Chapter 319

"So conversely, the fact that a Muggle-born could grow so outstanding without any resources only proves her extraordinary talent," Neville said. "That's why Slughorn will favor Muggle-born geniuses."

"That makes perfect sense," Harry shrugged.

"Your reputation precedes you—Slughorn will spare no effort to recruit you, so you're already a beneficiary," Neville said, shaking his head. "But for ordinary students, this professor is no good."

"He's definitely standing up for Hannah," Ron muttered.

Putting Slughorn out of his mind, Harry pulled out his homework notebook. He noticed Ron still seemed distracted, but soon, pressured by his studies, Ron too took out his work and began half-heartedly scribbling and erasing.

The next morning at breakfast, they saw Hermione again, still with Elina, both smiling. And just as had happened on Monday when they read the notice board, Hermione greeted them warmly, while Elina merely waved.

"I bet those two are up to something weird," Ron grumbled.

"Yeah, I think it's because of Charms class," Harry said, not paying attention—he was afraid of Hermione, just as he was afraid of the Focusing Rainbow.

"Hermione might be fine, but Elina's off," Ron repeated.

"Who knows? I don't understand girls' minds. Zhang Qiu might. Wait until evening study," Harry said, suddenly annoyed, "Damn it, I have Potions tutoring with Snape today!"

"Why?" Ron asked, surprised, but he quickly read from Harry's expression that "Potions tutoring" hid something else, so he didn't press further in public.

At noon, unable to bear Ron's morning of overthinking, Harry waited for Zhang Qiu in the entrance hall, where she was happily chatting with Marietta about some girl-only topic.

"Oh, Harry, you look troubled?" she said, surprised.

"To be precise, it's Ron who's troubled," Harry stepped aside so Zhang Qiu could see the even more troubled Ron. "It's about… feelings."

"Emotional counseling?" Marietta eagerly leaned in, clearly wanting to listen too.

"Let's find somewhere else to talk," Zhang Qiu glanced at her friend. "Not here in the entrance hall."

Both silently understood that Donald's name must not be mentioned in this conversation.

They found a spot on the lawn to sit. Marietta, rarely around Harry, looked nervous too.

"I mean, I think Hermione and Elina are acting weird," Ron repeated his concern. "I used to get along fine with Elina, but since she came here, I feel she's been rapidly assimilated by Hermione."

"Maybe she's just like that all along?" Marietta spoke up before Zhang Qiu could reply. "Crumbl told me Elina is incredibly hardworking—she just pretends to be lazy and playful, but secretly studies relentlessly."

"Crumbl might be wrong—he's not exactly sharp," Zhang Qiu shook her head. "Besides, do people like that even exist? More likely, people like me: pretending to study hard while actually having zero interest in academics."

"Different circumstances," Marietta shook her head. "We simply can't understand them. For those people, there's no escape—learning is their only way out."

Ron looked confused.

"If Marietta's right," Harry felt he was beginning to understand, "then at least for you, it's good news—you don't need to keep worrying about nonsense. Just know they're working hard."

"Valentine's Day is coming. You should ask her out," Zhang Qiu suddenly said.

Ron's confused expression didn't fade.

"Maybe he doesn't even know who to ask," Harry laughed and patted his shoulder. "Come on, mate, Charms class is this afternoon—you can relax a bit."

As they walked away, Zhang Qiu shrugged and silently pulled Marietta back.

"But at least Harry knows who he should ask!" Marietta fumed.

"Never mind. He's got enough on his mind," Zhang Qiu gave a faintly weary smile.

Sending out a Valentine's invitation a month early meant the person cared about nothing but Valentine's Day. In truth, Harry had far more to worry about—he didn't know what agreement Snape had made with the Ministry, nor what Snape's own plan was. He only knew he had to attend Snape's lessons in Occlumency today and tomorrow, might visit the Ministry for an internship on Friday, and had to observe the Order and Death Eater meeting on Saturday and Sunday to ensure talks began but didn't actually succeed—yes, he had plenty on his mind, so even going to Torchwood felt like a relief.

After dinner, Harry arrived at the Potions classroom as agreed. Snape set up a cauldron with theatrical flair, then said, "Close the door, Potter."

Harry did so. Snape continued, "If anyone asks, say you're studying the Living Hell potion today."

"Yes, sir."

"I hope your talent for Occlumency… is as good as your talent for Potions," he murmured. "Your Potions skill may have been inherited from your mother, but your father could never learn Occlumency—he was abysmal at it."

Harry, unfamiliar with the details of his parents' past, didn't recognize the sarcasm and worried instead whether he truly lacked talent for Occlumency.

"Occlumency is a technique to shield the mind from magical intrusion and influence. Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore were masters of Legilimency. It was precisely through this skill that I… survived."

"Legilimency can read feelings and thoughts—and if you offer no resistance, it can even show your memories," Snape explained calmly. "To resist it, there are two methods: you can empty your mind of all emotion and thought, leaving it blank—then others will see nothing."

"But then they'll know you're resisting them," Harry mused.

"Very astute, Potter," Snape narrowed his eyes. "When facing someone like the Dark Lord, mere blankness won't suffice—you must weave a false memory. But for current Death Eaters, you only need to show them blankness. I'm certain that's far simpler."

"Understood, Professor," Harry nodded, already attempting to clear his mind.

"You seem somewhat prepared. Then… one, two, three… Legilimens!"

Harry's thoughts began to slip uncontrollably. He had imagined himself staring at a vast white mist, but figures soon emerged: the exploded TARDIS and the Doctors… Dumbledore and Voldemort… the warm Chrono-Square in his hand… young Barty Crouch, neck stiff, saying, "I don't want to go…"

Then he saw Zhang Qiu's Yang Shen—wearing the pale yellow qipao with black floral patterns, half-covering her face with a folding fan—when she lifted the fan, torrents of golden energy surged into her body, the energy of time converging and roaring around her…

"No—!"

Snape collapsed to his knees, gripping the table's edge with his left hand, his right hand clutching his head, wand still clutched, face twisted in agony.

"What… was… that," he gritted his teeth. "That… is not within the realm of magic—"

Harry was equally bewildered. He hadn't realized Zhang Qiu's Yang Shen could unsettle strangers. But then again, that spell entangled all time and fate throughout history—gazing upon Zhang Qiu within the Zhengyi Jiangsheng Weimeng Lu was tantamount to gazing upon Death itself.

"Professor, are you all right?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"You don't seem to need much teaching," Snape rubbed his still-throbbing temple. "But this only prevents others from reading your memories—it won't help you pretend to be Holf."

"Uh, yes. Sorry, Professor," Harry sheepishly scratched his head.

"That's enough for today. Go back and fabricate some memories for Holf. Next time, we'll begin the next stage," Snape waved him off—he still looked shaken.

When Harry left the Potions classroom, it was still before seven. He hesitated briefly, then chose to return directly to his dormitory.

Sure enough, Ron sat at the dorm desk, scratching his head as he struggled with his Charms homework. Harry glanced at him, then sat down and pulled out his own work.

"How was it with the old bat?" Ron asked.

"Fine. He made a fool of himself," Harry shrugged. Seeing Snape go from arrogant, aloof posture to total collapse—even though he shouldn't laugh—he couldn't help smiling.

"Hahahaha! I knew it! He thought he still had something to teach you, but he's got nothing left!" Ron burst out laughing.

"Not quite," Harry said seriously. "What he proposed still has merit—he's just overconfident in his own abilities. Let him be. I'll be me. I really need to practice that technique."

"So what exactly is that technique?"

"It's," Harry recalled the definition of Occlumency, "the magic that lets you lie to anyone without changing expression."

"Then how is Snape qualified to teach you?" Ron exclaimed. "Humphrey would be more suitable."