Chapter 287: This Godfather Isn't So Cold

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June was nearing its end, and in just a few days, the busy final exams of the academic year would begin. The Hogwarts campus was filled with hurried footsteps, and even the most playful students couldn't help but rein in their usual mischief. Their expectations weren't high—they just hoped to get a few more "P"s (Passing) on their report cards. Otherwise, their holiday would be anything but peaceful.

However, on this particular day, one hurried figure stepped out of the castle gates. A gust of wind lifted the hem of his wide black cloak, revealing a meticulously tailored black suit underneath. Every student who crossed paths with this man instinctively stepped aside. Over the past month, Snape's mood had been particularly foul, and the number of points deducted had reached an all-time high. Students, tearfully reminiscing about the "good old days," once again found themselves trembling under Snape's oppressive rule, forced to keep their heads down and behave.

Some speculated that Snape had developed "midlife crisis-induced egg block syndrome," causing his usual monthly "egg-changing period" to malfunction, turning from a few days per month into an entire month-long ordeal.

Little did they know, this had nothing to do with any so-called "egg block syndrome." Instead, it all started one fateful day when a drunken Dumbledore, having been plied with liquor by Grindelwald, let slip upon returning to Hogwarts that Harry would be attending Durmstrang next year instead of staying at Hogwarts. The thought of his godson—whom he had spent ten long years waiting for and barely had time to nurture—being snatched away infuriated Snape to the point that he nearly shaved off Dumbledore's beard in a fit of rage.

If not for Fawkes' quick reflexes, teleporting Snape to the dungeons in a burst of phoenix flames to cool off, things would have escalated further. Even so, after being force-fed half a bottle of sobering potion by Snape, Dumbledore still spent an hour vomiting over the sink and didn't show up at dinner for several days afterward.

Now that Harry was finally returning to school, Snape naturally took it upon himself to pick him up the moment he arrived.

Harry was traveling via a specially dispatched Hogwarts Express. This wasn't some privileged treatment for an elite student—truth be told, the Hogwarts Express was so slow that even Muggle maglev trains outpaced it. Normally, Harry wouldn't have given it a second glance. However, circumstances forced him to rely on such transportation.

Over a week ago, he had undergone a "transformation"—a highly successful surgical procedure. Harry was now a fine gentlem—cough cough—a strong warrior. However, even warriors could be fragile. In his case, he was so weak that he needed assistance just to walk. Don't be fooled by the illusion that he could shatter the sound barrier with his bare hands—being a Resonator was far from easy, especially for someone who had been forcibly converted mid-way.

Forget those Hollywood-style transformations where a frail weakling turns into a muscular super-soldier overnight—such miracles didn't exist here. While Harry's newly reconstructed body had indeed undergone a rebirth, the unfamiliarity that came with it was a nightmare.

Walking? A challenge.

Breathing? Had to be relearned from scratch.

Unlike natural Resonators, whose evolution followed a smooth process, Harry's path had taken an unnatural shortcut. By fully integrating his mother's residual Resonator magic and her fragmented spiritual core, his theoretical potential now exceeded that of Li Jiannan, who possessed a quarter of a Resonator's power. Though Lily hadn't left behind much strength, every ounce of it was pure essence.

Unlike Li Jiannan, whose evolution followed a structured path, Harry's transformation was almost identical to that of a true Resonator—except his ceiling was much lower. However, his starting baseline was nearly the same. In other words, anything Seti had been able to do at Hogwarts, Harry could now replicate.

But a knockoff is still a knockoff. While he could perform similarly, the fundamental differences in detail were glaring. Unlike real Resonators, whose bodies were as unyielding as diamonds, Harry's modifications were like glass pretending to be diamond. Many of his "upgraded" bodily components didn't even exist in nature; they were merely patchwork substitutes formed by Resonator magic.

A true Resonator undergoes seamless evolution without side effects, but Harry? His body was held together by temporary magic-induced patches. If a real Resonator's body was a fortress, Harry's was a house of cards—one wrong move, and it could all collapse. Even without external pressure, his artificial components would naturally deteriorate under the strain of his enhanced physiology. Until his body fully adapted and self-repaired, the once-mighty Harry—sealed by Seti's signature Five-Element Seal—couldn't even hold a chicken properly, let alone fight a dragon barehanded.

Apparition? Out of the question.

Portkeys? No-go.

Floo powder? Not an option.

Flying via rocket? Forget about it.

Quidditch European Championship? Spectator only. He wouldn't even be allowed on the pitch. And if he wasn't careful while cheering, he might just choke on his own spit.

Thus, a towering, 6'7" (200cm), 300-pound (136kg) muscular giant now carried himself like a frail, delicate maiden. Seeing Harry's sudden fragility, Fleur—who had accompanied him back to England—seemed to have awakened some... peculiar instincts along the way.

But none of that mattered now!

What mattered was—he was back! 

With great determination, Harry leaned on his cane and trembled as he stepped off the train. A sudden gust of wind swept through the station, making his already-wobbly legs give out. He nearly collapsed—if not for a strong hand that caught him just in time.

"Godfather?! What are you doing here?"

Seeing Snape, Harry's face lit up with a genuine smile. "It's been over a month, and you've gotten even more handsome, Godfather!"

Had this been before, Snape might have allowed a rare smirk at Harry's shameless flattery. But now, his expression remained frozen, his eyes dark and simmering with barely contained fury.

"Flitwick told me you were at a dueling tournament," Snape growled, his piercing gaze flashing with veins of crimson. "What. Happened. Harry?"

"Tell me—who?" His tone was as icy as a heartless assassin's.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!" Harry quickly interrupted, sensing that Snape was about to declare war on Flitwick. The last thing he needed was a full-blown magical firefight. Knowing Snape, his wand had long since evolved into a fully automatic spell-firing machine gun.

"I did go to the dueling tournament! It's just that... well... things happened, and I—"

"Name," Snape demanded coldly, cutting him off with chilling efficiency.

"Don't give me that 'I'm-about-to-commit-genocide-with-a-single-potion' look, Godfather," Harry stammered, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

"When have I ever given you reason to think I wouldn't do such a thing?" Snape murmured, his left hand slipping into his robes, pulling out a vial of shimmering pink potion.

"One milliliter wipes out 4,000 people. I have twenty vials—enough to cleanse London. Injected directly, it's lethal to even the most venomous magical creatures, including Nundu and Manticores. I once used it to annihilate a hundred-member Cyclops tribe."

"Orally ingested, it has a sweet taste. Activation time varies—fifteen seconds to ninety minutes, enough time for an entire rainfall to pass. No residual toxins remain post-mortem. It has a rather poetic name—"

"'The cherry blossoms are blooming back home, Commander'?" Harry blurted, staring blankly at the mesmerizing pink liquid. The tiny, shimmering flakes inside did resemble delicate cherry petals.

"So... Japan?"

Snape's muttering grew colder, his aura practically dropping the surrounding temperature.

Harry snorted. "Honestly, I'd love to see you make them bathe in this stuff, but no. The dueling tournament had nothing to do with their magical bureau. They don't even have anyone good enough to qualify. Small country, scarce resources—talent is non-existent unless the entire nation backs them."

Snape's expression softened. With a swift motion, he tucked the potion back into his robes. The real reason for his sudden change in demeanor?

He had just conducted a quick diagnostic scan on Harry's body.

And the results?

This kid wasn't just alive—his vitality was overflowing. The sheer life force radiating off him was as potent as if he had bathed in unicorn blood. Just standing near him made Snape's own body heat rise unnaturally.

If Harry stayed like this, he could probably walk shirtless through a blizzard without even shivering.

With this kind of performance, Snape wouldn't believe that Harry had been injured or was ill, even if he were killed.

"Since you're fine, why are you walking around with a cane and acting like a patient?" Snape said irritably, reaching out to give Harry a light smack on the head. However, when he saw Harry almost fall again from the hit, Snape seemed momentarily puzzled. "What exactly is going on? Were you injured or not?"

"I just wanted to better blend into normal life, so..."

"Speak plainly."

Snape gave Harry a stern, piercing look that made him shiver inside.

"Basically," Harry quickly summarized the story for Snape. The short account caused Snape's expression to shift several times. Upon learning the method Lily had used to protect Harry, Snape closed his eyes tightly, then slowly opened them again. He turned his head slightly, as if pretending nothing had happened, and wiped his eye discreetly. His hand, still on Harry's arm, tightened involuntarily.

"I understand."

Snape spoke calmly, his tone revealing no fluctuation, though whether his heart matched his words was something only he knew.

"You won't be attending the final exams. Rest up these next few days. I'll prepare some potions for you, and you must take them on time."

"Can't I..." Harry began to protest, but before he could finish, he caught sight of Snape's eyes, which seemed to have reddened. "Can you at least not go overboard with it? Godfather, I can't take any more. If you give me more, I'll explode." Harry's eyes filled with tears, and he almost burst into tears himself. Snape's potions could be useful in emergencies, but when it came to taking them regularly? Harry was convinced they were nothing short of poisoning.

Snape's potions usually followed one rule: the more potent the effect, the more intense the taste; the prettier the color, the more dangerous it was. Those potions with a beautiful color and overwhelming taste? They either sent you straight to the afterlife or made you wish you were dead.

"I know my limits."

Snape, oblivious to any potential issues with his potions, was somewhat blind to their dangers. After all, he had brewed them for himself countless times without any problems. How could they possibly harm someone else, right? But as an accomplished potions master, Snape knew that Harry didn't need any additional supplementation at the moment. When he later performed a full-body checkup on Harry, he was planning to extract some blood for research. The abundant life energy emanating from Harry was like the finest raw material for potions—a treasure for any potions master. Maintaining the curiosity of a young mind was essential for any great master. Despite his age, Snape's heart still burned with youthful enthusiasm.

"Harry, I think there's something you need to tell me."

"What is it?"

"You're going to Durmstrang next year."

"I've already mentioned this to you, godfather, haven't I?" Harry blinked innocently. "I should've, probably, possibly... definitely mentioned it!"

"Really?" Snape's lips curled slightly, giving off a mischievous smile.

"Godfather, don't you want me to go?" Harry instinctively shrank his neck. He honestly didn't remember if he had already told Snape about it.

"No, go ahead."

Snape's sudden approval took Harry by surprise. But what surprised him even more was what came next.

"I've already submitted my resignation to Dumbledore. I won't be staying at Hogwarts next year. This school hasn't changed in decades. They've made several versions of the same cough medicine, but the teaching methods haven't evolved at all. Hogwarts? It's time to leave."

"I received an invitation from the Potions Master's Association. They're offering me a position as a guest lecturer on War Potions, so I'll be stepping out to get some fresh air and exchange ideas with other potion masters."

"What about the Potions classes at Hogwarts?"

"I've written to my mentor, Horace Slughorn, the Potions Master who specializes in Blessing Potions. He was one of my guides when I studied under him. At first, I learned about Cursed Potions and Toxins before moving on to War Potions, a much more complex field."

"A teacher who specializes in Blessing Potions taught you about Cursed Potions and Toxins?" Harry couldn't help but feel confused. "Isn't that a bit strange?"

"Why is that strange?" Snape shook his head. "If you learn Blessing Potions from a master in that field, your achievements will be limited. But if you study the opposite side of the coin, you gain double the insight from your teacher. After all, your enemy understands you better than your friends."

"Oh," Harry nodded in sudden understanding. "I get it now."

"You should take some time over the holidays to visit him. Your mother was highly regarded and cared for by Professor Slughorn. He's a bit of a snob, but his eye for talent is sharp. He'll probably get you a couple of bottles of Feling Potion for self-defense. When it comes to top-tier potions, a slight difference can make a huge impact. I'm not great at brewing Blessing Potions."

"Can the Feling Potion really make wishes come true, godfather?"

"Of course not," Snape smiled at Harry's enthusiastic questions. "It enhances the sixth sense, amplifying the drinker's innate abilities. Unlike enhancement potions, Blessing Potions have a strong drain effect, so they shouldn't be overused. But at the right moment, they can save your life."

"Sometimes, it's better to live ten fewer years than to die on the spot. In cases where the ultimate life-saving potion won't work, a single bottle of Blessing Potion can be the difference between life and death."

"Once, a Muggle drank one of these potions and within ten seconds, killed a young giant in hand-to-hand combat. Of course, after the potion wore off, he didn't live for more than thirty seconds. But you should understand the kind of power Blessing Potions can unlock. Unlike strength-enhancing potions that allow for small paybacks, Blessing Potions are a dangerous high-interest loan, one that you can't repay in a lifetime."

"Tempting but deadly—yet they can truly be a life-saving trump card. My teacher is both generous and stingy, but I'm sure he'd be willing to make a significant investment in you."

As they neared Hogwarts Castle, Snape's smile faded, and the cold, unapproachable aura around him returned. He walked briskly through the gates, leaving behind a chilling silhouette that made others hesitate to even glance at him.

But the students' attention was no longer on Snape. When Harry, leaning on his cane and grinning brightly, returned, the campus erupted with surprised and delighted greetings.

(End of Chapter)