Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 101 Half-Blood Prince

“I’ve heard that Professor Malfoy is exceptionally capable,” Odin Blach, also from Slytherin, told Snape and the others. “Abraxas Malfoy, my father says he has close ties with the higher-ups at the Ministry of Magic.”

“Is that so?” Snape replied. “I just hope he can teach for two more semesters.”

“What do you think will happen?” Hearing their conversation, Mary leaned closer to Lily and whispered, “I heard that the Ministry of Magic is pushing for a bill that would limit the employment opportunities for Muggle-born wizards. Malfoy is supposedly one of the driving forces behind it.”

“You heard what he said at the opening banquet,” Lily said with some worry in her eyes. “Mary, the Malfoy family is not known for being open-minded and friendly.”

Just as she was speaking, a rhythmic sound of footsteps suddenly came from the end of the corridor.

The discussion stopped abruptly.

Mr. Malfoy's tall figure emerged from the shadows, his long, light-gold hair cascading elegantly over his shoulders, and his black robe embroidered with the Malfoy family crest.

"Now," he stopped in front of the classroom door, his grey-blue eyes scanning the crowd, then pushed open the door. "Come in."

The students quickly squeezed into the classroom.

Malfoy walked slowly to the podium, and with a gentle wave of his wand, the heavy curtains automatically drew shut, leaving only the flickering light of the candles on the candlesticks.

"Put your textbooks away," he scoffed. "Encountering the Faceless Monster? The author of that book is a cowardly half-blood wizard who likes Muggles. I have something to say to you, and I hope you'll pay close attention."

Amidst a rustling sound, several students hurriedly closed their books and threw them back into their bags.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to uphold our finest magical traditions and values,” Malfoy said, resting his hands on the podium. “First, you need to clear your minds of the misinformation you have received in the past. I hope you can recognize your true enemy, and that is definitely not some dark magical creature.”

"Let's start with a basic history lesson," Malfoy waved his wand, and white words appeared on the blackboard: "The True History of Wizards and Muggles." "I will lead you into the real world that is so lacking in the dry history of magic lessons."

“Muggles—” His lips twisted into a contemptuous arc, as if referring to some filth, “like animals, dirty and stupid. For centuries they have been vicious and cruel to wizards, burning our fellow human beings and forcing us to hide in the shadows, unable to enjoy a good life.”

“That’s not true. Everyone makes mistakes. At least two-thirds of the victims of the medieval witch hunts were Muggles.” A Muggle-born Hufflepuff student suddenly stood up, his face flushed. “My parents are both Muggles, they—”

“Hufflepuff, deduct ten points. Sit down! If you interrupt me again, you’ll be put in solitary confinement.” Malfoy looked at him coldly. “Your words perfectly illustrate the baseness of Muggles.”

"Now, outside Hogwarts, a great group of wizards are working hard. Through their efforts, a good order is being established, and as wizards, everyone here should join in this great cause."

Snape found Mr. Malfoy's words rather uninteresting; it was the same old "pure-blood supremacy" and "Muggles are pests" theories.

“Even in this classroom…” Malfoy continued, his gaze sweeping over several visibly uneasy students, “there are some unfortunate wizards corrupted by Muggles, but I believe that, tracing back to some ancestor, the traces of magic must flow in your blood.”

"Although you have strayed from the right path for a long time," he said with a forced smile, "there is still a chance to unite around pure-blood wizards..."

During Mr. Malfoy's drowsy lecture, a voice suddenly came from the back of the classroom: "Professor Malfoy, why do you think pure-blood wizards are nobler than half-blood or Muggle-born wizards?"

Everyone turned to look at the source of the sound—Blake sat there, looking excitedly at Malfoy.

Malfoy's eyes lit up: "Good question, Slytherin, five points." He straightened up. "The purer the blood of a wizard, the more powerful his magic. Conversely, wizards who are close to Muggles have weak and pitiful magic, easily defeated, and can only find a sense of superiority among Muggles or Squiggly trash."

"To prove this, I am going to teach you the truly fascinating and righteous magic."

“Dark magic is a legitimate means of dealing with traitors and Muggles. In order to better protect ourselves and advance great causes, we should learn and master it.” Malfoy’s voice became fervent. “Today, you will learn not only how to defend against it, but how to use it. Only by understanding it can you truly use it well.”

With a wave of his wand, the writing on the blackboard transformed into three chilling spell names: the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse.

A collective gasp filled the classroom.

"Dumbledore will not allow such a thing!" Lily finally stood up, her green eyes burning with rage.

Malfoy's smile vanished, replaced by anger.

“I guess a Gryffindor? Very well, Gryffindor minus twenty points.” He said softly, but his voice sent a chill down everyone’s spine. “Forget Dumbledore. This is my classroom now.”

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly, turned to look at Lily, and gently shook his head at her.

"Alright, back to the point." Malfoy suddenly raised his voice. "Theory is always just theory; it can never replace practice." He snapped his fingers. "Dobby!"

A loud bang echoed through the air, and a tiny house-elf appeared in the center of the classroom.

Dobby was still wearing that dirty pillowcase, his tennis ball-sized eyes filled with fear.

“Next, you can practice your spells on it,” Malfoy said casually, as if he were just discussing the weather. “The sprite has strong magic resistance and won’t die easily, making it a perfect practice subject.”

Contrary to Snape's expectations, there were not many objections in the classroom; most people looked at Dobby as if it were commonplace.

“That’s a bit wasteful, isn’t it?” Abbott said to Snape. “Most families wouldn’t use a sprite like that.”

Snape didn't say anything to Abbott. He understood that in the eyes of most wizards, house-elves were not equal beings. As sentient beings, unlike centaurs and goblins, house-elves didn't even have their own liaison office within the Department of Magical Creatures.

The only official organization with a "relocation office" exists solely to find new owners for elves who have lost their masters.

“This is terrible,” Mary whispered to Lily. “The enslavement of house-elves is already unjust, and now they have to suffer as well.”

Not far away, James and Sirius heard her words.

“They like it that way,” Sirius blurted out instinctively, drawing agreement from several pure-blood wizards. “I… have a nasty little elf named Kreacher at home. That guy practically takes pride in being bossed around, and he’s always working non-stop. His greatest wish in life is to cut off his head like his mother did when he gets old and hang it on the wall as decoration…”

“How could you say that?” Lily turned to him, angrily saying, “No sentient being should be treated like this!”

“This student is absolutely right; he has provided us with ample additional facts,” Malfoy interjected, looking at Sirius with admiration. “What’s your name?”

Sirius glanced at Malfoy dismissively and didn't answer him.

“His name is Sirius Black,” Wormtail whispered, answering the question for him.

Sirius gave Peter a disapproving look, but said nothing.

“Ah, the Black family,” Malfoy said, unconcerned by Sirius’s arrogance, “an ancient and noble bloodline.” He turned to Dobby, “It seems some non-pure-blood wizards still hold some misconceptions. So, Dobby, would you be willing to be the subject of our practice? Do you have any objections?” The little elf trembled, his large eyes brimming with tears: “Dobby… Dobby is willing, Master! Dobby has no objections.”

He turned his back, a tear rolling down his pointed nose. He quickly wiped it away with a pillowcase before turning back.

"Professor Malfoy, if our goal is to fight against Muggles," Snape suddenly spoke, his voice brimming with just the right amount of curiosity, "can we see real effects when we cast spells on house-elves?"

At that moment, he understood why Dobby's adoration for Harry was so genuine. Before the Dark Lord fell, the house-elf's situation was so miserable.

“Furthermore,” he paused, “with the permission of the board headed by you, we now have a dueling club, where we’ll be conducting our new semester’s teaching practice tonight. Perhaps that would be a better place to demonstrate?”

“Ah, yes!” Malfoy’s eyes lit up. “I’ve already offered to Dumbledore the position of instructor at the Dueling Club.” He looked at Snape. “What’s your name?”

"Severus Snape."

“Snape…” Malfoy frowned in thought, “What is your mother’s last name?”

"Prince".

A look of realization flashed across Malfoy's face, followed by a smile: "The Prince family, a pure-blood family with a long history."

"Although..." His gaze swept over Snape, the unspoken message clear.

Malfoy stopped having his students cast spells on Dobby, but he continued his "teaching," demonstrating various minor curses on Dobby.

The little elf's suppressed screams rang out from time to time.

When the school bell rang, many students breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, at Malfoy's command, the little elf, covered in wounds, once again Apparated and disappeared.

Snape stared at Malfoy's departing figure, a cold glint in his eyes.

As night fell, the long table disappeared, and the auditorium was once again transformed into the venue for the Duel Club.

The first-year students crowded at the front, their eyes sparkling with excitement. The older students stood in twos and threes around them, whispering about the day's lessons.

As Malfoy entered the hall in his magnificent robes trimmed with silver, the eyes of the crowd followed him intently.

He walked onto the center stage, waved his wand, and a string of silver sparks exploded in the air.

"Quiet!" he said. "As the new instructor of the Duel Club, I am honored that everyone is here."

“As is tradition,” Malfoy said, surveying the crowd, “I will begin by demonstrating. I need an opponent. Who was the champion of the previous duel?”

All eyes, except for the freshmen, turned to Snape. The students around him unconsciously made way for him, allowing him to stand out in Malfoy's sight.

“Ah, it’s you.” Malfoy smiled with satisfaction. “This once again proves the importance of wizarding bloodlines. Severus’s maternal lineage comes from the historic Prince family, which has produced several Potions Masters.”

“I am Prince, half-breed, sir,” Snape said calmly, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Malfoy's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure: "Yes, half-blood, possessing half noble blood."

“Of course, don’t worry about your champion,” he said, turning to the crowd with obvious disdain. “I know what I’m doing and will return him to you unharmed. Severus, you may use your spells as you please.”

Snape walked onto the stage, a smirk playing on his lips, revealing his teeth: "I look forward to your guidance, sir."

The two turned around, walked five steps back to back, and then bowed at the same time.

"One—two—three—" Malfoy counted down.

"Bartboy!" Snape's spell was as fast as lightning.

The silver light of the Bat Spirit Curse struck Malfoy's face, and a swarm of bats flew out of his nostrils, covering his terrified face.

Snape was astonished by the spell's effect—he had read about the Bat Charm in the Book of Spells, but its power on the first use was as if the wand had become an extension of his arm.

Malfoy frantically waved his wand, trying to scare away the bats.

But Snape didn't give him a chance: "Disarm you!"

A flash of red light, and Malfoy was blasted away, his wand spinning as it flew out of his hand.

He crashed heavily into the wall and slid to the ground.

The entire auditorium was completely silent.

Snape stepped off the stage, looked at Mr. Malfoy who was still struggling, and deliberately waited until his face turned red before whispering, "Stop the curse."

The bats scrambled back into Malfoy's nostrils.

“Professor Malfoy,” Snape’s voice was exceptionally clear in the silent Great Hall, “given the number of bats, you might need to clean your noble nostrils.”

"I'm a professor! How dare you—" Malfoy scrambled to his feet, his face ashen. "I'm expelling you! I'm going to see the principal!"

“You told me to use any spell I wanted, Professor.” Snape spread his hands innocently. “I thought that as a senior and a noble pure-blood, you could at least withstand two spells.”

“It seems I’ve been too trusting of some people,” he said, turning to the stunned crowd, “and overestimated their abilities.”

Malfoy's lips trembled, and in the end he simply turned and left.

Watching him leave in a disheveled state, Snape thought that since the wand was so convenient, perhaps he should visit Mr. Malfoy without waiting until the next day to fully express his "apologies".

　Thank you to First-Timing King, Ma Yang, Sanwei Blackwater, Guiji, and Book Friend 151210134912702 for the monthly tickets.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)