Snape's voice wasn't loud, but every syllable was enunciated clearly, as if scraped from a cold steel blade.
Herman felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he heard his name come out of that mouth.
Snape paused for a moment, as if to make sure Herman was listening, then continued, "I happen to need someone. Come with me."
After saying this, he didn't wait for Herman's response, turned around, and strode into the depths of the corridor.
The hem of his robe swung in a clean arc as he turned, and the sound of his footsteps could be clearly heard on the empty stone pavement.
Herman stood there, stunned for a moment.
"Yes, Professor." After realizing what he meant, Herman quickly agreed and quickened his pace to catch up.
Snape's pace was neither fast nor slow, but his strides were very long, and Herman needed to maintain a half-walking, half-running rhythm to keep up.
He followed about two steps behind Snape, his eyes fixed on the back of the black figure, his mind racing like a machine.
What did Snape ask him to do?
Could it be that he was finally moved by his own talent and decided to give himself special tutoring?
Herman immediately dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. Snape taught Potions, and Herman's Potions Class grades were only mediocre, not even up to the level of someone Hugo. Why should he get special treatment from Snape?
I still feel like I've wasted too many materials, so I'm going to turn myself into fertilizer.
Herman reflected on his Potions Class over the past few weeks and realized he had indeed wasted quite a bit, but he was still better than most students, and it wasn't to the point of being wasted.
It seems most likely that Snape felt he was getting too close to Harry and planned to find a secluded place to end his life. But you're the one who told him to stay away, and you're the one who told him to keep a close eye on things. Isn't that being stubborn and getting stuck on both ends?
While Herman's mind was racing, Snape suddenly stopped.
Herman nearly bumped into his back, stopping abruptly half a meter from the ground with a sharp, screeching sound as his shoe soles scraped against the pavement.
He steadied himself and looked around.
Snape led him to a secluded corner of the castle's underground area.
Herman had never been here before, or rather, normal students would never come here.
The corridor took a nearly unnoticed turn just a short distance away, leading to a destination hidden behind an abandoned staircase. From there, it was another hundred or two meters underground. If someone hadn't specifically brought her here, Herman probably wouldn't have discovered this place even after graduating from the school.
A thin layer of dust covered the ground, and footprints left clear marks, as if no one had walked there for a long time.
A few strands of grayish-white spider webs hung in the corner, with tiny dust particles clinging to the threads, giving them a dull sheen in the dim light.
Occasionally, rustling sounds came from the depths of the shadows; it was unclear whether it was a rat gnawing on something or a cockroach crawling in the cracks of the wall.
Herman looked around at the scene, and the thought that " Snape will end me today" grew stronger and stronger in his mind.
He even started to examine the corner of the wall, wondering if he would collapse there and it would probably take a long time before anyone found him.
Maybe when I become a dried-up corpse, or one day when I become a ghost of Hogwarts, no one will ever pass by this place.
With that in mind, Herman decided to remind Snape to be mindful of his status.
You're a professor, killing is wrong, and it won't do Hogwarts any good for its reputation if word gets out. Harry won't like you because of it either! After all, I'm not Pure-blood, and my ancestors probably never associated with Voldemort.
He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound, Snape spoke first.
"There's a broom over there, go and sweep this place up."
Snape pointed in a direction as he spoke.
Herman followed his finger and saw a broom in the corner.
The thing was still vaguely recognizable as a broom, a crooked wooden stick with a few tufts of hair stuck to the top.
The hairs were sparse and short, standing sparsely on the tip of the stick, like the remains left after something had gnawed on them, or like they had fallen off over the long years and were now just these few hairs.
Herman looked at the broom, then at Snape's expressionless face.
Okay, at least I don't have to deal with myself.
Let's tidy up the place; it's better than tidying up ourselves.
However, he has now been a junior wizard for a month and has already developed some wizarding thoughts.
Herman didn't rush to grab the broom; instead, he took out his wand from his pocket.
"Professor, may I Scourgify?" Herman asked tentatively.
Snape turned to look at him, a very faint smile playing on his lips.
That curve couldn't be called a smile; it was more like the first half of a sneer.
You can give it a try.
Herman looked at Snape's expression and knew there was something fishy going on, but he couldn't figure out what the problem was for the time being.
He looked down at the wand in his hand. The wand was still made of Walnut Wood, smooth and easy to hold, just like always. The feel in his palm was right, the temperature was normal, and the sensation of magic flowing through his fingertips was normal as well.
He decided to try magic first. After all, he had been studying for more than a month and was used to solving problems with magic. He was no longer the little kid who used to pull out a gun. Simple spells like "Scourgify" were things he had been using since the first day of school.
Herman raised his wand, pointing the tip at the thin layer of dust on the ground, and uttered a spell as he spoke.
Magic surged from the depths of his body, flowing down his shoulders, through his wrists, and gathering at the tip of the staff.
Everything was normal, no different from casting a spell as usual, and then a spark flashed at the tip of the staff.
The spark, like something that had been lit but hadn't yet caught fire, bounced twice on the tip of the staff before exploding with a loud bang.
A thick cloud of black smoke billowed from the tip of the staff, carrying a pungent, burnt smell, and engulfed Herman's entire face.
"Cough cough cough." Herman was choked by the black smoke and bent over, one hand on his knee and the other waving wildly in an attempt to fan away the smoke in front of him.
As the black smoke slowly dissipated, he could see that a wisp of smoke was still rising from the tip of his wand, like a firework that had just misfired.
He raised his hand and touched his hair, his fingertips brushing against a fluffy, stiff texture.
The hair on his head stood on end from the explosion of sparks, making him look like a startled hedgehog.
Snape stood to the side, arms crossed, the smile on his lips even wider than before.
That expression might be called a smile on someone else's face, but on Snape's face at that moment, it could only be called mockery.
Herman looked at Snape's face, and defiantly pointed his wand back at the ground.