Chapter 113: A Confession Beneath the Moon
"Potter, are you planning to hurt one of your classmates?"
A cold, cutting voice sounded from behind him. Harry turned around and saw Snape standing there, watching them with dark, unreadable eyes.
"Professor, Malfoy and his lot started it," Ron hurried to explain.
"Harry was just—"
"That is not what I saw, Weasley," Snape sneered.
"Gryffindor will lose two points."
Malfoy's lips curled into a smug smile. Ron clenched his fists, grievance plain on his face.
"You're obviously biased toward Slytherin!"
Snape, who had already turned to leave, stopped at once.
"Talking back to a professor," he said lightly.
"Gryffindor loses another three points."
The words were calm, but they hit Harry and Ron like a weight to the chest.
At that moment, they truly understood—
not every professor at Hogwarts was kind or fair.
That realization only deepened once Potions class began.
For the entire lesson, Snape found every possible excuse to pick on Harry. The relentless, unreasonable targeting made Harry deeply uncomfortable—it reminded him painfully of Aunt Marge.
He gradually noticed that while Snape was harsh toward most Gryffindors, his hostility toward him was especially intense. It made Harry wonder if he had somehow offended Snape without realizing it.
He glanced at Wednesday, who was sitting nearby, feeling an inexplicable sense of envy.
Not only did she answer every question Snape asked with ease, but Snape never once scolded her.
That alone was remarkable.
After all, even Slytherin students weren't spared when they made mistakes—Snape usually lashed out like a venomous snake, merciless and biting.
When the long, suffocating Potions class finally ended, Harry and Ron dragged themselves out of the dungeon classroom, shoulders slumped and spirits low.
Ron did his best to comfort him.
"Snape's always been like that. Fred and George told me—he's always favored Slytherin."
"I don't think that's quite right," Hermione suddenly appeared in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Harry," she said earnestly, hugging her books, "I think Professor Snape is actually doing this for your own good. He wants you to learn Potions properly."
"If you'd previewed the textbook, you'd know those questions were very basic."
"Merlin's beard, Hermione—are you serious?"
Harry stared at her in disbelief. Snape's bias was practically written on his face.
"Of course," Hermione nodded solemnly.
"I wish Professor Snape would call on me more often."
"Alright, alright, excuse us," Ron said impatiently.
"We've got things to do. Bye."
He grabbed Harry and pulled him away toward Hagrid's hut.
Hermione watched their retreating backs, sensing Ron's subtle rejection. A trace of hurt flickered across her face.
She truly didn't think she'd said anything wrong.
---
"How was your first day of classes?"
Snape stopped Wednesday outside the dungeon classroom, asking stiffly.
He hadn't spoken like this to a student in years—the last time might have been five years ago, when Louise had just enrolled.
"…What?"
Wednesday was busy examining the shelves of preserved magical creatures in the Potions classroom. She liked this place so much that she hadn't heard him properly.
"Nothing," Snape said, lips pressed thinly.
"Do you like Potions?"
"Yes. When I'm at home, my grandmother sometimes lets me observe her brewing."
"Good."
Snape reached for an old textbook—then paused awkwardly.
He remembered giving his annotated copy to Russell last year.
"…Ahem."
He turned his head slightly, pretending nothing was amiss.
"If you run into any difficulties, you may come to my office."
"Thank you, Professor."
Wednesday's fingers brushed fondly over the jars of ingredients—one of them containing an enormous eyeball.
Snape noticed.
A moment later, when Wednesday left the classroom, she was holding a jar.
Inside it was the same eye.
Snape had given it to her.
It was the eye of a Hungarian Tree Wasp—not particularly valuable, merely something Snape had collected. If she liked it, giving it away made little difference.
"Russell must have finished those books by now," Snape mused.
"Maybe I should find a subtle way to get them back…"
Asking Wednesday to retrieve them directly from Russell, however—that was something he simply couldn't bring himself to do.
"Wait… isn't that from the Potions classroom?"
Russell stared at the eyeball in Wednesday's arms. It felt oddly familiar.
"Yes. Professor Snape gave it to me."
"That's huge news," Cedric said, leaning over.
"I've never heard of Snape giving anyone a gift."
"That just means Wednesday is exceptional," Cho said with a smile.
After dinner, Russell and Wednesday walked together to the edge of the Black Lake.
The lake was lively at night—pairs of students strolled along the shore. Blending in among them, Russell and Wednesday drew no attention.
"Wednesday… did we know each other when we were little?"
Russell suddenly asked.
"Before my parents died, before I was sent to the orphanage."
Recently, he'd been having a recurring dream.
As a child, there had been a little girl who always played beside him—yet her face remained blurred.
"Otherwise, why would I suddenly come looking for you the moment you returned?" Wednesday replied calmly.
"I thought you just wanted someone to play with," Russell said.
She stopped walking and gestured for him to crouch down slightly.
Then she reached out and placed her hand against his face.
It was cool to the touch—comfortingly so.
Just as he was about to ask what she was doing, a sealed memory burst open in his mind.
He remembered.
Russell was now certain—his parents had been closely connected to the Addams family.
No wonder the Addamses had always treated him so warmly.
"Well I'll be damned, Russell—didn't expect to see you here."
An amused voice interrupted them.
Russell turned and saw James waving enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face.
Standing beside him—
was Padma.
Seeing someone she knew, Padma grew shy and instinctively hid behind James.
"Oh come on, James—she's only a first-year," Russell whispered.
"Even Cedric only officially got together with Cho during the summer."
"And aren't you doing the same thing?" James replied, nodding toward Wednesday.
"Besides, if you don't put in the effort now, by the time you're in the higher years you'll realize there aren't any single girls left."
"…Alright, you've got a point," Russell said after glancing at Wednesday, finally nodding in reluctant agreement.
As they headed back toward the castle, Wednesday suddenly spoke up.
"You didn't seem very eager to admit it just now."
"Well…" Russell scratched his head.
"I was mostly worried about what you might think. I'm not exactly sure how you feel."
"I see," Wednesday said thoughtfully. After a brief pause, she added,
"Then would you be willing to be buried in the Addams family grave after you die?"
"I wouldn't be opposed to that," Russell shrugged.
He had no idea why she was asking—and besides, he didn't think he'd be dying anytime soon.
Then it hit him.
Wait… was that her way of confessing?
But when he turned to look at her, Wednesday had already walked a few steps ahead.
Too embarrassed to ask outright, Russell decided to take it as a yes.
"Want to see something interesting?" he asked suddenly, remembering that he still hadn't taken her to the Room of Requirement.
"Mm-hmm," Wednesday nodded.
___
"So this is the 'interesting thing' you mentioned?" she frowned, staring at the painting in front of them—a wizard being viciously beaten by a giant troll wearing a ballerina's tutu.
"It is interesting," she said seriously, pointing at the portrait of the troll clubbing Barnabas the Barmy.
"Can I take this with me?"
"When I buy Hogwarts someday, you can have it," Russell replied casually.
"…Alright," Wednesday said, clearly disappointed.
Her disappointment vanished in the very next moment.
A door abruptly appeared in the wall opposite them.
"Come in," Russell said, motioning her forward.
"This is the Room of Requirement."
With a thought, a chair materialized beneath him.
"You can reshape everything here with your imagination—even the weather."
He snapped his fingers. Sunlight poured down from above—then suddenly fierce winds swept through the room.
"Environment."
Snow-capped mountains, grassy plains, deserts—scene after scene shifted rapidly before returning to the original space.
"Only Cedric and I know about this place for now," Russell explained.
"We usually practice magic and brew potions here."
He pointed to a nearby table covered in bottles and jars.
"You can design a room of your own here—or anything else you want."
Wednesday nodded and began wandering around, quietly taking it all in.
Watching her, Russell smiled. He sat down by the table to tidy things up—and noticed several old, worn textbooks.
Right.
They were the ones Snape had given him.
Now that he was in second year, he had long since memorized their contents. He didn't really need them anymore.
Maybe he could pass them on to Wednesday.
Snape would probably approve… right?
After some thought, Russell decided it would be better to ask Snape first.
Respect, after all, went both ways.
If Snape refused, Russell would simply rewrite the material from memory.
Any resemblance would, of course, be purely coincidental.