Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

“Bang!”

Snape staggered a step, crashed into the desk, and parchment scattered all over the floor with a rustling sound.

He caught the edge of the desk in time and didn’t fall, but the rebounding Spell was so swift and forceful that it felt like someone had grabbed his heart in a vicious fist, leaving him gasping in pain for quite a while.

There was a buzzing in his ears for a moment; when his mind cleared, Snape realized Vid was beside him, steadying him and asking anxiously:

“…How are you feeling, Professor?”

Snape drew in a sharp breath, fingers clenched tight around his Magic Wand, and lowered his eyes to Vid.

“What do you have…on you?”

he asked hoarsely.

“I’m sorry, Professor.”

Vid let go of his arm, face full of apology, and said earnestly:

“I always carry Anti-Curse things on me. I should have taken them off beforehand… but you moved so suddenly, I didn’t have time to react.”

Snape: “…”

—So this is my fault now?

Still, considering Vid was an Alchemist, it made sense he carried all sorts of odd little trinkets with special effects.

It was just that Snape had never imagined the Spell he cast would rebound back at him with interest, leaving him caught off guard and injured.

The Professor of Potions took two quiet, deep breaths, forcing down the tight ache in his chest, slowly loosened his grip on the desk edge, straightened up, and said in a low voice:

“An Anti-Curse Vest?”

He’d heard of that thing, invented jointly by Vid and the Weasley Twins.

The Anti-Curse Vest had already become Aslan Magic Workshop’s flagship product, and because production never kept up, the price remained sky-high.

Compared to the United Kingdom, Aslan Magic Workshop preferred to sell Anti-Curse Vests to the United States, Japan, Mexico, or Russia, where the Wizard population was much larger, the demand for Anti-Curse Vests greater, and people could afford to pay huge sums.

So in the United Kingdom, only a very small number of Wizards owned such vests, but as one of the inventors, Vid obviously didn’t lack them.

However, the Anti-Curse Vest’s power in the rumors didn’t seem this strong, did it?

Snape wasn’t short of money, but he wasn’t extravagant enough to buy himself an Anti-Curse Vest just to wear.

Otherwise, when the Dark Lord tried to punish his subordinates and the Spell bounced back…

The outcome would be catastrophically bad.

Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand—that fellow bought a vest and presented it, got praised by the Dark Lord on the first day, and then, two days later, was suddenly summoned and harshly punished on some flimsy pretext. To this day, Snape still hadn’t figured out why.

Thinking of this, he saw Vid nod, then shake his head, and say:

“Not a vest. That thing’s a bit clunky to wear.”

Then he reached up and removed the tie clip from his tie. The sapphire on it gleamed blue-violet in the dim candlelight.

Snape silently marveled at how small and inconspicuous it was; he was about to speak when he saw Vid’s hands hadn’t stopped moving.

From the sweater under his Robe, he took off a badge.

Then he removed the bracer from his left wrist.

Next was the black silver clasp on his Cloak.

And finally, there was even a pendant hanging from his neck.

“That should do it.” Vid set the pendant on the desk, lifted his head, and smiled slightly. “Let’s continue, Professor.”

Snape looked at him, then at the scattered little accessories on the desk, all gleaming with the luster of jewels and clearly well-designed.

He was silent for a few seconds.

Then he said nothing, raised his Magic Wand, and narrowed his eyes slightly—

“Legilimency!”

It was like a stream of icy water swept across Vid’s consciousness; he closed his eyes and emptied his thoughts.

Emotion, memory… all the soft things seemed to sink to the ocean floor, drowned beneath endless waters.

He even took a certain interest in feeling that stream wander and spread through his awareness, searching aimlessly, bringing with it a strange chill.

Snape’s experience, on the other hand, was completely different.

He felt an uncanny emptiness, as if the hand he extended were stirring dense fog but never finding anything to grasp; even his own consciousness seemed on the verge of sinking into a mire.

After quite a while, Snape lowered his Magic Wand, and for the first time, a trace of emotion bordering on astonishment appeared in his eyes.

“Your Occlumency is very…”

He paused, trying to find the right word.

“…very practiced. How many years have you been learning?”

Vid said, “Since second year.”

Second year.

Snape’s brows twitched almost imperceptibly.

He did the math quickly in his head—second year to now, that was only three years… at most three and a half.

A boy barely in his teens had actually pushed Occlumency to this level.

He’d seen how many Aurors, how many so-called experts among the Death Eaters, these people who’d studied Magic for decades and still crumbled completely under Voldemort’s Legilimency, spilling every secret they had.

Yet the boy in front of him, under the impact of a Spell to which he certainly hadn’t gone easy, had managed to maintain an almost perfect defense—not by brute-force resistance, but by true emptiness of mind, a genuine “void.”

Snape was even certain that if the Dark Lord himself cast the Spell on Vid, he wouldn’t get much more out of him.

He didn’t voice the astonishment crowding his chest; in that instant, a name flashed through Snape’s mind—

Remus Lupin.

He’d heard people mention that roughly three years ago, that fellow Lupin had popped up out of nowhere and begun acting in the Magic World as Vid Gray’s representative.

Apparently, Lupin was also Vid’s private tutor.

And three or four years ago, Dumbledore’s reliance on and trust in Vid probably hadn’t reached today’s level—so who would have chosen to teach Vid an advanced Spell like Occlumency… wasn’t hard to guess.

In an instant, a familiar surge of fury rose in Snape’s chest, burning his throat tight and his fingertips numb.

He thought of those people—those bastards he would never forgive as long as he lived, and could never forget—

And now, one of them, the one with the shadiest identity of all, was actually living comfortably under the label of “tutor,” drinking tea, teaching the kind of pupil anyone would be proud of, being appreciated and respected, enjoying a good life and a lofty position.

While he…

Snape drew a long breath; he forced that blaze back down, shoved it into the deepest corner of his heart, into the box that would never open to anyone.

He asked, “Remus Lupin taught you?”

Vid nodded, his gaze clear and candid, as if he knew nothing of the grudges between the four Raiders and Snape.

The Professor of Potions didn’t take it out on Vid; he only ground his teeth slightly and drawled:

“He actually taught you this Spell when you were twelve? I can’t help suspecting what precisely that fellow’s aims were…”

“Actually…” Vid hesitated and said, “I was the one who asked him to teach me Occlumency. Because back in first year… uh… that ‘unexpected’ visitor at the school made me feel I needed to be prepared on all fronts.”