A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 598 It’s him!

The summer of 1995 saw less rain than usual.

Harry stood at the edge of the lawn at 3 Privet Drive, gazing at the sky with a worried expression.

The sky was cloudless, a despairingly clear and azure blue.

The drought in southeast England has spread like an invisible net, and it is said that this situation will continue throughout the summer.

Yesterday, officials even issued bans on using hoses to water lawns and gardens and on washing cars.

Harry could almost clearly foresee that if the drought could not be alleviated in the short term, the grass that was barely maintaining its lush greenery at his feet would soon turn yellow and withered under the scorching sun.

This was no small matter for him; it was a matter of life and death.

This means that his biggest source of income this summer—helping Mr. Smith water the flowers and wash the car—is probably not going to be available this summer, and the only income he can still rely on right now is helping Charles with his summer homework.

Fortunately, Charles only stayed in Durmstrang for a short while after returning, and then went abroad again, just like every summer.

The thought of Charles involuntarily brought to mind the sensational event that had occurred in Little Wheeking the day before yesterday.

In the past two years, Charles has been elusive, leading to a growing number of dissenting voices and challengers regarding the title of "who is the number one in Little Huigkin District."

Just the day before yesterday, Charles returned to Privet Road at some point and bumped into Dudley, Portis, and their gang of cronies, who were sneaking around on a street corner smoking.

Without saying a word, Charles went up and gave them a good beating. Afterward, he personally took each of the bruised and battered guys home and explained the situation to their parents.

Harry was 100% certain that Charles hadn't used any magic at all, because that annoying warning owl from the Ministry of Magic hadn't appeared at all.

Dudley followed Charles all the way back to 4 Privet Drive, crying and sobbing.

Harry could hear everything that happened afterward, even through the floorboards.

Penny's sharp rebukes and Vernon's angry roars intertwined, followed by dull thuds and Dudley's pig-like screams.

The mixed doubles match was so brutal that even Harry couldn't bear to watch. That night, he fled to the apartment across the hall to stay the night, so as not to let anyone see the smile on his face.

Even now, Dali is still lying on the bed, groaning and unable to get up.

Mr. Smith then made a series of phone calls, and the grocery store that dared to sell cigarettes to minors was shut down the very next day, just as the business started.

Harry looked away from the sky and sighed.

Judging by this weather, it's unlikely to rain anytime soon.

He turned around helplessly, pushed open the door of No. 3 Privet Road, and went inside.

This summer was as hot as a giant oven, and all the residents along Privet Road had their windows wide open, hoping in vain to catch a sliver of non-existent cool breeze.

However, No. 3 Privet Drive is an exception.

All the windows were tightly closed, and a strange, refreshing coolness filled the room, as if someone had cast a powerful, silent cooling spell.

The house was quiet at the moment. Charles had left silently as usual yesterday, and Mr. Smith had gone to another city to participate in the filming of a movie. The huge house was empty and even seemed a little eerie in the silence.

Harry expertly rummaged through the refrigerator for snacks and chilled drinks, and was about to slump into the large sofa in the living room to turn on the TV and while away the long, hot day, when the fireplace door opened.

“Harry,” Black dusted himself off, his brow furrowed, looking preoccupied, his gaze quickly sweeping across the quiet living room, “Are you the only one here?”

Harry quickly put down what he was holding and replied, "Yes, Charles and Mr. Smith are not home. Is there anything I can help you with?"

He noticed the Godfather's unusually solemn expression.

Black didn't answer immediately, but pointed to the sofa, gesturing for Harry to sit down.

After the two settled down on the sofa, Blake fell into a brief silence, seemingly struggling to find the right words.

After a moment, he finally raised his head, looked directly into Harry's eyes, and said in a low and serious voice, "Harry, I want to talk to you about James and Lily today."

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

He had initially thought Black was going to tell some funny stories about his parents' school days, but the unprecedented seriousness on his godfather's face made him realize instantly that things were far more complicated than that. "What is it?" Harry involuntarily straightened his back, concentrating all his attention, his nerves on edge, so much so that he didn't even notice the slightest sound of the door opening.

Blake was clearly lost in his own thoughts and also failed to notice the subtle sound.

He took a deep breath and said in a low voice, "Harry, all these years... I've been investigating the cause of James and Lily's deaths."

These words struck Harry like a boulder into his heart.

He felt his heart suddenly stop beating at that moment, and he subconsciously held his breath, waiting for the tragic truth that was already etched in his heart but was shrouded in mystery.

Blake's voice carried a heavy weight: "I've learned that the mysterious man was determined to kill your family, especially you... because of a prophecy."

“A prophecy?” Harry’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yes,” Blake nodded heavily, “this prophecy suggests that someone will have the power to defeat him, and it provides a crucial clue.”

"And in the prophecy, these clues point to both you and Neville Longbottom."

"The one who is prophesied is between the two of you."

Harry exclaimed in shock, "So Voldemort wanted to kill me because of this prophecy?!"

The name slipped out, accompanied by intense anger and bewilderment.

“That’s right,” Black affirmed, his eyes flashing with pain and self-reproach. “At the time, all we knew was that the Mysterious Man had his eye on the Potters and was determined to kill James and Lily.”

"But we didn't know that this prophecy was driving him; we thought he was just pure madness."

Harry immediately seized on the most crucial question, asking urgently and with a slight tremor in his voice, "Voldemort... how did he know about this prophecy?"

At this moment, his heart was breaking. If Voldemort hadn't known about the prophecy, he wouldn't have targeted his parents, and perhaps that disaster wouldn't have happened.

Black's expression grew even more somber. He paused, as if needing to carefully choose his words, and after taking a deep breath, said, "When the soothsayer made the prophecy, only Professor Dumbledore was present to listen."

“But,” Black’s voice suddenly turned cold, “there was a Death Eater who happened to be following Dumbledore and was eavesdropping outside the door.”

"Just as the prophecy reached its most crucial half, the Death Eater who had been eavesdropping was discovered."

"Unfortunately, at the time he was just mistaken for an ordinary thief looking for a target and was simply chased away."

Blake's voice was filled with helplessness and regret.

Harry's breathing instantly became heavy and rapid, his chest heaving violently.

Without a doubt, this Death Eater who overheard the first half of the prophecy was one of the key informants who led Voldemort to target his parents, directly pushing them into the abyss of death!

“That Death Eater…” Harry’s voice trembled violently with extreme anger and fear, “…who is it?”

He practically forced the question out from between his teeth.

Blake fell into an even longer silence, as if the name weighed a ton.

He looked directly into Harry's eyes, which resembled Lily's, and finally, in a low, almost whispered voice, said, word by word, "Severus Snape."

Harry froze instantly, his face filled with extreme shock and disbelief.

Just now, several infamous Death Eater names flashed through his mind—Barty Crouch Jr., Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy… but he never imagined it would be him, that always gloomy Potions professor who was always targeting him!

Harry couldn't help but recall how Snape had treated him over the past four years, and all his doubts were now explained.

"Bang!!!"

A loud, echoing slam of the door shut, like a thunderclap, abruptly interrupted Harry's impending exclamation and question.

Clearly, someone had just arrived and overheard their conversation, including the most fatal secret.

(End of this chapter)