A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

After Christmas, days at the Black estate felt somewhat dull.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny were at the dining table doing homework, interrupted every half hour by Kreacher bringing in a steaming pot of tea.

"Thanks, but I can't stomach more," Ron said, his face reddening, before hurrying upstairs to the loo. Ginny looked unimpressed.

She casually picked up her teacup, taking a sip. "Miss Ginny, a picture of elegance," Kreacher complimented, leaving Harry baffled, wondering what Ginny did. "Are you okay, Ginny? Your back?" "No!" she snapped.

Ron returned. "Snape's still in the study," he said, succinctly.

Harry understood. Snape had come the day after Christmas. Amidst the busyness at the Order of the Phoenix, seeing him at headquarters for three consecutive days seemed odd.

"Think positively; maybe he's just eyeing the Black family's library," Ron suggested.

"I saw him last night," Ginny exclaimed, catching Harry and Ron's attention. "I wanted water from the kitchen and saw him gliding down the stairs like a ghost, not a sound…"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, finding it more suspicious.

"Maybe he's trying to crack the Order's protective spells!"

"Don't be daft, this place is under the Fidelius Charm; no one can force Dumbledore to spill secrets!"

"Let's write to Hermione; she knows obscure magic," Ginny suggested eagerly.

"Good idea."

For the next few days, Harry and Ron discussed Snape's intentions while anxiously awaiting Hermione's reply. Nearly a week passed before they realized that the Black estate was heavily protected by magic, making it impossible for Hermione to return.

During lunch break, Harry took a stroll and managed to bring back Hedwig, who'd been lingering around Grimmauld Place for days. Hedwig angrily pecked at Harry's ear and fingers, and after he apologized profusely, she dropped a bulky envelope onto his head.

Hermione's letter was long:

"I'm in Switzerland with my parents; it's peaceful here, no signs of war. I suggested they stay for a year, but they adamantly refused, demanding a letter every week!

I've taught them how to subscribe to 'The Daily Prophet' and 'Wizarding World', although they can't read the latter, they find my name in it. They were also curious about 'The Quibbler,' but luckily I managed to dissuade them; I don't want them asking about gnome pies in their letters.

Regarding your query, I do know some spells, but I'm unsure if they'd work on Professor Snape. I recommend a method Muggles use, an idea I got from a detective novel my dad recently read. The specifics involve placing a strand of hair between the pages of two books; if someone moves them, the hair falls... Other methods are attached at the end…"

"What do you guys think?" Harry asked Ron and Ginny after setting down the letter.

"Let's use that Muggle method!" Ron and Ginny chorused, and Harry didn't object, clearly lacking confidence in his ability to deceive Snape.

Two days before school started, in the early evening, Harry went upstairs to call Sirius for dinner. At the staircase on the fifth floor, he spotted Sirius leaning against the door frame. Just as Harry was about to greet him, he noticed Sirius wasn't facing him; instead, he was lazily handling a wand, talking to someone inside the room.

Harry edged closer, making out the conversation.

Sirius's tone was unfriendly, "Go on, how did you end up in my room?"

Who was he talking to? Before Harry could process the question, the answer came: a deliberate, slow voice said, "Naturally, I have business with you. Are you lost?"

It was Snape!

Harry's breathing quickened, heart racing. He held his breath; Snape's recent behavior was too suspicious, and he was desperate to know why.

"Oh," Sirius glanced toward the room, "I thought someone snuck into my room to find something…"

"Find something?" Snape's cold voice dripped with disdain; Harry could almost picture his thin lips curling, like a poised snake ready to strike, "Oh... You mean the bikini pictures on the wall?"

Sirius, mid-interrogation, froze. He licked his lips, "What did you say?"

"I must say, your taste is unique and quite bold," Snape's mocking voice continued, causing Sirius to flush, "Those are old photos!" Sirius growled low.

Harry didn't want to hear more; he stepped back, but Snape suddenly appeared at the doorway, pushing past Sirius, catching sight of Harry retreating stealthily.

The moment was excruciatingly awkward.

Seconds felt like centuries. Harry stood frozen; Snape smirked, "Looks like someone discovered your little secret, Sirius. Will you cast a Memory Charm on him?" With that, he left abruptly.

Harry slowly turned to go downstairs. "Stop," Sirius said expressionlessly. Harry stammered, "I... didn't hear anything." Sirius muttered a curse under his breath, directed at who-knows-what, "Come with me."

Summoning courage, Harry entered the room.

He'd never formally been inside, at most calling out for Sirius to join for meals, catching a glimpse of the ornate bed and velvet drapes. Stepping in, he realized the room was spacious and beautiful.

Sirius sat indignantly on the bed, gesturing towards the wall behind Harry.

"See for yourself."

Harry turned slowly, expecting odd or strange pictures, and he found them. At first, he noticed the Gryffindor flags framing the silver satin wall, setting the tone for the entire picture wall, defining the house allegiance.

He inwardly cheered.

Then, his attention shifted to the numerous Muggle motorbike photos covering an entire section. Snape's mention of 'bikini photos' had only a few images; the faded smiles of those girls, frozen on yellowing paper, seemed cut from Muggle movie posters.

Sirius had put these up during his school days, Harry realized. Simultaneously, Snape had been right—Sirius did have courage, perhaps rebelliousness in his youth...

Amidst these, there were plenty of wizarding pictures. Harry was surprised and a little uneasy to finally locate the set of photos Sirius obtained from the Creevey brothers. Dozens of Harry Potters blinked back at him.

Harry couldn't decide between embarrassment or gratitude. His eyes stung, and it took a while before he noticed a few unconventional pictures:

One showed four Hogwarts students, arm in arm, smiling at the camera—his father, Sirius, Lupin, and, of course, the short figure of Pettigrew, each joyously facing the lens;

Another depicted Sirius and a younger man with their arms around each other—Regulus, he knew—the two looked young, before Sirius left home;

The last photo—Harry's breath caught—a black-haired baby riding a tiny broom, giggling, while two sets of adult legs chased after him; that must've been his father, James Potter.

"Lily sent these to me; I found them while tidying up," Sirius pointed at the baby picture, "Hidden in my motorcycle repair manual; I almost tossed it aside."

Harry stayed silent, unsure of what to

say.

"I have a few letters here, written by James and Lily…" Sirius hesitated, "I've been debating whether to give them to you."

"Of course!" Harry replied immediately, eager. He stared at the faded ink marks, wondering why he hadn't thought of this before. He resolved to start keeping Ron and Hermione's letters from now on.

"Is James's Invisibility Cloak still with you?" Sirius suddenly asked.

"What? Oh, yes, Dumbledore returned it to me in my first year." Harry answered, puzzled by Sirius's question, his full attention on the letters. He spotted elegant handwriting, probably his mother's.

He eagerly took them, hoping to feel the warmth of the writer.

Sirius fell silent, his enthusiasm waning. He waved Harry off towards the exit, then at the doorway, he turned back, "Well… Harry, I want to say, your taste is actually quite good." Before Sirius could respond, Harry hurried away.

Thanking the 15th Lord for appearing in this book—sorry, no English name—to the big boss, here are flowers. Thank you for your support!

Also, seeking the guaranteed votes for next month; P.S.: Double votes from the 1st to the 7th.

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