This time, Herman was more serious, slowing down the pace of his magic output, reciting the spell more clearly, and strictly adhering to the textbook's standards for the arc of his wand swing.
Magic gathered at the tip of the staff once more, sparks flashed again, and then it exploded once more.
Another cloud of black smoke, another successful afro hairstyle.
This time, Herman was mentally prepared and held his breath early, so he didn't cough as badly, but his hair grew back thicker, making him look like he was wearing a black hedgehog hat.
He had to admit defeat; it seemed he couldn't cast spells here.
Or rather, the magic here is being interfered with by something. All the magic flowing to the tip of the staff is distorted; what should have become light becomes sparks, and what should have become air currents becomes explosions.
It's like someone pressing down on the strings of a musical instrument from the outside; no matter how correctly you play, the sound will be off.
"Alright, get back to cleaning." Snape's voice came from the side, his tone carrying a satisfied tone, as if he had just finished watching a good show. "If you could cast spells here, you wouldn't need to go to Hogwarts."
After saying that, he ignored Herman, turned around, faced the wall at the end of the corridor, and took out his wand.
His wand was different from Herman's Walnut Wood; it was made of dark wood, thicker in the shaft, and had obvious wear marks on the handle, indicating that it had been used for many years.
Snape held the tip of his cane about a foot away from the wall, as if observing something.
Herman had no choice but to resign himself to his fate and walk to the corner, bending down to pick up the broom.
The thing really did feel like a stick in my hand. The shaft was sturdy, but the hairs on top were pitifully few. When you swept it on the ground, it could probably only move the dust from left to right and then back to left.
He shoved the broom into the ground and began sweeping up the cobwebs in the corner.
The spiderwebs were so fine and tough that the broom bristles were too sparse to hold them. He could only use the end of a stick to pick the spiderwebs off, his movements like picking cotton candy.
As he scanned the area, his eyes kept glancing in Snape's direction.
Snape stood in front of the wall, wand raised, tip pointing towards the wall.
He didn't cast the spell immediately, but remained in that position for a long time, so long that Herman thought he was spacing out, and then his wrist began to move.
The movements were slow, but they looked incredibly precise and elegant.
The tip of the wand drew an extremely thin trail in the air, like someone writing words in the air with the tip of a pen, except that the words were three-dimensional and invisible, leaving only a tiny, barely perceptible trace of light where the wand passed.
Snape rotated his wrist a few times, and the streak of light began to overlap, intertwine, and converge, gradually forming lines on the wall.
The lines were initially faint, like water seeping from inside a stone, but as Snape's movements became more frequent, the lines began to deepen, thicken, and become clearer.
They are interconnected and intertwined, moving from points to lines, from lines to surfaces, and finally converging into a complete pattern.
A snake standing tall and proud.
The snake was coiled on the wall, its body thick and long, the patterns on its scales meticulously carved, gleaming with a dark metallic sheen in the dim light.
The snake's head was raised high, and where its eyes were were two tiny red gems, which shimmered with a faint light on the wall.
The snake's tongue protruded from its mouth, the forked tip pointing towards the center of the wall.
Then, the wall began to move.
The stone wall seemed to be pushed from the inside by something, and the entire wall began to slowly shrink to both sides.
The gaps between the bricks gradually widened, and gravel and dust fell from the gaps, raising a fine mist in the air.
The rumbling sound was deep and long, echoing deep in the corridor, making Herman's eardrums tighten.
After the stone walls contracted to the sides, a passage appeared before Snape and Herman.
The passageway was just wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and its height was half a head taller than Snape.
The walls were made of rough stone bricks, with an unpolished, uneven surface and water stains in some places, giving them a damp, dark appearance in the dim light.
The passage extends inward, revealing a downward stone staircase with rounded edges, as if worn smooth by countless feet.
Deep inside was an unseen darkness, and the wind blowing from that direction carried a musty smell and an inexplicable chill.
Herman stood at the entrance of the passage, still clutching the broom in his hand, his chin slightly drooping.
As he looked at the vanished wall and the underground passage before him, all the memories of the Hogwarts secret passages in his mind were reactivated.
The Shrieking Shack passageway beneath the Whomping Willow, the Chamber of Secrets slide, and now this one too.
He couldn't help but ask, "What is this?"
He hadn't expected Snape to answer, after all, given Snape's usual behavior, it would be considered polite if he didn't Byakugan or make a sarcastic remark.
But this time, whether Snape needed someone to listen to him or he never intended to hide the existence of this place, he actually spoke up.
"This is Slytherin's Secret Prison." Snape's voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the enclosed space of the passageway.
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, then added, "Of course, you can call it the Hogwarts's Dungeon now."
"A dungeon?" Herman never expected this answer. He had even considered where he would be buried, so he certainly hadn't expected a dungeon. He didn't need a dungeon to lock himself up; any solitary confinement cell would have sufficed.
At the same time, Herman quickly went through his memories of the original work. It seemed that the word "dungeon" was indeed mentioned, but in his memory at the time, it was just a grumble from Filch, or something a student mentioned casually while complaining.
He had never imagined that Hogwarts actually had a dungeon, and that it was located deep underground near the Slytherin Common Room, hidden behind an abandoned staircase, a hundred or two meters down.
"So my spell failed just now because of the dungeon's influence?" Herman asked.
Snape seemed to be in a good mood at this point, and even began to explain things to him quite patiently.
He glanced at Herman, his tone carrying a nonchalant "you've finally gotten to the point" quality:
"Yes. Inside the dungeon, all magic is suppressed; no one can cast spells completely."
He paused here, his gaze sweeping over Herman's frizzy, blown-out head, the corner of his mouth curving upwards by half an inch. "You should be glad you were only experimenting with magic outside the dungeon. Inside, you'd need a different wand."