Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

On a chilly Friday morning, David strolled down the spiral staircase of the Gryffindor tower alongside Harry and Ron. As they entered the lounge, they spotted Hermione sitting by the fireplace with a thick book resting on her lap. The moment she noticed David, she leaped to her feet, accidentally knocking the book to the floor.

"David, good morning!" Hermione greeted him enthusiastically, waving her hand.

"Good morning, Hermione," David replied with a warm smile. "Shall we head to the Great Hall together?"

Hermione nodded eagerly, and Harry and Ron joined them as they made their way to breakfast. After finishing their meal, the group walked to the potions classroom. Hermione, without hesitation, took the seat next to David, much to the dismay of Neville, who had been hoping to sit by David. Neville sighed and hurriedly grabbed a seat right behind them.

When Professor Snape entered the classroom, his usual brisk demeanor was replaced by a slower, more deliberate pace. David immediately noticed something unusual: Snape seemed to be limping.

"Is his leg injured?" David mused, recalling the way his grandfather, Newt Scamander, would move after a particularly nasty magical creature bite.

Snape's reduced mobility, though unfortunate for him, turned out to be a blessing for Neville, who managed to fumble through the potion without being berated. For once, Snape didn't patrol the classroom like a hawk.

Toward the latter half of the lesson, Snape slowly approached David and Hermione's workstation. Hermione sat upright, nervous but prepared, as she had handled most of the potion-making that day with David's guidance.

Snape scrutinized their potion for a moment before speaking, "Your potion is adequate. However, once you're done, your work area should be cleaned immediately. Sitting idly like this is unacceptable."

Hermione jumped to her feet and began tidying up their workstation, clearly flustered by Snape's remark.

As David moved to help her, Snape leaned in closer to him and, with a flick of his fingers, slipped a small folded note into David's hand. Startled, David instinctively started to unfold it, but Snape's sharp gaze stopped him. Understanding the unspoken message, David slid the note into his bag without a word.

David couldn't help but feel curious. What was Snape up to? He decided to keep the note's existence a secret, even from Hermione.

After class, Harry and Ron dashed toward the Quidditch pitch for practice. Before leaving, Harry called out, "David, we're off! See you later!"

"Sure, good luck!" David responded.

With Hermione by his side, David headed to the Great Hall for lunch. Despite the food in front of him, he couldn't stop thinking about the note. It felt like it was burning a hole in his bag. After lunch, David excused himself and, under the pretense of needing the restroom, finally unfolded the note in private.

The note contained only two sentences:

"Come to my office when you're free. Don't let anyone else know."

The handwriting was simple, untraceable, and clearly not Snape's usual elegant script. The vagueness of the message only deepened David's curiosity.

Later that day, once Hermione was back in the common room, David quietly made his way to Snape's office. He knocked softly.

"Who's there?" Snape's sharp voice echoed from behind the door.

"It's David. You left me a note in class."

After a long pause, Snape finally opened the door. His face was pale, his forehead glistening with sweat. He glanced up and down the corridor before gesturing for David to step inside.

"Did anyone see you?" Snape demanded.

"No, Professor," David replied firmly.

"Good." Snape shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, his face tight with pain.

The room smelled faintly of blood. David's eyes quickly fell on a wooden basin filled with crimson-streaked water and bloodstained bandages scattered on the floor. His gaze darted back to Snape, alarmed.

"Professor…what happened?" David asked cautiously.

Snape ignored the question and stepped closer, towering over David. His dark eyes bored into David's.

"What has Dumbledore told you?" Snape asked, his voice low and threatening.

David froze. "About what?"

"About me."

"Nothing, Professor," David said, forcing himself to stay calm. "The only thing he's spoken to me about is the incident on the fourth floor."

Snape studied him for a long moment, as if trying to detect a lie. Finally, he stepped back and rolled up his trouser leg.

David's eyes widened. Snape's calf was a mess of deep, bloody gashes, as if it had been mauled by a magical creature. The bandages had done little to stop the bleeding.

"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" David exclaimed, unable to hide his shock.

Snape gritted his teeth. "That is none of your concern."

David frowned. "Professor, if you don't want help, why did you call me here?"