HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

The owl brought no reply, but instead brought a gloomy professor.

It was a stormy day. Raindrops the size of glass beads pounded against the window, and gusts of wind nearly blew the roof off.

West was sitting on the edge of the bed reading, while Harry was lying on the bed reading the comic book Dudley had thrown away.

Suddenly, a gust of cold wind rushed in from outside the window, climbing up West's neck along his tailbone. He seemed to notice this and turned to look out the window, where the glass was already covered with frost.

"Why is it so cold all of a sudden?" Harry exclaimed.

"Get up, Harry!" West realized something and pulled Harry to his feet.

A scream came from downstairs, and West and Harry ran downstairs.

Aunt Penny was pressed against the wall, screaming in terror. Uncle Vernon held the newspaper, his face contorted with fear. Dudley pointed at the fireplace, trembling and unable to speak.

The Potter brothers looked closely and saw that the flames in the fireplace were leaping very high, almost reaching outside and scorching Uncle Vernon's eyebrows. The flames had turned an eerie bluish-green, gleaming with an ominous light.

As West counted to seven in his mind, the Dursleys’ doors were flung open.

The newcomer wore a loose-fitting black robe, billowing in the wind like a writhing creature. He stood on the threshold, casting a towering shadow. Greasy black hair cascaded down his pale face, his straight nose casting a razor-sharp silhouette in the lightning. The moment he looked up, Harry felt a cold spiderweb crawl down the back of his neck.

His serpentine gaze swept around the room, finally settling on the two boys who were standing ramrod straight.

With just a glance, Snape's wand slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.

His pale lips parted slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed a silent tremor.

The boy before him had short, curly red hair, pale skin, emerald green eyes, and tiny, scattered freckles on the bridge of his nose... every detail burned on his retina.

The hand beneath the black robe convulsively curled up, reaching slightly forward as if to grasp the red-haired woman who had vanished in the green light eleven years ago.

West squinted, silently standing in front of Harry, pondering the man's strange expression.

The stalemate was broken by a roar from Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon, seemingly out of nowhere, picked up a shotgun, pointed it at Snape, and roared angrily, "Get out of my house! You...you freak—"

Snape snapped back to reality, his long fingers curling, and the wand lying on the ground darted back into his palm like a black snake.

He didn't even look at Uncle Vernon, but just casually waved his wand, and Uncle Vernon's shotgun barrel was twisted into a pretzel (Harry gasped slightly here, his voice tinged with envy).

"I suggest you save your energy, Dursley. After all, it's not easy for your meager brain to support such a massive... body." Snape's somber voice rang out, evoking images of the wet trails left by snakes dragging across stone slabs.

Amid Dudley's sobs, Aunt Penny suddenly screamed, "It's you...it's you...you filthy monster! Get out of my house!"

Wow, it seems Aunt Petunia knows this man? West and Harry thought to themselves as they watched.

Snape, not wanting to waste any more words, pointed his wand at West, "Come with me."

"Excuse me, sir, may I ask who you are?" West asked, trying to remain calm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aunt Penny's body trembling uncontrollably—after she finished speaking, the pearl necklace around her neck suddenly burst open, and the round pearls rolled to the ground with a crackling sound.

"Unfortunately, before your simple-minded brains are crushed by trolls—" he sneered, "I will be the Potions Professor you will have to endure at Hogwarts, Severus Snape."

"They really are from Hogwarts," West and Harry thought simultaneously.

Harry, intrigued, peeked out from behind West, his large green eyes scrutinizing Snape.

Snape's face darkened further. The reason was simple: aside from those emerald green eyes, the face was practically identical to James Potter's.

"Yes, Professor Snape," West replied softly, his eyes lowered.

In just a few moments, he could sense that Snape felt a certain amount of disgust, disdain, and regret towards them, but no malice.

Especially when gazing into the eyes of the two brothers, the man's expression revealed an undisguised sense of reminiscence.

A strange mix of emotions, but not a big problem. West thought to himself, head down. As long as he and Harry were safe, he would have plenty of opportunities to figure out the reason later at Hogwarts.

The poor Dursleys huddled together in a corner, and Snape didn't even bother with them.

Snape nodded slightly, signaling West and Harry to follow him.

He took long strides, paying no attention to the two children behind him. West and Harry had to jog to catch up with Snape.

"You'll kill them!" Penny suddenly burst out, her hair askew, hanging by her ear. She screamed, almost hysterically, "Just like you killed Lily!"

Snape froze for a moment, but he did not turn around.

Lily? Their mother? West frowned. Wasn't their mother killed in a car accident? What were the Dursleys hiding?

It seems that going to Hogwarts was the right choice; they seem to be able to explore questions that have puzzled them for a long time, such as their deceased parents and their strange powers.

The heavy rain outside had stopped sometime earlier. West and Harry carefully avoided the puddles to keep from looking too disheveled, but their faded canvas shoes still ended up with some mud spots.

Snape suddenly stopped at the intersection, and West, unable to stop in time, bumped into Snape, and Harry also bumped into West.

"Ouch—" Harry cried out in pain, clutching his head, and staggered to grab West's shoulder. West was nearly knocked over by the weight and instinctively grabbed Snape's sleeve.

Snape whirled around, the air currents he created lifting West's curls.

"Sorry, Professor." West released his grip, pretending nothing had happened.

Snape glanced at West—those emerald eyes were narrowed slightly in a familiar way, and the pale brown beauty mark under his right eye trembled slightly with his breathing.

The potions professor's pale knuckles tapped on the boy's thin shoulder.

"Hold on, Potter." The low warning, carrying with it the musty smell of old pages and wormwood, hit me.

"Yes, Professor," West said, taking Harry's hand as he rubbed his forehead.

"Your head is too hard, West," Harry muttered.

The two brothers spoke in hushed tones, completely unaffected by Snape's oppressive atmosphere. Occasionally, Harry would look up and see Snape's gloomy face, and he would shiver involuntarily, his voice growing softer and softer, but encouraged by West's calm expression, he didn't stop talking.

A short while later, a three-story purple bus sped from the intersection in the distance and arrived in front of the three people in the blink of an eye.

The bus had several large gold letters printed on its windshield: "Knight Bus".

Harry and West both gasped inwardly.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus! We'll get you anywhere you want to go in half an hour," ticket seller Stan Sampark greeted passengers at the door.

West and Harry got on the bus on their own and found seats to sit quietly.

"Go to Diagon Alley," they heard Snape say.