Chapter 100 – Snape's Questioning
First floor, staff lounge.
At this moment, two wizards were having a heated conversation inside, their words sharp and tense like a battle of wands.
"Didn't you promise me the boy would grow up healthily?"
"Then why— You know that Penny and I have known each other for a long time. I can read her thoughts clearly. Why did that boy grow up in such an environment?"
"What does the Sorting Hat mean by what it said? Has the boy suffered more than we can even imagine over the past ten years?!"
"Now! Tell me! Why!" The sallow-faced man's tone rose from calm to furious, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
"Severus, you have to understand—everything was done to protect Harry. If he had remained in the wizarding world, he would have become a legend. I wouldn't even be surprised if one day a holiday is named 'Harry Potter Day'. There would be books written about him, and every child would know his name!"
"It's enough to warp any child's mind. To be famous before he could walk or talk. Famous for something he doesn't even remember! So I let him grow up away from all that until he could face it—when he's ready to understand."
"Dumbledore," Snape snarled, "This is not an excuse. Even if he turned out like his detestable father, I wouldn't care. What matters is why you didn't care about the environment that boy was raised in. In your eyes, was it enough that he merely survived?"
Snape narrowed his eyes, a muscle near his lips twitching unpleasantly. His hands clenched as if he wanted to strangle Dumbledore.
"Yes, Severus. My answer is—my first priority was to keep Harry alive."
"His mother..."
Snape twisted his neck in pain.
"She sacrificed herself to protect him. That act created a protection that still flows in his blood to this day."
"I entrusted him to his mother's sister—her only surviving relative."
"Yes, I admit—she didn't love him. She may have taken him in with reluctance, resentment even, but she took him in. And that act allowed the ancient protective magic, rooted in blood, to take effect. Lily's sacrifice became the most powerful shield I could give Harry."
"As long as Harry could call that place home—where his mother's blood dwelled—he would be protected. Voldemort, the one who spilled Lily's blood, would be unable to touch him there."
"Don't say her name," Snape choked out.
"But her blood—Lily's blood—became Harry's refuge. He only had to return once a year, and that was enough to maintain the protection."
"Then why didn't you raise him yourself? Why not keep him with you, Dumbledore?" Snape demanded.
"When Voldemort fell, his followers were still at large. Vengeful, desperate, dangerous. Many of them were as terrifying as Voldemort himself."
"Severus... I didn't have the confidence to raise Harry the way you wished. And putting him at Hogwarts, so young, surrounded by students—it would have been reckless."
"I don't care. You promised me. And what about Dudley?" Snape said sharply.
"That… that's a memory left by magical residue on Dudley. When Harry left their home, it's possible a wizard attacked the Dursleys. The attack may have awakened latent magical ability in Dudley. I fear that he may have been poisoned by a mysterious wizard. The traces of magic embedded in Dudley were deep and abnormal."
"The Sorting Hat may not have grasped everything, but Dudley being affected… He may be part of a bigger scheme."
"Severus, the attacker likes strong, tall boys. He's skilled enough to bypass the blood protection spell after Harry left, and he's cruel. Do these traits remind you of anyone? Perhaps a Death Eater?"
"...Those characteristics? That sounds like you, Dumbledore."
"Well, let me think. There were many Death Eaters with strange tastes, but few with such refined magical abilities," Snape quipped.
"Severus," Dumbledore sighed, "Please keep a close eye on Dudley. His suffering is the consequence of my decision—to place Harry there. Petunia once longed to be a witch. But now, because of this, her son may end up a mediocre wizard at best."
"And keep an eye on Quirrell as well."
"Quirrell? He became the Muggle Studies professor straight out of school. You trust him that much?"
"He went to the Albanian forest," Dumbledore said meaningfully.
"...So," Snape's face turned grim.
---
Meanwhile, in the Transfiguration classroom...
"Honestly, what is going on today?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply. With a pop, she returned a desk to its original form and eyed her students.
"My transformation didn't even get a round of applause today. That's a first," Alexander Smith said quietly.
All eyes turned to Alexander, but no one spoke.
"You must understand, this isn't about flattery. In my long career, Headmaster Dumbledore has never lied. Neither has the Sorting Hat."
"Smith, I believe you know the Dursley boy best. Do his actions match what the Sorting Hat said?"
"Yes, Professor. Dudley isn't cruel. He's… mean, like a schoolyard bully. But that's it," Alexander replied, trying to sound objective.
Ron turned his head and looked away, bored. He pouted slightly.
"Very well. Let's continue. Transfiguration is the most dangerous subject taught at Hogwarts. Never eat anything that has been Transfigured. Never inhale anything transformed into gas," Professor McGonagall instructed.
---
That afternoon, they had History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Alexander noticed Harry breathing a sigh of relief after checking the schedule.
"Thank Merlin, no Potions today," Harry said.
"You're nuts, mate. Potions is only on Friday. Are you still thinking about your cousin?" Ron asked.
"Yeah… It's weird to think that Dudley might become a wizard. That he'll show up again in my life," Harry said, visibly uneasy.
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I? You're the one who defeated Voldemort, remember? You even beat Quirrell and drove away Peeves!" Ron reminded him. Neville gave Harry a supportive pat on the back.
"Alright, it's almost 11:30. Let's get to the Great Hall for lunch," Hermione said as she snapped her book shut. She had been reading quietly in the lounge. Having watched Doraemon, she understood perfectly what kind of character someone like Dudley—much like Fat Tiger—was.
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