Chapter 492: You Are Not Worthy of Mentioning Him!!
After receiving Darren's affirmative answer, Hermione happily tossed the magazine onto an empty chair beside her.
"It's all rubbish anyway. What I really don't understand is—how did she know what we said?"
"Logically speaking, only a few of us heard that conversation, and none of us spread it!"
On the day the second task ended, Fleur had indeed invited Darren to visit her home as a guest.
Darren had refused.
But it wasn't because of Hermione.
He simply felt that it was too soon; their relationship hadn't reached that stage yet. Besides, Mr. Delacour might not even agree—Fleur would still need to discuss it with her family.
Yet Rita Skeeter had twisted it into something else entirely.
So when Hermione voiced her doubts, Darren shared what he knew.
"Could it be an Animagus?" he said. "Like Sirius. At first, I actually thought it was a dog…"
Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Darren, you're always so smart!"
"But what is her Animagus form?" Harry asked quietly, turning his head.
Darren shook his head.
He really didn't know Rita Skeeter's Animagus form at this point. Some things were unavoidable—he wasn't omniscient, nor could he just conjure answers out of thin air.
When he didn't know, he simply didn't know.
Otherwise, if he contradicted future revelations, people might start saying he had suddenly become stupid.
"This is too much!"
Harry picked up the magazine Hermione had thrown aside. He secretly opened it and read a few lines, then slammed the small hammer used for potion-making onto the table.
"Oh? What's too much?" Snape's cold voice rang out.
"Harry Potter talking in class, disturbing the peace—Gryffindor loses ten points!"
Harry glared angrily, but there was nothing he could do.
He had spoken.
But the Slytherins were talking too—why was Snape only staring at him?
Snape ignored Harry's anger and snatched the magazine from his hand.
"Very good. Reading magazines in class as well. Gryffindor loses another ten points."
Snape lowered his eyes to the cover.
Harry's heart leapt.
Because—
"Ha. The Romantic History of Harry Potter."
Snape read Rita Skeeter's headline with obvious interest, then slowly recited a passage aloud:
> "According to the author's observations, Harry Potter—a boy who has suffered heartbreak and relentless teasing—must possess a fragile heart.
I hope more people, like this author, will take good care of and cherish this boy."
The Slytherin students burst into laughter.
Snape calmly folded the magazine amid the laughter.
"I think I'll keep this," he said pleasantly. "It's worth preserving."
Harry felt his nose practically twist with anger.
But Snape wasn't finished.
"I don't think you're seated in a position conducive to proper learning," he continued coolly.
"Miss Hermione Granger, stay where you are.
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, sit together.
As for Mr. Harry Potter—you will sit right here, in front of my podium."
That seat—the infamous position directly beside the teacher.
Darren had rarely seen anyone placed there in the wizarding world. This was the first time he had ever seen Harry dragged to it.
Harry was clearly furious.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the podium.
Darren looked at Snape pleadingly.
Snape glanced at him briefly, snorted, and turned away.
Harry hadn't expected Snape to let him off anyway.
He knew Snape was deliberately targeting him—trying to provoke him into anger and then deduct even more points.
That was clearly Snape's intention.
Standing beside Harry's cauldron, Snape leaned closer and whispered,
"You see? What a wonderful position. I think you must enjoy it."
"After all, you've liked being noticed since childhood. You enjoy people staring at you like this, don't you?"
Harry clenched his teeth.
He pretended not to hear.
He knew that explaining himself now was pointless.
But Snape still wouldn't stop.
"No matter what others think of you, I hate you all the same. In my classroom, you will always be a reckless, undisciplined boy."
Harry chopped the head off a beetle with unnecessary force.
Snape paid no attention.
He narrowed his eyes and continued coldly,
"Let me make this clear. No matter how famous you are—if I ever discover that you've broken into my office again and stolen my potion ingredients, I will—"
"I didn't!" Harry snapped.
He could accept almost any accusation.
But this—this he absolutely would not.
He had not stolen anything this time.
Even the gillyweed had been brought to him by Darren from Moody. It had nothing to do with Snape.
"I've never been near your office!"
He spoke angrily, forgetting his earlier resolve to endure silently.
"Never?" Snape sneered.
"My African tree snake skin—my personal property. I know exactly who stole it."
"It wasn't me!"
The argument escalated.
Harry glared at Snape—but his eyes instinctively avoided Snape's gaze.
There were too many secrets in his heart, things he never wanted Snape to see.
He always felt that Snape could read thoughts through eye contact.
So even though he was innocent, he still refused to meet Snape's eyes.
"You weren't in Hogsmeade that day. You weren't in the dormitory. You weren't in the library," Snape said coldly.
"And Mad-Eye Moody—he's probably joined your little fan club. He even helped you."
"I'm telling you now: I won't give you another chance. Break into my office again, and I'll make you regret it."
Snape let out a chilling laugh.
Harry clenched his fists.
"I didn't!"
"No?"
Snape pulled a small vial from his robes, filled with a clear, transparent liquid.
"Do you know what this is?"
Harry did.
It was Veritaserum—the same potion Snape had brought during Darren's trial.
"That's right," Snape said softly.
"One drop of this, and you'll spill every secret in your heart—your vanity, your hidden thoughts, everything you've buried."
"And of course, we can also find out whether you've ever been to my office to steal anything."
He leaned closer.
"Then, Potter, you'll be treated the same way as your brother."
"You are not worthy of mentioning him!"
Harry suddenly looked up, fury blazing in his eyes.
"You're not worthy of mentioning him. You're just like those people—
you're not worthy of mentioning him at all!"