The Potions Office served not only as Snape's workspace but also as his private storage room and potion-making area.
After a long day of classes, Snape finally had time to focus on his own matters. Of course, his personal matters largely revolved around brewing potions and handling various magical ingredients.
At this moment, he was extracting pus from a Babo tuber, a large, thick, black, writhing mass covered with shiny bumps. The tuber resembled an oversized slug, and as its yellow-green viscous liquid dripped into a container, the entire office was filled with a sharp, petroleum-like stench.
Just as he was fully absorbed in his work, an urgent knock on the door shattered the silence.
Snape removed his dragon-hide gloves, his expression darkening as he strode toward the door. With a sharp pull, he swung it open and glared down at the student standing before him.
"If you can't give me a good reason for this interruption," he said coldly, "you'll be spending your evenings with Filch for the rest of the week."
Snape loathed being disturbed while working with delicate ingredients. Babo tuber pus was notoriously difficult to extract, and any mistakes could easily ruin its potency. Worse, the material was incredibly valuable. If anyone else had handled it just now, they might have contaminated the whole batch.
"Professor," the Slytherin student standing before him stammered, his face pale, "Barry Raglan and four other students from our house got into a fight with David Adrian, a first-year Ravenclaw. One of them... he has a hole in his stomach. I—I don't know if he's even alive."
Snape's face darkened instantly.
"Who was injured?" he asked sharply, already dreading the answer as he shut his office door and began making his way toward the scene.
The student hesitated before replying, "Willard Colby, sir."
Snape stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes at the messenger.
"Willard Colby?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir. He—"
Without another word, Snape resumed walking, his pace quick and deliberate. He had expected that his students might cause some trouble, but this?
He knew exactly what kind of students he had in Slytherin. David was unlikely to have instigated anything—especially not against five older students. A first-year taking on five fourth-years? Even if he wanted to, it would have been suicide.
Snape scowled. The only thing left to do was hope that David was unharmed. Otherwise, Flitwick would never let this go.
Elsewhere in the Castle...
In the offices of the other Heads of Houses, similar conversations were taking place, though none were as furious as Snape's.
By the time Professor McGonagall arrived at the scene, Madam Pomfrey and a few prefects had already transported the injured Slytherins to the hospital wing. Only David and a handful of students remained.
McGonagall surveyed the scene before turning to David.
"Mr. Adrian, report to the Headmaster's office immediately," she instructed. "The password is 'Lemon Sherbet.'"
David nodded. "Understood, Professor."
His calm demeanor caught the attention of those around him. Unlike most students caught in serious trouble, he wasn't trembling in fear or looking for an excuse. There was no nervousness, no panic—just quiet acceptance.
As he turned to leave, Hermione Granger stepped forward.
"Professor, it was Slytherin who started the fight! David only defended himself! According to school rules—"
McGonagall raised a hand, stopping Hermione mid-sentence.
"I will investigate this matter thoroughly, Miss Granger," she assured her.
McGonagall didn't doubt David's version of events. He was a talented Transfiguration student, highly disciplined, and never one to seek unnecessary conflict. However, she wasn't sure how severe his punishment would be.
Dumbledore's Office
On the familiar eighth floor, David reached a massive stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
"Lemon Sherbet," he said.
The statue sprang to life, splitting in half to reveal a spiral staircase leading upward. As David ascended, he soon found himself before a large, wooden door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in," a calm voice called.
Pushing the door open, David stepped into the Headmaster's office. The walls were lined with portraits of past headmasters, their painted eyes flickering toward him with curiosity. Nearby, a magnificent phoenix perched on a golden stand, watching him intently.
At the center of the room, seated behind his desk, was Albus Dumbledore.
The Headmaster's blue eyes twinkled as he regarded the young Ravenclaw.
"Well then, my boy," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers. "What's this all about?"
David explained the situation briefly.
"I had a confrontation with five older Slytherin students," he said simply. "They attacked me, and now they're in the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall sent me here."
"Ah," Dumbledore mused, his expression thoughtful. "I see."
Though he didn't use Legilimency, Dumbledore's experience told him everything he needed to know.
The Slytherins had provoked David. He had defended himself.
The unusual part, however, was David's reaction. Most students in his situation would be panicked, worried, or at the very least, nervous about the punishment they might face.
But David? He sat down calmly and accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from Dumbledore without hesitation.
The scene was interrupted as four professors entered the office together—Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout.
Each of them wore different expressions, but none looked pleased.
Flitwick, in particular, wasted no time. He stepped forward, looking up at David.
"David," he said, "tell me exactly what happened. Every detail."
The young Ravenclaw recounted the entire incident. He left out the specific spells he had used, but he made sure to provide a fair and accurate description.
When he finished, McGonagall confirmed the current condition of the injured students.
"Barry Raglan's wand was snapped in two, and Willard Colby was seriously injured," she reported.
Dumbledore nodded, considering his options. Finally, he spoke.
"Breaking a fellow student's wand is a serious offense," he said. "And Barry and the others suffered severe injuries as well."
He looked at David.
"As such, Ravenclaw will lose 50 points. You will also serve a month of detention, patrolling the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. This will begin tonight. Filch will escort you."
Dumbledore gave David a moment to protest, but the boy merely nodded.
"I accept the punishment, Headmaster," he said without hesitation.
Snape remained silent, his face unreadable. But Flitwick wasn't done.
"And what of the Slytherins?" he asked, his tone sharp. "They provoked him first. They used the word 'Mudblood.'"
The word seemed to strike a nerve in Snape, whose expression flickered with something painful.
Dumbledore exhaled.
"Slytherin will lose 250 points," he said. "Additionally, Barry and the others will serve one month of detention after they recover."
With that, Slytherin's House Cup hopes were effectively over.
Snape's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The matter was settled.
David had his punishment, and so did Slytherin.
The next time someone thought to challenge him, they would think twice.
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