What was Snape thinking as he looked into those eyes?
Was he thinking of those pure, bright eyes when they first met? Of those shocked, grief-stricken eyes when he had hurled cruel words at her? Or of those eyes that would never open again...
No one knew. Other than Snape, no one would ever know.
Perhaps not even he knew himself.
Other than the intermittent sounds of chopping, slicing, and grinding, along with the bubbling of potions, not a single voice could be heard in the classroom.
After a long while, Snape seemed to wake from a dream.
"Mix Fwooper droppings with Mandrake Root, and you can obtain Silencing Powder. Anyone who consumes it will be unable to speak for an entire week."
"Not knowing means not knowing. Very honest. One point to Gryffindor."
"...You answered two questions correctly. Not bad, but there's no need to be proud."
Snape held back that last sentence for several seconds, as though he was not used to saying such things.
Snape left their side and went to inspect the other students' work.
The moment Snape left, every nearby young wizard except Lucien stared at Harry in horror.
If they had not been so terrified of Snape, they would have wanted to ask:
You could talk to Snape like that?
And still get points for it?
What the hell was that last bit just now—encouragement?!
Professor Snape could encourage students?!
Only Lucien understood.
Snape had merely placed all his guilt and love for Lily onto her son, Harry.
Especially when he looked into those emerald-green eyes—Snape probably could not even tell who he was looking at anymore.
Well, perhaps Old Bat did not actually want to tell the difference?
He had helped Harry avoid Snape's venomous ridicule and cared for the teenager's mental health.