Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 162: Conflict

London.

Fog, thick fog, mist.

In front of an abandoned red telephone booth, two equally tall and slender figures stood facing each other. The wind and snow naturally bypassed them, leaving only their long gazes on each other.

Few would imagine that this abandoned red telephone booth is the entrance to the Ministry of Magic for visitors, and similarly, Muggles would find it hard to believe that the people standing here are two wizards.

Not far away, beneath a pavilion, a wizard with a long, white beard blinked:

"Oh—of course, of course, such an interesting scene deserves to be included in the Pensieve—"

His words were quickly blurred by the wind and snow, so the two people standing opposite each other spoke up.

"Severus, I hope you're not talking nonsense."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed with a stern and urgent light; she couldn't imagine what she had heard.

"Professor McGonagall, I said I'd take charge."

Snape's face was expressionless, his voice hoarse and deep. But his heart was like magma beneath the earth, calm on the surface, yet boiling deep within.

"Who else will love you, Severus?"

You once pleaded outside the Gryffindor Tower, must you now add a Ravenclaw Tower to the list?

The words of the short, burly man echoed wildly in Severus Snape's mind.

Then he spoke slowly and firmly:

"I'll take charge."

Professor McGonagall never expected to hear those words from Severus, and she was both shocked and furious.

Of course, she knew the little guy had bright green eyes, but precisely because of that—

"Impulsive actions never end well, you should know that, Severus."

Professor McGonagall was initially angry, but as he looked into those deep eyes, she seemed to recall something, and her tone softened.

In the distance, Dumbledore slowly pressed down his beard. Of course, if not for impulsiveness, could another possibility have arisen at Hogwarts Castle?

Dumbledore's deep gaze drifted into the distance. Those who mock others' scars are more despicable than the darkness behind those scars.

"Of course one"

Professor Snape's expression was obscured.

"I don't understand this 'of course,' Severus."

Professor McGonagall said coldly, "Do you think—that child is someone's replacement?!"

She had already suppressed the raging fire within her. Her one and only child—a tenacious, determined, talented, humble, and kind child—had become a substitute in someone else's eyes.

"Excuse my bluntness, Severus, you should really think about what you know—"

She gave Professor Snape one last warning look, her usually calm eyes now blazing with fury.

She stepped into the phone booth, not intending to say anything.

The flames not only burned her, but also left Professor Snape stunned in place.

But in just two seconds, he strode forward again.

"Of course I understand—"

His lips remained as cold as a cellar—that perpetually dark, cramped prison. Only true hope could break through the door here.

He thought he had seen the name that would cause him unbearable pain, but he never expected to see only himself reflected in it. A new possibility, one that would never repeat the same mistakes, a new possibility that was firm and free of darkness.

In the cellar, the short knight was always angry and frustrated. Over the centuries, he had witnessed too many tragedies, but few were more heartbreaking than this.

"Of course, Severus, you idiot—you're a Death Eater, a loner freak, a pathetic creature wearing your mother's smock as underwear, but how do you know you're not worthy of touching beauty?"

No matter how pitiful or despised you are, don't you understand—? Severus, your love is not.

Of course I understand.

Severus Snape stood his ground, swearing to Merlin that he would not let guilt and remorse tear his soul apart. "Severus—"

Minerva McGonagall was stunned; the white snowflakes blurred her vision.

The red telephone booth was covered in snow, and even the top of the metal shell of the telephone booth was covered with a white cap of snow.

And so, for the first time, snow fell on Minerva McGonagall's head. She gazed at him, her eyes also brimming with suppressed turmoil.

The phone booth in the distance.

"oh oh-"

The old man with a long, white beard took a sip of honey tea, which burned his hand for a moment. Although he remained expressionless, his hand had already touched some strange candies.

"Alright, we've had enough to drink. Time to enjoy some candy."

Ah—Biblioth Saga. It reminds me of my youth. I was so unlucky back then; I accidentally ate a really stinky bean. I haven't eaten beans in ages since—but I figured a toffee one would be the safest bet right now.

He laughed and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and gasped for breath, saying:

"Oh no, bad luck again! It's earwax!"

Ministry of Magic.

Its main hall, located on the eighth floor, serves as the lobby and reception area for the Ministry of Magic headquarters, where visitors and employees of the Ministry of Magic are greeted.

After entering the elevator, which was blocked by an exquisitely crafted gold gate, a cold, female voice announced the department for each floor.

We arrived at the eighth floor, a long, magnificent hall with dark wooden floors polished to a shine. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with glittering gold symbols that kept moving and changing, like a giant bulletin board suspended high in the sky.

The walls on both sides of the main hall are inlaid with many gilded fireplaces: the fireplace on the left is for arrival, and the fireplace on the right is for departure.

At this moment, the staff member in charge of Muggle issues glanced at the two of them again:

"Dear Sir/Madam, are you a married couple?"

Professor Snape nearly drew his wand, but Professor McGonagall replied seriously:

"This isn't funny, Ellie."

"Professor, what I mean is, if you really want to achieve that goal—then this is the simplest false alarm. You know, the Ministry of Magic gets into a hundred messes every day, one more won't make a difference. This matter is too minor, it won't be reported again, and with me overseeing it, no one else will know."

An employee named Ellie Whitman blinked; even though she had seen countless outrageous incidents, this one was definitely one of the more outrageous ones.

"There's no need for that."

Snape gave Ellie Whiteman a cold look, then headed straight for the center of the main hall in his wide black robe.

What is the Ministry of Magic?

It's just a makeshift operation.

He, Severus Snape, wasn't about to follow the rules of those idiots.