Chapter 143 – Snape's Warning
"Please don't, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione suddenly stepped forward.
"I went looking for the troll. Because I — I thought I could handle it myself. I've read about trolls. I know a lot about them."
Harry and Ron exchanged stunned looks.
Hermione Granger… had just told a colossal lie to a professor?
"If they hadn't found me, I would be dead right now. When they arrived, the troll was about to swallow me whole," she said, sniffling.
"Wednesday protected me in the bathroom. Harry and Ron distracted the troll."
"And then…" she glanced at Russell, "…Russell finished it."
"No need to thank me," Russell said with a faint smile.
"No one asked you, Mr. Fythorne."
Professor McGonagall's tone was sharp. She only used his surname like that when she was truly angry.
She turned back to Hermione.
"Oh — if that's the case…" she said slowly. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl. How could you possibly think you could take on a mountain-sized troll by yourself?"
Hermione lowered her head.
Everyone knew Hermione was the least likely person in Hogwarts to break school rules. And yet now, to save the others from trouble, she had lied and claimed the fault as her own.
It was as unbelievable as Professor Snape suddenly deciding to wear dresses.
"Miss Granger, because of this, five points will be deducted from Gryffindor," McGonagall said. "I am very disappointed in you. If you are uninjured, you had better return to Gryffindor Tower immediately. The Halloween feast is still ongoing."
Hermione bowed slightly and left quietly.
McGonagall's gaze shifted to the remaining four.
"Potter. Weasley. From what I understand, you two did not directly engage the troll. Is that correct?"
Harry and Ron glanced at each other and nodded.
"Very well. For your courage, Gryffindor earns ten points. You may go."
They both let out visible sighs of relief. Ron tried to linger for Russell, but under McGonagall's stern glare, he hurried away.
"As for you two…"
She was about to continue when Professor Snape, having finished examining the troll, cleared his throat and interrupted.
He cast a cold glance at the stunned Quirrell on the floor.
"I believe Miss Wednesday displayed remarkable bravery," Snape said smoothly. "Facing a troll as a first-year, and rescuing a Gryffindor student from its grasp. Twenty points to Slytherin."
He emphasized "Gryffindor" heavily.
McGonagall paused. She couldn't refute the logic.
"…Very well, Severus. As you say."
"And me?" Russell blurted out. "Surely I don't get nothing?"
He turned toward Quirrell. "Professor Quirrell, perhaps you'd like to say something? Killing a troll and saving fellow students doesn't merit more points?"
"Ah—oh," Quirrell blinked dazedly, as though waking from a nap. "Yes, yes… I believe… one hundred points."
Russell nearly choked.
He should've started at fifty — negotiations always ended lower.
As expected, McGonagall shook her head immediately.
"That is excessive. Thirty points will suffice."
Russell inwardly groaned. See? Opened too high.
Snape said nothing more, though his eyes flickered thoughtfully between Russell and Quirrell before he turned and departed without a word.
"I will inform Professor Dumbledore of this," McGonagall said at last, dismissing Russell and Wednesday.
---
"That was thrilling," Wednesday remarked calmly as they walked. "Especially when the troll was about to grab me."
"There will not be a next time," Russell said firmly. "Starting tomorrow, you're learning the Shield Charm."
He'd realized something important — Wednesday knew plenty of curses and offensive magic, mostly dark in nature.
But she had never properly studied defensive spells.
"If I hadn't arrived in time, you would've been eaten alive."
Wednesday remained unfazed.
"I knew you would come."
That answer short-circuited Russell's brain for several seconds.
"…When Hermione fell, you didn't run. You stepped in front of her. You've changed, Wednesday."
"Have I?" she tilted her head slightly. "I did consider leaving. I just… hesitated."
"That means you consider her a friend now."
He gently patted her head.
"…Perhaps."
When they rounded a corner, they found Harry, Ron, and Hermione waiting.
"You're not at the feast?" Russell asked in surprise.
"Leaving you two to be interrogated while we ran off?" Ron puffed his chest. "That wouldn't be very friendly."
Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.
"By the way," Ron added, eyes shining, "that spell you used to kill the troll was amazing."
But he didn't ask to learn it. In his mind, mastering classroom spells was already enough. Something that powerful had to be difficult — and probably would eat into his precious leisure time.
Harry felt similarly. Quidditch practice consumed most of his energy lately.
Only Hermione remained quiet.
Then she spoke, lowering her voice.
"Russell… I might be wrong, but… that spell you used. Was it Dark Magic?"
"Hey," Ron protested immediately, "that's not fair, Hermione. Dark Magic or not, he saved us."
Hermione didn't back down.
"I'm not saying he shouldn't have used it. I'm just asking."
Russell studied her for a moment.
Then he smiled faintly.
"It depends on who's using it."
He leaned slightly closer.
"Magic itself isn't inherently dark or light. Intent matters. Control matters."
He paused.
"And more importantly — responsibility."
Hermione didn't look fully convinced, but she nodded slowly.
Russell's expression remained calm.
But far away, in a dim corridor, Professor Snape stood alone in the shadows.
And he was thinking.
About the invisible blade.
About how clean the cut had been.
And about a spell he knew far too well.
Seeing Hermione still not convinced, Ron frowned, clearly dissatisfied.
"I just…" Hermione faltered, growing flustered. "I read that Dark Magic can affect the user's mind — twist it, make them unstable… even mad."
"Is that so…" Ron's tone softened immediately.
"Hermione," Russell said patiently, "Dark Magic covers a wide range of spells. Jinxes, hexes, and curses are all considered Dark Magic. Plenty of Hogwarts students know a few of them."
"That's impossible."
At her doubtful look, Russell calmly listed examples — the Bat-Bogey Hex, the Leg-Locker Curse, and several others.
Hermione hesitated.
"Well… when you put it that way…"
"The spells that truly warp the mind," Russell continued, "are probably the Unforgivable Curses — that level of Dark Magic."
"…I think that's what the book meant," Hermione admitted, though she still looked uncertain.
"Unforgivable Curses?" Harry asked curiously. "What are those?"
"In simple terms," Russell replied, "if you use one and get caught, the Ministry of Magic will immediately hunt you down and throw you into Azkaban."
"That does sound terrifying." Harry shuddered involuntarily.
Russell studied his expression.
"Sirius must have told you everything about what he went through, didn't he?"
Harry nodded, his face dimming. "He suffered a lot."
"But it's over now, isn't it?" Russell said gently.
"…Yeah. It's over." A small smile returned to Harry's face.
"He also asked me to tell you — during the holidays, he wants you to visit. All of you."
They reached a fork in the corridor and split up — Harry, Ron, and Hermione heading toward the Gryffindor common room, while Russell escorted Wednesday to the Slytherin dungeon entrance.
Only when Russell began climbing toward Ravenclaw Tower did he pause.
"Professor Snape. Were you waiting here specifically for me?"
From the shadows, a tall figure stepped forward.
"You already know the answer," said Severus Snape coolly. "With your intelligence, you should also know what I intend to discuss."
"How would I know?" Russell replied lightly. "Perhaps you feel the points awarded earlier were insufficient and wish to add a few more?"
"If you want additional points, you may consult Quirrell."
Snape's lips twitched — as if about to form a habitual sneer — but he suppressed it.
"Professor Quirrell merely believed I protected fellow students," Russell said innocently. "That justifies awarding points, doesn't it?"
He blinked, utterly unruffled.
He had anticipated this moment the instant he cast that spell. There was no way Snape wouldn't recognize the traces left behind by his own creation.
"Must you persist in this charade?" Snape stepped closer, lowering his head, dark eyes boring into Russell.
"If you already know," Russell replied with a faint smile, "why ask?"
There was no retreat in him.
Snape studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"I am merely informing you… Quirrell is not a good man."
"Professor Corvey wasn't a good man either," Russell answered calmly. "But he taught me many things. Most importantly — never trust others too easily."
Truthfully, if Corvey hadn't tried to kill him in the end, he might have been considered an excellent teacher.
"If you understand that," Snape pressed, frowning slightly, "then why…?"
He struggled to phrase it.
"This is bargaining with a tiger. One misstep, and you will be beyond redemption."
So Snape had noticed something after all.
"Sometimes," Russell said quietly, "our circumstances dictate actions that do not align with our wishes."
He had already been marked.
Once Lord Voldemort had fixed his gaze on him, there was no such thing as simply walking away.
Would telling Albus Dumbledore change anything?
Perhaps not.
After all, Quirrell was merely a whetstone.
A tool.
A trial designed to sharpen Harry.
No matter how brilliant others might prove themselves, Dumbledore would always place his wager on the Boy Who Lived.
Because he was the child of prophecy.
And that, to Dumbledore, was reason enough.