Chapter 34 — Snape's Surprise
"Professor Snape," Russell said earnestly, "I just wanted to help you carry these potions back to your office."
For a moment, the perpetual shadow on Snape's face softened.
"Fythorne," he said slowly, "I must admit—you're not quite as hopeless as the rest of them. At least you understand the basic concept of respect."
He didn't agree, nor did he refuse. He simply turned and strode toward the door, his black robes billowing faintly behind him.
---
"What are you waiting for?" Snape's sharp voice cut through the air when he noticed Russell still standing there. His brow furrowed.
"Coming, sir!" Russell quickly drew his wand and flicked it toward the crate of potion bottles.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The heavy box rose gracefully into the air, hovering beside him as if weightless.
Snape's eyes flickered with faint surprise.
It wasn't the spell itself that astonished him—first-year students were expected to learn levitation soon enough—but the control. The box floated perfectly steady, not a single wobble or tremor, moving smoothly beside the boy as though tethered by invisible strings.
In all his years teaching, Snape had never seen a first-year—especially one from a Muggle family—handle the charm with such precision.
He remembered now: Fythorne was Muggle-born. The thought stirred something faint in Snape's mind—a spark of curiosity he quickly masked behind indifference. We'll see, he thought. Let's see if his potion-making talent lives up to that control.
---
Cedric was loitering in the corridor, yawning, slouched against the wall. As Russell's usual lunch companion, he was waiting for him so they could head to the Great Hall together.
But when he saw Snape and Russell walking out of the Potions classroom—side by side, no less—his jaw dropped.
It was like seeing a Niffler wearing a prefect badge.
He blinked rapidly, certain his eyes were deceiving him. Russell… and Snape? Together? Heading toward the dungeons?
His curiosity burned like wildfire. He wanted to ask—wanted desperately to know since when the two were on such friendly terms—but under Snape's terrifying presence, Cedric didn't dare move a muscle. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching the two figures disappear around the corner, fidgeting like a cat locked out in the rain.
---
Inside the office, Snape motioned curtly with his chin.
"You may go."
But Russell didn't leave.
Instead, he reached into his robe pocket, took out a slim booklet, and placed it carefully on Snape's desk.
The professor's eyes narrowed.
"Fythorne," he said in a tone suddenly colder than the dungeon air, "I thought you had some sense—but it appears you're as foolish as the rest. You do realize," he sneered, "attempting to bribe a professor is grounds for immediate expulsion?"
Russell waved his hands quickly. "No, no, Professor, you misunderstand!" He pointed to the small book. "It's not a bribe. It's a Muggle book."
Snape raised an eyebrow, his irritation giving way to faint curiosity despite himself. "A Muggle book? This is Hogwarts, not one of your… Muggle schools."
Still, his eyes flicked downward.
"Laboratory Safety Guidelines for Chemistry?" he read aloud, his tone unreadable.
"Exactly," Russell said. "With all due respect, sir, I believe the reason so many accidents happen in Potions class is because students don't know how to safely handle their tools—or they underestimate the dangers involved.
Muggles, on the other hand, have developed a very systematic approach to laboratory safety. In this respect…"—he smiled faintly—"they might actually have something to teach us."
For the first time, Snape didn't immediately respond.
His expression remained as unreadable as the surface of a potion's cauldron—dark, silent, and faintly reflective.
"Of course, Professor," he said earnestly, "none of this is an issue for a Potions Master like yourself. But not everyone has even a tenth of your talent. If accidents in class could be reduced, it would certainly save you a great deal of trouble—don't you think?"
Snape's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.
"You do think things through, don't you?" he said flatly. Though his tone had softened, the faint thread of sarcasm running through it was unmistakable.
Russell didn't mind. In fact, if Snape ever stopped being sarcastic, that would be cause for concern — it would mean something was seriously wrong.
"Well then," Snape said finally, waving a hand dismissively, "perhaps I'll look it over when I find the time. You may go now."
"Yes, Professor. Goodbye."
Russell politely closed the door behind him as he left.
---
Snape remained seated, his gaze lingering on the booklet lying on his desk.
What the boy had said wasn't without merit. Accidents during Potions lessons were alarmingly common — and every time, Madam Pomfrey stormed into the staff room to complain.
She had long argued that first-year students were too young to take such a dangerous subject. "Teach them basic magical medicine first," she'd insisted. "Potions can wait until second or even third year."
Her proposal to replace Potions with Medical Studies had been denied year after year — but it wasn't without reason.
Snape sighed quietly, his black eyes glinting as he finally reached out and picked up the slim, unassuming book titled "Laboratory Safety Guidelines for Chemistry."
---
Outside, Cedric was practically vibrating with impatience.
The moment Russell emerged from the dungeon corridor, Cedric grabbed him by the neck like an overeager older brother.
"Merlin's moldy socks, Russell — since when did you start cozying up to Professor Snape?"
He'd been waiting outside forever, half-tempted to knock just to make sure his friend hadn't been turned into a toad.
Russell brushed him off with an exasperated sigh. "Cozying up? Please. You make it sound like we were cutting some sort of shady deal. I just gave him… a suggestion, that's all."
Cedric froze. "You… what? You gave Snape a suggestion?"
His expression was priceless — a mix of disbelief and horror, like someone had just announced they'd volunteered to hug a Hungarian Horntail.
"Merlin's beard, you've lost your mind."
Russell only grinned. "What's so crazy about that? I think he might actually take it seriously."
Cedric blinked. "That's… that's the craziest part! I can't even imagine Snape listening to anyone's advice — let alone a first-year."
He shook his head again and again, trying to reject the absurdity of it. But deep down, something told him Russell wasn't lying.
Maybe, Cedric thought uneasily, Snape just sees something different in him.
---
After lunch, when Cedric was about to head back to his dorm for a nap, Russell stopped him.
"Hey, Cedric — mind if I tag along and take a look at the Hufflepuff common room?"
Cedric hesitated, his usual friendliness faltering. "Sorry, Russell. No can do. The Hufflepuff common room's been sealed to outsiders for over a thousand years. Not even Dumbledore's portraits have been in there."
Russell blinked, then chuckled. "Fair enough. I forgot how territorial you badgers can be."
Indeed, Hufflepuffs were famously gentle and kind — unless someone tried to cross into their den. Then, they turned into something far more feral.
Shrugging it off, Russell trudged up the long spiral staircases toward the Ravenclaw tower, grumbling to himself. He had wanted to visit Cedric's dorm mostly because his own was too far up and too tiring to reach.
When he finally pushed open the door to his room, he paused.
Fawley — his troublesome roommate — was back.
But something about him was… different.
He sat silently on the edge of his bed, eyes unfocused, staring out the window. The usual arrogance and chatter were gone, replaced by an eerie stillness.
Russell frowned slightly. Maybe he's still shaken from the accident, he thought. Trauma, probably.
Whatever it was, it meant peace and quiet for now — so he wasn't complaining. He gave Fawley one last glance, then flopped onto his bed and quickly drifted off to sleep.
James and Rosen were already snoring softly in their own beds.
The dorm fell into silence.
But as the room grew darker, Fawley's eyes slowly refocused.
The dull emptiness vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating glint.
He turned his head slightly, studying his three sleeping roommates — and the corner of his lips curved upward in a faint, disdainful smirk.