As Snape limped across the courtyard, Harry noticed at once that his gait was uneven, favoring one leg.
Ron and Hermione, under Harry's guidance, huddled closer together, trying to shield the training weapons from Snape's view. These were smuggled goods Harry had arranged for the Weasley twins to bring in from outside the school—possibly not entirely above board.
Unfortunately, the guilty expressions on their faces drew Snape's attention.
He hobbled over.
He didn't spot the dagger, but he seemed to be searching for any excuse to reprimand them.
"What's that in your hand, Potter?"
"It's Quidditch Through the Ages," Harry said, showing him the book.
After all, he hadn't played a single match yet. Cautious as ever, Harry wanted to thoroughly understand the rules. Otherwise, it'd be a total loss if his hard-earned attribute points flew out the window. Just like how skipping the college entrance exam and getting into Tsinghua early didn't boost his intelligence, the system could be rigid in its judgments. Participating in sports required strict adherence to the rules.
For instance, the rules didn't allow the Snitch to be caught too soon after it was released, and if Harry didn't know that, he'd be at a disadvantage.
As the perennial GOAT, Harry never traveled when playing basketball.
"Library books are not to be taken out of the school," Snape said. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
"He's making it up as he goes!" Hermione muttered indignantly as Snape limped away. "What kind of school rule bans borrowing books? It's not like it's a restricted book. He's just looking for any excuse to dock your points."
"No idea what's wrong with his leg," Ron said, smirking with a touch of schadenfreude. "No clue, but I hope it hurts like hell."
Harry didn't care about the measly five points. He was used to Snape seizing every chance to deduct points. Those naturally wicked Slytherins. His mind was elsewhere:
Why is Snape injured? … His danger level hasn't dropped much. Is he really hurt? There's a faint smell of blood on his leg, but he could be faking it… A wizard's physical abilities, including ordinary movement, are nothing compared to mine. A leg injury wouldn't affect his spellcasting, so it makes sense his danger level hasn't decreased. Let's assume he's actually injured… But why parade around with a limp right in front of me, drawing my attention? As a Potions Master, a wound he can't heal immediately… It could be a special curse, an opponent with overwhelming magical power, or a magical creature…
Harry had his eye on that mysterious artifact of Dumbledore's, rumored to enhance magical power. He'd already scoped out the fourth floor. A three-headed dog was guarding it—not as awe-inspiring as in myths, but undoubtedly a formidable magical creature with a high danger level.
If it was the one that injured Snape, it would explain why he couldn't heal the wound immediately.
Is Snape after Dumbledore's artifact? Did Dumbledore refuse to give it to him, so he tried to take it himself and got bitten by the three-headed dog?
But that's too convenient. The deduction feels too smooth… Almost like it's baiting me to investigate that place…
Is he signaling, "If you don't steal it, I will"?
Harry shared some of his suspicions with his two friends.
Ron's thinking was straightforward, sticking to the most direct line of reasoning. "On Halloween, he probably tried to steal Dumbledore's artifact—the one Harry says is guarded by that big dog! He might've even let that troll in to create a distraction!"
Hermione's eyes widened.
"No—he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not exactly pleasant, and his point-docking is bizarre, but Harry said he's Dumbledore's secret ally, someone Dumbledore trusts. He'd never steal something Dumbledore is guarding so carefully."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think every teacher is a saint," Ron said bluntly. "Not every leader is Harry. Even someone loyal to a cause can turn traitor for the right reason. Back when You-Know-Who had all those devoted followers, didn't plenty of them—like Malfoy—cut ties the moment he fell? I think Snape's capable of anything. The real question is, what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
Harry felt Ron had a point.
Not everyone had a system panel like he did. Betrayal could happen in an instant.
Snape seemed loyal to Dumbledore, but Harry sensed that loyalty wasn't rooted in Dumbledore's charisma… It was something else.
What did Dumbledore use to win Snape over? … It can't be that Dumbledore used some kid to lure Snape, and Snape took a liking to me, only to be warned off by Dumbledore, so now he's resentful… No way.
From their few interactions, Harry was pretty sure Dumbledore was firmly on the side of good. Hogwarts didn't have that kind of messy drama. The vibe at British schools was decent—no gay undercurrents, and aside from Snape, everyone seemed straight.
Forget it. Better focus on how to steal Dumbledore's artifact.
The next morning, the weather was clear but chilly. The Great Hall was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling sausages, and everyone was buzzing with anticipation for the Quidditch match. The Gryffindors, especially, were in high spirits, chattering excitedly.
Harry noticed a faint glow on his system panel, signaling an achievement from the "Chinese Parent" dimension. He had a hunch that activating any of his six attributes could briefly trigger these achievements, granting a competitive boost.
It was like a supercharged version of the zone… But was it even necessary?
Unless he was up against the literal Basketball God, Football Deity, or Quidditch Satan, he might never need those competitive achievements.
The match was about to start. Time to eat.
The sausages were delicious today, the bread was great, and the lamb chops weren't pre-cooked.
By eleven o'clock, it seemed the entire school had gathered around the Quidditch pitch. Many students brought binoculars. The seats were practically floating in the sky, but sometimes it was still hard to see the action clearly.
Ron and Hermione joined Neville and Seamus in the topmost row.
To surprise Harry, they'd painted a huge banner on a bedsheet Scabbers had soiled, proclaiming Potter Must Win!—that malicious rat had been forcefully transformed into a yellow-furred rodent by Harry's overwhelming charisma months ago.
Its fur was still yellow, but Ron thought it was cool and didn't ask Harry to change it back.
For a long time after, Scabbers seemed less intelligent, relieving itself everywhere. Ron said it hadn't been like that before.
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