Harry Potter: Satan? Nah, Just My Family Crest [ Editing] Chapter 63 63: Is the Villain Really Snape?

By November, the weather had turned cold. Trees shed their leaves, and the green grass turned yellow.

Hermione, having reconciled with Harry and Ron, had been spending more ti with them lately, especially while Ethan was in class.

She had even invited them to join the weekend spell-practice group, but Harry had Quidditch practice, so he only stayed for a short while before leaving for training.

Hagrid was naturally the happiest about this arrangent. He happily prepared hot tea and snacks for the four of them, pleased to chat with them each week.

Ti passed quickly, and the Quidditch season arrived before Harry felt ready.

The day before the Saturday match, Ethan went to the library after Potions class, while Hermione and the other two took a break in the castle, waiting for Professor Kettleburn's class.

That afternoon, when he t Hermione, she told him what had happened in the anti.

"Snape limped over and confiscated Harry's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which he had borrowed from the library. When Harry tried to retrieve the confiscated book, he accidentally overheard Snape and Filch talking in the staff room and discovered that the professor had been injured by the three-headed dog."

Hermione continued, "Harry and Ron both think Snape released the troll to steal the thing Dumbledore is guarding with the three-headed dog."

"What about you? Do you think that's his goal?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, but I don't think so. Although Snape is terrible, I don't think he would do that."

Ethan smiled. "Trust your instincts, Hermione. Sotis your eyes deceive you; what you see isn't always the truth."

"Then do you know what the truth is?"

"No, but after spending so many weekends together, Professor Snape isn't as cold as he appears."

"Really? I hope so." Hermione, who had been scolded by Snape many tis, didn't believe him.

He didn't correct this. So things were his alone to know; there was no need to share them. He wanted to be the very mystery he hated most.

The next day would normally have been Snape's Potions class, but because the Quidditch match was between Slytherin and Gryffindor, the Head of House had to attend, so class was canceled.

Ethan, who had no interest in Quidditch, had been asked by Snape to cheer for Slytherin. Resigned, he grabbed the hand-warr Hermione had made and headed to the Quidditch pitch.

It was freezing outside, but the wizards' enthusiasm for Quidditch ran high. Even students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who weren't competing had shown up, and several teachers had co along as well, perhaps to ensure the players' safety.

Ethan sat in the Slytherin stands, looking completely out of place among the excited students around him.

He waved lazily at Hermione, Ron, and the others, then went back to clutching his hand warr and staring listlessly at the empty pitch.

When the teams finally took the field, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Is Quidditch really that interesting? In his past life, he hadn't been a fan of ball gas and had never cared much for sports. Since he wasn't particularly interested in broomstick flying at Hogwarts either, his understanding of Quidditch was practically nonexistent.

Madam Hooch stood at the center of the pitch, broom in hand, addressing the players.

When the whistle blew, both teams rose into the air and scrambled for the Quaffle.

Gryffindor's comntator, Lee Jordan, a Black student whose bias toward his own house was obvious, heaped praise on his teammates while directing venom at the Slytherins, forcing Professor McGonagall to remind him constantly to remain impartial.

Listening to this passionate comntary, Ethan found himself growing interested. Of course, it was like watching football without understanding the rules, enjoying the announcer's excitent while remaining a complete novice. He was just here for the thrill.

Suddenly, the crowd gasped, and Ethan looked up.

Sothing was wrong with Harry Potter's broom. It was bucking and twisting wildly, and Harry now dangled from it, hanging on with only one hand.

Ethan imdiately looked toward the stands where Snape sat. Though too far away to tell if the professor's lips were moving, he could see that Snape, like Quirrell, was staring intently at Harry.

Ethan felt indignant on behalf of his professor: Professor, oh Professor, look, it's clearly Quirrell doing this, but later everyone will pin the bla on you.

Of course, if he were judging by first impressions alone, he would suspect Snape too, the cold, greasy-haired man in the middle of the stands, not to ntion his history of deliberately making things difficult for Harry. It was hard not to suspect him.

Ethan watched the situation closely and soon spotted Hermione.

She had sneaked over from the Gryffindor stands, first knocking Quirrell down, then using Bluebell flas to set Snape's robes on fire.

The effect was imdiate. Harry's broom stabilized, but what she didn't notice was that the mont Quirrell fell, the broom had already stopped twisting.

In the end, the match concluded with Harry Potter catching the Golden Snitch, Gryffindor winning one hundred seventy to sixty.

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Hermione waved at Ethan, and he followed the group to Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid was making tea for everyone to warm up.

As soon as he sat down, Ron couldn't wait to talk about what happened on the pitch.

"Harry, Snape was jinxing your broom. He was staring at you and muttering under his breath. Hermione and I saw it through the binoculars."

Hermione nodded vigorously beside them, agreeing with Ron.

Hagrid didn't believe them. "Impossible. Why would Snape do such a thing?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then looked briefly at Ethan, who was sitting quietly off to the side. Finally, they decided to tell the truth. Ethan had saved their lives, and although he was close to Snape, he could be trusted.

"Before Halloween, he tried to get past the three-headed dog and got bitten."

"How did you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid slamd the teapot down on the table.

"Fluffy?"

Hagrid panicked. "Um, I bought it from a Greek chap and lent it to Dumbledore to guard..."

The three of them were eager to know what Fluffy was guarding, but Hagrid wouldn't say.

Hagrid changed the subject. "Don't talk nonsense. Snape wouldn't try to kill a student! Isn't that right, Jones?"