Brian could not help frowning as he took another look at the head of Slytherin House before him. "Professor Snape, are you saying what just happened was nothing more than a minor squabble between students? Do you know what you're saying?"
He had not expected to hear such words from a professor, nor had he expected Snape to let Malfoy leave just like that-
Snape had seen how bitterly Neville was crying. Could he not tell that an eleven-year-old child's heart was being pierced by a blade?
Brian had initially thought Snape intended to speak to Malfoy in private, but now it seemed he had never taken the matter to heart at all.
"What else would it be? I am perfectly clearheaded. Arguments between students are entirely normal. If the professors at Hogwarts had to concern themselves with such trifles every day, who would teach their classes?" Snape said matter-of-factly, his expression cold.
"Besides, I hardly think Mr. Longbottom suffered any particularly horrifying treatment-from your expression earlier, I thought someone had knocked out several of his teeth. Enough, Brian. I have answered your question. Now it is your turn to answer mine."
"A trifle? I don't think so. Snape, as the head of Slytherin, you ought to act fairly."
Brian shook his head in disappointment.
"You shouldn't let the students in your house keep going down the wrong path. I think Mr. Malfoy needs a small punishment-lost points, or detention. Of course, punishment isn't the goal. It's simply the most direct means."
Apparently, Professor McGonagall did not represent all professors. Snape's indifference toward his students baffled Brian. Perhaps this hook-nosed man was exceptionally accomplished at potions, but a school was not merely a place to pass on knowledge-it was also an important place to pass on values and ideas.
Brian could safely say that if a Gryffindor student had done something like this, Professor McGonagall would have deducted points without hesitation once she learned the details-even if it left Gryffindor House's hourglass considerably emptier.
Snape's gaze turned cold. "I think I understand," he hissed. "You are saying that I favor my own students?"
"That's exactly what I mean," Brian said, laying it out plainly.
"Anyone who does something wrong should pay the price. No exceptions. Professors shouldn't indulge their students' mistakes for the sake of so-called House Cup glory. Professor McGonagall never hesitates to deduct points from her own students..."
"McGonagall? She is indeed a fair person, but do you know everything about her? How long have you even known her?"
Snape interrupted Brian impatiently with a derisive laugh.
"She will certainly fly into a rage, deduct points, and assign detention, but no matter what, she will always finish with a breezy little 'They're only children.'"
"Is that what you think?"
Brian was rather surprised by Snape's opinion of McGonagall.
"But they really are only children. That's why we need to use things like deducting points to tell them it's wrong..."
Snape interrupted him with another sneer.
"Enough. You have asked far too many questions. I will not deduct points from Malfoy. If you are dissatisfied with my decision, you are welcome to go to McGonagall or Dumbledore-I look forward to it. Now it is your turn to answer my question."
Brian keenly sensed that there was something here he did not know. Perhaps Snape had suffered some unpleasant experience in the past, and that experience was probably a major reason he indulged Malfoy.
But in his current irritable state, Snape clearly would not be willing to say much more. And judging by his tone, if Brian refused to answer the question about his sudden visit to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Snape would draw his wand and spit venom at him like a snake flicking its tongue.
That was impossible, however. The employment contract explicitly stated that staff members could not harm one another. It was a magical contract, and the magical house-elves were utterly impartial. The consequences of breaking it could not be ignored.
So Brian set aside his questions for the moment and said calmly, "I went to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to practice magic."
He did not know how Snape had found out about his visit to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Perhaps Snape had run into him on the way, noticed his strange state, and followed him out of curiosity. Surely the man did not have a hobby of stalking people?
Snape leaned his hooked nose closer and said sarcastically,
"Practicing magic? You? A novice wizard who only experienced his first bout of accidental magic at twenty-five, has had a wand for barely half a day, and couldn't even wait to join an afternoon tea gathering? I don't know whether you take yourself for a fool or me-if you're going to invent an excuse, at least make it a decent one."
Brian found Snape's reaction rather strange. "Who's the fool here? Since you knew I was in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, you should have sensed my magical fluctuations."
Snape took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "Of course, of course-but I imagine that was Quirrell casting spells. So skillful, so powerful-all to conceal something unsavory. Am I right?"
Brian understood. Snape wanted to pry something out of him-but what could it be?
The thing hidden in the back of Professor Quirrell's head? His book? Or the fact that he could see what appeared to be traces of ancient magic?
All he currently knew was that the back of Professor Quirrell's head smelled of garlic. The book was most likely connected to ancient magic, while ancient magic was connected to the mysterious power within him-and Dumbledore had told him to keep that power secret.
Besides, Snape seemed convinced that the magical fluctuations earlier had come from Professor Quirrell. Good. Let him keep thinking that. It'll save me having to explain any more, Brian thought silently.
So Brian decided to throw Snape's earlier words back at him. "I understand. If you're really that curious about my affairs, you're welcome to go to Dumbledore. If he wants to tell you, he will."
"What?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "Dumbledore?"
Brian nodded at him. "Dumbledore. He's in the Headmaster's Office. But you'll have to give the password first, or the gargoyle won't let you in. And of course, I'm not going to tell you the password."
"I know the password." Snape stared at him darkly.
"Then off you go." Brian gestured for him to proceed. "I haven't had dinner yet, and I'm starving. Have you eaten, by the way? Shall we go together? If you ask me, you shouldn't be running around with that limp-actually, what happened to your leg?"
"Did Quirrell tell you to ask that?" After a long silence, Snape suddenly came out with the question.
"What does Professor Quirrell have to do with it?" Brian asked in confusion. "Did he injure your leg? Aren't staff members forbidden from harming one another? Come to think of it, has Madam Pomfrey looked at your leg?"
Snape stared at him speechlessly. After another long pause, he squeezed out one more sentence.
"Brian, I hope you truly are a fool, rather than merely pretending to be one."
"Snape, even if I really am a fool, I still hope you can rein in some of that aggression," Brian shot back bluntly.
"You're the only member of staff in the whole school with a limp. You ought to reflect on why that is-ah, if I knew a powerful healing spell, I'd fix your leg right now, along with that strange brain of yours."
Before Snape could retort, Brian held up a hand to stop him and murmured to himself in puzzlement,
"Wait... I think I actually do-would you mind letting me see your leg?"
Before you continue