Before Snape could react to Chang's strange question, the next moment, Chang bit his fingertip.
A drop of bright red blood trickled down.
Snape's pupils contracted sharply. He looked at Chang, a mix of shock and incredulity flashing in his eyes. Yet buried within the depths of his gaze, there was a subtle warmth—a flicker of emotion.
Having lived half his life wandering the edge of darkness, steeped in betrayal and death, Snape never imagined someone would offer their own life force to help him wear down a lingering Dark curse.
This boy was a complete fool.
Through clenched teeth, Snape spat, "Go away."
"I don't need your help."
"You're just a student. Even if you bleed yourself dry—"
But before he could finish, that single drop of blood landed squarely on Snape's injured leg.
In an instant, a foul, black smoke hissed upward. Snape froze.
The dark magic infecting his wound—the curse from Cerberus's bite—dissipated by more than half?
His mind went utterly blank.
What kind of joke was this?
How much effort had he put into stabilizing that cursed wound? All his attempts with various potions and spells—none of them had worked. And now, a single drop of Chang's blood had a greater effect?
What kind of physique did this boy possess?
"You—"
Snape stared at him, frowning in suspicion. "Are you truly a Mixed-Blood Giant?"
Chang shook his head. "No."
"But, Professor, you know—I've been planting trees in a Muggle plantation since I was a kid."
"Maybe years of physical labor strengthened my body, so my constitution's a little… different from ordinary people's."
Snape's face twitched.
What kind of absurd explanation was that?
If physical labor could grant such a miraculous constitution, wouldn't the oxen and horses in the fields have evolved to kick giants to death by now?
Still, he didn't argue further. His attention had already shifted.
Chang dropped a few more crimson beads of blood onto the wound.
The black smoke intensified.
Snape immediately felt the remnants of the curse ebbing away. In moments, the malicious Dark energy clinging to his flesh was almost completely gone.
He applied a touch of Dittany Essence and was stunned to see the wound begin healing as if several days had already passed.
The pain lingered, yes—but it no longer hindered his movement.
Most importantly, the cursed wound would no longer interfere with his spellcasting.
It was as if a boulder had been lifted from his chest.
For the first time in days, Snape's face eased.
Yet, a new headache emerged.
He now owed Chang a massive favor.
And he didn't know how to repay it.
He was used to sarcasm and biting wit, especially toward students and colleagues. Sincere gratitude was… unfamiliar territory.
Then, he suddenly recalled—Chang had studied the notes in that old textbook he'd left behind years ago.
That sparked an idea.
Perhaps he did have a way to repay this debt.
Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ahem."
"Did you happen to find anything unusual in the Potions classroom?"
"Say—an old textbook?"
"One filled with deep, ingenious magical theories, far beyond the understanding of most Wizards."
"Perhaps even… some exceptionally powerful Dark Arts?"
Chang blinked.
Was this… him getting found out?
So Snape had noticed his use of the Mixed-Blood Prince's notes.
But after a pause, Chang composed himself.
It wasn't too surprising that Snape had figured it out. After all, he was the one who had written the spells. If anyone would notice, it would be him.
Still, Chang didn't want Dumbledore or Professor Sprout to know. Dumbledore was always suspicious and might start doubting him. As for Sprout, she'd worry endlessly—and definitely forbid him from continuing to study spells like Sectumsempra.
Snape, at least, would keep it quiet.
So after a moment, Chang nodded and admitted, "Yes, Professor."
"I found a copy of Advanced Potion-Making."
"It was signed by someone calling themselves the 'Mixed-Blood Prince.'"
"It had spells like Levicorpus, Sectumsempra…"
"And many, many brilliant insights."
He took the chance to flatter, of course.
"The Mixed-Blood Prince was an absolute genius—no, a genius among geniuses."
"I've never seen such a versatile Wizard—an expert in both Charms and Potions."
"I wonder which era he came from. If I had the chance to speak with him, it would be an unparalleled honor."
Snape tried to keep his face straight.
But the satisfaction was obvious.
He struggled to suppress a smile as he nodded. "Yes. Exactly."
"That book is a treasure."
"You have good judgment, recognizing its value."
Then Chang tilted his head. "Professor… how did you know I found that book?"
"Could it be… you are—"
He widened his eyes dramatically. Come on, Professor, it's your cue. Say it—"I am the Mixed-Blood Prince!" Just like you told Harry! Let's stop pretending already.
Snape parted his lips.
"I am—"
But suddenly, he stopped.
A wave of regret hit him.
The Mixed-Blood Prince? What kind of ridiculous name was that?
Why had he chosen such a chuunibyou alias back then?
Prince? Really?
He wanted to dig a hole right then and vanish into it.
His toes curled in embarrassment.
Quickly, he pivoted.
"I am—just like you, someone who read the Mixed-Blood Prince's textbook."
"He left it behind so future generations could benefit from his magical insights."
"I found it back then and stored it in the cabinet."
"As for who the Mixed-Blood Prince really was… I have a guess, but no certainty."
He lowered his voice.
"A wizard with such extraordinary talent in Charms and Potions must have lived not long ago."
"He clearly had a noble heart, wanting to pass on his knowledge."
"But his taste in names… was appalling."
"That's why I have a suspicion."
"Don't tell anyone—but I suspect… Dumbledore is the Mixed-Blood Prince."
Chang stared.
Huh?
What?
Snape, that's not how the story goes!
"Are you sure, Professor?"
Snape frowned seriously. "Think about it."
"His office password."
"No sane person would use something like cockroach cluster as a password."
"If someone can pick that, naming himself the Mixed-Blood Prince is nothing!"
Chang's mouth twitched.
"But… Dumbledore doesn't seem like a mixed-blood."
Snape waved that off. "Stage names. Pseudonyms."
"In any case, I believe Dumbledore is the Mixed-Blood Prince."
Chang nodded slowly.
Sure, Professor.
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Snape, at last, seemed fully satisfied.
"Alright."
"Since we've both benefited from the Mixed-Blood Prince's notes, I'll set aside two extra hours a week to personally guide you in that material."
"The Quidditch match is about to begin. You should go."
Chang left Snape's office with a grin tugging at his lips.
That was close.
Good thing he stepped out—Snape probably wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face any longer.
Coincidentally, Snape had the exact same thought.
The name "Mixed-Blood Prince"... Ugh. The shame.
Still, Chang now had a new opportunity.
He could openly ask Snape about the spells and ideas in that book.
Just the thought filled him with anticipation.
The Piranha Algae will mature in a month.
When it does, my Water Enhancement and cutting-type Charms will both improve—maybe by one or two levels.
Later, during Christmas, the margaret herb that enhances magical intensity will also be ready.
Then, I'll finally be able to cast Sectumsempra.
If I can raise it to the Silver—or even Gold—level with Snape's guidance…
Combined with my upgraded enchantments—
Just imagining it made Chang's heart pound with excitement.
If the Two-Faced Man ever truly targeted him, one perfectly cast Sectumsempra might just turn the tables.
He took a deep breath and forced his heart to settle.
Stay calm.
None of that had been achieved yet.
He needed to remain patient—and low-key.
Today, he would keep planting trees as usual.
But first—
"Let's go watch the Quidditch match."
"Now that Snape's wound has healed, I wonder if it'll make a difference."
With that, Chang stepped forward and made his way toward the Quidditch pitch.
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