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After hearing Harry's words of gratitude, Dracula let out a wilted smile before suddenly pulling back the white curtain between the beds in the school infirmary.
In an instant, a large, sallow-faced man with greasy hair appeared before Harry's astonished eyes.
"S...Professor Snape?" Harry stammered, his gaze landing on the familiar figure in the adjacent bed. He froze awkwardly, the words he had been about to say catching in his throat.
After all, in just one school year, the animosity between him and Snape had become deeply rooted. They harbored mutual dislike, each seeming to take pleasure in making life difficult for the other whenever possible.
Waking up in the infirmary today, Harry had finally mustered the courage to confide in Dumbledore and Dracula, expressing his heartfelt gratitude for Snape's two acts of rescue. He had assumed that Snape wasn't present, making it easier to speak freely.
But now, with Dracula tearing away the thin barrier of the curtain—like exposing a well-kept secret—Harry and Snape were forced into an unfiltered confrontation.
The awkwardness settled thick in the air, making Harry's face flush red. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
As for Snape, he had been listening to the conversation from the other bed, turned slightly to the side. The abrupt unveiling startled him, and he hastily rested his head back on the pillow, feigning sleep. Yet, the telltale shift—the quick, almost guilty motion—was too obvious to be ignored.
"Professor Snape, there's no need to be so shy. I know you're awake," Dracula said with a smirk. "Potter was just about to thank you. Wouldn't it be rude to ignore such heartfelt gratitude?"
Dumbledore chuckled at the scene, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Severus, don't be so unkind. This is an excellent opportunity to mend the bridge between you and Harry." He added softly, "I think Lily would be pleased to see you taking care of her son."
Snape remained motionless on the bed, as though he could will himself to disappear. Yet his pursed lips and the barely perceptible tremor of his eyelids betrayed the turmoil within.
Harry swallowed, then straightened slightly, his initial awkwardness giving way to something more genuine. "S...Professor Snape..." His voice wavered before finding steadiness. "Thank you. I know you saved me."
Snape's eyes flickered open. He let out a quiet sigh, his voice rough but firm. "I didn't save you. The one who truly saved you was Professor Dracula. If you must thank someone, thank him." A pause, then, more darkly, "As for me... in the restricted section, I nearly killed you."
"You were under the Imperius Curse, Professor Snape," Dracula interjected, dismissing the weight of Snape's words with an easy smile. "And yet, despite that, you still stood between Potter and Voldemort, willing to face death to protect him. Quite the valiant sight, I must say."
Snape's face darkened.
"Professor Snape, I understand that facing someone as powerful as Voldemort takes extraordinary courage," Harry said earnestly. "Only wizards as strong as Professor Dracula and Professor Dumbledore can hope to fight him directly. It's normal that you couldn't defeat Voldemort."
Snape's expression twisted. His grip on the bed's edge tightened before he abruptly threw off the blanket. Ignoring the sharp twinge of pain from his still-healing wounds, he limped toward the infirmary door, his face like thunder.
"Did Professor Snape suffer those injuries while fighting Voldemort?" Harry asked, watching Snape's retreating form. He then turned back to Dracula, his gratitude unwavering. "And thank you, Professor Dracula. You must have been the one to finally defeat Voldemort and save us."
Dracula hesitated. He looked slightly unnatural for the first time that evening.
In truth, Snape hadn't suffered any injuries from Voldemort. The bruises and wounds had all come from Dracula himself—delivered casually while Snape had been under the Imperius Curse.
Oblivious to this, Harry turned to Dumbledore, his expression filled with admiration. "Sir, I really appreciate everything you've done for me. Hogwarts has so many kind-hearted professors. I don't even know how to put my feelings into words."
This time, it was Dumbledore's turn to look slightly uneasy.
He had no heart to tell Harry that the person who had orchestrated the entire ordeal—the one who had sent him into the restricted section to face Voldemort in the first place—was none other than the old headmaster he so deeply trusted.
Dumbledore quietly resolved to postpone telling Harry the truth—at least until time had softened the edges of his memory. Perhaps after a few years, he would finally explain who had sent him the Invisibility Cloak...
After answering a few more of Harry's questions, Dumbledore and Dracula bid him farewell, leaving him to rest.
As they stepped out, they nearly collided with Madam Pomfrey, who was carrying a steaming bowl of potion. She nodded to them politely before moving past. But then, she frowned, as if sensing something amiss.
"Professor Dracula, when did you arrive?" she asked suspiciously. "Did you sneak in without informing me? You know the infirmary requires prior notice before visitors are allowed."
Dracula paused, then turned to her with an amused glint in his eye. "Ah, let's not get caught up in technicalities, dear Madam Pomfrey. Shouldn't you be focusing on getting Mr. Potter to take his medicine before it cools?"
A fleeting daze crossed Pomfrey's face before she nodded, her previous concern seemingly slipping away.
Dracula flashed her a charming smile before hastily exiting the infirmary.
Dumbledore, watching from the side, sighed and shook his head in exasperation.
It took Madam Pomfrey a moment before she blinked, as if breaking out of a trance. She huffed in irritation, then turned back to Harry.
"You're awake, aren't you? Sit up and drink this," she instructed, placing the bowl of potion in front of him. Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small book. "By the way, is this diary yours?"
Harry took the medicine obediently, then glanced at the diary in her hands. He frowned. "No, it's not mine."
"But your name is written inside."
Pomfrey opened to the first page, showing him the inscription.
Harry's eyes widened as he stared at the elegant handwriting scrawled across the title page:
Harry James Potter.