Chapter 354: What Do You Think of Werewolves?!
The day before the Quidditch match, Professor Lupin fell ill.
The one who came to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts was—
Snape.
He stood on the podium with a very satisfied expression.
In his hand was Darren's notebook.
Flipping through it, he sneered as he read:
"This is childish…"
"…I learned this in my third year…"
"What is this? Everything is copied straight from the book…"
"And this—"
The classroom was dead silent.
No one dared to speak.
No one even dared to breathe too loudly.
Snape continued picking at the notebook with visible disdain.
Just as he was in full swing—
Harry rushed in from outside.
Covered in mud.
He had just finished Quidditch practice.
There were mud stains all over his clothes, his face, even his hair.
"Sorry, Professor—"
Harry froze mid-sentence.
He finally noticed who was on the podium.
And his expression instantly turned as if he'd swallowed a dung bomb.
"Gryffindor, minus ten points for being late!"
Snape said smugly.
Harry stood rigid at the door.
His mind instantly jumped to the potion Snape had forced Lupin to drink.
That potion… couldn't really be poison, could it?
…Did Snape poison Lupin?
Harry didn't move.
Finally, he couldn't hold it back anymore.
"What about Professor Lupin?"
Snape curled his lips.
"He is very sick."
"So sick that he can't even get out of bed."
"That's why I'm here."
"Now sit down!"
Harry clenched his fists.
"What kind of illness?"
"How would I know?"
Snape sneered.
"Ask him yourself."
"And Gryffindor, minus another ten points for standing there not listening to the professor!"
Harry was shaking with anger.
But he could only swallow it and return to his seat.
"Before Harry Potter so rudely interrupted me…"
Snape continued lazily.
"I was explaining your course progress…"
Hermione raised her hand.
"Professor, we already learned about Red Caps—"
"Minus ten points!"
Snape snapped.
"Miss Know-It-All, if you speak again without permission, I'll deduct fifty points!"
He then flipped the book to the last page.
Pointed to the illustration and announced:
"You will learn…"
"What remains?"
He tapped the page.
"Werewolves."
Then he looked straight at Harry.
"So, Potter."
"Tell me—the difference between a werewolf and a wolf."
"We haven't learned that at all!"
Harry snapped.
"I don't know!"
"Minus ten points!"
Snape barked.
"For not preparing for class!"
Harry slammed his desk.
"I can't prepare for a class that isn't even yours!"
Snape's mouth twitched.
Then he laughed softly.
"Well said… Potter."
He stepped toward Harry.
"In that case—stay after class."
"You'll have detention."
"And if you don't like my teaching…"
"You're welcome to skip Potions as well."
Harry was so furious his hands trembled.
He looked like he might actually leap across the classroom.
Ron grabbed him tightly and forced him back.
Snape finally looked satisfied.
Straightening, he ordered:
"Miss Granger."
"Explain to Potter the difference between a werewolf and a true wolf."
Hermione stood.
"A werewolf has several distinctive traits compared to a real wolf…"
She spoke eloquently.
Snape didn't praise her.
Instead, he pointed at a few Slytherins and continued questioning.
Finally—
His gaze landed on Darren.
"Darren."
"Tell me."
"Do you hate werewolves?"
Darren froze.
You're really asking this in class?
In front of everyone?
Are you jealous of your own godson or something?!
But—
As a proper little Holy Father—
He answered calmly:
"I hate werewolves who commit evil."
"But I like good werewolves."
"Every race has good and bad."
"I can't judge people based on their blood."
"Everyone deserves to be treated fairly—"
"Even werewolves."
[Ding, Holy Father value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father value +100]
[Ding, Holy Father value +100]
[Ding...]
For a second, the room was stunned.
Then—
Applause.
Darren noticed that Snape looked briefly dazed.
Complicated.
Then oddly relieved.
And finally—
He lifted his chin.
"Slytherin, plus twenty points."
The bell rang.
Snape shut the book.
"After class, each of you will write an essay."
"Two sections."
"One: how to identify a werewolf."
"Two: how to kill one."
"Two full parchments."
Then his eyes cut sharply to Harry.
"Class dismissed."
"Harry Potter—remain."
"I need to arrange your detention."
---
The moment Snape left—
The classroom exploded.
"Two parchments?! He's insane!"
"I'd only write that if I were cursed!"
"But he's a professor… if we don't write it, he'll torture us."
"Harry is seriously unlucky."
"He's totally being targeted!"
"And why did he ask Darren that question anyway?"
"That's obvious—he wanted to pit Darren against werewolves!"
"He's despicable!"
Hermione was furious.
"What was that supposed to mean?"
"It was like he was trying to push Darren into a trap!"
Darren looked stunned.
He truly hadn't thought Snape meant it that way.
To him—
Snape's hostility had always been because of Lupin.
After all—
Why should James Potter's friend be his godfather?
No matter how you looked at it—
That felt unfair.
He sighed and tried to explain.
"Professor Snape didn't mean it badly."
"He just wanted to know my opinion."
[Ding, Holy Father value +10]
[Ding, Holy Father value +10]
[Ding, Holy Father value +20]
[Ding...]
Unfortunately—
No one believed him.
Not even a little.
In everyone's eyes—
Snape was pure malice personified.
Even when they stopped arguing, they still thought he was a jerk.
That belief became even firmer later—
Because Harry came back furious.
Snape had ordered him to scrub every single chamber pot in the castle.
By hand.
No magic.
No shortcuts.
Everyone was convinced—
This was revenge.
Outrageous revenge.
Out of consideration for Darren, they held their tongues.
But they were seething inside.
---
When Darren returned to the Slytherin common room—
Harry snapped bitterly:
"I hope Sirius Black hides in Snape's office tonight."
"And when Snape walks in—"
"He gives him what's coming."
"I wish I'd hear tomorrow that Snape was finally finished."