"Uh-huh." Harry nodded repeatedly. The bewildered him was pointed in the right direction by the clear-sighted observer, and he immediately found his true self.
Harry was a greedy chap, which was nothing to be ashamed of; wanting everything was just instinct.
Moreover, Pabi made a good point. Whatever choice he made, he would end up being a heartbreaker—better for him to bear it all than for any of them to suffer.
Harry was troubled; he wasn't just potentially facing a toxic beating from two women, but what would he get in return?
He remembered the scene he saw in the Mirror of Erised during his first year.
Maybe at that time, he had already thought about this—no, he hadn't just thought about it; it was his inner desire.
The longing for Vivi knitting a sweater, and Cassandra standing behind his mom.
"Thank you, Pabi!" Harry said while patting Pabi's head, "I know what I need to do—"
"You don't know a thing!" Pabi headbutted Harry and said, "I think what you need most now is to quickly improve your skills, at least be able to defeat them both when they team up!"
"Alright." Harry said seriously; he also thought he should practice his magic spells well—at least be able to defeat Cassandra and Vivi's joint attack, as Pabi said.
Otherwise, he'd be beaten to his knees by these two women and dragged back...
After Harry left, Pabi lay on the grass by the Black Lake shore, as straight as a salted fish.
For quite awhile, there was no movement.
When Harry turned his head to look over there, he happened to see Pabi lying on the grass.
"Pabi!" he shouted loudly.
Hearing Harry's call, Pabi lazily lifted her head.
"I thought you..."
At this point, Harry felt it was inauspicious, so he shouted again, "Alright, keep lying—"
Pabi lay back on the grass, still muttering to herself.
Sigh...
When would she be able to regain human form?
Her unicorn form ultimately couldn't allow her the freedom to pursue love.
Time flew by quickly, and soon it was the end of September.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts class had become very popular among the students; even the Slytherins had grown fond of the class.
Of course, there were less sociable figures, like the esteemed Professor Severus Snape, who harbored considerable resentment towards Lupin.
The story about the Boggart transforming into Snape and Neville making it wear his grandmother's clothes spread quickly around the school.
Snape didn't seem to find it amusing. Whenever Lupin's name was mentioned, his eyes would flash with threatening light—it was as if he wanted to toss Lupin into a cauldron to brew magic potion.
Apart from Lupin, there were others who faced Snape's lethal stares, like Neville, the primary culprit in the cross-dressing incident, who lost fifty or sixty points in Magic Potion Class under Snape's severe scrutiny—it seemed he hadn't stopped yet.
"Looks like the old bat never reconciled with his cross-dressing Boggart."
Ron reviewed sharply with Neville in the dorm room. He had grown smarter, trying not to comment on Snape publicly, and if he had to say something, it would be in the dorm room—he didn't think Snape would come there to deduct points.
Neville wasn't upset about being targeted by Snape; on the contrary, he seemed like the talk of Gryffindor.
Making Snape wear ladies' attire was undeniably a great achievement, even Percy, the male student council president, did not criticize Neville.
As the student council president, Percy wouldn't commend Neville's action, but not criticizing was the greatest affirmation.
There was a small episode during this period—Cassandra Malfoy, a sixth-year student, refused to continue attending Divination Class because Professor Sybil Trelawney publicly claimed she had no talent for Divination and would be better suited to find something else to do.
After Cassandra left the classroom, Professor Trelawney asked the students—did I say anything?
On September 30th, when the third years went to Defense Against the Dark Arts Class again, they were surprised to find, the punctual Professor Lupin did not appear in the classroom.
As everyone wondered, suddenly, the classroom door swung open with a bang, and Professor Snape strode in flamboyantly, his robe billowing.
As he walked, he swung his magic wand, shutting the window shutters tightly.
Upon reaching the podium, Professor Snape made a sharp turn, swift and clean.
"Turn to page three hundred ninety-four—" he drawled.
"Professor, where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asked curiously.
Seeing that it was Harry who asked, remembering the basilisk snake shedding he received last Christmas, Snape didn't deduct points, but answered slowly, "He said he was too ill to teach today, so I'm taking his class—do you understand this, Mr. Potter?"
"What kind of illness did he get?" Harry asked again.
Professor Snape looked impatient, his black eyes gleaming.
"Nothing life-threatening, you can be assured, Mr. Potter."