Chapter 63: Is the Villain Really Snape?
Entering November, the weather began to turn cold. Trees began to shed leaves, and the green grass began to turn yellow.
Hermione, who had reconciled with Harry and Ron, had recently been spending more time with them, especially when Ethan was in class.
Hermione even invited the two to join the weekend spell practice group, but Harry needed to practice Quidditch, so he went to training after practicing for a while.
The happiest person in this was naturally Hagrid. He happily prepared hot tea and snacks for the four, pleased to be able to talk and chat with them every week.
Time passed quickly, and the Quidditch season arrived before Harry was fully prepared.
On the day before the Saturday match, after Potions class, Ethan went to the library first. Hermione and the other two rested temporarily in the Castle, waiting for Professor Kettleburn's class.
When meeting Hermione in the afternoon, she talked about what happened during this gap.
"Snape limped over and confiscated Quidditch Through the Ages that Harry borrowed from the library.
When Harry tried to retrieve the confiscated book, he accidentally heard the conversation between Snape and Filch in the staff room and discovered that the professor was injured by the Three-Headed Dog."
Hermione continued: "Harry and Ron both think Snape released the Troll to steal the thing Dumbledore guarded with the Three-Headed Dog."
"What about you? Do you think that's his purpose?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, but I don't think so. Although Snape is terrible, I believe he wouldn't do that."
Ethan smiled. "Keep your own thoughts, Hermione. Sometimes your eyes will deceive you; what you see isn't always the truth."
"Then do you know what the truth is?"
"No, but after spending so many weekends together, Professor Snape is not as indifferent as he appears."
"Really? I hope so." Hermione, who had been scolded by Snape many times, didn't believe his words.
He didn't correct this. Some things were enough for him to know; there was no need to publicize them. He wanted to be the very riddler he hated most.
The next day was originally the day Snape taught Potions, but because the Quidditch match was between Slytherin and Gryffindor, as Head of House he had to attend, so class was skipped.
Ethan, who had no interest in Quidditch, had also been asked by Snape to cheer for Slytherin. Feeling helpless, he grabbed the hand warmer Hermione had made and headed to the Quidditch pitch.
It was cold out, but the wizards' enthusiasm for Quidditch ran high. Even many students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, who weren't competing, showed up. Perhaps to ensure the players' safety, several teachers from the school came as well.
Ethan sat in the Slytherin stands, looking completely out of place among the excited little snakes around him.
He waved lazily at Hermione, Ron, and the others, then went back to hugging his hand warmer and gazing listlessly at the empty pitch.
When the time came, players from both sides gathered on the pitch, and the audience erupted in cheers.
"Is Quidditch really that interesting?" In his past life, he hadn't been a fan of ball games and lacked interest in any of them. Since he wasn't particularly interested in broomstick flying at Hogwarts either, his understanding of Quidditch was basically nonexistent.
Madam Hooch stood in the center of the pitch, holding her broom and speaking.
When the whistle blew, players from both sides rose into the air on their brooms and scrambled for the Quaffle flying through the arena.
Gryffindor's commentator, Lee Jordan, was a black boy whose partiality for his own House was obvious. His words were full of praise for his own players and anger towards Slytherin players, so Professor McGonagall had to remind him frequently to be impartial.
Listening to this passionate commentary, Ethan became slightly interested. Of course, like watching football without understanding the game but still enjoying the announcer's excitement, he was still a complete layman, just listening for the thrill.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted in gasps, and Ethan looked up too.
It was Harry Potter's broom that had a problem. His broom was rolling and twisting in the air. He was now hanging in the air, holding the broom with only one hand.
Ethan turned his gaze immediately to the stand where Snape sat. Though the distance was too great to tell if the professor's lips were moving, he could see that Snape, like Quirrell, had his eyes fixed on Harry Potter.
Ethan felt a sense of injustice for his professor: "Professor, oh Professor, look—it's clearly Quirrell doing this, but later, the blame will be pinned on your head."
Of course, if he were judging purely by first impressions, he would also suspect Snape—the cold, greasy-haired middle-aged man. Not to mention his history of deliberately making things difficult for Harry. It was hard not to suspect him.
He watched the situation closely and soon spotted Hermione's figure.
She sneaked over from the Gryffindor stand, first knocking Quirrell down, then using Bluebell Flames to set Snape's robes on fire.
The effect was immediate. Harry's broom returned to normal, but what she didn't notice was that the moment Quirrell fell, the broom had already stopped twisting violently.
In the end, this game ended with Harry Potter catching the Golden Snitch, Gryffindor one hundred and seventy to Slytherin sixty.
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Hermione waved at Ethan, and he followed the four to Hagrid's hut.
Hagrid was making tea for everyone to warm up.
Ron couldn't wait to start talking about what happened on the pitch as soon as he sat down:
"Harry, it was Snape jinxing your broom. His eyes were staring at you, and his mouth kept muttering something. Hermione and I saw it through binoculars."
Hermione nodded vigorously beside them, agreeing with Ron.
Hagrid didn't believe it: "Impossible. Why would Snape do such a thing?"
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then glanced briefly at Ethan, who was sitting silently off to the side. Finally, they decided to tell the truth. Ethan had saved their lives, and although he was close to Snape, he should be trustworthy.
"Before Halloween, he tried to pass the Three-Headed Dog's guard and was bitten."
"How did you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid slammed the freshly boiled teapot heavily on the table.
"Fluffy?"
Hagrid panicked. "Um, it, it was bought by me from a Greek chappie, lent to Dumbledore to guard..."
The three were eager to know what Fluffy was guarding, but Hagrid didn't want to say.
Hagrid changed the subject. "Don't think nonsense. Snape wouldn't want to kill a student! Isn't that right, Jones?"
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