Talent magic and modification magic.
We must grasp both aspects firmly.
As Herman thought about it, he subconsciously raised his hands. He clenched his fists in the air, opened them, clenched them again, and opened them again.
He looked at his fist and imagined that this was power, the power to control destiny.
" Mr. Horace."
Snape's voice came from the front, cold and icy, like a bucket of water splashed on the back of his head.
Herman stopped moving.
He slowly raised his head, keeping his hands suspended in mid-air with his fingers spread.
Snape stood two steps in front of him, his eyebrows slightly raised beneath his black hair, his dark eyes scanning back and forth between him and the two outstretched arms.
That look in his eyes was complex, carrying something Herman couldn't quite describe.
Confused, wary, and with an expression that seems to suggest someone is looking at something unusual.
"You can go now," Snape said. "Are you expecting me to cook you dinner?"
Herman looked down at his hands, then at his surroundings, realizing he had somehow ended up in Snape's office. Snape, presumably intending to return to his office, found himself standing still.
His hands were outstretched, fingers spread wide, and held at chest height. Combined with the wistful expression on his face earlier, it did look rather strange.
It's even a bit perverted.
Fortunately, Snape is a man, and this isn't Chengdu, so he shouldn't be thinking anything inappropriate for now.
Otherwise, with that action and expression, he'd look exactly like a pervert reaching out with his groping hands.
"Okay, I'll be going now, Dean."
Herman quickly pulled his hands back to his sides, walked past Snape, and hurried toward the Slytherin Common Room.
As Snape passed by, Snape suddenly spoke.
"I hope you can tell the classmates about what happened today, about the Vampire living in the underground area, so that everyone can be aware of it."
Herman paused for a moment.
He turned to look at Snape, whose dark face showed no particular expression, but Herman suddenly realized something.
The reason Snape was drafted wasn't because he wanted to torment him.
Would Snape clean the door for Gori? Opening the door for him was only out of respect for Dumbledore.
But why did it have to stop me on the road?
He hadn't understood it before, but now the answer to that question had surfaced from Snape's words.
Tell the students.
The focus is not on "students" at all.
The key point is to tell Harry.
Snape knew Harry liked to wander off and was worried that Harry might accidentally run into the Gori.
Herman silently completed the second half of Snape's logic in his mind.
Snape wanted to warn Harry about the Vampire, but he was too embarrassed to go directly to Harry.
As usual, he cares, but doesn't say it directly—what an awkward straight man.
"No problem, Dean," Herman replied immediately, his tone as sincere as if he had been given an important mission. "I promise to let Harry know."
After saying that, he didn't wait for Snape's reply and quickened his pace to run towards the other end of the corridor.
The boots made a series of rapid thuds on the stone slabs, quickly turning the corner of the corridor and leaving Snape alone.
Snape watched the retreating figure, then stood there in silence for a moment.
He opened his mouth as if to explain, but in the end he just pursed his lips into a thin line, then turned and went into his office.
Herman jogged down the corridor, his boots clicking rapidly on the stone slabs.
After the last bend, the stone doors to the Slytherin Common Room were already ahead.
He stopped, took a couple of breaths, and pressed his hand on the stone door.
The stone door slid open slowly, and the silvery-blue firelight from the fireplace poured out through the crack, warming his face.
As Herman stepped inside, he immediately spotted the two familiar faces beside the fireplace.
Draco sat in her usual dark green armchair, her legs crossed on the seat, holding a soft cushion in her arms. Her golden hair was loose over her shoulders, the ends slightly curled, as if it had just been washed and wasn't completely dry.
She was looking down and flipping through a magazine with a brightly colored cover; it was probably a mail-order catalog from some wizarding shop.
Harry sat on the sofa next to her, her posture as relaxed as ever, one hand supporting her chin, the other resting on the armrest, her fingers unconsciously twirling a quill pen.
She sat there with no books or homework in front of her, her gaze fixed on the flames in the fireplace, lost in thought.
The two people were standing very close together.
There was only a small coffee table between Draco's armchair and Harry's sofa, on which sat two half-finished glasses of Pumpkin Juice and a plate of barely touched cookies.
When Draco flips through magazines, she sometimes leans her body towards Harry, pointing to something on a certain page for Harry to see. Harry glances at it, sometimes saying "It's okay," and sometimes saying nothing.
Herman stood at the door for a while, then suddenly felt that the scene was very familiar.
The same thing happened last time. When he pushed the door open, Draco and Harry were sitting together, one talking and the other listening, one making a fuss and the other laughing.
It seems like Draco and Harry are getting closer lately. They often disappear together. When Herman asks them where they go, Draco says, "I'm not telling you," Harry just laughs.
Herman felt as if he had been marginalized, transformed from a "junior" in a small group of three into a forgotten bystander.
On the surface, the two girls seem to have become best friends, but Herman really can't figure out whether Harry truly likes Draco or has ulterior motives, especially since Sirius is still out there committing crimes.
However, Herman couldn't say anything. As long as Draco was alright, that was fine. To be honest, it was good for Lucius to get some retribution. Although he didn't do anything too heinous in the original book, he must have done something bad to become Voldemort's confidant.
And to be honest, I've been pretty busy lately, so it's good that Draco hasn't bothered me.
Lately, I've been devouring Alchemy books one after another, and I also have to frequent the practice room at the Room of Requirement. Professor Malin is giving me secret lessons, Dumbledore has given me another thick notebook. And now there's that Vampire elder who could cause trouble at any moment, living in the dungeon next door.
His time was fragmented into pieces, and he even wished he could sleep two hours less.
So this is fine, it's peaceful.
Herman snapped out of his thoughts and walked towards the two of them.
Draco heard the footsteps first, looked up, the magazine still in mid-air, her eyes lit up when she saw him.
"You're back?" She closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table, putting her legs up from the chair and her bare feet on the chair's crossbar. "Why are you so late? Where did you go this afternoon? I heard you were summoned by Dumbledore?"
She asked three questions in quick succession, speaking rapidly, as if she had a lot to say that she had been holding back until now.