Snape's office was relatively secluded. The two walked along a dark and narrow corridor for a while before stopping halfway down. Snape lifted a tapestry hanging on the wall and descended an even narrower staircase.
Harry could only follow closely behind him.
It was a shortcut that had been created to lead down to the two floors below.
A tightly closed wooden door blocked their way. Snape pushed it open, and a strong smell of herbs wafted out.
Dim light filtered through glass bottles filled with various kinds of potion ingredients, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Harry felt as if the bottle of African beetles on the table was staring straight at him, while a rustling sound coming from somewhere made his skin crawl.
"In fact, I don't like tutoring people. Mediocre people are mediocre people. No matter how much they study, the level they can reach is limited."
Snape sat in his chair, scrutinizing Harry with a slightly mocking gaze.
"If you're just trying to tell me that, I think I'll have to leave now. I'm busy," Harry said irritably.
"Potter, you and your arrogant father lack the patience you should have." Snape's tone grew increasingly contemptuous.
"You're not allowed to insult my father." Harry clenched his fists.
"I'm just stating a fact, Mr. Potter." A mocking smile played across Snape's lips.
"Alright, my time is valuable too. It's just that Dumbledore asked me to do this before he left. Otherwise, I have no interest in dealing with a troublemaker like you."
"I just wanted to see how Miss Granger's teaching has been going."
Snape stood up from the withered wicker chair and paced back and forth in front of the decaying long table. He picked up a glass and swirled the deep blue liquid inside, causing it to turn pink.
Only then did he turn around and look at Harry, whose face was filled with resentment.
For a fleeting moment, Harry's expression changed to astonishment.
Occlumency.
The word immediately popped into his head.
"This task was originally assigned to me by Dumbledore. You know I hate you, and I won't shy away from saying that. It's not a good solution for either of us," Snape said maliciously.
"I don't need you to teach me."
Harry retorted sharply.
"But Dumbledore asked me before he left to check on your studies regularly. If Miss Granger isn't doing well, I might have to take over."
Harry's expression immediately became tense, as though he were facing a formidable enemy.
What would happen if Snape were to teach him?
"You'd better pray that you practice well. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't want me to see some secrets I shouldn't have." Snape's dark eyes fixed on Harry, making his heart skip a beat.
"Occlumency, a spell used to prevent the mind from being invaded by external forces. It's an obscure branch of magic, but it's extremely useful," Snape began, speaking almost to himself. "I don't know how good Miss Granger's teaching is, and I don't have time to supervise you.
"Therefore, we can only draw conclusions through practice now.
"Now, raise your wand, Potter.
"Resist me."
Harry gripped his wand tightly, his legs tense with nervousness as the two faced each other across the table.
"You'd better pray that you practice well. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't want me to see some secrets I shouldn't have." Snape's eyes were dark as he looked at Harry, making his heart skip a beat.
"You can use your wand to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," Snape said.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, looking nervously at Snape's wand.
"I need to get into your mind," Snape whispered. "We need to see your resistance, something similar to resisting the Imperius Curse. Legilimens!"
Snape struck suddenly, catching Harry completely off guard before he could even prepare to resist.
The office swayed and vanished before his eyes. Images flashed through his mind like scenes in a film, and he could no longer see anything around him.
At five years old, he was filled with envy as he watched Dudley ride his new red bicycle.
At nine, he was chased up a tree by Aunt Marge's guard dog, Ripper, while the Dursley family laughed on the lawn.
He arrived at Hogwarts, wearing the Sorting Hat, and heard it say that he could go to Slytherin.
He was terrified.
"No," a voice in Harry's head cried. "You can't look at this. You can't look. It's private!"
He struggled desperately, feeling a sharp pain in his knee.
Snape's office suddenly returned, and Harry found himself lying on the floor, one knee having slammed against a table leg.
He looked up at Snape and saw him rubbing his wrist, where a red, swollen welt had appeared, almost like a brand.
"Do you want to cast a Stinging Hex?" Snape asked coldly.
"No," Harry said resentfully, getting up from the floor.
"I thought so too," Snape said dismissively. "You let me probe too deeply, and you lost control."
"You saw everything?" Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
"Some snippets," Snape said, pursing his lips. "Whose dog was that?"
"Aunt Marge's," Harry whispered, hating Snape to the core.
"I'll try my best," Harry said angrily, "but you didn't tell me how!"
"Politeness, Potter. Still the same—just as arrogant as your proud father," Snape said fiercely.
"As for how to do it, that's Miss Granger's job. I'm just checking your progress. Now, I want you to close your eyes."
Harry glared at him before complying.
He didn't like standing there with his eyes closed while Snape stood in front of him, wand in hand.
"Clear your mind, Potter," Snape said coldly. "Discard all emotions."
But his anger toward Snape still surged through his veins like venom.
Discard his anger? Would that be easier than losing a leg?
"You didn't do it, Potter. You need to restrain yourself, focus your mind, and begin."
Harry tried to clear his mind, to stop thinking, to stop remembering, to stop feeling.
"Again. I'll count to three—one—two—three—Legilimens!"
Harry felt as if his soul were being torn apart, as though he were being seen through completely and left with nowhere to hide.
"Harry, clearing your emotions isn't the only way. You can gather your emotions, but they can't be complex; they can only be singular. That can also serve as a defense."
Hermione's words echoed in his mind from not long ago.
"You can't be too emotional when you're on the defensive, because you can't control it, and anger will only make things worse.
"But it also needs to be strong enough."
Angry?
Harry felt that he was furious beyond measure, but that wasn't enough. It was no match for Snape's invasion.
As Hermione had said, those emotions were like a mob of scattered soldiers, unable to mount any effective resistance.
When those deep memories were exposed, Harry felt as though he had been stripped naked and thrown into the middle of the Great Hall for everyone to watch.
He feared that Snape would erase all his memories, leaving him with no privacy, and then mock him freely in class.
The image of a pretty dark-haired girl suddenly appeared in his mind.
But it wasn't just her.
There was also a boy.
She was kissing Cedric with her eyes closed, standing beneath the tall mistletoe.
During Christmas, a man could ask a woman standing beneath mistletoe for a kiss.
The woman could not refuse.
Legend had it that a woman who stood beneath mistletoe on Christmas Day would find happiness.
Legend had it that couples who kissed beneath the mistletoe would stay together forever.
Harry couldn't imagine what Snape would do if he knew what Harry was thinking.
It wasn't even Christmas yet, and his imagination had already wandered this far.
"Oh, the so-called Savior Potter likes someone else's girlfriend? That's the funniest joke I've ever heard."
Snape would mock and ridicule him with words a hundred times more vicious.
"No, I refuse!" his inner voice screamed.
Perhaps Snape wouldn't laugh at him either.
Perhaps it was because of a little bit of empathy.
To laugh at him was to laugh at himself.
These were things Harry would never know.
The intense and persistent emotion acted like an iron wall, preventing Snape from gaining any further access through Legilimency. But Harry's expression was ferocious, and he was in extreme pain.
"It seems to be barely useful."
Snape frowned. Having failed to achieve anything, he put away his wand, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.
"Can I go now?" Harry asked, slightly out of breath.
Snape gave him a cold look.
"Alright," he said curtly.
Harry pushed open the door as though fleeing and left.
Snape stared at Harry's retreating figure, his gaze unwavering even after Harry slammed the door shut.
Today, Harry had unleashed his potential and explosively stopped Snape's intrusion, but he felt no joy at all.
Because he had paid an extremely heavy price to achieve this.
It was merely a minor, almost imperceptible episode in Hogwarts' daily life.
The students' lives remained busy.
The Weasley twins had resumed their entrepreneurial activities. With their father now confirmed to be safe and sound, they could once again focus on their great money-making and prank-making endeavors.
After their enthusiastic sales pitch, indoor Quidditch began gaining popularity throughout Hogwarts and quickly became a campus phenomenon.
It was worth mentioning that, for some reason, they also gave Pansy a set of equipment for free.
The girl refused and haughtily tossed some Galleons at them instead.
The two looked at each other and gave a wry smile.
"I don't like owing favors to Gryffindor," Pansy said curtly.
Instead of refusing the equipment, however, she accepted it.
Of course, she would never know that this was merely the two brothers trying to repay a favor.
Aside from this, George and Fred were not satisfied with the status quo.
They had now put the development of the Golden Snitch and the Mini Broom on the agenda.
The Golden Snitch's flight path was easy to observe, but its randomness and speed needed further improvement.
Miniature brooms, on the other hand, allowed them to develop even more varieties.
They needed to maintain a balance in the brooms' performance, avoiding a situation where the Firebolt, with its superior performance across the board, completely surpassed the competition.
For example, some brooms could have slightly stronger linear acceleration, making them easier to combine with Levitation Charms.
However, their turning ability would correspondingly be weaker.
Some could have enhanced diving capabilities, while others could be improved in different areas.
In short, each broom needed to have its own unique characteristics.
They were struggling to meet these requirements. They had studied the materials thoroughly, but had made no progress.
Sighing and lamenting all day long, they no longer seemed like the playful twins who used to be so good at making everyone laugh.
Their "scientific research" had hit a bottleneck.
Hermione saw all of this.
Until one day.
"Your Christmas presents have arrived early."
Hermione placed a package tied with hemp rope at their feet.
"What's this?"
George cut the rope and saw stacks of thick books inside.
"I think a set of Muggle elementary-school physics textbooks would be useful to you. They should contain some knowledge that might inspire you." Hermione nodded.
"Hermione, you're a genius."
The twins praised her sincerely.
It was just an optimization of a flying broom; it didn't require any particularly advanced knowledge.
They couldn't exactly use fluid mechanics, could they?
The two of them eagerly buried themselves in the books, trying to figure out what areas they could improve.
Many people were extremely busy these days.
Especially Hermione.
The assessments, and Harry's Occlumency.
The latter took less time.
According to Harry, he had now basically mastered the method of isolating himself from Lord Voldemort's prying thoughts, but he vaguely avoided the topic whenever Hermione pressed him for details.
Hermione had no choice but to trust him.
She had now turned her attention to something else that was extremely important to her.
Fighting for the liberation of House-elves.
"What are you doing?"
Ron approached Hermione's seat and, noticing that she wasn't writing furiously, asked curiously.
In the Gryffindor common room, the fireplace was burning brightly, making the room very warm.
Hermione was sitting quietly in a rickety armchair, knitting something, but it was crooked and the stitches were uneven, making it look rather ugly.
"Socks?" Ron asked tentatively.
"It's a hat!" Hermione stopped what she was doing and said seriously.
"Hahaha, that's really ugly." Ron laughed, clutching his stomach.
With a meow, Crookshanks, the large ginger cat that had been curled up on Hermione's lap like a cushion, leaped down and disappeared.
Perhaps it foreshadowed the fierce argument that was about to erupt between the two.
"What do you want to do?"
Ron's smile faded. He frowned and asked.
Hermione covered the hat she had knitted with a bag of empty chocolate boxes.
"Do you think that if they pick it up while they're cleaning, they'll be free?"
"That's an insult to them!" Ron exclaimed.
"Besides, their current owner is probably 'Hogwarts,' so even if they pick them up, it's useless."
"Really?"
Hermione lowered her head in disappointment. She had forgotten about that.
"Then I'll at least make sure they're dressed better. The working conditions there are just too bad."
She then began knitting the miniature garments again.
"Besides feeding and clothing them, why don't you care about other aspects of their lives?"
"How about you recommend my brothers' indoor Quidditch setup to them?" Ron said sarcastically.
"That makes sense!"
Hermione didn't pick up on Ron's sarcasm at all. Instead, she became excited, her eyes sparkling.
Now it was Ron's turn to be speechless.