Magical magic!
It produced magical results.
With a sharp crack, the world twisted and spun. Hermione felt her stomach clench as though an invisible hand had seized and released it. The scene before her eyes blurred like muddied watercolour.
The dark green shadows of the Forbidden Forest melted away into a haze and suddenly reassembled into the familiar stone walls and torchlight of Hogwarts.
Night at Hogwarts was quiet and mysterious. Moonlight streamed through the stained glass windows, scattering mottled colours along the corridor. Yet this calm was abruptly broken by an unusual noise.
Two people had been transported directly into the castle... yes, straight into the castle, not even onto the lawn outside.
"What... what's going on!?"
The first-year witch's knees buckled, and she stumbled, bracing herself against the wall of the corridor. The chill of the stone beneath her palm proved that this wasn't an illusion: they had truly been teleported from the depths of the Forbidden Forest to the fourth-floor corridor of Hogwarts.
Such an experience left Hermione completely frozen.
After all, this was impossible.
It contradicted everything she had learnt in the Hogwarts library and from her extracurricular reading. Hogwarts strictly forbade Apparition... an ironclad rule that even Dumbledore himself had to obey.
'This completely defies magical logic!' Hermione murmured to herself, her head throbbing as if struck by a heavy hammer. The conflict between knowledge and reality left her mind in chaos.
There were restrictions! Even the most powerful wizards couldn't Apparate here, let alone transport two living people at once. What was going on? Hermione's brain had momentarily crashed.
"Gra... nger..."
A teeth-gritting voice came from above her head.
It was Snape. He noticed that she wasn't responding and assumed that the little witch was ignoring him. The Hogwarts Potions professor always judged others by his own standards.
He realised, too, that they were back at Hogwarts.
Snape was naturally deeply shocked, but compared to the current humiliating situation, Hogwarts' anti-Apparition enchantments were no longer his main concern.
As he took in the familiar yet distant sight of the castle, his mind went blank for a moment, then he felt a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
This was the last way Snape wanted to return to Hogwarts.
It stirred memories from his childhood... Or rather, trauma. For a moment, it was as if he had returned to his past. A hint of fragility flickered in his black eyes, something Hermione had never seen before.
For that instant, he wasn't the fearsome professor, but a boy trapped in a dreadful situation. The moment passed quickly, replaced by a surge of furious anger.
"Miss Granger, cast the spell and lift this ridiculous charm at once!" he snapped again. This time, Hermione finally realised that this was the Potions Master's way of asking for help.
"Ah... Professor."
Hermione looked up, and the sight before her nearly broke her composure. Professor Severus Snape was hanging upside down in mid-air, his black robes drooping like bat wings and revealing a slightly worn shirt and his bony ankles beneath.
His sallow face had turned red, the blood rushing to his head, and the anger blazing in his eyes was almost tangible.
Of course, it wasn't truly directed at her.
Only a little bit of it was.
Most of it was aimed at the real culprit behind this absurd situation.
"P-Professor, what should I do? How can I help you?" Hermione's voice was barely louder than a mosquito's hum. Her brain was still struggling to process the absurdity before her.
Snape, the eternally grim and intimidating Potions Master of Hogwarts, was dangling upside down like a bat caught in a hunter's net.
It was so hard not to laugh.
Although respectful of her professor, as a Gryffindor, Hermione had heard plenty of stories and seen enough to know how much Snape valued his dignity.
Fortunately for him, she was Hermione.
Had it been Ron or any other Gryffindor student here, they would not have helped Snape.
The fact that they didn't run off to borrow a camera or gather a crowd to watch would already be considered an act of great mercy.
There was nothing to be done about it. After all, Snape's reputation and standing in the eyes of the Hogwarts community were, to put it mildly, not good.
His notorious bias against Gryffindor had earned him the top spot on the 'Most Hated Professor' list for years running.
At least within Gryffindor House, that was certainly the case.
Put it this way: during a Gryffindor student's entire school life, from first to seventh year, the odds of not being targeted by Snape were practically zero.
Almost every Gryffindor had, in one way or another, suffered at his hands.
Perhaps not in blatantly unfair ways, but being suppressed or scolded by Snape was simply part of everyday life for Gryffindors.
This is why, when they see him like this now, most Gryffindor students only think: 'Serves him right.'
Some might even feel a touch of sympathy. But not enough to stop them from taking a photo. If Hermione herself had been on the receiving end of Snape's usual venom more often, she probably wouldn't have found it so hard to hold back her laughter either.
After all—
Suppressing laughter isn't good for one's health, and when a joke presents itself, one should laugh freely.
"I… what kind of magic is this?"
Hermione's curiosity had chosen the worst possible moment to resurface. This made Snape's irritation flare up even more.
"Merlin's beard... don't just stand there like a dim-witted troll!" Snape's voice, distorted by his upside-down position, was still sharp enough to cut glass. He tried to cast a spell himself but failed to dispel the magic.
"Do something!" He barked.
"Ah—yes, yes, I know!" Hermione already had her wand in hand, but her thoughts were still sluggish. She was still replaying in her mind how they had ended up back at Hogwarts.
The protective enchantments surrounding the castle had been built up over a thousand years, it should have been impossible for someone who looked like a mere student version of You-Know-Who to simply break through them.
Unless, of course, that wasn't ordinary magic at all. Hermione's mind was already sliding into conspiracy theories again.
"Granger!" Snape's roar yanked her back to reality. 'If that book-stuffed brain of yours still functions, you should realise I need to be stopped... now!'
Hermione blinked, then came out of her daze and raised her wand.
"I—I don't know how to undo this spell! I don't even know what magic this is!" Her voice trembled with helplessness and panic.
"You don't need to know! Just find a way to end it!" Snape bellowed, his face an alarming shade of red and his forehead covered in bulging veins.
"But..." Hermione tried to say something.
"Levicorpus! The spell is called Levicorpus!" Snape was desperate now. His eyes darted anxiously around them, as if he was terrified that someone might appear at any moment.
"All right, then. What's the counterspell for Levicorpus?" Hermione asked quickly.
"You're clearly not as brilliant as you claim to be!" Snape's expression twisted further... whether from anger or blood rushing to his head was unclear.
"Liberacorpus! But that impostor must have modified the spell somehow."
Despite being upside down, he struggled to flick his wand, the motion awkward and undignified.
"Damn it! Liberacorpus! Liberacorpus!"
Yet the incantation had no effect. Two red flashes shot from Snape's wand, but they dissolved as though they had struck an invisible barrier, his magical power could not possibly overcome a spell cast by a legendary-level wizard.
And it wasn't just Snape who was baffled, though. The little witch was too.
Hermione had never seen Snape fail a spell before. It was even more unsettling than seeing him hanging upside down.
"If even you can't do it, there's no way I can," Hermione admitted, giving a small, grimace-like smile.
"Perhaps I'm simply being restricted. Just do as I say: Remember this spell carefully." Snape forced himself to calm down; his voice trembled with barely restrained fury.
"The wand movement is an upward hook, then a light flick, clearly enunciate "Liberacorpus".'
For once, his instruction to a Gryffindor student was sincere.
"Okay, Professor." Hermione nodded earnestly befpre she focused all her attention on copying the movement he described.
"Liberacorpus!" A burst of light shot from the tip of her wand, striking Snape directly.
For a moment, ripples shimmered across his body...
Then... nothing happened. Snape was still hanging there.
His expression had shifted from anger to utter disbelief, though.
"Again!" He commanded.
There was a trace of panic in his voice, something Hermione had never heard before.
"Focus your emotions! You need to concentrate, feel the spell through your magical power!" Snape continued his explanation sharply.
"Put more force into it!"
He was starting to rely on sheer willpower, or perhaps wizarding superstition. To be fair, brute force sometimes worked miracles in the wizarding world.
"All right."
Hermione tried three more times, each spell bursting brighter than the last, yet the results never changed. Gritting her teeth, she poured even more power into her wand. Sweat trickled down her forehead and her face turned pale, but the spell still had no effect. Snape, too, refused to give up, furiously thinking of countermeasures.
Despite the discomfort of being upside down, he forced himself to analyse the enchantment logically. But it was pointless, the longer he thought, the darker his expression became.
Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down his temples.
It wasn't just from the blood rushing to his head but also from the growing dread that someone might see him like this. And from the terrible realisation dawning on him:
He... Severus Snape... a professor at Hogwarts, had been tricked by an unknown figure disguised as a student. And he had been tricked by one of the simplest prank spells in existence.
Who could that person be?
You-Know-Who?
The mere thought made Snape's heart seize.
"This isn't just Levicorpus…" He muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. "Who is that person? No ordinary wizard could wield magic like this..."
"Damn it! Filthy! Despicable! Low-born bastard!" Snape suddenly erupted, unleashing a string of venomous curses that echoed down the empty corridor.
'I'll rip out his intestines and refine them into potions! I'll soak his eyes in toad bile! I'll..." Snape didn't care whether the target of his fury was his former master.
This incident had touched a very old scar.
Even if it really was Voldemort, he would still curse him to his face.
"Professor, your language..." Hermione stared, wide-eyed.
Today, she had learned not only a new spell, but also an impressive collection of creative insults. Snape's rage was like a volcanic eruption; each curse was more viciously poetic than the last and some involved potion ingredients that Hermione didn't recognise.
Well…
Wasn't this a kind of learning experience, too?
"Professor!"
Hermione finally gathered the courage to interrupt him.
"Dawn's coming. The students will be getting up soon."
That sentence hit Snape like a bucket of ice water.
The horizon was already turning pale; dawn was creeping in.
Snape froze, panic flashing behind his eyes. The thought of the students finding him like this was horrifying beyond words.
His stream of curses stopped abruptly. His face went from flushed red to a ghastly white.
He could picture it: Peeves discovering him in this position. The poltergeist would never let him live it down.
The Gryffindors would laugh about it until Christmas.
And what about the Slytherins, his own house? How would they feel about seeing their Head of House dangling like a strip of dried meat from the ceiling?
"Miss Granger."
Snape's voice suddenly turned cold... terrifyingly calm.
"I cannot stay here."
He locked eyes with the young witch, his gaze sharp and commanding.
"But your spell..." Hermione began helplessly.
"Use physical methods!" Snape ground out the words through clenched teeth. "Find a rope and drag me to my office!"
Hermione blinked, momentarily stunned.
"D-Drag you… across the floor?"
'Was this still the magical world of wizards?'
"Have you suddenly lost your grasp of the English language, or do you need me to repeat myself?" Snape's voice rose dangerously. "Hurry up! Before those idiots find me!'
That was an order.
Hermione scrambled around in a panic looking for a rope, but Snape conjured one for her himself. She tiptoed forward and tied one end around his ankle and even managed a neat sailor's knot.
"I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered politely.
Then, gripping the other end of the rope, she began to drag the dangling Potions Master slowly down the corridor.
Snape floated behind her like a human balloon, his black robes trailing downwards to form an eerie silhouette. Hermione moved as carefully as she could, but every time they turned a corner, Snape's head came perilously close to brushing against a wall or doorframe.
"Granger," came Snape's low, menacing voice from above, "if you let my head hit anything solid, I swear you'll be cleaning Flobberworm mucus every night for the next seven years."
Hermione swallowed hard, tightened her grip on the rope, and adjusted the angle even more cautiously.
They made it down to the third floor, and then the second. Each time they reached a staircase, Hermione had to slow down and manoeuvre the floating professor like a kite to guide his 'descent'.
Just as they were about to reach the entrance to the dungeons, disaster struck.
That all-too-familiar, mischievous cackle echoed down the corridor:
Peeves!
"Quickly!"
Snape's voice cracked like a whip.
Startled, Hermione yanked hard on the rope. Snape shot forward like a hooked fish.
Thud!
There was a heavy impact as his forehead slammed squarely into the dungeon doorway.
A dreadful silence followed.
"This..." Snape growled, his voice low and trembling with fury, "... is... not... Le... vi... cor... pus!"
Hermione was terrified.
Nevertheless, she hurriedly dragged the still-cursing professor into his dungeon office. When the door finally clicked shut behind them, she collapsed onto the floor, completely exhausted but deeply relieved.
Snape was still hanging upside down in the center of the room, looking like an unfortunate bat caught in a trap. His earlier rage seemed to have burned itself out; what replaced it was a look of grim contemplation.
"Just don't let me find out who that bastard was!"
The sheer bitterness in Snape's tone could have filled Hogwarts castle.
(End of Chapter)
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