I didn't fall asleep that night because all kinds of thoughts kept wandering randomly in my mind. To calm myself down, I took a deep breath and started trying to focus on recalling the content of the latest Transfiguration class. But every few minutes, I would be interrupted again by a chaotic mix of panicked and agonizing thoughts. Then I gritted my teeth and started over, as if as long as I could recall every word Professor McGonagall had said completely, Mom would be able to come back at dawn. It was not until it was completely light that I finally dozed off due to extreme fatigue. I felt as if I had just closed my eyes for a few seconds when someone was already approaching me, lifting the curtain of my bed.

I opened my eyes abruptly and saw Miss Brown looking at me cautiously. Her hand was still hovering in mid-air, making a rather comical gesture, probably originally meant to poke my face.

"It's quite rare that we're all ready... and you're still not up yet." I would have been more grateful to her if she could have changed the expression on her face, which was like she was about to pull up a Mandrake. "Are you okay? Did something happen? Your eyes... it's as if you've been hit by some evil curse."

"I'm fine." I thought I had to show a bit of a smile to thank her for her concern, but no matter how much I pursed my lips, I couldn't force even the slightest smile. Instead, it made Miss Brown and Miss Patil even more frightened.

"Uh, we're going to have breakfast first! Don't be late either." With these words, the two of them left in a hurry.

I entered the Great Hall and noticed that the Gryffindors weren't wearing scarves or holding those little banners and flags. Then I realized I had made a mistake last night: the Quidditch match wasn't today. Tomorrow was the weekend. That made sense. If there was a Quidditch match today, the class schedule wouldn't be so packed. No wonder Potter looked so confused when I mentioned the match yesterday.

I was a bit late when I arrived at the Great Hall. There weren't many people having breakfast. Most of them were wolfing down their food or just grabbing a few slices of bread and hurrying up the stairs. As soon as I sat down, the Potter trio across the table was about to leave. I thought Potter would surely tell his friends about me, but it seemed he didn't, because Black still gave me the same look as if I were a slug, just like yesterday.

I felt a twinge of gratitude towards Potter. I was really afraid that a lot of people would gather around me and comfort me in that soft, pitying tone. I knew these actions came from kindness, but those words of comfort couldn't really solve anything. Instead, they would just make me feel even more panicked. Sympathy and pity were for those who had already lost their loved ones. I hadn't lost my mom yet. I believed Dad would find Mom and she would definitely come back to us. She had promised me.

There were my favorite muffins on the table, with a faint floral scent, but I had no appetite at all. Looking at all the piles of food, I felt full already. I thought I would throw up if I ate even a bite more. However, I had barely eaten anything since last night, so I had to force myself to eat something.

After mechanically finishing a plate of scrambled eggs, Professor McGonagall didn't come over to announce that today's Potions class was cancelled. Even after I finished my Charms class and walked towards the dungeons with my old schoolbag that didn't have any Potions homework, no one came to tell us that these classes didn't need to be attended.

No one seemed to notice anything was wrong with me. Miss Granger was having a heated discussion with Ron Weasley about the Hippogriff named Buckbeak, while the Slytherins were proudly spreading the news that Draco's father was going to submit a proposal to have it executed.

I knew it made me seem selfish... but at this moment, I really didn't care whether that animal could survive or not. Fortunately, I had always been on the fringes of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and they didn't come to ask for my opinion.

"Ho, ho! It's been ages since I stood on this podium again. Let me see. Ho! Lily's daughter!!"

Now I knew the reason why the Potions class wasn't cancelled. Standing in Dad's classroom was a semi-bald old man, so obese that one would think it difficult for him to squeeze through the aisle.

Professor Slughorn. He was my parents' Potions professor. He adored my mom very, very much. Even after Mom graduated and started working, he would still write to invite her to those "Slug Club parties" from time to time, and he often talked about how Mom was his favorite student.

"It's been quite a while since we last met, hasn't it?" His enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming. I always felt that the next second he would give me a bear hug right in front of the whole class. "Little girl, you're growing more and more like Lily, aren't you, Albus? Look at her, a beauty just like her mother!"

If it was before yesterday, I would have been very happy to be praised for looking like Mom. But now, his constant mention of Mom only made my expression stiffer.

"Let me introduce to you all. This is Professor Horace Slughorn." Professor Dumbledore finally interrupted him and said to the other students who looked completely confused. "During the period when Professor Snape is away from Hogwarts for some special reasons, he will be your Potions professor and the acting Head of Slytherin House."

On the Gryffindor side, there was a burst of enthusiastic cheering. The intensity of it made Professor Slughorn look both beaming and puzzled — he probably couldn't understand that the Gryffindors weren't welcoming him; they were just celebrating the fact that my dad had left.

This was the most disastrous Potions class I had ever attended. I was pulled to the front. First, at Professor Slughorn's request, I explained in detail to him the current progress of the Potions class. Then I was asked by him to demonstrate to everyone how to handle the ingredients we would use in this class.

I didn't know where he got so many words of praise. Actually, I didn't like handling materials exactly as the textbook said. Many steps in the textbook were not only cumbersome but also inefficient. But he kept staring at me with great interest, as if for every cut I made, he was already ready with new words to praise my natural talent inherited from my parents. In the end, I almost fled down the podium.

"Professor, my hand is injured." As everyone started to bow their heads and make their own potions, Draco's drawling voice sounded on the Slytherin side. "I don't have the strength to handle my ingredients."

"What an asshole!" I heard Miss Granger say through gritted teeth. "He's clearly all right, but he still has his arm in a sling, and he's going to have that poor Buckbeak executed!"

After Professor Slughorn walked over to Draco, Draco first described in detail to him what a "terrible incident" had happened to him yesterday, and then casually mentioned the names of his parents.

"Hmm, let's see if your classmates can give you a hand —"

"Professor, can Miss Snape help me?" He looked over at me with a smile. "I'm sure with her talent, even if she helps me with the ingredients, she can still make her own perfect potion in a flash."

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all. I don't even need to see it. Come on, come on, Iris, good girl. Can you give Mr. Malfoy a hand?"

"He can use the ones I just demonstrated, Professor." I pointed to the crocodile heart and powdered ginger root that I had processed on the podium. "I haven't used the two most troublesome ones yet."

"But my hand is injured. It hurts even to move it —"

"Iris, help him with all of it," Professor Slughorn winked at me. "I'll give you extra points. Although I know you're bound to get a perfect score anyway."

"Your schoolbag," when I sat down next to Draco and lowered my head to start using a small knife to peel off the slippery membrane on the crocodile heart, he pointed at his feet, his voice much colder than before. "Even though it seems this assignment doesn't need to be handed in, you don't plan to take it, do you?"

"Thanks," I mumbled. The crocodile heart was difficult to hold. A little too much force and it would jump off the table. But that slippery membrane was actually of no use to the potion, yet the textbook didn't tell students to deal with the membrane first before quickly slicing it.

"What's wrong with your eyes? Were you... crying all night?" His tone suddenly changed.

My eyes weren't as swollen anymore, and the bloodshot lines had also faded a lot. It was hard to be noticed in this dimly lit dungeon. But he had clearly misunderstood the reason for my crying, because his mood suddenly seemed overly cheerful, several times more cheerful than when he had just shown his injured arm to the Slytherins.

"Is there anything else for me to cut?" After helping him grind the ginger root into fine powder, I asked him. "Do the things over there need to be washed?"

"Goyle, come and help me wash these." He turned around and impatiently ordered Goyle, who was staring blankly at the smoking cauldron.

"I'll do it." Seeing that Goyle was about to knock over his cauldron, I stood up, stepped over Draco who was sitting down, and reached for the ingredients on the other side of his hand. I quickly divided the leaves and stems into several parts. "It's all done."

"Don't be angry with me, okay? Every time we quarrel, it's me who gives in, Iris. You —"

"I really don't want to talk about this right now." I placed all the ingredients in order on his table and looked into his eyes, speaking in a low voice. "Please, Draco. I don't want to, nor do I have the mood to quarrel with you — to talk about those things. I just want to go back and finish my potion right now."

I had to make myself focus on one thing, like recalling every word the professor said in a class, brewing a complex potion, or reciting some long and complicated incantations. Only in this way could I temporarily shift my attention, so that I wouldn't think about Albania every few seconds and feel like my heart was being squeezed like those crocodile hearts.

"What's going on?" Draco no longer slouched in his chair. He looked up at Professor Slughorn, frowned and thought for a while, then looked at me with a pale face. "Iris, talk to me. What happened?"

"Oh ho ho! You have less than an hour left! Let me see your progress —"

"Let me finish the potion first." I pursed my lips. "I don't want to talk about things in the classroom."

I didn't want to talk to Draco about Mom — his and his parents' attitudes towards my mom and Muggle-born witches and wizards were obvious. I looked down at the churning bubbles in the pot. The potion should have taken on a semi-transparent gel-like texture at this point. Obviously, I had lost count of the number of stirs just now because I was distracted.

I grabbed a large handful of cold-smoke mint from the drawer, tore it up, and poured the cold water with the soaked mint pieces into the pot. Five minutes before the class ended, I received generous praise from Professor Slughorn.

"Miss Snape, Mr. Longbottom." Just as I was burying my head and packing my things quickly after the bell rang, I suddenly heard Professor McGonagall's voice. She appeared at the door of the Potions classroom. After nodding slightly to Professor Slughorn, she said to me and Mr. Longbottom, who was giving off a terrible smell in the corner, in a serious tone, "Please pack your things and come to my office with me."

My heart was gripped tightly. Was there some bad news? As I was panicking and packing up the ingredients, I grabbed a handful of hard fish bones directly with my hand. The sharp and hard fish spines pierced my finger, but at that moment, I didn't feel any pain at all.

It seemed that Mr. Longbottom had blown up another cauldron during the Potions class. The burnt smell lingered around him until Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at him and fixed his burnt sleeve by the way. I stared fixedly at Professor McGonagall's tightly pursed lips the whole time. Every second, my mind was imagining what even worse news she would say. Every time she uttered a new syllable, I felt my hands trembling uncontrollably.

I thought I would be calmer after a night of suffering, but obviously, I was still like a teapot boiling over a fierce fire but with all its openings forcefully blocked. Just give me the slightest crack and I could scream hysterically.

"I need to talk to Mr. Longbottom about something first," I heard Professor McGonagall say to me. Maybe it was just my imagination, but her voice seemed a bit gentler than when she was teaching in class. "You can sit here and take a rest for a while, Miss Snape."

Longbottom gave me a blank look. Apart from my father, he was probably most afraid of Professor McGonagall. But at this moment, the expression on my face probably didn't help him at all. I guessed my complexion could rival that of a ghost.

I don't remember how long I sat there. It could have been just a second, or maybe several hours, or perhaps many long days. It was not until I thought that spring outside had already ended that I finally heard a soft sound of the door lock being opened.

"It's getting late. In order to avoid affecting your dinner time, I'll make it brief, Miss Snape." After I mechanically sat down opposite Professor McGonagall and straightened my wrinkled robe, I heard her say, "Professor Dumbledore thinks you have the right to know what's going on. Pointless speculation and unfounded rumors will only make you more anxious. You may have noticed that your father is not at Hogwarts at the moment."

Was she just here to tell me this? That is to say, there was no new bad news? I straightened up a bit instantly, but then I felt that such a reaction might seem strange. I tried my best to suppress the look of relief on my face and managed to make my expression look confused and bewildered.

"When the Auror team was on a mission to search for the fugitive Peter Pettigrew in the Albanian Forest, they were attacked by unknown creatures. The weather conditions were terrible at that time. After the chaos, your mother lost contact with the Auror team. This incident has been less than a day since it happened. That is to say, there's still a great possibility that Lily is alive. Your father and Professor Dumbledore have now rushed to Albania. Due to the special nature of that place, the Ministry of Magic has prohibited the dissemination of news. I know it's extremely cruel for you to bear this alone right now, but Iris—"

"It's okay," I said in a shrill voice. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Professor McGonagall. Thank you."

She took my hand. Her palm wasn't as soft and warm as Mom's, but it still had a reassuring power. "Your father will find Lily. Leave this matter to him, okay?"

"I won't cause trouble for the adults," I said, looking into Professor McGonagall's eyes. "I'll stay in Hogwarts obediently and wait for Dad to find Mom."

"Good girl." She gently patted my shoulder. These were probably the kindest words Professor McGonagall had ever said to me.

"If," I took a deep breath and said in a low voice, "Professor, if there's any new news, will I know about it?"

Professor McGonagall paused for a moment and then nodded at me. "Of course. Professor Dumbledore believes you have the right and the qualification to know."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Even after getting her assurance, I didn't feel any more relaxed. I didn't go to the Great Hall to have a cup of hot cocoa, although I knew I needed it badly right now. I also didn't know why I walked towards the lake. At this time, most people were still having dinner.

As night fell, the calm surface of the lake was occasionally broken by a few huge bubbles, creating ripples. I could vaguely see a few golden-red figures shuttling back and forth in the sky over the Quidditch pitch. Tomorrow was the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, I belatedly remembered.

I also saw Hagrid's hut and the huge pumpkins in the field next to it, but there was no light on in the house. I slowly recalled that I seemed to have heard Miss Granger say earlier today that Hagrid had been summoned to the Ministry of Magic because of that Hippogriff. From the other side of the grass came the soft laughter of boys and girls. This was a sacred place for senior couples in Hogwarts to date. It was said that throwing a prank firework into the grass by the lake could flush out at least five pairs of lovers.

It was so strange. In the same world, so many people were still living cheerfully, while so many others were struggling to survive amidst all kinds of troubles.

I threw a ball of grass leaves that I had casually rolled up into the lake. Watching a bubble rise and burst, it was swallowed up, and then a few seconds later, it was tossed into the air again. I seemed to hear a dull sound at the same time, as if it was complaining that this wasn't edible bread.

"Have you had dinner?"

I turned my head. Draco was standing there. The cloth that had been holding his arm was gone. He ruffled his blond hair and sat down next to me. I quietly hugged my knees as I watched him take out a bag of well-packaged pastries from his bag, and then two boxes of drinks.

"The food at Hogwarts is terrible," he said, frowning as he opened them and handed me half. "Only those who have never tasted good food can enjoy it every day."

"You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?" he asked as I took the drink he had adjusted to a warm temperature. There was no hint of anger or joy in his tone.

"If you don't want to, it's fine," he said before I could figure out what to say. "Anyway, you know I'll always give in to you in the end. Every time I tell myself this is the last time I'll give in to Iris Snape. Next time, I must wait for her to come crying and apologizing before I reluctantly forgive her. Guess how many times I've succeeded, huh?"

Finally, I leaned against his shoulder and started crying softly. Rarely, he didn't say anything, nor did he protest when my snot and tears dirtied his newly tailored robe and tie. He remained silent all the while, reaching out to hold the hand that had been pierced by a fish bone during the Potions class. His fingers were as cold as the still-unwarmed weather, and only then did I finally start to feel the faint pain of the wound.

"Cry. Eat after you're done crying."

He didn't say things like "It's okay, it'll be fine, be strong" like others did. In fact, what he said couldn't really be called words of comfort. There was even a tone of "I knew it would be like this".

I had a lot of memories at Hogwarts, both before and after this. When I looked back, I have different feelings about these memories. I'm not someone who gets lost in the past. In this regard, I'm more like my mom. But very occasionally, I would recall this drowsy evening, the first time I cried my heart out freely outside my mother's embrace.

Sometimes I think it would be so nice if certain people and certain things could just stay in a certain moment, neither moving forward nor looking back.