Chapter 43: Snape's Point of View
"Montage," a French term meaning "organization and splicing,"
often acquires a meaning that no individual fragment alone possesses.
By selecting fragments as material and arranging them according to the narrator's specific conception, narrative suggestion guides the audience's thoughts, linking these separate fragments into a coherent story. This method of organization and assembly is called montage.
Inside the Muggle Studies professor's office, fragments of memory were extracted, placed into glass vials, and carefully labeled. A silvery-white mist floated above them, faintly glowing, revealing flickering, broken images:
A professor wearing a long purple turban and eccentric clothes hurrying furtively down a corridor.
The same oddly dressed professor sorting through a haystack beside a sleeping troll.
A hideous, hulking troll wandering the hallway, its wooden club dragging white trails across the floor.
A first-year student in wizard robes leaping heroically toward the troll.
The troll lying on the floor as the turbaned professor sobbed against the wall.
Melvin mentally noted to find time to buy a batch of test-tube racks to properly organize his memory flasks before reviewing them in order. He was quite pleased with his progress.
The fragments now formed a vaguely coherent story.
"The plot is there… but the main line isn't complete."
Melvin packed the glass flasks and the quartz mirror, opened a drawer, took out a notebook, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write and sketch on the paper.
The night deepened gradually.
Several desk lamps illuminated his workspace as the ink carried his thoughts onto the page. Since it was only a draft, there were inevitable crossings-out and corrections, and Melvin didn't bother using magic to erase the ink blots.
There was one major correction right in the middle of the page:
the first half of the title Home Alone had been crossed out and replaced with Alone at School.
Home Alone?
Punishment for first-year students, he mused.
November 1st, Friday.
Despite the previous night's Halloween feast, Hogwarts didn't celebrate with a holiday, so classes proceeded as usual.
The two upper-year classes that Melvin had been tutoring for their exams had completed their first round of reviews and were now starting the second. The advanced students were disciplined, and with a Hogsmeade weekend ahead, most of them only grumbled symbolically before diving back into intense revision.
Dumbledore had finally decided not to report the previous night's events to the Board of Governors.
No one would be fired or expelled over an accident.
However, the troll that had attacked people could not remain on campus.
"Professor Quirrell, please deal with it as soon as possible,"
said Deputy Headmistress McGonagall sternly, her expression particularly severe.
"It's nearly the weekend. Sell it or entrust it to a friend but do not leave it until next week."
Quirrell nodded hurriedly, stammering as he promised to take care of the troll. He looked gaunt and pale, though his swelling filled out the hollows of his face, making him appear even more shadowed than at the start of term three months ago.
Snape, standing beside him, looked even darker perhaps because of the bite on his left leg and appeared more irritable than usual.
The night before, in the Great Hall, Quirrell had fainted after dramatically announcing that a troll had escaped. Snape, suspecting that other wizards might be collaborating with Quirrell to steal the Philosopher's Stone, had rushed to the fourth-floor corridor where he had nearly met the same fate as his prey.
The three-headed dog, Fluffy, lacked venom glands, but its saliva made magical healing useless. Snape had no choice but to rely on conventional treatment and wait for the wound to mend.
When word spread that Fluffy had bitten Snape's leg, several professors expressed sympathy, assuming he'd been guarding the Stone.
As for Quirrell being the prime suspect his feelings toward Snape were complicated.
At the start of the term, Snape had been watching him closely, believing him to be one of Dumbledore's allies.
But as Quirrell learned more and analyzed the situation, he came to a startling realization:
This former Death Eater, once a core member, had long lurked in Hogwarts, outwardly loyal to Dumbledore yet frequently disobeying his orders.
For example, Dumbledore adored Potter. He'd arranged for Harry's parents to be buried beside his own family's graves, kept the boy hidden from Dark Wizards for years, and even had Hagrid personally escort him to Hogwarts.
And yet Snape had attacked Harry during his first class, seemingly intent on getting him expelled.
If Snape wasn't Dumbledore's man, then why was he so obsessed with guarding the Philosopher's Stone?
That's it he wants to steal it too!
Quirrell's gaze drifted to his own injured leg as his suspicions solidified.
Snape, unaware that the Dark Lord possessed Quirrell, regarded him as a rival also seeking the Stone. It was a pity the Dark Lord was so cautious too mistrustful even of his former Death Eaters. Otherwise, they could have easily joined forces to seize it.
Melvin, watching Quirrell's shifting expression, silently decided to erase that fragment of memory too. It was clear that the man was plotting something dark.
Half an hour later, lunchtime ended. The messenger owls arrived punctually.
Students received heaps of letters and parcels, and several owls landed on the staff table as well.
Melvin took an envelope from one, sliced off two strips of roast beef for the messenger, and began to read his letter.
Dear Professor Lewynter,
I'm not sure how things are going at the school, but enlarging the Shadow Mirror has not been easy.
You can't imagine the difficulties I encountered. I thought it would be simple to melt a small piece of quartz, but as the size increased, the difficulty grew exponentially. I've lost count of my failures but whenever I think of your elegant vision, failure feels trivial.
The challenges in craftsmanship were nothing compared to the ordeal of gathering materials. Due to a shortage of raw quartz and a surge in demand for Shadow Mirrors, both Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley potion merchants have raised prices in unison. I even had to borrow money from my family to complete the purchase. These merchants are utterly unethical, and I condemn them strongly.
But do not worry I've overcome every obstacle and still pride myself on higher ethics than these profiteers. The mirrors you ordered have been completed and will be delivered to the usual place this Saturday.
Your loyal and sincere partner,
Wright.
Melvin silently reread the letter twice before deciphering the true message hidden between the lines:
"Please pay the remaining balance."
Wright had clearly consulted Borgin before writing. The cost of the large-scale Shadow Mirror must have been far higher than expected; otherwise, Monk Stanley a man obsessed with craftsmanship would never have gone to such lengths.
The delivery owl couldn't comprehend the wizard's complex expression. It finished its meal, flapped its wings lazily, patted its belly, and hooted contentedly before taking off.
One by one, the other owls followed, filling the Great Hall with the flutter of countless wings.
(End of Chapter)