Night had completely enveloped the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Snape walked through the low bushes, his robes caught on dead branches and thorns before freeing themselves. He walked quickly, his boots crunching through the soft soil and fallen leaves, completely unconcerned that his robes were torn and his shoes were covered in mud.
The wind blew through the gaps in the forest, fluttering the edges of his black robe, making him look like a gliding bat in the moonlight.
He walked along the narrowing path until a sturdy old willow tree came into view.
The Whomping Willow stood in a relatively open space, its branches drooping low and swaying slowly in the night breeze.
The branches looked slender and soft, like something gentle swaying, but Snape knew what they really looked like.
Every sway of those branches carried a force powerful enough to shatter bones.
He didn't approach, but stopped at the edge of the clearing, standing in the shade of an old oak tree.
Moonlight filtered through the sparse clouds, spreading a pale silvery-white layer on the ground and clearly outlining the Whomping Willow's silhouette. The drooping branches appeared even longer and thinner in the moonlight than during the day, like countless tentacles breathing slowly, ready to attack anything that approached.
Snape stood there, his gaze fixed on the faintly visible crack at the base of the willow tree.
His gaze passed over the tree's outline, over the slowly swaying branches, and landed on something further away, as if someone had opened a long-sealed door in his mind, and things buried deep in his memory were surging up layer by layer.
That was a long time ago.
He could still remember the moon that night; it was brighter and rounder than tonight's.
He stood in roughly the same spot, looking at the same tree, convinced that he had discovered James Potter and Sirius Black's secret in the secret passage beneath the Whomping Willow.
He spent a long time observing the tree's movements, recording the way its branches swayed, trying to find a certain fixed cycle, and then using the knowledge he had learned to verify it, testing it with small stones. But every time, the branches seemed to have eyes and accurately hit whatever he threw.
Then, Sirius "accidentally" let slip in one of his classes a method, a word, and a location.
Snape initially thought it was due to his keen insight and luck, but looking back, he realized it wasn't a slip of the tongue at all.
Sirius did it on purpose; he was just waiting for me to take the bait.
That night he walked across the clearing much faster than he does tonight, with an eagerness as if he had discovered a secret.
He pressed down on the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow, and the wild branches quieted down.
He slipped into the secret passage and walked along the dark, damp corridor until he reached a dilapidated house. Moonlight streamed in through the broken windows, illuminating the Transfiguration figure in the center of the room.
Lupin's silhouette was elongating and expanding, his bones were making a cracking sound, his lips were curling outwards to reveal his ever-growing sharp teeth, and fur was spreading from the surface of his skin.
Snape stood there without moving until the Werewolf turned to look at him.
He remembered the sound of his boots slipping on the dusty wooden floor as he turned to run away, the deep growl of the Werewolf behind him bouncing off the wall and creating overlapping echoes, and the sharp pain of his knee hitting the stone when he tripped over a broken table leg.
He thought he would die in that room that night.
But James Potter emerged from the shadows on the other side, standing between him and the Werewolf. A white beam of light shot from the tip of his wand, knocking the lunging Werewolf back, and then swiftly pulled Snape back from the secret passage.
He remembered that scene for the rest of his life; it was a shame he could never wash away.
He was saved by the person he hated most.
Ultimately, Dumbledore intervened and instructed him not to reveal Lupin's identity.
Snape always kept that promise, but he never forgot the figure he saw from behind when he lay on the ground that night.
He turned his gaze away from the base of the Whomping Willow, hesitating whether to go through the secret passage to Hogsmeade to search for it.
Just as he was hesitating, the Whomping Willow suddenly began to sway violently. The whole tree seemed to have been startled from below, its branches whipping wildly through the air and making a howling sound.
Then a crack appeared at the base of the willow tree, and a figure emerged from the gap with swift movements, as if he were already very familiar with this passage.
Harry bent over and crawled out of the crack, her school uniform covered in dust, her hair slightly disheveled and adorned with some cobwebs.
After she steadied herself, she turned to the side and skillfully pressed a spot at the base of the willow tree. The wild branches stopped moving as if a power source had been suddenly cut off.
She dusted off her hands and was about to head towards the castle when, after taking two steps, she saw Snape standing at the edge of the clearing not far away.
She paused for a moment, then continued walking, her tone as flat as if she had bumped into a professor in a corridor. "Good evening, Professor Snape."
Snape stood there, looking at the profile illuminated by the moonlight, the red hair gleaming warmly in the moonlight.
All the words he had prepared to reprimand her—accusations of leaving school without permission, violating school rules, and even leaving Hogwarts through a secret passage during martial law—and decades of accumulated anger and prejudice against such behavior, all became ineffective in the face of that redhead. Like a tide crashing against an invisible wall, they receded silently.
In the past, Snape might have even suggested to Dumbledore be expelled. Even if he couldn't be expelled, Slytherin wouldn't want him anyway; whoever wanted him could have him. Such a student would eventually be assigned to Azkaban.
But in the end, he only opened his mouth, and the voice that came out of his throat sounded different, "Good evening, Miss Harry."
Harry stood still for a moment, and seeing that Snape showed no sign of moving aside, and not one to take a detour, she looked directly at him and asked, "Professor, is there anything else?"
Snape looked at her, his lips moved slightly, and the moonlight shone on his pale face. Something flickered slightly in his black eyes, as if some words had reached his lips but changed direction at the last moment:
"It's not very safe outside the school lately, so don't go out too often."
He paused for a moment, then added, "If you need anything, feel free to come to me anytime."
Harry nodded. "Thank you." She didn't say anything more or ask any further questions; she just stood there watching Snape, waiting for him to move aside.
Snape uncomfortable under Harry's gaze, or rather, a jumble of emotions welled up inside him. Not wanting Harry to see, he simply stepped aside to make way.