You can read ahead up to 110 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395
Snape's office was shrouded in an eerie silence.
The faint flickering of the candlelight cast an upside-down image of his body onto the cold stone wall. It looked like a bat pinned to a specimen board, with his disheveled black robes spreading out like wings.
To be honest…
Being hung upside down was truly miserable.
Because of this strange position, Snape felt humiliated and furious. He regretted not wearing longer trousers; his pale ankles and thin, sun-starved calves were completely exposed.
His face was flushed red, not from embarrassment but because all the blood was rushing to his head. His black hair hung downward in messy strands, like a tangled web.
Throughout Hogwarts, it felt as if a heavy wave of resentment was beginning to spread.
And who could blame him?
"That person is not an ordinary student! He's not a student at all!" Snape was absolutely certain now. He suspected that Lirim was none other than Grindelwald, disguised as a student.
Yes.
The blood pooling in his head made his thoughts even more active. If it had been Voldemort, Snape might still be alive, but Hermione certainly wouldn't be.
Would Voldemort ever pass up the chance to devour a juicy secret?
Any Voldemort who didn't seize such an opportunity was a fake!
Besides...
Even if Voldemort had lost his mind completely, he would never have humiliated Snape like this. After all, Snape was one of the Dark Lord's most capable followers.
If Voldemort had ever learned Snape's secret, he would have gone straight for the kill, maybe asking why Snape had betrayed him before finishing the job.
That being the case...
The bizarre Ravenclaw student couldn't possibly be Voldemort. The only other being with that level of magical prowess, someone capable of both such mockery and mastery, was the man imprisoned far away: Gellert Grindelwald.
It made perfect sense.
Perhaps Grindelwald had always watched Dumbledore from afar, waiting. When Dumbledore vanished, Grindelwald seized the chance to escape. The timing coincided perfectly with when Snape first encountered Lirim.
The man must have gone to investigate where Dumbledore disappeared. The more Snape thought about it, the more everything fell into place. As for the original Lirim who had entered Hogwarts months ago...
...he was probably locked up.
Or dead.
Either way, Snape refused to believe that an ordinary first-year wizard could render him so helpless. Even his monstrous nephew hadn't been that powerful in his first year.
"Should we tell the other professors?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
She looked worried... terrified, even.
A chilling realization struck her: whoever had disguised themselves as Lirim wielded magic far beyond her understanding and even beyond that of the professor in front of her.
Even worse, if this mysterious wizard could trap Snape with such a simple prank spell, what could they do to Dumbledore and Ian, who had already gone through the Bronze Gate?
The fire in the office fireplace crackled softly. Outside, the first rays of dawn slowly crept over Hogwarts.
"I think...we should," Hermione murmured, twisting a lock of hair around her finger nervously. Her gaze flicked to the door as if she were considering running to alert the other professors immediately.
"No!"
Snape's sharp command stopped her cold.
"You'll only get the others killed," he said darkly. "That person is not someone we can handle. Not anyone, except Dumbledore."
By this point, Snape had convinced himself that Lirim was the First Dark Lord reborn.
You could say...
His brain was full of blood.
But he lacked imagination.
"How could this be?" Hermione whispered.
She hadn't expected her magical journey to be so dangerous. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in the world! Why did it feel like a terrifying crisis was waiting around every corner?
"You have to help me," Snape said firmly.
"Professor..." Hermione faltered, unsure. "I don't think I can help you, but I can call the other professors. Would that be okay?"
It was a reasonable suggestion.
However, Snape had a simple reason for refusing: he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else seeing him like this. For a man already scarred inside, such humiliation was unthinkable.
He didn't answer. Instead, he silently flicked his wand.
Books flew off the shelves as if pulled by invisible hands and fluttered toward Hermione, piling up before her into a small mountain. One particularly heavy, black-bound tome nearly crashed into her toes.
"Before Dumbledore returns,"
Snape's voice was as cold and hard as the stone walls of the dungeon.
"You're not leaving."
Hermione's eyes widened, and uncertainty spread across her face. "But..."
She wanted to explain that she still had classes that day, it was almost time for morning lessons but before she could finish, Snape shot her a sharp glare.
"No buts!"
He cut her off, his black eyes glinting dangerously. "Unless, of course, you want the entire Hogwarts castle to know that your beloved Potions professor is currently hanging from the ceiling like a slab of dried ham?"
He made his concern perfectly clear, though in a tone halfway between a threat and a sneer. Snape's greatest worry was obvious: Hermione would return to Gryffindor Tower, and the story of his humiliation would spread like wildfire.
He knew Gryffindors were notorious gossips.
"I would never do that," Hermione said firmly, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She understood exactly what Snape was worried about. Even if she accidentally let something slip...
Within half an hour, the entire school would know the thrilling tale of how "Professor Snape was dragged back into the castle upside down by a creature that looked like a student." Stories like that were practically a Gryffindor tradition.
You couldn't blame Dumbledore for being cautious around her before, and now Snape was doing the same. It was all because of Gryffindor's reputation. Hermione wasn't even sure she could trust herself not to talk.
"I won't tell anyone," She promised softly. "Maybe you could cast a Silencing Charm on me or some other kind of magic?"
"Ha! And give you an excuse to report me to the Ministry of Magic? I'm not that stupid." Snape sneered, clearly unconvinced. He was deeply wary of study-obsessed tattletales like her.
"But staying here won't do any good either," Hermione protested weakly.
"If you can't leave for now," Snape said from where he was still suspended, his tone slow and oddly complex, "then you might as well learn something useful."
Hermione blinked in surprise.
"Learn what?" she asked, her eyes lighting up despite herself.
"I'm the Potions professor," Snape replied flatly, pointing to himself. "Naturally, I'll teach you potions. Don't get the wrong idea, I haven't suddenly developed a higher opinion of you."
He gave a curt, humorless smile. "You're still an insufferable Gryffindor in my eyes. But, for Ian's sake, I'll teach you. Besides, it'll make me feel a little better."
Perhaps Snape saw something, or someone, else reflected in Hermione and Ian.
Something that wasn't really there.
Just a projection of his own making.
After all, that was the reason he'd lately found Aurora more and more unbearable, Grindelwald's blood relative had unconsciously become a stand-in for someone else in his mind.
"Is it the kind of potion we don't learn in class?" Hermione asked, excitement brimming in her voice.
"You can learn everything in my class," Snape said coldly. "If you can't, then you're just too stupid. Now, bring the cauldron over."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
And so, the orders began.
Thus, Over the next few hours, one of the most absurd lessons in Hogwarts history unfolded.
An upside-down professor instructed his student on how to brew a potion that would make being hung upside down slightly more bearable.
Inside the dungeon office, the cauldron bubbled and hissed.
The dark green liquid shimmered with a strange glow in the flickering firelight.
Snape still hung in midair, his robes drooping like the wings of a trapped bat. However, his wand moved precisely, directing Hermione's every motion.
"Three turns clockwise, then half a turn counterclockwise," Snape instructed coolly, his tone strict. "One mistake, and that potion will turn into corrosive gas."
Beads of sweat formed on Hermione's forehead. Her wrist ached from the constant stirring, but she didn't dare stop. Snape's eyes never left her movements, even the slightest mistake earned a sharp remark.
"Did a troll lend you that wrist?" he snapped. "You're stirring, not pounding the cauldron! Your movements are as clumsy as that blasted Hagrid outside the Forbidden Forest."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth, trying to make her motions smoother and more precise.
Time passed. The sky outside had already darkened when Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly in protest.
Snape's black eyes slowly turned toward her.
"Hungry already?" he asked, his voice laced with mockery.
Hermione flushed and nodded awkwardly.
Snape gave a short, derisive snort. With a flick of his wand, the bottom drawer of his desk flew open and a crumpled packet of biscuits shot out and landed in front of her.
"Eat," he said expressionlessly. "A competent Potions Master must learn to suppress hunger. Some potions require three days and nights of refinement without food."
He wasn't exaggerating.
There really were potions like that in the wizarding world.
"I understand. I'll practice going hungry next time," Hermione said, picking up a biscuit and cautiously taking a bite, only to almost chip a tooth.
"Professor, this biscuit is harder than stone."
She gasped and rubbed her sore jaw, convinced that her front teeth were about to fall out.
"Then don't eat it if you think it's too hard. If you can't endure a little hardship, you'll never become an excellent Potions Master." Snape replied coldly, his eyes returning to the cauldron.
"Uh..."
Hermione stared at the biscuit, which was as hard as a brick. Suddenly, inspiration struck.
She quietly took a small vial of honey-water extract and a few leaves of softening herb from the potions ingredients shelf. With a gentle tap of her wand, she mixed them together and dripped the solution onto the biscuit.
A few seconds later, the biscuit softened and gave off a faintly sweet aroma.
Snape caught a glimpse of this from the corner of his eye, his eyebrow twitching slightly.
"...Not entirely foolish," he finally commented, his voice, for once, devoid of its usual sarcasm. "At least you know how to use potion ingredients to solve a practical problem."
Hermione couldn't help but smile and was just about to reply.
Knock, knock, knock!
The office door suddenly rattled with urgent knocking.
Snape froze, and Hermione held her breath.
"Severus?" Professor McGonagall's stern voice came from outside. "Are you in there?"
Snape's expression darkened visibly.
He swiftly extinguished the chandelier's light, and with a flick of his wand, the room dimmed instantly, the perfect atmosphere for someone "too ill to see visitors."
"Minerva,"
He lowered his voice, making it sound hoarse on purpose. "I...am not in a state to receive anyone right now."
Hermione's eyes widened. Was Snape pretending to be sick?
Outside, Professor McGonagall hesitated. "You're... ill?"
"There was a minor mishap during a Potions experiment," Snape replied weakly. "The fumes rising from the cauldron have affected my face."
Hermione nearly burst out laughing and clamped a hand over her mouth.
"You shouldn't be making such rookie mistakes," McGonagall said, puzzled. After a moment, she sighed and got to the point.
"Albus's phoenix has gone missing."
Her tone was serious.
Snape, of course, knew exactly what had happened.
"That bird disappears all the time," he replied, feigning indifference.
"But this time is different," McGonagall said worriedly. "It vanished right in front of me. It seemed agitated, and I have no idea what's going on."
At those words, Snape's brow twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.
"I'm refining a very dangerous potion and must not be disturbed," he said in his frail voice. "Once I'm finished, I'll come find you."
There was a brief silence outside the door.
"Why did I just hear the voice of a young wizard?" McGonagall suddenly asked.
Hermione's heart nearly stopped.
Snape didn't even blink.
"I caught a student to run errands for me. Perfectly normal, isn't it?"
He sounded utterly matter-of-fact.
McGonagall seemed to consider this.
"No, that's... perfectly reasonable," she said at last, which, given Snape's reputation, was understandable.
Her footsteps faded away down the corridor.
Snape let out a long, quiet breath.
"Professor," Hermione whispered, "you're really good at pretending to be sick."
She tested the waters cautiously.
Snape gave the first-year a glacial glare.
"Shut up, Granger."
Hermione pressed her lips together, then suddenly grinned. "If Ian were here, he'd probably say Professor McGonagall didn't hear my voice; it was the potion screaming."
"Continue brewing," he said coldly.
"And if you say one more word, I'll show you what a real potion's scream* sounds like."
That was enough of a threat; Hermione quickly ducked her head and resumed stirring, truly startled this time.
The class of the Hanging Man continued.
(End of Chapter)
Hey Guys I have picked up 2 new Fanfiction
New Novels- 1. One Piece- Maxed Out Conqueror's Haki!
2. One Piece- Master Of Devil Fruits
(darkshadowtranslation.com)