Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Every year at the start of school, it seemed that they always encountered Snape first — and always in such unpleasant circumstances.

The three of them walked towards Hogwarts in the dark, no one speaking.

A dark, cold aura emanated from Snape, and Evan felt that he wouldn’t let the two of them off so easily.

“Let me see, fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness,” he said slowly, “each of you!”

“But Evan wasn’t late, he…”

“Silence, Potter. After all these years, you still haven’t learned proper manners. Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking,” said Snape. “Look at yourself; another fifty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don’t believe any House has ever been in negative figures this early in the term: We haven’t even started pudding. You might have set a record. Well, you two tell me, why are you late?”

Evan stayed silent; this was a question Harry should answer. But Harry was boiling with anger and hatred, his fists clenched tightly. He would rather have been immobilized all the way back to London than tell Snape why they were late.

After a silence of about two or three seconds, Snape continued, “You don’t know how to answer, do you? Let me guess, you probably wanted to make an entrance, did you? Famous Mason and Potter, with no flying car available this year, you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect.”

Still Harry remained silent, though he thought his chest might explode with rage.

He knew that Snape had come to fetch him for this, for the few minutes when he could needle and torment Harry without anyone else listening.

Evan felt that was almost the case, because Snape’s aura was completely directed towards Harry.

He was just dragged along by the incident, and Snape didn’t even look at him.

After this, there was another long silence as Hogwarts Castle came closer and closer.

To be honest, Evan was quite curious about what Snape had done during the summer and whether he’d gotten any latest information.

Voldemort probably did not trust him very much now. After all, Snape had not yet proved his worth.

Of course, the word “trust” was misplaced, as Voldemort trusted no one.

The real question was whether he believed Snape’s loyalty. Snape still had some distance to go to prove himself as a loyal Death Eater; at the very least, he needed to demonstrate his worth once more, perhaps by killing Dumbledore or handing Harry over to Voldemort…

Evan thought about it and felt that he couldn’t get anything out of Snape.

He did have, however, some questions about potions he’d seen at the International Alchemical Conference that he could ask him about.

But before Evan could finish, he was interrupted by Snape.

“Silence, Mason, I’m not interested in your ridiculous summer adventures.”

There was another long silence, and finally, the three of them reached the castle steps and as the great oaken front doors swung open into the vast flagged entrance hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the doors standing open into the Great Hall.

It was not a good idea to walk in so brazenly when the feast was in progress. Especially for Harry, he’d just been defeated by Malfoy and was now wearing Muggle clothes, with his face deformed by the beating. It was a complete shame to walk in and endure his gaze like this.

He wondered whether he could slip his Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining his seat at the long Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the farthest from the entrance hall) without being noticed.

“Here we are!” said Snape, as though he had read Harry’s mind. “You two are going in as you are — no tricks, Mason. And you, Potter, no Invisibility Cloak, no changing into your school robes. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I’m sure.”

Harry turned on the spot and marched straight through the open doors: anything to get away from Snape. Evan hurried after him. The Great Hall, with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow.

It was all a shimmering blur to Harry, however, who walked so fast that Evan almost had to jog to keep up with him.

Evan and Harry were passing the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at them, they had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them, and forced their way in between them.

“Where have you two been?” Hermione asked. “Oh my, Harry, what happened to your face?”

“Something unexpected happened,” said Evan. “The feast hasn’t started yet, right?”

“Not yet. The Sorting Ceremony just ended.”

“What did the hat say this time?”

“More of the same, really … advising us all to unite in the face of our enemies, you know.”

“Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?” Harry interjected.

He grabbed a spoon and squinted at his distorted reflection.

“Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast.”

Ron, also staring at Harry’s face, asked with some hesitation, “Mate, did someone hit you?”

“Hmm,” Harry mumbled, running his hand over his face, “how’s my nose looking?”

“Normal,” said Hermione anxiously. With Ron’s prompt, her gaze shifted from Evan to Harry. “But what happened to your nose, Harry? What exactly happened to you two? Why didn’t you make it onto the carriage? We’ve been terrified!”

“I’ll tell you later,” said Harry curtly.

Many people were staring at them and he didn’t want to talk about it.

Besides, the whole incident was so embarrassing. He hoped very much that they would all assume he had been involved in something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a Dementor. Of course, Malfoy would spread the story as far and wide as he could, but there was always a chance it wouldn’t reach too many Gryffindor ears.

“But —” said Hermione.

“We’ll talk about it later; the food is here,” said Evan. “Look, they even prepared special food for Elaine.”

There was an area marked specifically for vampires, with all the food labeled as made with blood.

“This year, three people from the clan enrolled in school. My uncle called on them to send their children of school age to Hogwarts. Those three guys were sorted into Slytherin House,” said Elaine, picking up a cup of red liquid and taking a sip. “This tastes odd, though — not like dragon blood…”

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