Chapter 12: Poor Scabbers

As Ivan watched Harry gradually withdraw into himself under Snape's persistent questioning, he couldn't help but recall a theory he had read in his previous life. The questions Snape asked Harry each carried a deeper meaning. The most obvious one was about the use of the daffodil (ashwinder) in potion-making, which in Latin translates to "my regrets follow you to the grave." Mugwort (wormwood) typically symbolizes pain and regret. Ivan could hardly imagine the grim-faced, vengeful Snape in front of him—what emotions could he possibly be harboring toward Harry? Was it guilt for revealing information that led to Lily's death? Or was it a deep, tragic love, knowing the death of his lover and willing to die alongside her?

As Ivan thought about this, a hint of pity gradually appeared in his eyes.

"Ivan Hals!" Perhaps noticing Ivan's strange look, Snape, after interrogating Harry with three questions, turned his wand toward Ivan. "Now, you answer these three questions!"

Ivan was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Snape to question him, but quickly gathered himself and answered, "If you mix the daffodil bulb powder with the juice of mugwort, you get the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion. Bile is found in the stomach of cows, and both Aconite and Wolfbane refer to the same plant."

Having read the original text, Ivan was hardly fazed by these questions. However, he couldn't help but feel uneasy, fearing Snape might ask more difficult questions. Though Ivan had reviewed the textbook multiple times before the Potions class, it was clear Snape didn't play by the rules. The previous questions asked of Harry had been way beyond the first-year curriculum.

[Ding! You answered the professor's carefully prepared difficult questions in class, answering three questions with a 100% accuracy rate. Reward: 9 achievement points.]

The unexpected system notification echoed in Ivan's mind. His face quickly shifted from concern to surprise, and then to pure joy. All his previous worries disappeared in an instant. Bring it on, give me as many questions as you want—if I furrow my brows, consider me defeated! Ivan looked at Snape with determination, thinking: true warriors never fear any challenge!

He secretly hoped Snape would ask ten or even eight questions, confident that he could answer at least one, and every achievement point counted.

Ivan's dramatic change in expression left the other young wizards quite impressed. However, to Ivan's surprise, Snape didn't even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned expressionlessly and mocked Harry.

"Did you hear that, Potter? It seems not every first-year student is as foolish and ignorant as you."

"Professor, I—" Harry stood up angrily, ready to retort, but Snape cut him off sharply.

"Potter! For your behavior, Gryffindor loses one point!"

With those words, as if reading a verdict, Snape turned without mercy and resumed the lesson. Harry, his face flushed from anger, was pulled back into his seat by Ron, his pale cheeks now a deep red.

Ivan, who had braced himself for Snape's harsh treatment, was momentarily bewildered by this cold disregard. After shooting a brief apologetic glance at Harry, he sat back down and focused on the lesson, waiting for when Snape would turn his attention back to him.

However, much to Ivan's disappointment, Snape seemed to have forgotten about him in the following class. Apart from occasionally scolding the students who made mistakes, Snape's entire focus was on Harry. Like a piece of iron drawn to a magnet, Snape hovered around Harry, closely scrutinizing every step of his potion-making, ready to launch a scathing criticism at the slightest mistake.

Ron, sitting next to Harry, wasn't spared either. His pet rat, Scabbers, was seized by Snape, and in a cruel twist, it was designated as the guinea pig for testing the potion's effects. Ron nearly cried on the spot.

When Scabbers realized his fate, his cries were pitiful.

If it hadn't been for Neville accidentally burning through the cauldron, which broke Snape's concentration, Scabbers would have been forced to drink Ron's poorly brewed, untested potion—a sickly yellow concoction of uncertain origin.

Ivan glanced sympathetically at the collapsed Scabbers, feeling sorry for the rat. It seemed like Peter Pettigrew's bad luck had followed him here. In just a few days at school, Scabbers had already been through two traumatic experiences.

For most first-year students, one hour of Potions class was pure torture, and they rushed out of the dungeon as soon as the bell rang.

"Oh my God, how could Dumbledore hire Snape to be a professor? He almost killed Scabbers!" After class, Ron was angrily trying to comfort the still-shivering rat while muttering angrily, as if he wanted to smash a wall.

Harry nodded in agreement, standing side by side with Ron. It was hard to endure being targeted so blatantly on the very first day of class.

Harry couldn't understand why Snape hated him so much.

"Harry, if you had read more books before class, you wouldn't have been caught off guard by Professor Snape's questions," Hermione said, with a different perspective. She then glanced at Ivan and added, "Just like Ivan, Professor Snape knows Ivan can answer, so he doesn't make things difficult for him."

Hermione's praise made Ivan feel a bit embarrassed. If he hadn't known the plot, he wasn't so sure he would have answered Snape's questions either.

"Hermione, not everyone can memorize the Potions textbook in just a few days after the start of school. Besides, those questions Snape asked Harry weren't even in the first-year textbook," Ivan sighed.

Hermione pursed her lips but didn't argue. She had seen what Snape did in class today and realized that her previous habit of following the rules and obeying professors was what had made her defend Snape when Ron was venting.

Ron and Harry were not pleased with Hermione's defense of Snape. The three of them walked in a huff, but thanks to Ivan's persuasion, they managed to clear the tension before reaching Hagrid's hut.

"Hagrid, we're here!" Harry stepped forward and knocked on the door. Soon, the sound of a dog barking and footsteps running approached. Moments later, the door swung open, and a large figure emerged.

"Harry, you're here! Come on in!" Hagrid greeted warmly, soothing his restless dog Fang.

Ivan followed Harry inside.

The hut was small, with a cluttered layout. Dried meats and hams hung by the window, and a large fire stove occupied the front of the room. A kettle of water was heating on the stove, and a patched-up bed sat against the wall on the right side.