Sirius broke into the castle.
The waves stirred by this incident weren't actually as big as imagined. After all, most people didn't experience it, so they didn't really feel it.
Most young wizards outside of Gryffindor not only didn't see the scars on the Fat Lady portrait, they also didn't hear Peeves' testimony—
And with this group of young wizards' ability to spread rumors...
They didn't even wait until the next day. That very night, the Great Hall already had rumors that "Snape night-attacked the Gryffindor common room, and the Fat Lady brilliantly escaped the portrait."
As for why it was Snape?
That's not the point.
Even if Snape was sitting right in the Great Hall at the time?
That's not the point either.
After all, the group in control of the first-hand information was Gryffindor. If they didn't give Snape some trouble, they wouldn't feel right. As a result, the pressure around Snape dropped noticeably, and who suffered because of this?
...Harry suffered.
"Cough, cough..."
Swallowing a mouthful of potion that was several times nastier than before, Harry struggled to suppress the feeling of gagging. But just a glance at Snape standing behind the lectern looking at him, those dark eyes forced Harry to hold back his urge to vomit, and the pain on his face vanished instantly.
"Alright."
Harry himself didn't even know how much effort it took to say those words with a blank face.
"...Return to your seat."
The silence from Snape was interminably long, so long that Harry felt as if a year had passed before the man with the sinister look finally sneered. In the gaze Harry anticipated, Snape lifted his noble chin slightly, his black greasy long hair that seemed like it hadn't been washed for a week hung down his cheeks, and Harry couldn't hold back...
"Ugh—"
The potion was far less disgusting than Snape's face, at least to him.
Harry finally confirmed this.
...
"...Harry, are you sure he's not giving you that stuff to kill you?"
Watching the whole thing unfold, Ron's eye twitched a bit, his hand shaking as he held a small knife—he'd been so focused on cutting daisy roots that he didn't even notice when Harry went up to the podium. When he looked up again, he saw Harry gulping down that cup... cement?
"I'm not sure."
Harry tugged at the corner of his mouth; he truly didn't feel like bantering with Ron at the moment. The roiling sensation in his stomach made him somewhat wish for death.
The boy had repeatedly sought confirmation from William before, asking if the potion Snape brewed for him was really effective, or if it was truly not meant to kill him.
William's answer was simple: firstly, it definitely worked; secondly, trusting Snape in this matter had Dumbledore's endorsement.
So...
Harry easily arrived at a conclusion: Dumbledore the "old scoundrel" is trying to harm me! (crossed out)
Okay, in truth, Harry was still quite willing to trust Dumbledore. Although it didn't stop him from being disgusted by Snape, since William had explicitly stated that the potion was indeed effective, Harry had to begrudgingly accept it. After all, what William said about the consequences had scared him—
For example, being completely possessed by Voldemort.
This was something Harry couldn't accept. How could he possibly watch as his father's murderer continued to live using his body?!
Therefore, no matter how hard the potion was to swallow or how suspicious Snape's behavior was, Harry could only accept it reluctantly, and secretly plan in his mind that if Snape did this again next time, he had to avoid looking at his face to avoid being embarrassed in front of everyone—
Yes, Snape had actually produced the potion between two Potions Classes, and in front of all the third-year Slytherin and Gryffindor students, forced Harry to drink it. So, when he threw up on Snape's leg, it was in full view of everyone, although Snape quickly cleaned it up with a "Tergeo"—
But Snape's face inevitably turned somewhat sour, causing all the little Gryffindors to shiver in fear.
However, this didn't affect the Slytherin lot—
"Professor, what kind of potion was Mr. Potter drinking?" Malfoy's voice was innocent yet filled with malice.
And with this kind of "pillow delivery when drowsy" behavior, Snape naturally agreed with all his hands and feet, and even a slight smile appeared on his otherwise gloomy face. "Of course it was for..." Snape paused, seeing that his words had piqued everyone's curiosity before finally continuing, "treating certain 'unspeakable' troubles."
Snape's grin, with yellowing teeth and a sickly smile, made the young wizards shiver a bit.
But Malfoy wasn't afraid of these things. Hearing Snape's insinuating words, he naturally finished the latter half of the sentence as if rehearsed beforehand, "Oh? Professor, could it be a Potters' family hereditary disease? My father mentioned those families marrying Mudbloods have such descendants..."
"..."
Snape's face turned black, he twitched the corner of his mouth, but didn't know what to say.
"...Why aren't you reacting at all?"
Seeing Harry seemingly unfazed while continuing to peel the fig skin expressionlessly, Ron, who was angered by Malfoy and Snape's attitude, finally couldn't help but whisper, attracting Hermione and Neville's attention as well.
Harry's reaction was a bit unusual. Could it be... the potion's side effects?
"What reaction should I have?"
But before they could think further, Harry spoke, his tone calm—almost indifferent.