for those of you with talent, I might be even stricter. My personal advice is that you had best be prepared."

He paused deliberately: "...And it would be best to address your personal hygiene. It would be best to bathe once a day, Mr. Snape."

He Shenyan even cracked a humorous joke: "I imagine that lady would also prefer that the one resurrecting her be a clean man, wouldn't you agree?"

Snape did not sleep that night.

In fact, ever since that day, it had been difficult for him to fall into a peaceful slumber. Sometimes he went to bed very early, only to be startled awake by nightmares in the middle of the night. In his dreams, there was Voldemort laughing maniacally, and she lay in a pool of blood. Snape wanted to draw his wand to cast a spell at Voldemort, but he couldn't even move.

Sometimes it was even harder, and he would stay awake all night. The moment he closed his eyes, it was her.

The guilt in his heart grew every day, as did the love that received no response. This condemnation from one's own conscience would gradually devour a person. And today, even though he had clearly obtained the opportunity to reverse it all, he still found it hard to sleep.

His mind was filled with those green eyes. Once upon a time, in the best days of Snape's memories, they would look at each other.

He had once seen the entire universe in those eyes—a poetic universe, a universe he had never possessed.

The poem was too beautiful to be transcribed.

And even too beautiful to be remembered.

This man, who never easily revealed his emotions, stared at the white moonlight spilling beside his bed. He actually began to shed tears silently, weeping in the darkness without a sound.

The next day at 8:45, He Shenyan was already dressed and waiting for his students in the former headmaster's office, now a magic classroom. Yesterday, he had performed the same magic on the others that he had used on Dumbledore, and the results were significant; he was very satisfied.

At nine o'clock sharp, everyone was present.

The current teachers of Hogwarts stood in the empty room.

Except for Professor Binns, who could not come due to personal reasons, and Professor Trelawney, who refused to come no matter what, they had all arrived. He Shenyan snapped his fingers, and chairs and tables matching the number of people appeared in the empty room.

He made a gesture, smiling, signaling for the students to go over and sit down. Although it was a bit strange to teach a group of teachers whose combined ages were several times his own, as long as they were willing to learn, He Shenyan was willing to teach.

He did not believe that sharing knowledge was a sin—besides, they had all passed the test.

After they were all seated, a floating blackboard appeared behind He Shenyan. Black magic formed a quill behind him, which automatically began to write. It was the theory regarding the basic connection between spirit and soul, along with some elementary knowledge for meditation preparation.

Severus Snape was wearing a brand-new black robe; he had even cut his hair short, and his beard was shaved clean.

He held a leather notebook that was clearly newly purchased and began to write furiously with a quill. He did not want to miss a single word on the blackboard, even copying the title in its entirety.

McGonagall, sitting next to him, was speechless, thinking to herself, Were you ever this diligent when you were a student?

The first lesson lasted an hour and a half without a break. Flitwick even seemed somewhat unsatisfied; this small man possessed unimaginable energy, especially when exposed to this brand-new knowledge, and that energy would burst forth completely.

He was the one with the fastest progress, surpassing even Dumbledore, which surprised He Shenyan somewhat. He immediately decided to slightly increase the teaching pace for Flitwick.

After the first lesson ended, there was a twenty-minute break for them to digest the knowledge they had just acquired.

However, this amount of time was certainly not enough for them to fully comprehend and internalize it, much like Severus Snape right now; he sat in his seat, propping up his face in deep thought, staring silently at the neat handwriting in his leather-bound notebook.

He Shenyan walked up to him, patted Severus Snape on the shoulder, and said, "If there is anything you do not understand, feel free to ask questions at any time, Mr. Severus Snape."

Severus Snape looked up, somewhat dazed. He gazed at the young man and then pointed to a passage in his notebook, asking, "I do not quite understand this part, Mr. He Shenyan."

"'The bond between soul and body is incredibly tight; even death may not necessarily sever it, unless a devil drags it down to hell, or angels carry it up to heaven.' Does this mean the souls of the departed always remain sleeping within their bodies?"

He Shenyan pondered for a moment and replied, "In most cases, that is so. Given that I have not found any traces of heaven or hell in your world, you can consider it one hundred percent. In other words, yes."

Severus Snape's body swayed.

He Shenyan knew the reason why. He did not disturb the man, who had become hesitant precisely because hope was drawing near; it was only human nature. He had already begun to consider how to open the next lesson.