Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 16 Medals
“Today we will learn an important defensive spell, as well as a practical spellcasting technique. Does anyone know the benefits of the Silent Spell?” Professor Grapland asked.

Snape hesitated before raising his hand, but someone else was clearly quicker to do so.

“Very good, Miss Evans?” Professor Glapland nodded slightly to Lily.

“It can keep your opponent guessing what spell you’re going to cast,” Lily said. “This will give you a momentary advantage and allow you to catch them off guard.”

“A perfect answer,” Professor Grappleland said. “Five points for Gryffindor. In real combat, the slightest advantage can lead to drastically different outcomes. And this is one of NEWT’s key assessment criteria.”

"Next, we'll learn the Armor Charm. Then, you two will form a group. One of you will try to cast a curse on the other, while the other tries to defend themselves with the Armor Charm. Both of you must remain silent..."

After the instruction on the Iron Mantra was finished, Snape and Abbott practiced together as a group.

"What were you doing just now?" Abbott asked.

“I went to the hunting grounds,” Snape decided not to tell Abbot the truth, raising his left arm, “and got hit by a hippogriff, but thankfully wasn’t hurt. They seemed quite gentle to me…”

"Pfft—" Abbott managed to suppress a chuckle, "You and Hagrid should have a lot in common."

“Quiet, focus.” Professor Glapland surveyed their group.

Snape and Abbott quickly shut their mouths and continued practicing.

Abbott's face turned red as he held up his wand, trying to glare at Snape.

Boredly waiting for a spell that might never be sent, Snape couldn't help but think that Abbott's words had reminded him of something.

It's time to find an opportunity to make contact with Hagrid; who knows, I might even need to borrow a few roosters from him to deal with the Basilisk.

The afternoon Potions class was a complete breeze for Snape.

He didn't even need to look through a book to easily prepare the light-colored ready-made decoction.

Of course, if the prize included an extra bottle of Felix Felicis, he wouldn't mind showing Slughorn the four ways to brew the Living Hell Potion.

“Your potions are also excellent,” Slughorn said regretfully to Lily, “but unfortunately Severus’s are still slightly better.”

Snape took the small vial of golden potion, waved it in the candlelight, and then contentedly stuffed it into the pocket inside his robe.

The annoyed expressions on James' and Sirius's faces pleased him greatly.

When the bell rang, everyone packed up their things and headed out of the classroom.

"Wait a minute, Severus."

As Snape prepared to leave the classroom with the crowd, Slughorn called him back.

As Slughorn fastened the gold clasp on his dragonskin briefcase, he said to Snape, "How about coming over to my place for a casual dinner on Saturday night? We have a little party."

"I invited Regulus Black, Lily Evans, and the famous Auror Fabian Prewitt, who you may have seen in The Daily Prophet about him and his brother Gideon."

Before Snape could answer, Slughorn's gaze fell on Abbott, who was waiting at the door, and he bowed slightly to Abbott.

"Of course, I also very much hope that Mr. Abbott can grace us with his presence this time. During the summer vacation, I saw a photo of you and him on your father's office desk."

"I have to say, his purchase of the Quidditch boutique was a really good deal..."

Slughorn enthusiastically pulled out two invitations tied with purple ribbons and handed one to Abbott and one to Snape, then tucked his bag into his pocket and headed out of the underground classroom. “He’s invited me before,” Abbott said, as they left the underground classroom, climbed the stairs, and crossed the foyer to go to lunch. “I made up all sorts of excuses to refuse him.”

“That’s not the point,” Snape said, settling down at the Slytherin table with a strange expression. “Does the Quidditch Boutique belong to your family?”

"Oh, you mean the shop in Diagon Alley? That's right."

Abbott filled his plate with some vegetable salad.

“My dad just acquired it. He has a good relationship with Devlin Whitehorn, so now the store can be the first to stock the latest Nimbus series.”

"Why didn't you say so sooner? I even tried to pay the bill with you!" Snape shoveled a huge spoonful of meat sauce into his mouth. "From now on, you're in charge of all the food on the train!"

“No problem, I have more than enough Galleons anyway,” Abbot said casually. “On the train back to school, I was just wondering if there was your weekly allowance in the bag.”

"Squeak—" Snape's fork suddenly stopped, making a jarring sound as it scraped across the plate.

He glared angrily at Abbot: "So many dishes and you still can't shut your mouth?"

After eating and drinking his fill, Snape began to ponder what he should do next.

To avoid revealing his special identity, he wanted to string together all his actions step by step to make them appear as reasonable as possible.

To be honest, he wasn't entirely at ease with Dumbledore. After all, to achieve his goals, this wise old man was willing to risk his own life, and even the lives of the orphaned children of heroes.

Furthermore, according to Dumbledore's original plan, Snape would gain ownership of the Elder Wand after killing Dumbledore. Therefore, his fate was self-evident.

Snape threw down his cutlery: "Come on, come with me to the prize showroom."

They walked briskly down the stairs, and after turning a few corners, they arrived at the fourth floor.

In the prize display room, crystal glass cases gleamed in the setting sun. Medals, trophies, shields, and statues shimmered with silver and gold light in the soft glow of the evening.

“Look at this,” Snape said, pointing to a display case in the corner, inside which was a gold medal covered in fine dust. “Here is a medal for ‘Special Contribution to the School’.”

“TM Riddle, 1943,” Abbott read the words on the medal. “Why did he win this award?”

“I don’t know,” Snape shook his head. “Let’s look at something else.”

They also saw Riddle's name on an old, faded medal of merit and on a list of past student council presidents.

“That guy is amazing,” Abbot said enviously. “I wish I could be like him.”

“Then you’d better work hard,” Snape said jokingly. “I’m different. I’d be happy if I could become student council president next year.”

“You’re not even a prefect,” Albert said, his voice tinged with surprise. “Why are you thinking about becoming student council president?”

"Is there any rule that clearly states that someone who is not a class monitor cannot be the student council president?"

Snape walked toward the door of the prize display room: "If I can get the 'Special Contribution to the School Award,' it wouldn't be too much to ask the headmaster for the position of student council president, would it?"

"There's nothing else here. I'm planning to go to the library to look up what happened in 1943; maybe that will help me figure out how to get this medal. Do you want to come with me?"

(End of this chapter)