Chapter 150

Malfoy had never felt snow so cold that it made him shiver uncontrollably.

The figure hidden beneath the black robe resembled storm-laden clouds, motionless yet unmistakably heralding a coming tempest.

Malfoy could not fathom what had happened—he had deliberately avoided that Green, even gone out of his way to do so.

This was something utterly unimaginable before entering Hogwarts, and now he deeply regretted not choosing Durmstrang.

He felt his legs trembling violently; when he glanced sideways, Goyle and Crabbe were nearly unconscious.

This made him even more terrified.

In this dire situation, Professor Snape spoke:

“Ha— orphan…”

Professor Snape’s voice sounded like a cry from hell.

…

As Harry and Ron left the Quidditch pitch, Wizard Sean, Jia Jia Siting, and Neville were just nearby.

The greenhouses and the Quidditch pitch were not far apart, both located behind the castle.

So when Harry and Ron looked over, they could barely make out a few figures trudging through the snow.

“Is that… Wizard Sean?”

Harry, wrapped in a scarf, spoke in clouds of white mist.

“…Anyway, Snape is certainly a… well, it’s Wizard Sean, Jia Jia Siting, and Neville—oh, if Hermione weren’t reading ten books, she’d be helping in the greenhouse too…”

Ron replied, still listing Snape’s cruel behaviors alongside Harry.

“Then… us?”

Harry hadn’t expected such a group activity—no one had told him.

“Harry… you didn’t know? Oh! Of course you didn’t! You’ve been on the Quidditch pitch the whole time.”

The wind was too loud, so Ron had to shout.

“The greenhouse is short…”

Harry’s voice was swallowed by the snowstorm.

“Of course it’s short! Neville always comes back looking like he’s dead!”

The two exchanged a glance, as if they had reached the same thought.

The snow fell heavier; many plants in the greenhouse needed care.

For example, the Dungwort vine—its pods must be squeezed regularly in winter.

More importantly, before squeezing, the pods must be heated over flame until they turn bright red; otherwise, if squeezed while cold, the sharp, wriggling black seeds inside will explode.

Removing pods from the violent, whip-wielding Dungwort vines is no easy task, but fortunately, Bruce and his two classmates handled this task in Greenhouse Three.

Still, Wizard Sean and the others often heard their screams—or rather, Bruce screaming while Leon laughed.

At the front of the dome building, Jia Jia Siting was about to push open the door, while behind him, Neville shyly shared plant-handling tips with Wizard Sean.

Snowflakes dusted Wizard Sean’s face; he nodded slightly as his Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled notes, making Neville both delighted and even more bashful.

“Wizard Sean!”

“Wizard Sean!”

As the greenhouse door opened, two shouts came from afar.

It was Harry and Ron, running toward them; Professor Sprout, who had just pushed open the door of Greenhouse Three, smiled broadly.

How wonderful, how truly wonderful…

“Congratulations on discovering the secret task of the Hope Hut—Greenhouse One welcomes you; gloves are on the shelf, don’t forget to take them.”

Jia Jia Siting smiled gently.

“Oh!”

Ron panted, and Jia Jia Siting’s single sentence thrilled him.

“You can’t imagine how we just escaped from Snape’s claws…”

As Ron pulled on his gloves, too excited to find words, he unconsciously returned to the topic he and Harry had just discussed.

“He deducts points from Gryffindor for the tiniest mistake—and Neville, he treats Neville like a punching bag! Today, he was in an awful mood—ha! Even Malfoy didn’t escape it…”

Hearing Ron mention Professor Snape, Neville turned pale and trembled slightly.

“He must hate me. He doesn’t realize—aside from those sycophantic Slytherins, no one truly… likes him.”

Harry’s jaw tightened.

Jia Jia Siting frowned; from his observations, Professor Snape was indeed cruel, but his teaching ability was unquestionable.

Still, thinking of Snape’s behavior, he said nothing.

What they didn’t know was that far away, a wide black robe stood in the snow, bearing some inexplicable purpose.

His black eyes watched them, glancing coldly over Harry and Ron before settling on those green eyes.

“He’s just not a good person! He’s alone because no one can stand him!”

Ron muttered.

Harry nodded in agreement; the group entered the greenhouse one by one, and Harry suddenly wanted to say something more.

Then he heard a faint, almost imperceptible voice.

“Harry, even if this world has no place for Professor Snape, on what grounds do we judge his soul?”

Wizard Sean met Harry’s gaze, sighed softly, and stepped into the greenhouse.

Harry stood frozen, stunned—he had rarely seen such a complex look, filled with too much unspeakable weight.

Harry suddenly remembered what Hermione had told him—Snape was not the one trying to kill him.

A shiver ran through him, starting at his pores—who… then?

The wide black robe was gone from the snow; only the spot where he had stared remained, and in the cold winter, two green eyes still lingered there.

They were so alike.

“Alright, young gentlemen! Looks like we’ll finish early today!”

Professor Sprout was as warm as ever, checking all five students’ gloves to ensure they wouldn’t be injured.

Just as everyone grew excited and prepared to act, a loud crash echoed from Greenhouse Three, accompanied by panicked screams:

“Merlin’s beard—the Canary Cookie really turned into a canary!”

Professor Sprout’s face paled; she rushed out in haste.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances, while Wizard Sean and the others were already pressed against the door of Greenhouse Three.

Inside Greenhouse Three, vines whipped wildly; Bruce, pale-faced, clutched a canary and dodged frantically; when escape became impossible, he hurled the bird and shouted:

“Pist, remember I saved your life!”

Then he was knocked unconscious by the Dungwort vines.

Professor Sprout, ashen-faced, carried away the “sleeping” Bruce.

At that moment, the canary suddenly transformed into Pist, his face flushed with rage.

“What… happened?”

Jia Jia Siting asked. Wizard Sean noticed the cookie crumbs in Pist’s hand and understood.

“That idiot! While Leon and I were controlling the Dungwort, he fed Pist some bizarre cookie—ha—!”

Leon was furious—he rarely cursed Bruce in front of Wizard Sean.