"Bullying classmates, insulting others... all of you—one month's detention." Snape fixed Malfoy with a flat, steady gaze.
Detention? Why them?
Malfoy looked stunned, as if wondering whether Snape had misspoken.
Wasn't Professor Snape supposed to be the most protective? Why would he punish them?
Why? Because you just had to run your mouth and jab straight at the sore spot.
Leonard lowered his head, quietly chuckling.
Shame there weren't any points deducted. Snape and his damned pride—over the House Cup of all things.
"Mr. William." Having vented his spleen on his own House, Snape turned coldly to Leonard. "You used magic in the corridor…"
"My apologies, Professor. I didn't. Malfoy's teeth were hit by accident when Mr. Marcus misfired." Leonard pulled out his wand. "If you don't believe me, you can inspect it."
Snape stared at the wand for a moment, its familiar shape stirring memories of Dumbledore's old wand.
He snapped back quickly, his voice sharp. "If you didn't use magic, then how did Mr. Goyle faint? And Marcus, and the others?"
Snape's eyes locked onto Leonard's, probing with suspicion.
Leonard held the gaze calmly. At that moment, the Ancient Sprout hidden in his sleeve stirred, and a flash of silver danced across his vision.
Dock him points, Leonard thought he heard a voice whispering from within Snape's eyes.
What the hell? Hearing words… through eyes?
Leonard froze—then saw Snape suddenly suck in a breath and stagger back, his face twisted in shock.
That was… Legilimency?
Leonard blinked, reaching into his sleeve to brush the Ancient Sprout.
So Snape had tried to pry into his mind—and been thrown back. Leonard hadn't been ready for it at all.
What now? Damn awkward. He hadn't meant to overhear Snape's little schemes. Would this greasy bat make things difficult for him now?
Snape, on the other hand, looked rattled to his core.
What was this? Rebuffed? Had this Hufflepuff brat actually learned Occlumency?
The two stood there in strained silence, neither daring to meet the other's gaze, neither knowing how to continue.
"Ahem..." Leonard cleared his throat. "Professor Snape, I only used my fists. School rules say no magic in the corridors."
Normally, Leonard obeyed rules—unless they got in the way of his plans.
Breaking them without reason was never his style.
Snape was quiet for a beat, then said, "So you admit you bullied your classmates?"
"No, I only fought back. I was afraid of being bullied, so when Mr. Marcus attacked me with magic, I reacted on instinct." Leonard put on a shy, harmless expression.
Right then, he looked every bit the picture of a model Hufflepuff.
That damned shyness!
Malfoy's eyes flared with rage, desperate to tear away this facade. But then he remembered—Snape was already angry with him. He swallowed his indignation and dropped his head.
Forget it. Snape wouldn't believe him now anyway.
Snape, of course, wasn't fooled. No way a boy capable of deflecting Legilimency was some timid, harmless little Hufflepuff.
He glanced at Leonard's eyes again, then quickly looked away, uneasy.
"Regardless," Snape said coldly, "you injured your classmates. Hufflepuff, minus fifty points."
You bastard.
Leonard's expression darkened. He'd just earned thirty points all morning, and this greasy bastard snatched fifty in a single stroke.
Shameless!
He didn't care about the House Cup, but watching his progress sink into the negatives in an instant was maddening.
Swallowing back the curses that crowded his throat, Leonard forced a pleasant smile and politely bid Snape farewell.
This guy—the more you talk, the more he digs in. Leonard was certain that if he said even one more word, Snape would nail him for backtalk and dock more points.
He wasn't about to take that bait.
Watching Leonard walk away so cleanly, Snape—who'd been waiting for him to protest, to argue, and give him an excuse to unleash his little "deduction combo"—found himself momentarily stunned.
So decisive? Taking the loss without blinking?
Snape's eyes followed Leonard's retreating back, a flicker of suspicion glinting in his gaze.
And what exactly was that ability that pushed back against his Legilimency? Occlumency? No, it didn't feel like that. Not at all.
Occlumency blocks Legilimency probes, but it's defensive. Only in rare, fierce clashes could it unbalance the Legilimens enough for their thoughts to slip and be exposed in reverse.
But just now, it had felt like Leonard had cast Legilimency at the same time as him—only Snape failed, and Leonard succeeded.
Then what about his own Occlumency? Why hadn't it worked?
Something was off. That boy was not ordinary.
Snape sank into thought, barely sparing attention for the son of his old friend standing nearby.
...
Leonard, meanwhile, moved steadily toward the dungeons, his face expressionless.
He'd slipped. He'd forgotten all about Legilimency when he locked eyes with Snape. But really, who could blame him? Ever since discovering the Ancient Sprout's protection against most magic, he'd fallen into a mental trap—assuming that special magics like Legilimency couldn't be countered, and that only the Unforgivable Curses posed any real threat to him.
Now Snape likely knew there was something unusual about him. He just didn't know what.
Snape's next moves could only go one of two ways: pretend nothing happened, while secretly watching, probing for his secret... or tell Dumbledore.
And honestly, those two weren't mutually exclusive. He'd probably do both.
But at the end of the day, Leonard was still just a student. Dumbledore wouldn't lay a hand on him—at worst, he'd have the portraits on the walls keep a closer watch.
As for Snape, he was only a professor. Leonard wasn't even in Slytherin, so outside of Potions, they had no reason to cross paths.
At most, Snape could sneer at him during class, nitpick his brews, and try to pressure him into revealing something unusual.
If he really thought that would work, he was underestimating him.
In his previous life as a scavenger, Leonard had grown used to hunting—not animals, but humans. The most cunning creatures alive. The most dangerous criminals.
For someone who made a living hunting people, patience was never in short supply.