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Severus Snape knew exactly why James Potter had shown up here. He'd somehow found out that Snape was attending this party—and that Lily would be there too.
"This boy…" Slughorn shook his head helplessly. "Alright, it's getting late. Time to head back, children, or we'll all be in trouble."
The little golden clock on his desk had already ticked past ten.
The students filed out. Slughorn heaved himself from his chair and escorted Fabian downstairs.
Back in the dormitory, it was just the two of them again. Mulciber was nowhere to be found, as usual, returning late these days.
Patrick Abbott gave Snape an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"What did I just witness? A Slytherin mocking Gryffindor blood prejudice! Tsk tsk, you sounded so convincing, it's terrifying."
"Don't slander me," Snape shot back, fluffing his pillow into a more comfortable shape. "I'm practically the wizarding world's biggest champion of Muggle-born witches and wizards right now."
"Potter actually showed up to the party this time," Abbott said, slipping into his pajamas and climbing into bed. "Old Slug's invited him before, hasn't he? Honestly, though, these parties are dull. I'm not coming with you next time."
"Suit yourself," Snape replied, swinging his legs onto his bed and sinking into his pillow, gazing at the faint ripples of light dancing across the glass window from the water outside.
"Abbott, that poor girl who was killed thirty years ago—who do you think she was?"
"How would I know?" Abbott yawned.
"Then who might know what happened back then?"
"It's been so long. Besides a few old professors, who else would know? Maybe you could ask the Headmaster himself."
"Wait!" Abbott sat up abruptly, suddenly alert. "The people have changed, but the ghosts have always been at Hogwarts."
He flopped back down just as quickly. "Forget your little mystery, though. How could a story from thirty years ago win you a medal today?"
"Who says it can't? Don't you think unraveling ancient secrets is fascinating?"
Snape drew the curtains around his four-poster bed.
"We've got Care of Magical Creatures first thing tomorrow. Good night."
The next morning, Professor Silvanus Kettleburn led a small group of students toward a rickety shed at the edge of the grounds.
"Come along, children," he called, seated in a peculiar wooden chair that resembled a Muggle wheelchair but had four short legs that shuffled forward in a crisscross pattern.
Back in third year, Kettleburn had grumbled to the class that if Dumbledore hadn't personally crafted this chair for him, he'd have retired long ago.
By the shed, Hagrid, the gamekeeper, was waiting, a low mound of earth at his feet.
As they drew closer, Snape noticed a shallow pit beside Hagrid. A massive iron shovel, larger than a dustbin lid, lay next to a wooden bucket—clearly, the mound was the soil Hagrid had dug up.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Kettleburn said. "Would you mind pouring that bucket of Floo Powder into the pit?"
Hagrid effortlessly lifted the bucket. With a whoosh, emerald-green flames roared to life, rising nearly as tall as Hagrid himself.
After the flames burned steadily for a few minutes, Kettleburn asked, "Now, who knows what magical creature we're studying today?"
Lily raised her hand.
"Go ahead, Miss Evans," Kettleburn said with a smile.
"Ashwinder," Lily answered. "When a magical fire burns unchecked for too long, an Ashwinder is born from it."
"Quite right. Five points to Gryffindor," Kettleburn said, adding, "Ashwinders are serpents with glowing red eyes. They slither out from the ashes of untended magical fires and seek out shadowy places in homes to lay their eggs."
"I must warn you," he said gravely, "never cast an Engorgement Charm on an Ashwinder. The consequences are not something you'd want to deal with."
"What would happen if you did?" Snape asked.
"The Ashwinder would swell under the spell, growing thicker than your thigh. Then, all at once, it and its massive eggs would explode with a bang, setting everything around it ablaze."
Kettleburn gestured dramatically with his one remaining hand.
By now, the Floo Powder flames had died down. Several pale, slender Ashwinders wriggled out from the ashes, slithering toward the shed, leaving winding trails of gray in their wake.
"An Ashwinder's lifespan is only an hour," Kettleburn explained. "In that time, they find a dark, hidden spot to lay their eggs before their bodies crumble into dust."
His chair shuffled toward the shed, and the students followed him inside.
He pointed to where the gray trails vanished. "Abbott, help me move that pile of hay."
Behind the haystack, three brilliantly red Ashwinder eggs glowed quietly amid the fine ash.
"If you don't find and handle these eggs in time, they'll set a house ablaze in no time," Kettleburn warned.
He drew his wand from his robes. "Glacius."
A jet of icy air shot from his wand, and the searing red glow of two eggs swiftly turned to blue-white frost.
"Let's go, quickly now," Kettleburn said, magically collecting the frozen eggs and urging the students out of the shed.
Moments after they reached the open ground, a piercing roar erupted, and the shed burst into flames before their eyes.
"Aguamenti," Kettleburn chanted, dousing the shed with water until the last spark was extinguished.
"You see," he said, "if you find traces of an Ashwinder in your home, you must immediately locate their eggs and freeze them with a Freezing Charm. Otherwise, I'd advise you to run."
He then used a Levitation Charm to display the two frozen eggs to the class.
"Of course, once frozen, these eggs are highly valuable. They can be used to brew Love Potions or swallowed whole to cure fever."
After the lesson, Snape lingered behind, helping Hagrid tidy up the site.
"Hagrid," he said as they filled in the pit, "those Ashwinders are rather charming, aren't they?"
Hagrid stared at him with a mix of shock and pity, as if Snape were mad or pitiable.
Why's he looking at me like that? Snape thought, irritated.
He brushed it off. "My mum said you were the gamekeeper when she was at school. When did you first come to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, I came here in 1940," Hagrid said gruffly. "Knew your mum, I did."
"That long ago? There's something I'd like to ask, if I may."
Seeing no objection, Snape pressed on. "I saw a 'Special Award for Services to the School' in the Hogwarts trophy room. Do you know how Tom Riddle earned it?"
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