HP Dual Masters and I had a blast in Hogwarts.

Chapter 313 Angrily Confronts Headmaster Dumbledore

Sirius's ears turned red instantly, and just as he was about to retort, Madam Pomfrey's wand had already stirred up a whirlwind.

Fred and George were pushed out the door with a yelp, Draco angrily tidied his windblown platinum hair, and Harry was still waving persistently.

As the last vestige of his robe disappeared outside the door, Sirius suddenly reached out and pressed down on the door that had been blown open. When he turned to look at me, the emotions surging in his eyes were almost overflowing. Then, he mouthed to me, "Tonight... I'll bring a modified version of the Sleeping Charm."

The moment the door slammed shut, I reached under my pillow and my fingertips touched a chocolate frog card that was still warm from my touch.

The wizard on the card winked at me, and the scrawled handwriting on the back glowed hot in the twilight: Next time, it's your turn to catch me.

"Naive." A cool voice emerged from the shadows.

Severus emerged from behind the medicine cabinet, his black robe sweeping over the steaming potion cauldron on the bedside table.

His long, slender fingers traced the edge of the crucible, and the pale green liquid immediately stopped boiling. "That black dog should have taken you to the Hogsmeade candy store instead of the school hospital."

I tucked the card back under my pillow.

"I'm sorry, Siever, I made you worry." I forced myself to sit up, the stinging pain from my wound making my vision blur.

Snape's wand tip lightly tapped my shoulder, the pain-relieving spell, carrying the bitter taste of laurel leaves, seeping into my skin: "Didn't you say Riddle wouldn't hurt you? Then what happened to you?"

"He didn't hurt me, I just collapsed from exhaustion after not sleeping all night." I gripped the sheets tightly, feeling the warmth of the potion flowing through my veins. "Could you make me a vitality potion? I think I might need it."

Snape paused, his expression unseen at that moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was thicker than with Felix Felicis: “I’ve brought it. Now, drink this.” He handed over a glass bottle emitting a greenish tinge.

I stared at the glass bottle that gleamed with an eerie light, its serpentine patterns appearing and disappearing in the green liquid, writhing as if alive.

Severus's cufflinks rustled against the bed railing, and the bitter scent of laurel leaf-infused potion steam filled the air between us.

“Even the Niffler is more cautious than you.” He suddenly spoke, tapping the tip of his wand lightly against the bottle opening, causing the green liquid to bubble with tiny pearl-like bubbles. “You’re not planning to check the ingredients before drinking it?”

I tilted my head back and drank the medicine in one gulp. The spicy agave flavor exploded on my tongue, but turned into a honey-like sweetness the moment it went down my throat.

“There’s valerian root powder stuck to the hem of your robe.” I shook the empty bottle, looking at his taut knuckles beneath his black robe. “This is clearly the raw material for a sleep aid.”

Severus's wand suddenly buzzed, and dark green flames rose from the cauldron, making the shadows in his eyes even deeper.

"You really don't guard up against me at all." He turned to tidy up the medicine bottles, but deliberately slowed his movements. "Since you've seen through me, why don't you spit it out?"

A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over me, and my fingers gripping the sheets gradually lost their strength.

Before my consciousness faded, I saw his black robe trailing dark waves on the ground as he strode forward, and the scent of mint mixed with herbs enveloped me.

Warm palms cradled the back of my neck, calloused fingertips brushing against my ear, the movements gentler than the finest potion.

The rebuke, "Idiot..." was swallowed by the soft down comforter.

As I drifted into my dream, I seemed to hear the rustling of a quill pen on parchment and the hooting of owls outside the window—the coded message agreed upon by Sirius.

As moonlight streamed across the silverware in the medical wing, I awoke to find the slightly warm glass bottle of vitality potion on my bedside table. Beside it lay a yellowed parchment, its hastily written characters trembling with a familiar intensity: "The Sleeping Spell has been successfully improved. Next time, it's your turn to catch me."

On the windowsill, the valerian root powder left by Severus trembled gently in the night breeze, echoing the handwriting on the back of the Chocolate Frog card.

Suddenly, a magical fluctuation was detected moving in the shadows.

His fingertips traced Severus's deliberately crooked handwriting on the parchment, and a soft laugh escaped his throat: "Headmaster Dumbledore, come out."

The suspended candles flickered suddenly, and an old man emerged from behind the curtain, draped in a robe woven from stars, his crescent-shaped glasses gleaming with a gentle light.

He waved his wand, and the carved armchair slowly rose from the ground, its cushions still carrying the distinctive lavender scent of the Transfiguration Charm: "It seems Severus's potion has restored your observation skills quite well."

I gathered my fingers, which were covered in valerian root powder, into my palm and touched the slightly bulging chocolate frog card in my pocket.

As Dumbledore sat down, the hem of his robe brushed against the windowsill.

"My body has rested enough." I looked at the rising steam from the potion and suddenly remembered the kiss with the bitter taste of the potion before I passed out last night. "But why did the headmaster come to the medical wing? Could it be just to check on my injuries?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly, his half-moon spectacles flashing with tiny light: "A clever child always likes to throw questions back at you."

He slowly pulled a lemon hard candy from his sleeve, the wrapper reflecting an eerie iridescence in the moonlight. "I heard that in the chaos within the Ministry of Magic, you were all just after a prophecy orb."

“Isn’t that a trap you set?” I stared at the phoenix feather at the tip of his wand, which flickered in and out of focus. “You knew perfectly well that I would do anything to protect them.”

The old man's smile froze on his lips. Suddenly, an owl outside the window let out a long, mournful cry that tore through the silent night sky and startled a flock of crows.

He remained silent for a long time, then tapped his wand lightly, folding the candy wrapper into a bird with outstretched wings.

The candy-paper bird flapped its wings, but could never fly out of the range of his palm: "Some chess games require the pieces to decide their own next move."

I clenched my fists, my nails almost digging into my palms: "A decision?" My voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "You've already calculated me perfectly all along. We're all just pawns in your game. Even if one or two are sacrificed, it doesn't matter, does it?"

Dumbledore's gaze deepened, as if looking into the distant past: "There are never innocent bystanders in war."

He slowly rose, his robes casting long shadows on the ground. "Knowing the outcome from the beginning, who else would be willing to take the risk? You know better than anyone that the prophecy orb contains not only the future, but also the key to changing the course of the battle."

My emerald pupils suddenly contracted, the moonlight outside the window was abruptly swallowed by dark clouds, and the valerian root powder left by Severus floated eerily in the shadows, like thousands of forked tongues.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” I said, a smirk playing on my lips, the sound like a venomous snake’s tongue, “you only need to know that as long as I am here, I guarantee that no one will be harmed.”

The old man suddenly chuckled, and the phoenix feather at the tip of his wand suddenly burst into a ghostly blue flame, casting flickering light on his face: "What a dangerous promise."

He raised his hand and waved it lightly, and the potion encyclopedia on the wall moved without wind, with a few dried mandrake leaves falling between the yellowed pages. "Grindelwald said something similar back then—to protect pure ideals with absolute power."

His gaze passed over me, directed towards the distant void, where it was filled with complex emotions I had never seen before.

The air in the medical wing suddenly froze, as if imprisoned by an invisible spell.

Headmaster Dumbledore's expression at this moment was as if he had fallen into a vortex of memories, and even his wrinkles were filled with a faded sense of melancholy.

I stared at the flickering flame on his wand, and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. I slowly lay back down on my pillow, pulling the blanket over my cold fingertips: "Since you've thought of him, why don't you personally send him an owl and invite him here to catch up?"

The old man's pupils suddenly contracted, and the flames of the phoenix feathers shot up half a foot, casting a distorted shadow on the wall.

He remained silent for a long time, then bent down to pick up a mandrake leaf, crushing it into powder with his withered fingers: "Some old friends are better remembered than seen again."

His voice was low and mournful, like the sobbing of a cello. "Besides, every appearance of Gellert Grindelwald means more bloodshed."

Suddenly, I grabbed the velvet pillow that was still warm from my body and threw it hard at the figure that was edged with silver by the moonlight.

“My brother never hurt you, and what about you?” I stared intently at Headmaster Dumbledore.

The pillow exploded in the air, scattering goose down like snowflakes, but it was repelled by an invisible spell when it touched the corner of Dumbledore's robe.

"So you're planning to sacrifice Sirius, Harry, and all those kids?!" My suppressed roar made the glass of the medical wing vibrate, and my nails dug deep into my palms.

Her emerald green eyes gleamed with a golden light in the darkness.

The old man gazed at the goose down floating in the air, and the phoenix feather at the tip of his wand suddenly turned blood red.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice cracked for the first time, like an ancient bell gnawed by time. "Back in Godric's Valley, I personally destroyed the person I cherished most—"

Just then, Severus emerged from the darkness, his wand tipped with a deadly poison spell.

“If it weren’t for Ayers, would they have been able to return to Hogwarts intact?” His gaze swept over my trembling shoulders, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the unspoken concern, before turning to Dumbledore. “The Phoenix Order reinforcements you promised were a complete lie.”

Dumbledore slowly raised his wand, and the light emanating from its tip cast the shadows of the three people onto the wall, overlapping into distorted silhouettes.

“Some truths are too heavy.” He waved his arm and clenched his fist tightly. “Harry Potter… must face his destiny.”

"Headmaster Dumbledore, what gives you the right to plan Harry's life?" I grabbed my wand from the table, pointing the tip at the old man. "Their lives should be arranged by themselves. What gives you the right?"

Severus suddenly grabbed my trembling wrist and slammed my wand back onto the table.

His palms, still warm with the bitter taste of the potion, were more effective at calming the frenzy than any spell: "Now is not the time to argue."

He turned to Dumbledore, his eyes flashing with a coldness I had never seen before. "It was all thanks to Ayers that Harry was here. Otherwise, he would have been in serious trouble, and I would have personally torn up all your prophecies."

Dumbledore's shoulders trembled slightly, the moonlight outlining his hunched silhouette, like an ancient, weathered stone statue. He offered no further explanation, but slowly turned around, his deep purple robes trailing on the ground as if dragging a heavy chain.

As he pushed open the door to the medical wing, the night wind ruffled his silver beard, and his back looked ten, or perhaps twenty, years older than before.

"Severus, you should go back and rest. I'm fine now." Sitting on the bed, I deliberately avoided looking at Dumbledore's back and stared at the window where the moonlight was streaming in.

"Alright, you get some rest." Severus's jaw was taut and straight as he watched Dumbledore's figure gradually disappear behind the door, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cuffs of his potion robe.

Then he turned around and left the medical wing.

The candlelight in the corridor suddenly flickered. He walked quickly down the corridor and spotted a figure. Harry had given his invisibility cloak to Hermione and Ron, and he himself had revealed himself.

"Professor Snape?" The boy's hoarse voice trembled with lingering nightmares. "Is what Ayers told Headmaster Dumbledore true?"

The tip of Severus's wand glowed with a ghostly blue light in the shadows, and the air currents stirred by the hem of his robes rippled like a large bat.

“You should be glad you can still ask such a stupid question.” His voice was colder than an ice-cold potion, but his wand quietly pointed at Harry. “Prophecy never tells people how to choose—just as Dumbledore wouldn’t tell you that this was a teaching practice he had meticulously planned long ago.”

Suddenly, the owl outside the window let out a shrill cry. Severus looked at the shock and anger that exploded in the boy's eyes, and a kind of almost gleeful emotion pierced his heart.

“Harry Potter, next time please think about the consequences before you do anything. Ayers isn’t always available.” As he turned, he knocked over a brass candlestick, and amidst the crisp sound of it shattering, Harry’s hoarse voice asked, “You knew all along? That’s why you brought Mr. Ayers with you in time?”

“I didn’t bring Ayers there; he appeared there on his own to protect you.” Snape paused for a moment, his back still taut like a bowstring, the broken candle wax condensing into silvery frost in the moonlight.

“He’s always like this.” His voice seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his throat, carrying a complex emotion that was hard to describe. “That idiot… he never learns how to protect himself.”

Harry clenched his fists. "What do you mean by that? Why is Ayers...?"

“Enough!” Severus whirled around, his black robes sweeping across the room, and the flame at the tip of his wand suddenly surged, casting a distorted shadow on the wall. “Do you think this is a fairy tale, Potter? Everyone has their own agenda, and Ayers is no exception.” Severus approached Harry, the shadow on his face flickering with the dancing firelight. “He was there, perhaps just… to protect you bunch of reckless lions.”

The owl outside the window was still hooting, one hoot after another, like some kind of ominous premonition.

Harry noticed Snape's right hand trembling slightly, his knuckles white from the strain. "But at least," Snape turned his face away, his voice suddenly low, "he won this time."