Chapter 40: Potions Detention

Harry hadn’t read that book and had no idea what it was about.

However, judging by Hermione’s expression, he could tell that the curse mentioned in it was likely... something terrible.

"Where did you even find that book?" Hermione exclaimed, still not calming down, rolling her eyes as she added, "My goodness, I’m terrified this book will get us all thrown into Azkaban..."

"Correction," Ron interjected, raising his hand. "You're a witch now. God won’t save you. He’d rather watch you turn into a human torch—"

Hermione shot him a venomous glare.

"Uh, what’s wrong with the book?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Do you know what the first little curse in this book is?" Hermione hissed, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention before continuing, "It’s the Imperius Curse! Controlling someone’s soul! Who in their right mind calls that harmless?"

Harry suddenly remembered—it was a book Sebastian had stolen from the Gaunt family.

Well... that actually tracked. Considering the Gaunt family’s tradition of forcing their children to use Cruciatus on Muggle kids, it wasn’t surprising they’d see soul manipulation as a minor spell.

"This must be a Gaunt family heirloom," Harry said without hesitation, throwing his friend under the bus. "When I took it, I noticed a name on the side—something like Ominis Gaunt."

"Oh, well, if it’s from the Gaunts, that explains everything," Ron chimed in. "The Gaunt family descends from Salazar Slytherin, and Slytherin himself was a dark wizard."

"One of Hogwarts' founders?" Hermione asked in shock. "Mr. Slytherin was a dark wizard? How is that possible?"

Harry didn’t argue. After all, he’d once seen Salazar Slytherin’s notes in the Chamber of Secrets, and the contents weren’t exactly the work of a saint.

Ron simply shrugged and said no more.

"This book is off-limits from now on!" Hermione whispered firmly. "I don’t want to be implicated in one of these so-called 'minor' curses, sent to Azkaban—or worse, expelled from school!"

"You really don’t know which one’s worse, do you?" Ron teased with a shrug, earning another fierce glare.

--

By November, the weather had grown extremely cold.

In the Scottish Highlands, even with the warming effect of the North Atlantic Current, the high latitude meant the climate felt similar to Moscow's.

The mountains around the school were shrouded in mist and snow, the lake’s surface was frozen with a layer of thick ice, cold and hard like tempered steel.

Every morning, frost covered the ground.

From the upper-floor windows, they could see Hagrid, wrapped in a long coat of mole fur, wearing rabbit-fur gloves and giant beaver-fur boots, de-icing the Quidditch brooms on the field.

For some reason, Hermione seemed even more nervous about Harry’s first Quidditch match than Harry himself. Ron was the same.

Ron spent every day oiling Harry’s broomstick, while Hermione borrowed Quidditch Through the Ages from the library, insisting Harry familiarize himself with the rules.

Because of the biting cold, Hermione conjured a few handfuls of blue flames that could be stored in jam jars and carried around. Not only did Harry and Ron get one, but Seamus and Neville did too.

Seamus had long since let go of any grudges and was so grateful for the portable fire that he felt an urge to call Hermione mum.

--

On Friday, during Potions class, Harry absentmindedly brought Quidditch Through the Ages to the classroom.

Snape, as usual, hovered beside him, closely watching his every move as he brewed his potion.

After Harry successfully produced a perfect draught of Living Death, Snape let out a nasal "hmmph."

It was hard to tell if he was pleased or displeased, so Harry decided to chalk it up to Snape’s classic Slytherin habit of saying one thing while meaning another.

However, Snape’s attention soon shifted to the book on Harry’s desk. Picking it up swiftly, he glanced at the title page and then sneered ominously.

"Well, well, Potter," Snape said, towering over Harry. "Bringing unrelated books into Potions class? Ten points from Gryffindor. And you’ll be serving detention in my office every Wednesday and Saturday evening."

Harry opened his mouth, stunned. He couldn’t believe Snape had deducted points over a Quidditch book.

This was the first time Snape had docked points without a valid reason. The last time? Well, Harry had deserved that one.

After class, Ron and Hermione approached him.

"Harry," Ron whispered, "did you notice Snape’s been limping? Looks like he’s injured."

"Now that you mention it, yeah," Harry replied, recalling Snape’s uneven stride, which made him appear taller one moment and shorter the next.

"Still, I need to get that book back," Harry insisted.

"You’re crazy," Hermione and Ron said in unison.

But Harry didn’t think so. He was convinced Snape actually liked him. As for dislike? Impossible. His parents’ friend couldn’t possibly hate him. Snape probably just disliked Gryffindor as a house.

With this thought, Harry made his way to the staff lounge, hoping to get lucky.

Knocking on the door and hearing no response, he peeked inside. The room was empty except for Snape and Filch. Snape had lifted his robes, revealing his leg.

Wow. Harry was shocked. Now he understood why Snape had been limping—his leg was covered in fresh wounds, blood trickling from gaping cuts deep enough to expose the muscle.

"Professor, this..." Filch handed Snape a bandage.

"Bloody thing," Snape cursed. "How can you possibly keep an eye on three heads at once?"

Three heads?

Harry frowned. Could Snape’s injury be related to some kind of three-headed creature?

Before he could think further, a loud shout startled him.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up to see Snape letting his robes fall back into place, glaring at him darkly.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said cautiously. "I was just wondering if I could get that book back?"

"Get out!" Snape roared, pointing at the door.

Harry didn’t need telling twice and hurried out.

At least Snape had forgotten to deduct more points from Gryffindor—that was some small consolation, Harry thought.

Still... what kind of creature had injured Snape?

Harry decided to ask Hagrid. With his knowledge of magical creatures, he was bound to know something.