Chapter 329

In the corridor.

Harry continued to mechanically recount Professor Snape’s misdeeds, but Xiang Xiang Xien could sense that he was beginning to reflect.

Harry began to wonder: if Professor Snape was not fundamentally the same as the Death Eaters, and had even helped him fight the possessed Professor Quirrell, then why did he harbor such hatred toward him?

And when he recalled something, his mood sank deeply.

“Voldemort transferred a part of himself into me,”

Harry murmured dazedly,

“Xiang Xiang Xien, I am similar to Voldemort.”

Xiang Xiang Xien, standing beside him, fell into thought—he could see that Harry still doubted himself because of Voldemort’s influence.

“Oh, Harry, you made Voldemort disappear, yet now you doubt you’re like him? That’s rather absurd.”

Jia Jia Siting stepped out from the corner; he looked as if he had just returned from the kitchen and had run into Xiang Xiang Xien and Harry.

These words lit up Harry’s eyes.

His excessive worries had drowned his reason—he had forgotten this entirely!

Xiang Xiang Xien glanced at Jia Jia Siting, who was still smiling as he comforted Harry.

Both Xiang Xiang Xien and Jia Jia Siting understood Harry’s fear: no one would ever wish to resemble the killer of their own family.

And so the corridor was empty once more.

In Ravenclaw dormitory, a black cat had appeared.

During the slow recovery of his magical power, the Animagus form always helped Xiang Xiang Xien refine his soul transformation.

【You practiced soul transformation once at the standard of a beginner in the Master realm. Master-level proficiency +3】

The system alert chimed with curfew—the night slipped away.

The next day.

Everyone felt Professor Snape’s anger.

If he had once been strict to the point of harshness, now he was a pure machine of rules.

Even reducing the stirring motion of the cauldron by a fraction could earn you five points deducted.

Even Jia Jia Siting left Potions class in a daze; two back-to-back lessons cost Hufflepuff forty points, and Ravenclaw lost many as well.

It was a downright shocking disaster for House points.

Fortunately, something else captured everyone’s attention that evening.

Otherwise, everyone would have gathered at the Great Hall’s entrance, staring at the hourglass, wondering if someone had thrown a dungbomb into Professor Snape’s office.

“Professor Snape—I must say—he might be going mad.”

In the Great Hall, Jia Jia Siting carefully chose his words, finally uttering the most fitting description.

“We need to keep our distance, especially you.”

Hermione looked at Harry, Ron, and Neville.

They had all been major point-deductees; now the thought was unbearable.

Above them, owls delivered letters,

Xiang Xiang Xien sipped pumpkin juice and glanced at Professor Snape at the head table, his face grim, smiling coldly as he spoke to Dumbledore.

This time, he seemed to hold the upper hand.

And by nightfall,

the Great Hall buzzed again.

Xiang Xiang Xien had been practicing spells in the Hut of Sighs, but after growing weary, he followed the excited Jia Jia Siting and others to the Great Hall.

The long tables vanished as before, replaced by a golden stage pressed against the stone walls. Thousands of floating flames hovered above, illuminating the space as bright as day. The ceiling once again turned into an endless, ink-black void.

Nearly the entire school flooded in; shadows surged, every face tense with anticipation, wands gripped tightly, whispers buzzing everywhere.

“Did you see? Who’s teaching us dueling? Who is it?”

Too many upperclassmen blocked the front; Hermione could see nothing, so she asked nervously yet eagerly,

“Is it Professor Flitwick?”

“Hermione, if you can’t see, you can’t expect us to grow taller in an instant,”

Ron stretched his neck as far as he could, but saw nothing either.

“As long as it’s not—”

Harry’s sentence broke into a groan as Gilderoy Lockhart stepped onto the stage, clad in a purple-and-red robe, dazzlingly radiant; beside him stood none other than Snape, dressed in his usual black robes.

Lockhart waved for silence, then shouted loudly:

“Come closer, come closer! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Excellent!

Professor Dumbledore has permitted me to establish this little Dueling Club, to thoroughly train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves—using the very methods I’ve employed countless times. For full details, consult my published works.”

His appearance was utterly unexpected; Xiang Xiang Xien saw Hermione’s face, moments ago glowing with excitement, darken instantly.

Harry turned and walked away, and Ron followed.

But unfortunately, class had already begun; Percy stood at the rear, blocking them.

“Class is in session. Go back.”

Percy said.

Xiang Xiang Xien then watched Harry and Ron return, heads hung low.

At that moment, Lockhart shouted loudly:

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,”

he said, grinning broadly,

“He told me he has some knowledge of dueling himself, and generously agreed to assist me with a small demonstration before class.

I told him—I didn’t want you lot to worry—after I demonstrate with him, I’ll return your Potions teacher to you, perfectly intact. No need to fear!”

Professor Snape’s already grim expression turned murderous; Lockhart noticed and suddenly stammered, then quickly shifted his gaze:

“But before our demonstration, perhaps two volunteers could come up to show everyone what a botched duel looks like. Anyone willing?”

He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted with cold fury, and immediately looked away.

“Volunteers, please—Longbottom and Fawcett, how about you two?”

“That’s a terrible idea, Professor Lockhart,”

Snape suddenly said, gliding across the stage like a venomous bat,

“Longbottom can cause destruction even with the simplest spell. We’d have to pack Fawcett’s remains into a matchbox and send him to St. Mungo’s.”

Neville’s round, pink face flushed crimson; Jia Jia Siting and Hermione comforted him:

“He’s lying, Neville. Remember—you ranked seventh.”

Neville’s expression improved somewhat.

“Xiang Xiang Xien Green, come up,”

Snape fixed his gaze on Xiang Xiang Xien, his eyes devoid of emotion, only a deep, quiet intensity,

since yesterday, he had realized he had once again lost understanding of a certain young wizard.

Now he knew it was not his fault—some wizards were destined not to grow slowly like ordinary fools,

“And Marcus Flint, you’ll be his… opponent.”