Chapter 54: 5-1

The Christmas holidays at Hogwarts began the very next day. Having decided to take full advantage of the break by sleeping in until noon, I was suddenly jolted awake.

“—Harry?”

I hurried down the spiral staircase and burst into the Common Room.

“—I’ll never know what my mum and dad wanted! I never even got to talk to them!”

It was Harry’s voice. Hermione’s eyes were brimming with tears. Ron looked ashen. Harry was livid.

“Harry? Harry, please.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand. You don’t hear it, do you? My mother’s screams as she died. Her voice begging for her child’s life. You’ve never experienced something so horrific it makes you faint just remembering it.”

“Harry, calm down.”

“I’ve had enough! You expect me not even to feel hatred? You think my parents wouldn't want revenge? What do you think I am, a saint? Some ‘superhero’ who defeated Voldemort? In other words—not even human?”

“Harry!!”

Hermione finally broke into sobs. I reached out, taking Harry’s face in my hands to force him to look at me.

“Harry, let’s talk. Just the two of us—”

“I heard about Sirius Black.”

Harry let out a low growl.

“Maria, you knew, didn’t you? You knew what kind of man Sirius Black was—and what he did to our parents.”

“Harry…”

“You’re always like this. You’re right there with me, yet you know things I don’t. You’re always silent. Always playing the bystander. Tell me—what is it you’re trying to do?”

“……”

What is it you’re trying to do? Those words pierced my heart, deep and sharp.

“Whenever we talk about Black, you look sad. But it’s strange. You’re only sad. Meanwhile, I feel… I feel so—”

“Harry, that’s not it. I used to be, once—”

“—‘Once’? When was ‘once’?!”

His sudden outburst of rage made my throat tighten. Even with Ron and Hermione standing behind me, I felt as though I were being backed into the edge of a cliff.

“We’ve been together this whole time, haven’t we?! Since the day we were born—we’ve held hands through everything! We understood each other better than anyone! And yet, ever since you met Draco, I haven’t been your priority anymore. You aren’t my Maria anymore. You’re full of secrets. I know you know more about Black! But you won’t tell me! Even if I asked, you wouldn’t say a word, would you?!”

“I…”

His emerald eyes burned with pure hatred.

Is this how I used to look? Had I looked at Sirius—at Snape—with those same eyes?

“We were always together… so why are you the only one who has grown up? I’m in so much pain I can’t stand it—so why do you look like you moved past it all a long time ago? Are we… are we not the same anymore?”

“Harry.”

“I—right now—I want to hurt you, Maria. I want to see you cry. I want you to suffer, too. Please… stay the same as me.”

“H-hey, Harry, calm down. This is… this is Maria, right? What are you saying to your own sister?”

Ron stepped forward as if to shield me, but Harry didn't even seem to see him. Harry was looking only at me, with total fixation.

“Listen well, Maria. I don’t know Black. I’ve never met him, so I don’t know if he’s someone to be feared. But I know this much. Sirius Black is insane.”

With a look of utter contempt, Harry spat the words out and stormed out of the Common Room. I thought no one could move, but then the tall redhead turned around with a theatrical gesture, as if breaking a spell.

“Look, it’s just… things are simpler between blokes, you know? Yeah. I mean—it just boils down to Harry hating Black and loving Maria. The lad’s just sleep-deprived. He’s got too much information rattling around his head. It happens, right? Happens to me all the time.”

“Ron.”

“Anyway, leave this to me. I’ve had loads of rows with Ginny. I’m a pro at sibling rivalry. I get it—that whole ‘complicated older brother’ mindset, yeah?”

“…I’m the older sister.”

Thanks to Ron playing the fool, I finally managed a small smile—even if my voice sounded weak and pathetic.

Ron pulled on his coat, grabbed Harry’s winter gear, and ran after him. I was left in the Common Room with nothing but the crackle of the fire, my own dazed thoughts, and the sound of Hermione sniffing.

“M-Maria—I—”

Hermione leaned against my shoulder and let out a small sob.

“It’s—it’s my fault. I said the wrong thing. I shouldn't have spoken.”

“Hermione.”

“I told him… I told him his parents wouldn't want revenge. I wasn't thinking about how he felt. Even though you told me to be careful. Even though you scolded me for it when we first met. I’m just… I’m hopeless.”

I stroked Hermione’s back as she hiccuped.

“I know. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Thank you for remembering what I said, Hermione. And besides—you’re not wrong. Our mum and dad… they wouldn’t have wanted it.”

Even if we couldn't speak, I knew. Because I had truly seen them. As Harry Potter—with those very eyes.

If my own children—James, Albus, or Lily—were ever to consume their lives with revenge for the sake of Ginny and me, we would crawl back from the depths of hell just to scold them. We would stop them. We might even beg them to stop.

If you love your child, the only thing a parent wants is for them to be happy.

“Come on, sit down, Hermione. Let’s have something to drink. Tea with lots of milk? Or cocoa?”

“I’m alright. I think I’ll go to the library to clear my head.”

With a small, sad smile, Hermione kissed my cheek.

“You should go to someone you can cry with, too.”

Hermione gathered her spread-out homework and left the Common Room, looking lonely.

Finally, I was truly alone.

The world was completely blanketed in snow. Hogwarts, being an ancient stone castle, looked even more beautiful when the snow piled up. The cold felt comforting.

I sat on a bench, hugging my knees after brushing off the snow.

I wondered if Sirius was alright. I’d been bringing him food, so he’d regained some weight, but I wondered if that fur kept him warm enough against the chill. I’d nicked a few blankets and given them to him since it got cold, but… I didn't think it was enough.

I wanted to go check on him, but—I couldn't show up with a face like this.

“It’s cold.”

I gave a small sniff and curled up tighter.

“Naturally. Do you not know the meaning of the words ‘winter clothing,’ Miss Potter?”

A perpetually displeased, bitter voice answered me. I froze as if I’d been hit by a Full Body-Bind Curse.

“Professor Snape…”

“Indeed.”

Professor Snape stood there looming, wearing nothing but his usual bat-like robes, yet his complexion didn't suggest he felt the cold at all. Perhaps it was because he looked so sickly to begin with.

“…Where is that guard dog who usually clings to you at all hours?”

“Who do you mean?”

Sadly, there were several candidates. If he meant it literally, it would be Sirius.

“I am referring to your brother, who seems incapable of outgrowing his parents.”

“Harry’s only parents are James and Lily.”

I snapped back sharply, looking away. He’ll get a godfather and foster parents eventually, but my parents will always be those two. Honestly, the nerve of him to comment on my parents. He shouldn't use us to punish himself. This man’s self-loathing is truly troublesome.

“We had a fight,” I muttered, the words slipping out unexpectedly.

I’d intended to clear my head and then go find Draco. But in the end, I stayed here, unable to move, because I felt that anything I did would just feel like a slight against Harry.

But with this man…

He doesn't see Maria. He only sees my mother through me. It’s cruel—but for me right now, it’s just right.

“Just a bit of an argument. But… his eyes were so angry.”

Professor Snape didn't move. I felt his gaze on me—the first time he’d really looked at me since he started ignoring my existence.

“Harry has beautiful eyes, doesn't he? I like them. I… I liked them.”

They had always been my pride. The only thing he inherited from Mum. I was happy they passed down to Albus, too. Especially after I learned what Dad had done.

The part of Mum inside ‘me’ always reminded me of love.

“…I dislike children.”

Snape stated this flatly to my face, and it was so like him that I couldn't help but laugh.

“Noisy. Conceited. They take the hardships of adults for granted and make no effort to acknowledge them. They use their innocence as a shield to trample over others. They are geniuses of violence for which there is no cure. If I could, I would avoid them for all eternity.”

“Hardly the words of a teacher.”

“Tell me, how many students in this castle truly call me ‘Professor’ from their hearts?”

“I do.”

I thought I saw Professor Snape’s eyes widen. He’s surprisingly easy to read if you watch where he looks. His attitude and his eyes show no emotion, but he gives off signals in the strangest ways.

“I do. And Draco, too—and someday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione… everyone will truly call you ‘Professor’ from their hearts.”

“…Is this an attempt at a prophecy?”

“Hardly. Don’t you think prophecies are a bit rubbish?”

“……”

When I turned to look at him, he didn't turn away, though his gaze shifted slightly.

“I dislike children.”

“Yes.”

“They say nonsensical things without warning. Their thoughts are entirely opaque. They make me give up on understanding. It is beyond unpleasant.”

“Hehe… yes.”

What a terrible thing to say. Was it my fault? Or… was it because of these eyes?

“However, in this moment—witnessing your pathetic posture is far more unpleasant.”

“……”

“Go wash your face at once. Or would you prefer I deduct points? I’m sure you’d have a most delightful Christmas with Madam Pomfrey.”

This time, Snape turned his whole body away from me.

“Professor?”

“What?”

“You’re terrible at comforting people.”

My heart and my expression finally softened.

He turned his back, yet he didn't walk away. He was clumsy beyond belief. It was the holidays, and the best he could come up with was a threat to take points. That was all he could think of.

“Then allow me to instruct you, as a teacher should. You are seeking comfort from the wrong person, Potter.”

“For example?”

“…There is Draco Malfoy, is there not?”

I stared at him, stunned and gaping like a fool. Because of the way his voice sounded—ah, I see. Even the sight of me and Draco—Gryffindor and Slytherin—getting along… it touched upon his ‘memories,’ didn't it?

I called out to his retreating back.

“Did you comfort my mother like that, too?”

He didn't stop again.

“She was someone who could cry on someone’s chest.”