HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

"Looks like nothing serious happened." Ian breathed a sigh of relief.

Severus grunted in response, turned away from the window, sat back down at his desk, picked up his quill, and focused his gaze on the paper, his brow furrowing as usual.

By evening, the news had spread, and excited whispers among the students swept through the corridors like the wind.

Harry Potter displayed a "scary" talent during his first flying lesson.

Neville's broom was a bit unruly, almost dragging him towards the castle. After Neville panicked and let go, Harry quickly spurred his broom forward, catching Neville's broom in mid-air and also catching Neville himself who was about to fall.

The whole process was so fast it was dazzling.

"Mr. Potter has displayed extraordinary flying instincts, and... reckless courage," Professor McGonagall commented succinctly when she met Severus before dinner. "I've already spoken with Wood."

What this means is self-evident.

Sure enough, just two days later, the news was officially announced that Harry had been exceptionally selected for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and would become the Seeker.

A huge cheer erupted at the Gryffindor table as the Weasley twins lifted Harry up and tossed him twice.

Students from other houses were also discussing the matter. At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy looked extremely grim, and his several tall henchmen around him also had gloomy expressions.

The atmosphere in Potions class was noticeably tense.

It's still a combined Gryffindor and Slytherin class. This time, they're learning about swelling potions.

While Severus was explaining, Draco kept his back straight, trying to perform perfectly, but his movements were somewhat deliberate and appeared stiff.

Harry and Ron were paired up, and Hermione seemed to want to guide them, but Ron muttered, "We can manage on our own."

Everything went smoothly until the step of adding dried nettle powder was taken.

Ron hadn't noticed the bits of porcupine quills still clinging to the edge of his mortar, and he swept them in along with it.

The liquid in the crucible immediately began to bubble with ominous purple foam and made a slight hissing sound.

"Fool!" Severus appeared instantly beside their table, waved his wand, and a transparent barrier covered the cauldron, locking the potion that was about to erupt inside.

He coldly swept his gaze over Ron's flushed face and Harry's tense expression.

"Weasley, Porter, the workbench was not cleaned properly, resulting in material contamination. Ten points deducted from Gryffindor. You will be in detention tonight to deal with the venom sacs of the horned toad."

Harry and Ron replied dejectedly, "Yes."

Draco let out a clear sneer from across the way, not loud, but loud enough for those nearby to hear.

Harry looked up sharply and glared at him.

"Quiet, Malfoy." Severus didn't turn his head, his voice icy. "Focus on your cauldron. Your narcissus root is cut unevenly, which will affect the potency. Slytherin, deduct five points for your untimely noise and shoddy preparation."

Draco's smile froze on his face, a hint of surprise and defiance flashing in his gray-blue eyes, but when he met Severus's cold black eyes that had turned back, he quickly lowered his head, his ears turning red.

Harry paused for a moment, then lowered his head and continued cleaning the workbench with Ron, but a slight smile appeared on his lips.

After class, the students filed out.

Draco deliberately slowed his pace, and as Harry passed by, he spoke in a neither loud nor soft voice to Crabbe and Goyle beside him:

"Selected exceptionally...who knows if it's because of his reputation? My dad said that real Quidditch players don't always get points deducted."

Harry paused, his fists clenched. Ron pulled him back and whispered, "Ignore him, Harry."

"Malfoy," Severus's voice came from the direction of the podium, flat and even, "I remember I just deducted five points from Slytherin. Perhaps you would prefer to make up for the points lost by the House with an extra paper on the antagonistic reactions of nettles with different materials in potions. Two feet, due tomorrow."

Draco abruptly shut his mouth, his face turning even paler. He hurriedly said, "Yes, Professor," and practically fled the classroom.

"Naive," Severus commented after the door closed, and began tidying up the equipment on the podium.

Ian slipped in through the side door, shaking his head with a smile.

"Isn't that how an eleven-year-old boy is? But what you did just now, you hit both sides, it's fair."

"Lucius will hear the rumors," Severus said, putting the crystal bottle away in the cabinet. "He'll think I'm favoring Potter."

"Let him think what he wants." Ian shrugged indifferently, walked over and helped him tidy up. "You are the head of Slytherin. How you discipline your students is none of his business."

"And you are indeed fair. Harry and Ron were penalized with points and detention for their mistakes, and Draco was penalized with points and extra homework for his classroom misbehavior and lack of preparation. Professor McGonagall just nodded when she found out."

Severus didn't speak, but his tightly pursed lips relaxed a little.

The days slipped into October amidst similar minor frictions, classes, Quidditch practice, and homework from various subjects.

The castle decorations gradually took on a Halloween feel, with more and more pumpkin lanterns floating on the ceiling of the auditorium each day, and bat decorations that would rustle and make strange noises appearing in the corridors.

The last Friday afternoon of October, no classes.

In the cellar office, the fireplace burned brightly, dispelling the dampness that was typical of the cellar.

Severus was grading a batch of papers, his quill pen flying across the paper, occasionally scribbling sharp, concise comments along the margins.

Ian nestled in the old armchair next to him, a thick ancient book spread out on his lap. It was a collection of ancient runes used in magical artifacts, sent by Regulus last time.

The only sounds in the air were the rustling of quill pens, the crackling of the fireplace, and the occasional soft turning of pages by Ian.

"Severus," Ian suddenly spoke.

Severus paused, pen in hand, and looked up at him.

Ian closed the book, his fingers unconsciously tracing the raised lines on the cover. "Mr. Borgin has replied."

Severus put down his quill, leaned forward slightly, and looked over intently with his dark eyes.

"He said that Knockturn Alley has been relatively calm lately," Ian repeated the wording from the letter, "but the regular customers seem to have some other channels, inquiring about some... heavily protected and ancient items, offering high prices but with vague requirements, and the middlemen are very wary, disappearing immediately if a deal falls through."

"Quirok is preparing," Severus said in a low voice. "Or perhaps, the main spirit is preparing through him. Halloween... is a symbolic day. Ten years ago, on Halloween, he 'disappeared.'"

"For madmen like Bellatrix, this is a disgrace, a date that needs to be 'corrected'."

Ian continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "But for a weakened soul so weak that it can only possess Quirrell and hide under a headscarf, the intense magical atmosphere and chaotic celebrations of Halloween could also be a cover for its actions."

"He needs the Philosopher's Stone to reshape his body, and during the Halloween feast, most of the teachers and students will gather in the Great Hall, making patrols in other parts of the castle relatively lax."

Severus tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "Fourth floor restricted area... Lou Williams' weakness. Hagrid let it slip, Quirrell definitely knows, music."