Part 8

Hermione was the first to wake up. Still drowsy, she didn't quite understand where she was. Definitely not in the Gryffindor Tower. Nearby, Harry and Ron were still sound asleep. The girl quietly lowered her feet off the bed to avoid waking them and looked around.

"It must be Harry's new room," Granger mused aloud. "Dumbledore and McGonagall really put in some effort."

She didn't immediately notice that she was dressed in Gryffindor pajamas. Apparently, Snape had transfigured her school uniform. The Potions Master's behavior seemed very strange to her, even unsettling. One moment he was practically snapping at them like a rabid dog, the next he was feeding them dinner and letting them stay in his quarters. In short, very suspicious behavior.

Before waking the boys, she decided to scout the area. As she descended into the living room, she unexpectedly ran into Snape. He was sitting in an armchair, reading the Daily Prophet and drinking coffee.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," the professor greeted her dryly without looking up from his newspaper.

"Good morning... Professor," she replied, surprised by his appearance. A simple white shirt with sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm and classic trousers. No strict frock coat or billowing black robe that made him look like a bat in flight. Dressed like this, he even seemed a little younger and less intimidating.

"Breakfast is on the table, Miss Granger. Wake your friends, freshen up, and come down."

"No need to trouble yourself, sir. The boys and I will have breakfast in the Great Hall," Hermione said, feeling uncomfortable around the man who had insulted her and her friends so many times.

"I have no doubt, Miss Granger. Especially when you bury yourself in books and completely forget about food. Or am I wrong?" She flushed deeply and stared at the floor. Snape was right—sometimes she got so engrossed in studying that she forgot to eat. "I thought so. Now, please wake Potter and Weasley."

The young witch quickly nodded and returned to Harry's room. The boys were still sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. Hermione decided not to be gentle. She yanked the blanket off them and started shaking their shoulders energetically.

"Hermione? It's way too early to wake up," Ron grumbled, swatting at her and trying to go back to sleep.

"What are you even doing in the boys' room?" Harry asked, squinting. Granger handed him his glasses—apparently, Snape had taken them off and placed them on the bedside table.

"Have you forgotten? We're not in Gryffindor Tower; we're in Snape's private quarters," the girl reminded them.

"What?!" Harry and Ron yelled. The events of the previous evening flashed through their minds, and they shuddered.

"You must be joking," Ron groaned. The day was off to a terrible start.

"No time for complaints, the professor is waiting downstairs."

The trio quickly brushed their teeth and headed down. Snape was still on the couch, reading the Prophet. Three bowls of oatmeal sat on the table, waiting for them. Harry, Ron, and even Hermione grimaced involuntarily—none of them were fans of plain porridge.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Breakfast," the man greeted them just as coldly. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the children. They flinched, but nothing alarming happened—only their school uniforms were restored.

"Good morning, sir. Thank you," the boys responded almost in unison. They cautiously sat down on the now-familiar couch and eyed the oatmeal with suspicion.

"If you keep staring at it, it won't disappear. Eat. Classes start soon," Snape shot them a stern look.

"But, sir, we could eat in the Great Hall. Besides, I don't really like oatmeal," Ron tried to argue. But all he got in return was Snape's signature cold glare.

"Eat in silence, Weasley."

No one spoke after that. The trio started eating while the older man immersed himself in the news of magical Britain. The oatmeal turned out to be quite decent. Winky, the house-elf, had done a good job—secretly adding honey, nuts, jam, and a generous handful of berries to make the plain porridge edible.

"Thank you for everything, Professor," the children said after finishing their breakfast and hurried back to the Tower. There wasn't much time left before classes began.

"Stay out of trouble. Have a good day."

Ron, Hermione, and especially Harry needed to analyze yesterday's events. Their curiosity was piqued—who was the Heir of Slytherin? And what had happened to Snape? Why was he behaving so strangely toward the Gryffindor trio he had despised since their first year?

***

The days passed excruciatingly slowly and without incident. Much to the Golden Trio's relief, Harry hadn't heard the strange voice again. One afternoon, after class, they gathered in the library to study and discuss the question that had been bothering them.

"Who do you think the Heir of Slytherin is?" Ron suddenly asked while working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. As expected, the test questions were utterly ridiculous and entirely dedicated to Lockhart's so-called heroic exploits.

"I think it's someone from Slytherin," Harry answered while finishing his Transfiguration essay.

"Brilliant deduction," Ron snorted.

"Actually, I have a theory," Hermione said with a mysterious smile, flipping through yet another supplementary textbook.

"And what is it?"

"I think we should search the Slytherin common room. There must be some clue there. And we could question some of the Slytherins," Granger suggested seriously.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"We'll brew Polyjuice Potion," she said, pointing to her book.

"Isn't that an incredibly difficult potion? Bill told me that even seventh-years struggle with it."

"Yes, I'll need the exact recipe and ingredients. I'll explain everything once I get the right book. Besides, I've wanted to test my skills for a long time."

"Great. We'll find that snake before anything worse happens," Ron declared. Sealing their promise with a handshake, the trio returned to their homework.

***

Friday arrived. The students had no afternoon classes, so they decided to relax—except for Hermione, who was engrossed in studying the Polyjuice Potion recipe. It turned out that Lockhart was completely useless—signing autographs without even looking where. That's how she managed to get her hands on a book from the Restricted Section, further proving their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was nothing more than a fraud.

That evening, just before curfew, when most Gryffindor students had already gone to their dorms, a small owl flew into the common room, carrying a note in its beak.

"Oscar?" The bird landed on Harry's lap, shoved the note into his hands, and just as suddenly flew away.

"What does Malfoy want now?" Ron leaned in closer to see the slip of paper. Neatly written in silver ink were just a few words:

"At midnight, we duel. Meet me by the lake!"

"Eh… Why did he even decide to reschedule the duel?" Hermione asked, closing her textbook. She hid the cover behind another book so that none of the older students would suspect anything.

"He's probably eager to try out a new trick," the boy with the scar couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation for the upcoming broomstick duel.

"Seems like he's not the only one," Ron clapped his friend on the shoulder, while Hermione rolled her eyes. She would never understand the thrill of flying.

***

Under the Invisibility Cloak, the trio slipped out of the school without any trouble. When they reached the lake, Draco was already there, grinning widely.

"Can't go anywhere without your friends, can you, Potter?"

"Where's your entourage, Malfoy?" Harry shot back in the same tone. These verbal skirmishes were the norm between snakes and lions, and even brought a strange kind of enjoyment.

"They were too tired. I couldn't wake them up. Enough talking, Potter, that won't help you. Let's get started," Draco could barely contain his excitement. He was eager to take off and put the Boy Who Lived in his place.

"And what do you want, Malfoy? What are the terms?"

"I want to do the Sea Peak." As soon as Draco's words reached Harry's ears, a wide grin spread across his face.

"Deal!" The boys shook hands and took their starting positions. The Sea Peak was almost identical to the Parallel Peak. To win, one only had to touch the water first.

"Are you ready?" Ron asked. He and Hermione stood a little way from the shore. When he saw both boys nod, he continued, "On your marks! Get set! Go!"

Harry and Draco shot forward, perfectly mimicking their captains' techniques. The water was approaching rapidly, but they only sped up. Hermione even closed her eyes for a second, afraid that her friend wouldn't be able to control his broom and would crash. But she needn't have worried. The lion and the snake touched the water at the same time, both losing control and splashing into the lake.

"Ha-ha, Potter, you can't fly at all," Draco laughed as he surfaced.

"Says the klutz," Harry replied, without any malice, and they both laughed again. A pleasant tingling spread through his body. He always felt an incredible lightness and peace after such exhilarating stunts.

"Are you guys okay?!" Hermione ran up to the edge of the lake, Ron right behind her.

"Everything's perfectly fine," Potter said cheerfully.

"Can you swim back?" The boys had fallen quite a distance from the shore, and they still needed to retrieve their brooms from the water.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ron pointed at the water, which had started bubbling around Harry and Draco.

A second later, a massive tentacle of the lake monster emerged from the depths. Effortlessly, it lifted the boys two meters above the surface and gently placed them back on shore along with their brooms.

"Thank you," Malfoy and Potter said at the same time, slightly bowing their heads.

The upper-year students and Hagrid had taught them how to interact with the giant squid. The lake monster was quite friendly and always helped students when they accidentally fell into the water. A tentacle softly patted the ground next to the four teenagers, as if reassuring them that all was well.

"Tomorrow, we'll bring you some fish as thanks," Hermione promised, also bowing slightly.

The monster gently touched each troublemaker with the tip of its limb, a sign of its affection, since it had encountered them before. A few moments later, it disappeared into the depths of the lake once more.

"You'll catch a cold if you don't dry off quickly," Hermione said in a teacherly tone, waving her wand. In an instant, their clothes and hair were dry.

"Cool! When did you learn that?" Ron asked, throwing his scarf over Hermione's still-shivering shoulders.

"Not too long ago," she shrugged. "I just thought it would come in handy, and I wasn't wrong."

"Let's go, we'd better get back before we run into trouble," Harry suggested.

Everyone agreed and hurried back to their dormitories. They still had a little time to rest before the weekend.

***

For a few days, everything remained calm. The Golden Trio stayed out of trouble and barely crossed paths with Snape—only during lessons. He had even seemed slightly less harsh toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The teenagers thought there was noticeably less venom in his words.

But trouble never stayed away for long. It happened one evening after class. The Golden Trio was heading to the library. Hermione had already started preparing ingredients for the potion and needed to get a few more rare and important components.

An extremely irritated and angry Draco was walking toward them.

"What's wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"None of your business, blood traitor! I don't want anything to do with you or these filthy Mudbloods—"

Before the blonde could finish his last word, a blur of red flashed past Harry and Hermione and slammed a fist straight into Malfoy's nose.

"Ron…" Harry trailed off when he saw his friend's expression.

The clear blue eyes had darkened in an instant, flames of pure, untamed, animalistic rage burning within them. Bloodlust.

Harry had seen those eyes before, in other Weasleys. In Percy, when Ravenclaw upperclassmen had cornered Ron and Harry and tried to hex them. In Fred, when some boys had bullied Ginny. In George, when a pompous Hufflepuff had insulted his older brother. And when the Weasley brothers found out about the Dursleys.

Once, Percy had told him it was a legacy of the Prewett family. That ancient magical bloodline descended from wizards who were born with the ability to transform into animals. Over time, that power had been lost, but one instinct had remained forever—the instinct to protect loved ones at all costs.

The youngest Weasley continued to attack the Slytherin, but Malfoy didn't just take it—he fought back, landing wild punches as he tried to fend off the red-haired boy.

Clearly, Ron had the upper hand. The brawl raged on until the commotion attracted several students, including the prefects.

"Ron!" Percy yanked his brother away from Draco, but Ron wasn't about to stop. He struggled against the older boy's grip, flailing and shouting.

"Let me go! I'll beat the aristocratic crap out of that bastard!"

"Stop this, Ronald. You're acting worse than an animal. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"What is going on here?"

The venomous whisper echoed through the corridor, silencing everyone.

All heads turned toward the source. Severus Snape stood there, arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased with the situation.

"Fight! Fight! I saw it myself! The redhead twins' brother gave a good beating to a Slytherin!" Peeves suddenly materialized out of nowhere. He cackled maliciously, somersaulting in the air.

"Is this true, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, but..." A low growl escaped Ron's chest, but he didn't have time to finish.

"No buts. Nothing gives you the right to beat up other students, Mr. Weasley," Snape growled, helping Draco to his feet. The boy was still in some kind of shock, just like Harry and Hermione. "Minus twenty points from Gryffindor."

"I don't care how many points you take. I'll kill that bastard first. You don't care what your little snakes do. Even if they behave worse than any slug," Ron kept struggling fiercely in Percy's grip. Anger consumed him entirely; he wouldn't allow anyone to insult his friends.

"Ron, stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

His older brother's shout struck Ron like lightning. Everything went silent, but not for long.

"Fine…" Weasley barely whispered and bit Percy's hand with all his strength.

"Ow!" The prefect squeaked quietly, loosening his grip, which his younger brother took full advantage of.

"I hate you, Percy. I've always hated you, and I always will. You're a terrible older brother."

Before anyone could say anything, Ron turned and ran off in an unknown direction. Only then did Harry and Hermione snap out of their stupor. They wanted to follow their friend, but Snape's voice stopped them.

"Perhaps you two would like to explain what happened here?"

"What's the point in telling you anything?" Potter gritted through clenched teeth, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his skin. He and the young witch stood with their backs to the professor. "You won't listen anyway. In the end, Ron will be the only one blamed."

"Wait, Harry, Hermione," this time, Percy called them. He stood looking a little pale, deep black circles under his eyes, rubbing his injured arm. He seemed worried. But neither Harry nor Hermione cared.

"He called me a Mudblood!" Granger suddenly turned around, her eyes filled with unshed, furious tears. She was angry at Malfoy, at Snape, even at Percy. None of them understood the exact meaning of the word. But Ron's reaction gave a fairly clear idea that it was a horrible insult in the wizarding world. All the students gathered in the corridor gasped when they heard it. But the children didn't care; they quickly disappeared around the next corner to find the youngest Weasley.

They didn't have to search for Ron for long. He was sitting in an old, dusty classroom on the third floor, watching the sun slowly set.

"Ron, are you okay?" The young witch asked, carefully hugging her friend around the neck.

"Yeah…" he answered without much enthusiasm.

Harry skeptically examined the red-haired boy. His knuckles were scraped, his face and neck covered in cuts and bruises, his hair a mess, and his gray jumper practically torn to shreds. Good thing they had grabbed a set of healing potions for Harry, which, thanks to Snape's super-effective brews, were no longer needed.

"Ron, what do Malfoy's words mean?" Harry suddenly asked, dabbing a thin red scratch on his friend's neck with potion.

"Mudblood. It's a horrible, offensive word. Some pompous wizards use it because they believe blood purity is everything. That's what they call Muggle-born wizards. They think they're incapable," Weasley spat, anger rising again at Malfoy. "But that's not true at all. Hermione is the smartest in our year. Even if Snape won't admit it and despises her. Hermione knows everything, she can even brew a Polyjuice Potion." The girl turned bright red from Ron's praise. But the mention of Snape struck Harry again.

"Sorry," Harry said guiltily, carefully applying a cooling balm to the bruises on Ron's face.

"Ow! For what?" Weasley flinched and yelped occasionally when Hermione or Harry touched particularly sore spots, breaking the deafening silence of the abandoned classroom.

"Don't move, or we'll never finish," Granger scolded softly, disinfecting Ron's knuckles.

"It hurts."

"Now you know what it's like to be in my shoes," Potter grinned, placing a bandage over a particularly deep scratch on Ron's forehead.

"So, what are you apologizing for?"

"Snape really turned out to be a git. How could I ever believe him? Believe that he actually cared," the boy with the scar whispered bitterly.

"Don't say that. I made the same mistake. I trusted him. It's not your fault that Professor Snape hates us."

"She's right. Maybe he does hate us, but he's done a lot for you. And he's much better than the Dursleys. At least he doesn't beat you half to death," Ron gave an encouraging smile, which made everyone in the room feel a little better. The anger gradually faded, replaced by disappointment and deep resentment—at Malfoy, at Snape, and especially at Percy. The Golden Trio saw his actions as an unforgivable betrayal.

"I don't think I want to be Snape's ward," Harry suddenly declared once he finished treating all of Ron's injuries.

"Hm?"

"I mean, I don't want anything to do with someone who constantly bullies and belittles you. It's enough for me that you stay with me."

"Hey! We'll always be with you, Harry."

"Even if Snape remains your guardian forever. I promise," Ron extended his pinky to seal the promise.

"I'm so glad!" After they secured the promise with a pinky swear, the trio sat by the window.

They didn't touch on the subject anymore. In fact, they tried not to talk about what had happened that evening at all. Huddled together, they watched as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.

After that, Percy tried several more times to talk to Ron that evening. But he always got the same response.

"We have nothing to talk about, Percy." By the third time, the older boy just gave up. Maybe tomorrow would be better? That was all Percy could think about. The horrible guilt wouldn't leave him alone. He had cursed himself hundreds of times for not even listening to his brother.

When night fell, Ron was already in bed. But sleep wouldn't come to him. The awful words wouldn't leave him alone, so he decided to go for a walk. Quietly approaching the window, he looked at the Forbidden Forest. He desperately needed fresh air.

"Are you leaving?" Harry asked, watching Ron closely from his bed. The boy was pulling on worn-out trousers and an old shirt.

"Just for a bit. I want to walk. I don't think I can sleep."

"Want to take the Invisibility Cloak?"

"No need. I'm going into the forest. I don't want to risk losing it."

"Alright, but come back soon. The forest is dangerous at night. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Of course, I promise. I'll be back soon."

Harry nodded and fell back onto the pillow. The younger Weasley quietly left the common room and walked away.

On late autumn nights, the air was cold, but Ron hardly noticed. At times like these, his Weasley family magic helped him a lot—hot blood. By the age of ten, all Weasley children stopped feeling the cold. At first, Arthur and Molly were surprised, but then they were delighted. After all, it meant they could save a lot on warm clothes for the kids.

Without thinking, Ron kept walking and walking. Bushes, trees, and thick grass didn't bother him at all. He noticed nothing around him—until something rustled in a nearby bush.

Suddenly, a huge, shaggy Acromantula leapt out right in front of him. It hissed fiercely and clicked its mandibles. Weasley froze in fear, staring at the creature that was about to kill him.