No matter what, Neville ultimately had to accept this reality.
Even if his sadness overflowed like a river, it couldn't stop the inevitable fact that he was about to receive Professor Snape's special lessons.
So he saved all his pain and sorrow for dinner, and devoured several large steaks with determination.
Harry had just finished his dinner when a paper origami crane fluttered in front of him.
It was a letter from Jemma.
"Harry:
There's something I need to discuss with you in person. I'll be waiting in an empty classroom on the second floor.
Sincerely yours,
G.A. Farley"
Harry put the letter away and glanced toward the Slytherin table.
Miss Farley seemed to sense Harry's gaze. As he looked her way, she brushed her jet-black hair to one side, nodded politely to Harry with a courteous smile, then rose and left the table.
"I've got something to do, Ron," Harry said to Ron. "You guys can head back to the dormitory without me."
"Alright," Ron replied, without asking where Harry was going. His eyes were glued to his chicken drumstick.
Tracing the direction in which Jemma left, Harry ascended the steps and arrived on the second floor of the castle.
From the inner lining of his robe, he pulled out his magic wand, hiding it inside his sleeve.
Better safe than sorry—this was a habit Cassandra had drilled into him.
When he reached the empty classroom where he last met Jemma, he used Revelio to make sure she was alone inside. Then he pushed the door open and saw Jemma sitting on a stool, looking worried.
"Harry."
"What's wrong, Jemma?" Harry sat down across from her.
"Harry, something strange has happened in Slytherin College recently," Jemma said quietly. As she spoke, she glanced up, as though to make sure nobody was at the door.
Harry didn't interrupt, just sat facing Jemma, listening intently.
"There's a mysterious notebook in the Slytherin common room," Jemma continued. "It was provided by Draco Malfoy. According to people who have used it, the notebook has a mind of its own—it can help them finish their homework quickly or guide them on where their magic spells are lacking."
"But there's always a little 'price' to pay. I've reported it to Professor Snape before, but he didn't care much. Seems he has something more important to deal with."
Harry understood instantly why Slytherin students were always so sleepy lately.
So that's it—something in there was draining their soul power.
"A notebook?" Harry frowned. "What kind of notebook? Are you sure Draco is the one who brought it?"
He was on guard—could this notebook be… Cassandra's relic?
"Yes, supposedly it's a magical item passed down in their family," Jemma said, frank as always. "Others say there's a beautiful girl inside the notebook who's very skilled with magic spells."
"A girl?" Harry's heart thudded violently.
But he forced himself to stay calm, asking flatly, "Could it be one of the Malfoy family's ancestors?"
"I have no idea," Jemma replied honestly. As for the appearance of the girl inside the notebook, everyone was mysteriously tight-lipped.
"This information is very useful. Thank you, Jemma," Harry said sincerely.
In his heart, he felt a bit of anticipation, but also something... difficult to put into words.
On the one hand, he really wanted the girl to be Cassandra—on the other, he kind of hoped it wasn't her. First, the thing was obviously an artifact of Dark Magic; second, and he wasn't sure why, he really didn't want Cassandra to have any contact with other boys.
A hundred years ago, Cassandra was always like an untouchable flower—other than with him, she never so much as spared any boy a word, or even a glance.
Of course, Cassandra had never really treated Harry nicely either.
"I hope you'll help me, Harry," Jemma said, rubbing her temples. "My gut tells me there's absolutely nothing good about that notebook. I heard that Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, was one of You-Know-Who's right-hand men. Maybe that notebook is one of You-Know-Who's Dark Magic Items. I really don't want him plaguing Slytherin any longer..."
"Then why ask me for help?" Harry asked calmly—he really was curious.
"Because this is Dark Magic, truly evil Dark Magic!" Jemma insisted. "Who else but a Dark Wizard would... would trade in soul power?"
"Besides, I am Slytherin's Class Prefect," Jemma went on. "It's one thing to speak to Professor Snape, but if I report this kind of thing directly to the Headmaster, the Farley Clan would be ostracized by the Pure Blood families in Slytherin."
Harry nodded in agreement—it fit perfectly with Slytherin's style.
"In return, I'm willing to offer you my loyalty, Mr. Potter," Jemma said again.
People from Slytherin are always straightforward—if they want help, they're prepared to offer something in return.
At the same time, Slytherins are self-preserving. Jemma was clearly hoping to use this as a chance to bet on the Savior.
Harry neither accepted nor refused Jemma's offer, simply smiling at her.
"I'll give you as much help as I can, Jemma."
Jemma didn't seem disappointed by Harry's answer—a look of relief appeared on her face.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter."
"No need to be so formal, just call me Harry," Harry stood up. "If that's all, I'll be going."
After bidding farewell to Jemma, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room.
The notebook Jemma mentioned genuinely piqued his interest.
However, he didn't want to tell Dumbledore just yet; he wanted to confirm first whether the notebook really belonged to Cassandra.
This would require careful planning—after all, the matter was in Slytherin's common room, and as a Gryffindor, barging in wouldn't be wise.
Just like that, a light and pleasant week passed. Every noon, Harry fed Pabi on schedule, and every evening he trained dueling skills in the Dueling House with his friends—the days felt quite fulfilling.
The next time it was Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, Harry and his fellow Gryffindors went to the classroom as usual, ready for another round of the greasy old… Professor Snape's toxic 'baptism.'
To his surprise, it wasn't Professor Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this week, but Professor Quirrell, returned to the school at some unknown point.
Professor Quirrell looked even paler than before. Seamus even went up to ask after his health, but Quirrell said his vampire curse had flared up again.
But Harry sensed something was off.
In an instant, he discovered Professor Quirrell's little secret!
He had to admit, Vivi was a genius witch, truly deserving of Professor Figo's "once in a lifetime" praise.
Under her development, Soul-snatching Curse, Crucio—those types of Minor Evil Curses would leave a subtle curse mark on their targets, one that's hard to notice.
And on Professor Quirrell, there just so happened to be a tiny mark from his own hand!
(Third update delivered, please vote!)