Bonus Points: The Snake Courtyard Was Robbed?
At the same time...
In the Slytherin common room, late at night, the lights were still burning brightly.
A group of Slytherins had gathered, their faces filled with worry and frustration. The source of their distress? The House Cup.
For the past seven years, Slytherin had always emerged victorious. Since the first day of term, they had consistently led in House points. But this year... this year was different.
From the beginning of the term until now, they had been overshadowed—by none other than Hufflepuff.
It was humiliating.
The very idea was unbearable: Before I enrolled, Slytherin was the House Cup champion. After I enrolled, we lost to Hufflepuff? The thought alone made some of them want to dig a hole and bury themselves.
Worse still, it might even end up recorded in "Hogwarts: A History." Just imagining that chapter gave them chills.
But that wasn't all.
There was something else that had the Slytherins on edge—something far more unsettling.
Their Dean, Professor Severus Snape, had been acting strange lately.
In the past, Snape had been fiercely competitive when it came to the House Cup. He even brewed Phosphorescence Potion to help Slytherins ace their final Lumos exam. After that, he tirelessly targeted Hufflepuff students, giving Slytherin a fighting chance to catch up.
But lately?
It was like he had been possessed.
After classes, he disappeared. No one knew where he went or what he was doing. And during lessons, his infamous bias had toned down. He barely targeted Hufflepuff anymore.
This change in attitude left the Slytherins deeply unsettled.
Without Snape's usual support, their odds of reclaiming the House Cup plummeted.
"Does anyone know what's going on?" one student finally asked, hesitating before speaking.
"I… accidentally left the dorm the other night and saw Robert Sprout and Professor Snape together. They looked… close. Snape was helping him with something."
The common room erupted.
"WHAT?!"
Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Chaos followed.
"Are you saying our Dean is helping a Hufflepuff?"
"No wonder he's stopped going after Hufflepuff in class!"
"It must be because of Robert!"
Just as the speculations grew louder, a scoff broke the noise.
Draco Malfoy stepped forward, rolling his eyes.
"Are you all daft? You really think the Professor is going soft just because of Robert? Have your brains been soaked in the Black Lake?"
He crossed his arms and stated confidently, "This is all part of a bigger plan."
"Ever played Wizard's Chess? Masters always set up their moves early. The Professor is playing the long game. Maybe Robert will be expelled soon, and not even Professor Sprout will be able to save him."
His words sparked new hope among the crowd.
Still, someone voiced concern. "But… what if you're wrong?"
Draco raised his chin.
"Simple. My father is close with Professor Snape. If something's going on, the Professor will tell me."
"I'll go ask him right now."
And with that, he strutted out, self-assured, heading straight toward Snape's office.
Meanwhile, in Snape's office...
The atmosphere was thick with irritation.
Professor Snape sat hunched over a large basket filled with Flobberworms, his expression dark and stormy.
The Flobberworm mucus had run out again.
This particular potion ingredient had to be processed fresh and could only be stored for a week at most. With no assistant to handle it today, Snape had to do it himself.
"Damn Robert Sprout," he muttered.
"Why take leave now, of all times?"
Snape scowled at the wriggling pile. His research was entering a critical phase, and now he had to waste time on this?
Before Robert became his assistant, Snape used to do all these tedious tasks himself. But ever since the Hufflepuff had started helping him, Snape had offloaded nearly all the mundane chores.
And it had been wonderful.
For the first time in years, he'd been able to immerse himself in pure research—without distraction.
That's why he hadn't paid much attention to the House Cup this year. Brewing Potions, experimenting, theorizing—it was far more satisfying.
Returning to tasks like this was unbearable.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Snape's irritation flared.
"Who dares disturb me at this hour?" he thundered.
"If it's a student playing a prank, I swear I'll deduct fifty points!"
He yanked the door open, rage flaring in his eyes.
But what he saw stunned him.
"Robert?"
Snape blinked.
"Didn't you take leave?"
Robert stood calmly, wearing a serious expression. "I took leave yesterday, Professor. It's past midnight now—technically, I'm back on duty."
Snape's eyes flicked toward the basket of Flobberworms—and saw a flicker of something in Robert's gaze.
Anticipation.
For Robert, the slimy creatures weren't just a chore—they were training materials. Processing them allowed him to sharpen his magical perception. Once he advanced to Silver Level, he might make breakthrough progress with his Piranha Weed cultivation project.
Eagerly, Robert said, "Please, Professor, leave all the Flobberworms to me. Oh—and the porcupine quills too. I came a bit late, but I'll make sure there's enough for the next two days. Your time is better spent on higher-level tasks."
Without waiting for a reply, Robert picked up the basin of wriggling Flobberworms—and an entire basket of porcupine quills.
Snape watched, his face blank. But deep in his eyes, a faint glimmer of satisfaction sparkled.
Despite being a Hufflepuff, Robert was a truly dependable assistant.
Snape had long since stopped considering replacing him. He even found himself reluctant to admit how much he valued the boy's help.
After a moment of silence, Snape asked, almost awkwardly, "What spell did Professor Flitwick create for you?"
Robert demonstrated the Frequency Light Spell.
Snape frowned.
"So stingy," he muttered. "Just a variation of Lumos? I thought it'd be something combat-worthy…"
An idea flickered in his mind.
Since Robert had saved him so much time, perhaps he could improve this Frequency Light Spell—modify it into something that could be used in battle.
Not that he was doing this out of gratitude, of course.
He just didn't like owing people.
"Professor," Robert said, balancing the heavy materials, "I'll take these to the Potion classroom."
Snape gave a short nod.
Just as Robert turned to leave, Snape hesitated—then said, in a low, reluctant tone:
"Seeing as you're quite serious and diligent in your work... Hufflepuff gains one point."
Robert stopped mid-step.
Did he hear that correctly?
Snape just awarded a Hufflepuff a point?
Was this real? Did the sun rise from the west?
Before he could react, Snape had already closed the door with a sharp snap.
Robert shook his head and smiled faintly.
Perhaps Snape wasn't completely unreasonable—at least not to people who didn't look like Harry Potter.
In his own way, maybe Snape was… supporting Hufflepuff?
This year's House Cup… maybe Hufflepuff really does stand a chance!
Robert adjusted his grip on the basins and made his way down the hallway.
Meanwhile...
At the corridor corner outside Snape's office, Malfoy was frozen in place.
He had been sneaking over to eavesdrop—and now, his face was full of shock.
"What… did I just hear?"
"Snape gave Robert a point?!"
His entire brain froze.
Wasn't Snape playing some big strategic game? How could he—of all people—award a point to a Hufflepuff?
His thoughts raced.
Danger! his instincts screamed.
Whoever said Hufflepuffs were harmless had clearly never met Robert Sprout.
"Despicable… shameless… that little badger snuck right into our snake pit and stole our House!"
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