Draco Malfoy had never felt such biting cold. The snow chilled him to the bone, making him shiver uncontrollably.
Hidden beneath his black robes, his figure lood like storm clouds crackling with thunder. Though he stood still, anyone could sense a tempest brewing.
Draco couldn't wrap his head around what had gone wrong. He'd gone out of his way to avoid that Gryffindor, Harry Potter. Him, dodging soone? Unthinkable before he'd co to Hogwarts. Now, he bitterly regretted not choosing Durmstrang.
His legs trembled, and when he glanced sideways, Crabbe and Goyle looked like they were about to pass out from fear.
That only made him more terrified.
In the midst of this ss, Professor Snape spoke, his voice low and nacing, like a call from the depths of the underworld: "Hmph… orphan…"
---
Harry and Ron were leaving the Quidditch pitch when they spotted Sean, Justin, and Neville not far off.
The greenhouses and the Quidditch pitch weren't too far apart, both tucked behind the castle. Through the swirling snow, Harry and Ron could just make out a few figures trudging along.
"Is that… Sean?" Harry asked, his scarf muffling his words into puffs of white mist.
"…Anyway, Snape's obviously a…" Ron trailed off, still ranting to Harry about Snape's latest cruelties. "Yeah, it's Sean, Justin, and Neville. Oh, if Hermione didn't have her nose buried in ten books, she'd be helping out in the greenhouses too."
"What… us?" Harry said, surprised. No one had told him about any group effort.
"Harry, you didn't know?" Ron shouted over the howling wind. "Of course you didn't! You've been stuck at the Quidditch pitch."
"The greenhouses are short-handed?" Harry's voice got lost in the storm.
"Totally! Neville cos back from there looking half-dead every ti!" Ron yelled.
They exchanged a glance, both thinking the sa thing.
The snow was coming down harder now, and the greenhouses needed tending. Plants like the Venomous Tentacula required constant care in winter. Its pods had to be ward over a fire until they glowed bright red before squeezing them. If you tried to handle a cold pod, the sharp, wriggling black seeds inside would explode.
Luckily, the tricky task of wrangling pods from the whip-wielding Tentacula was handled by the older students—Bruce, Leon, and Pister—in Greenhouse Three.
Still, Sean, Justin, and Neville often heard screams from that direction. Sotis it was Bruce yelling in pain, sotis Leon laughing.
At the entrance to the dod Greenhouse One, Justin was about to push the door open. Behind him, Neville was shyly sharing plant-handling tips with Sean, who nodded, his face dusted with snow. His Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled furiously, making Neville blush with pride and embarrassnt.
"Sean!"
"Yo, Sean!"
Two shouts rang out from the distance as the greenhouse door swung open.
It was Harry and Ron, sprinting through the snow. Professor Sprout, who'd just opened the door to Greenhouse Three, bead at the sight. "How wonderful!" she said. "Congratulations, you've stumbled upon Hagrid's secret greenhouse mission! Welco to Greenhouse One. Gloves are on the shelves—don't forget them."
Justin smiled warmly. "Co on in."
"Oh!" Ron gasped, catching his breath. Justin's words lit him up with excitent.
"You won't believe it," Ron said, pulling on his gloves. "We just escaped Snape's clutches…"
He launched back into their earlier gripes about Snape, barely pausing as he spoke. "One tiny mistake, and he's docking Gryffindor points. And poor Neville—he treats him like a punching bag! Today, he was in such a foul mood, even Malfoy couldn't dodge his wrath."
At the ntion of Snape, Neville's face went pale, his hands trembling slightly. "He must hate ," he mumbled. "He's only nice to those slimy Slytherins who suck up to him. Nobody else can stand him."
Harry clenched his jaw, nodding in agreent.
Justin frowned. He'd noticed Snape's harshness, sure, but the man's teaching skills were undeniable. Still, thinking of Snape's behavior, he kept quiet.
Unbeknownst to them, a figure in wide black robes stood in the snow, watching with an unreadable purpose. Dark eyes swept over Harry and Ron before settling on a pair of strikingly green eyes.
"…He's just not a good person!" Ron grumbled. "He's a loner because no one can stand him!"
Harry nodded firmly. As they filed into the greenhouse, he opened his mouth to add sothing but froze at a faint voice.
"Harry," Sean said quietly, eting his gaze, "even if the world has no place for Snape, who are we to judge his soul?"
Sean sighed and stepped inside. Harry stood rooted to the spot, struck by the complexity in Sean's eyes—sothing heavy, unsaid.
Then he rembered what Hermione had told him: Snape wasn't the one trying to kill him.
A chill crept through him, prickling his skin. If not Snape… then who?
The figure in the black robes was gone, leaving only the spot where those green eyes had lingered, so eerily similar to Harry's own.
"Alright, young gentlen!" Professor Sprout's cheerful voice broke the mont. She checked everyone's gloves to ensure no one would get hurt. "Looks like we'll finish early today!"
But just as the group buzzed with excitent, a loud crash echoed from Greenhouse Three, followed by panicked shouts: "rlin's beard—Canary Creams actually turn you into a canary!"
Sprout's face paled, and she rushed out.
Ron and Harry exchanged wide-eyed looks. Sean, Justin, and Neville were already peering through the door of Greenhouse Three.
Inside, vines thrashed wildly. Bruce, pale as a ghost, was dodging about, clutching a canary. With no escape, he hurled the bird and shouted, "Pister, you owe for this!"
Then a Venomous Tentacula knocked him out cold.
Sprout, looking shaken, hurried to drag the "sleeping" Bruce away.
In the chaos, the canary suddenly transford back into Pister, his face red with fury.
"What… happened?" Justin asked.
Sean spotted crumbs in Pister's hand and pieced it together.
"That idiot!" Leon snapped, fuming. "While Pister and I were wrestling the Tentacula, Bruce fed him so random biscuit—ugh!"
Leon rarely badmouthed Bruce in front of Sean, but this ti, he couldn't hold back.
---
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