Looking into those emerald-green eyes, Snape felt as though he were gazing through them at another figure entirely.
But only for a moment.
He snapped back to reality. No—they weren't the same. Not even close.
Lily had been so bright, so lively, gentle and kind to everyone regardless of who they were.
This… Harley… aside from those eyes, looked and acted exactly like James Potter's spitting image.
Harry had inherited none of Lily's finer qualities.
And yet, even as Snape told himself this, he couldn't stop his gaze from lingering on Harley one more time.
Then he turned sharply to the grinning Viktor beside him.
Without a word he seized Viktor by the arm, dragged him a few steps away, and hissed through clenched teeth:
"Viktor Scamander. Explain. This. Now."
Faced with Snape's stormy, flickering expression, Viktor dropped the playful act.
He recounted the entire incident—straight, no embellishment.
Meanwhile, Harley and Ron—having been pulled out of the car by Viktor—stood frozen the moment they saw Snape. They barely dared breathe, heads lowered, stealing furtive glances.
When they realised Snape had silently dragged Professor Viktor aside without a single word of abuse, both pairs of eyes widened in disbelief.
Ron stared at his now-sister-like best friend and whispered in awe:
"Harley… Merlin's flowery pants… Snape didn't even say anything. This is… this is…"
Harley was equally stunned, staring at Snape's back as he spoke quietly with Viktor in the distance.
She had braced herself—fully prepared—for the inevitable "foolish Potter" and the barrage of cutting sarcasm that always followed.
But Snape hadn't said a word.
In that moment, she almost forgot Tom had turned her into a girl.
She and Ron simply turned identical looks of worship toward Tom.
Tom, sensing the praise, puffed out his chest proudly and flashed them both a big thumbs-up.
Back with Viktor, Snape listened to the full explanation in silence. When it ended, his face remained thunder-black.
He turned, robes snapping, and strode toward the flying car—toward the two small figures currently showering Tom with admiration.
Seeing their bright, relieved faces only made his expression darken further.
Through gritted teeth he forced out one venomous word:
"Stupid… Potter…"
Then he swept forward like a storm cloud, robes billowing, and extended a hand toward Tom.
Harley and Ron immediately shrank back into quails—heads down, trying to become invisible.
Tom stared up at the bat-like man looming over him with a string of question marks popping above his head.
His neck stretched cartoonishly long so he could peek past Snape toward Viktor.
Receiving a subtle nod from his owner, Tom reluctantly reached behind himself, rummaged in his fur with visible reluctance, and produced the remaining potion vial.
He placed it gingerly in Snape's open palm.
Snape stared at the sequence of events—question marks now floating above his head.
What… even was this creature?
But his attention quickly locked onto the potion in his hand.
Without another word he turned and strode away toward the castle, robes whipping behind him like black wings.
Watching Snape storm off in a fury of motion, Harley and Ron exhaled in perfect unison.
Viktor gave the car a fond wave—"Go home, miss"—then led Tom, Harley, and Ron toward the castle gates.
The moment they stepped into the Great Hall, dozens of curious eyes snapped toward them.
Then those eyes locked onto Harley.
A wave of startled whispers and soft exclamations rippled through the room.
Even Dumbledore—seated at the head table—gaped openly. The pudding on his fork slid off and plopped onto his plate.
Viktor had gone to fix Harry's problem…
…and somehow fixed him into Harley?!
Where was his Boy-Who-Lived? Where was the boy?!
Facing the sea of shocked and fascinated stares, Viktor sighed inwardly and—once again—explained the whole ridiculous story.
When everyone heard it was only temporary and that Snape was already working on the antidote, the hall erupted into a mix of laughter, gasps, and sympathetic murmurs.
McGonagall listened with lips pressed tight. When the explanation ended she fixed Harley and Ron with a severe stare, then—without a word—marched them out.
She was taking them to liaise with the Ministry about the flying-car incident… and to arrange a temporary new dormitory for Harley.
"Oh, Pomona, did you see? Harley looks almost exactly like Lily—especially those eyes. Uncanny."
"Yes… exactly the same. Lily was such a gentle, clever little witch. Such a pity…"
A sigh.
"Hey, you should've let me try. I know a Human Restoration Charm—I've used it on werewolves before, you know."
At the far end of the staff table, Lockhart—peacock robes gleaming—was already waving his wand eagerly.
But one warning glance from Dumbledore and the Defence professor wilted, mouth snapping shut.
Amid the ongoing buzz of astonishment and gossip, the pre-term lunch ended in a hurry.
......
While the professors finished eating, Harley and Ron—now officially "unfortunate siblings"—were marched to McGonagall's office.
They sat side by side, faces long, copying out the Hogwarts rulebook and the entire Statute of Secrecy by hand.
On top of that, they'd been given one month's detention.
Ron's assignment: scrubbing toilets in the bathrooms.
Harley's: assisting Snape in the dungeons—preparing potion ingredients… and serving as the live test subject for Tom's antidote.
Harley wasn't entirely sure whether this counted as preferential treatment for being a girl… or a significantly worse punishment.
Meanwhile, in a compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express…
Hermione and Ginny were excitedly flipping through books and chatting nonstop.
"Oh Ginny, I still can't believe it—two world-class wizards as our professors!"
"I know! It's amazing. But Magical Creature Protection isn't until third year… at least we get Defence Against the Dark Arts every year. We can start with Lockhart's classes."
"Right! Hermione, who do we ask for an autograph first—Professor Viktor or Professor Lockhart? I don't want to snub either of them!"
The two girls were so absorbed in debating autograph etiquette—careful not to slight one professor over the other—that they completely failed to notice:
One of them had lost her brother and her crush.
The other had lost both of her closest friends.