Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 328, Section 327: Winter Night

It's approaching evening.

Underground classroom.

Twenty crucibles stood between the wooden tables, and on the tables were bronze balances and jars of ingredients. Professor Snape's face was obscured by the swirling smoke.

Harry worked silently on the caterpillars, collecting their slime.

The scientific name for this hairy worm is *Fropaeolum floridum*. Its green mucus can be used to make herbal remedies, scabies treatments, sleeping pills, and more... its uses are quite extensive.

Harry was detained for a simple reason: Draco Malfoy kept rolling his pufferfish eyes at him and Ron. He had just retaliated in kind when Snape detained him, without even giving him a chance to protest.

As for Sheen...

He glanced at the somewhat dazed little wizard, stealing curious glances—he had never seen Sheen act like this before.

Even when facing Voldemort and the Basilisk, he remained calm and reassuring, leading Harry to believe that nothing in the world could shake Sheen.

He subtly slowed down the rate at which he collected the slime.

In the past, he wished he had eight hands; now, he is uncoordinated.

"Are you going to spend the night here?"

A sound like a viper's hiss rang out, and Harry shuddered. He quickly dealt with the slime, glanced at the cellar one last time, and fled as if his life depended on it.

Even a moment's delay could result in a week of confinement.

In the cellar, Snape stood by the cauldron, coldly watching Harry walk away, the firelight outlining the sharp features of his hooked nose.

Beside him, Sheen, who had just arrived, had finished brewing the potion. The flames in the cauldron went out, and his expression was no longer visible.

Professor Snape finished brewing the potion quickly. Normally, the potion should simmer over a low flame for at least an hour, but today it was ready in just half an hour.

Sheen sighed silently. When you can't control something and hope that time will slow down, time will never grant your wish; instead, it will speed up its pace. It's a strange thing.

The cellar windows rattled loudly as the wind and snow battered them, and Sheen's voice was mixed in with the strange noises.

"Professor, you know—"

Snape abruptly turned his head, the cauldron still burning from brewing the potion, and asked in a hoarse voice:
"So, our Mr. Green has finally realized... he's not mute?"

Sheehan silently stared at Professor Snape for a few seconds, just as Professor Snape's face never showed much expression, so he was always the same.

"Tell me everything you know."

Snape, not seeing anything amiss, snorted coldly.

"About the locked room..."

Sheen considered it carefully.

"You went in? No, more than that... What did you do?! Tell me!"

Professor Snape paused abruptly, tossed the crystal bottle aside, and launched into a tirade.

The potion in the crucible hadn't been taken out; it had been burned and spoiled, but Snape didn't care. His face grew increasingly gloomy and irritable.

The young wizard recounted chilling details: it began with the discovery of a ghostly voice, eventually identified as the sound of a basilisk lurking in the pipes; it then revealed that the weeping Myrtle was a victim from fifty years ago, and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets likely lay in her bathroom; and finally, it went on to describe the absurd reasons for entering the Chamber…

"You should be glad you escaped—"

Snape couldn't help but roar,

"Now, wait here for me."

His eyes gleamed with malice; his anger could only be vented by killing the basilisk in the secret chamber.

"professor."

Sheen spoke quietly.

"explain--"

Snape paused, his grip on his wand loosening slightly. This guy, at least, had learned to ask for help when he sensed danger, especially...

"The basilisk has been dealt with."

Sheen could only grit his teeth and say that whenever this happened, he wanted to transform himself into a crystal bottle and stand in the corner.

“Dumbledore?” Snape frowned.

Sheen shook his head.

“McG”

Snape's voice was hoarse.

Sheen shook his head.

"Sheen Green!!"

Snape roared.

Sheehan knew that his six-year confinement was about to begin.

After a long while, the door to the underground classroom opened with a creaking, eerie sound, and Sheen survived once again.

Snape stood at the cellar door, his memories scorching open once more:
"When did you grow a mouth?"

After his anger subsided, he noticed those subtle changes.

"Professor, last time you said, I'll tell you."

The little wizard murmured to himself, as if he always remembered.

A cold wind howled at the cellar entrance, and the portrait of Sir Cadogan that had been moved there on the wall made a racket.

"Severus, do you see the flames in the furnace? They seep out little by little from the pit and into the hearth... Doesn't it look like it, Severus? A heart that has been rekindled from the ashes."

My dear wife, look, this is the greatest magic: you think you're annoyed by him, yet you can tolerate him and still think about him all the time..."

"Sir! Stop talking!"

Unfortunately it's still too late.

Winter comes early to Hogwarts Castle.

Even when Sir Cadogan was on the verge of exploding, he still spoke quite a bit, as if he had been holding it in for decades:
“You think there is no summer here, Severus? In winter you will know that it always remains in a person’s heart, and is invincible.”

……

Far outside the cellar.

Harry vaguely heard a huge roar, and he shrank back, suddenly feeling extremely worried.

What's wrong with Snape?
You should know that Sheen is still inside.

The corridor was silent at night, and Harry stood guard at the cellar door.

Anyway, he thought, at least he had to tell Sheehan that most of Snape's sarcastic remarks were nonsense—he had always known that.

At that moment, Harry saw about twenty spiders crawling slowly back through a small crack in the glass.

Long silver threads hung down like ropes, and it seemed that they had climbed back using these threads.

Harry inexplicably thought of the parroting sounds he had heard here, and his mood plummeted.

He recalled Dumbledore's words:
“Harry, you can speak Parsley,”

Headmaster Dumbledore said calmly,

"It's because Voldemort speaks Parsley. He was Salazar Slytherin's last heir. If I'm not mistaken, on the night he gave you the scar, he transferred some of his own magic to you as well. He didn't do it intentionally, I'm sure of it..."

Principal Dumbledore was merely answering his question—why he spoke Parsley—which only made him more confused and uneasy.

He is very similar to Voldemort.

As Sheen walked down the corridor, he saw Harry staring blankly at a group of spiders.

"Oh, Sheen."

Upon seeing Sheen, he walked over as if waking from a dream.
"I must say, ignore Professor Snape, everything he says is..."

Sheen paused slightly, then silently cast a whispering spell. At the cellar entrance, a pair of extremely gloomy eyes were staring at them.

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(End of this chapter)