At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 54 The Price of the Big Picture

The air in the cellar was cold and damp all year round, with a foul smell from the mixture of mud and old medicine.

Severus Snape sat behind his desk, stroking a bottle of slug slime.

He didn't need to look at the sky outside to smell the odor coming in through the ventilation vents:

Coke, melted dragon skin, and the lingering stench of cheap brandy emanating from Hagrid.

Just hours earlier, the fire on the edge of the Forbidden Forest illuminated the incompetence and hypocrisy of everyone in this ancient building.

Snape let out a disgusted sneer.

While Professor McGonagall was still making futile mourning for the collapse of order, Snape had already seen the course of the entire game in the embers.

For him, it was a mundane crime.

Only a giant with insufficient brain capacity like Hagrid would attempt to hatch a Norwegian spinal dinosaur in a wooden hut.

Only an arrogant savior like Potter would consider the law to be nothing more than a few decorative words to him.

He stood up, his long black robe trailing silently across the stone floor.

Potions class in the morning.

Sunlight can penetrate the narrow windows high up, but it cannot pierce the shadows inside the classroom.

The students had already taken their seats, and Snape noticed the unusual activity everywhere.

At the Gryffindor table, Potter's dark circles looked like he'd been punched hard, and Weasley's fingers were wrapped in bandages—typical healing marks from a baby dragon bite.

Meanwhile, on Slytherin's side, Draco Malfoy, like a cat that had just stolen some fish, straightened his back and kept glancing at the two panicked fools.

What truly surprised him was Granger, who, unlike her usual talkative self, became indifferent.

"Before this lesson begins,"

Snape's voice echoed in the classroom, "I must remind some simple-minded students who think they are superior to others—there are some things in the wizarding world that must never be kept privately."

This behavior is not only foolish, but also extremely—deadly.

He stopped and stood right in front of Harry Potter's table.

The oppressive feeling of being so close made Potter instinctively shrink his neck.

"Give it to me, Weasley," Snape commanded.

Ron reluctantly put his hand back on the table, green slime seeping from under the bandage.

"What an amazing wound," Snape leaned down and stared at Harry. "Can you tell me what bit you, Potter?"

"A mouse, sir."

Harry forced himself to speak, his voice trembling under Snape's intense gaze.

"A rat." Snape forced a smile. "So the rats at Hogwarts have mutated to the point where they can bite with blood-spitting venom. I bet this rat" also has wings, and just now it even set half of one of the game keeper's huts on fire?"

Harry's face turned deathly pale, and he bit his lower lip hard.

On the other side of the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy let out a loud sneer, followed by muffled, pig-like laughs from Goyle and Crabbe.

"Gryffindor deducts 10 points."

Snape straightened up, his black robes billowing in a chilling wind. "Because you are trying to make all the teachers and students of Hogwarts blind."

Potter, if your barren brain still holds even a shred of awe for danger, you should understand that when you are burned to ashes, don't expect me to write your eulogy.

Now, turn to page fifty-eight!

He watched with satisfaction as the anger in Harry's eyes turned into fear of the unknown.

As soon as the bell rang, the Gryffindors poured out of the classroom as if their lives depended on it.

Draco Malfoy deliberately slowed down his movements, and after everyone had left, he strode to the front of the stage with undisguised excitement and boastfulness.

"Professor, my father has already contacted the ministry. Late Saturday night, we're going to make those stupid lions look bad on the Astronomy Tower."

Draco lowered his voice, his face filled with fantasies of power.

Snape didn't look at him, but instead lowered his head and crushed a few scarabs with a mortar and pestle.

With a crisp "crack," the beetle's juices splattered out.

He saw his former self in Draco. That young man who thought he could change the world just by grasping the tail of power.

Lucius's behavior in this matter was not merely greed, but also extreme mediocrity.

Lucius thought he was using the Ministry of Magic's paperwork to undermine Dumbledore, but to Snape, it was like a savage with a stick trying to frighten lightning.

"Did your father send you to tell me all this hoping for my approval, Draco?"

Snape asked without looking up, his voice flat and devoid of any inflection.

"We are here to eliminate potential hazards in the school—"

"You're doing this for that pathetic political vanity."

Snape interrupted him mercilessly, put down his pestle, and looked coldly at the smug boy.

"You think your father has Dumbledore by the throat? You think a single document from the Ministry of Magic can oust the greatest white wizard of our time?"

Draco was stunned. "But—the evidence is conclusive: illegally keeping dangerous magical creatures—"

“Go back and tell your father,” Snape turned his back to Draco, “that if you’re going to hunt, hide in the shadows.”

Those who bark wildly in the light are never the real predators. Go back and tell your father not to treat the games at this school like he's playing house at the ministry.

Get out!

Draco snapped out of his daze, took two steps back in alarm, and fled the cellar.

Snape swept the crumbs on the table into the wastepaper basket.

In his eyes, this attempt to bring down Dumbledore through the bureaucratic system was so clumsy that it didn't even deserve to be considered a joke.

Thursday night, in the principal's office.

The viewing mirror made a soft clicking sound in the moonlight.

Dumbledore sat amidst a pile of official documents, filling in the blanks of a "Hogwarts Staff Dormitory Fire Safety Rectification Report" with dates that had long since passed.

With a "bang," the door was pushed open.

Snape strode in, went straight to the desk, and grabbed the parchment Dumbledore was writing on.

"Falsifying fire records? I thought that was something only the scum in the Ministry of Magic's logistics department would do."

Snape smiled wryly at the old headmaster, but couldn't help but use his sharp tongue.

"That's quite something, Albus. To protect a brute who doesn't even have a wand, you've started fabricating evidence like a third-rate politician."

"Hagrid needs a little help, Severus."

Dumbledore calmly put down his quill, took off his half-moon spectacles, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If it were the normal procedure, he would be sent to Azkaban. You know he couldn't stand the torture there."

"Help?" Snape slowly rose and said in his signature tone, "You're teaching that savior boy that with someone like you cleaning up his messes, the law is a joke."

You are raising another lawless, arrogant James Porter.

And this time, you gave him an even more lethal barrier than an invisibility cloak: your lies.

You are exploiting the fairness of this school to satisfy your rampant "love" ideology.

Tell me, Albus, as you go further and further into this decay, is the only difference between you and Lucius Malfoy simply that you're wearing a white robe?

He leaned down, looking at Dumbledore with disappointment, his voice low and menacing: "Tell me, Albus—when you bury justice with your own hands for this greater good, will your dreams still be as peaceful as before?"

The room fell into a deathly silence.

"You've said enough, Severus." Dumbledore's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable air of authority.

"Justice is a scale, Severus. Sometimes we put the weight of the whole world on it."

"Because this is the only truth in this castle full of lies." Snape resolutely turned and walked towards the door.

Halfway there, he stopped and, without turning around, said, "I hope this farce of yours ends well on Saturday night. I'm watching."

The door was slammed shut.

As Saturday night approached, the conflict between the two houses had escalated to a point that was now clearly visible.

Late at night, the torches in the corridor flickered on and off.

-

"Hey, little snake, didn't anyone send you the antidote?"

Lee Jordan's voice was filled with excitement as he and two older students cornered several Slytherin freshmen around a corner.

The magic wand in his hand was flashing red.

"Let us go!"

A Slytherin freshman backed away, reaching into his pocket and clutching his head in fear.

"Let go? You should learn from your cowardly seniors and hide in the cellar."

Lee Jordan scoffed, "Densaugeo!"

A red light streaked across the darkness.

Snape was standing a few steps away.

He watched as the red light struck the newborn's face, and watched as the other person covered their mouth in pain, blood seeping from between their fingers.

He didn't move, but coldly flicked the wand hanging from his sleeve until the Gryffindors were about to cast the second spell, at which point he slowly stepped out.

"Mr. Jordan,"

Snape's voice was so deep it sent chills down your spine. "I didn't know that Gryffindor's courage had become so cheap that it had to be demonstrated by bullying ten-year-olds."

Lee Jordan's hand trembled in fright, and his wand nearly fell to the ground: "Professor, they started it—"

"Deduct twenty points from Gryffindor."

Snape bypassed him, not even glancing at the injured freshman, his tone cold and urgent, "If you have any extra energy, I wouldn't mind locking you in the cellar to scrub those bottles used to soak dead rats."

Now, get out.

Lee Jordan fled in disarray.

Snape looked at the trembling Slytherin freshmen who were looking at him with pleading eyes.

But he merely snorted coldly, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust: "Useless trash who can't even fight back. Go back to your cellars."

T

He turned his back and walked into the darkness, even though he almost never stood in the light.