Snape hated Dawn Richter.

Yes, without any pretense.

Just like everyone could tell when he was targeting Harry.

Now, during class, all those little Hufflepuff wizards had glanced at Dawn at least two or three times with sympathy.

Especially after he was the first to successfully brew the potion for curing scabies—only for Snape to deduct five points with a forced excuse.

The sympathy became even more obvious after that.

Snape paid no attention to the silent condemnation in the eyes of those kind-hearted Hufflepuffs.

He simply kept staring at Dawn Richter, and when the group before him failed their potion, he docked another three points from Dawn for “shared responsibility.”

This kind of hostility might seem hard to understand.

Even Lucius, with whom he had a fairly decent relationship, had told him—when his own son Draco was stripped of his clothes at school—that this strange sense of déjà vu made Snape furious.

He even considered blowing the matter out of proportion—expelling Dawn and docking a hundred points from Ravenclaw.

But after he questioned Draco in detail and learned that the boy had provoked the incident by calling someone a Mudblood…

Snape, falling once again into the painful haze of memories, lost the will to pursue it further.

Still, even if he didn’t escalate the matter, Snape truly couldn’t find a single reason to like Dawn.

Before meeting him, he had even imagined Dawn Richter as someone with James Potter’s face. But what truly made him uncomfortable was—

When Snape finally saw Dawn—he’d only paid attention to Harry during the Sorting Ceremony—he caught a familiar and deeply triggering look in his eyes.

That intense confidence and complete disregard for others—these were traits Snape, a master of Occlumency, could easily read from someone’s gaze.

And given everything Dawn had done before…

Snape’s expression turned somewhat dazed.

…….

As a former Death Eater, Snape’s childhood and youth were far more troubled than Dumbledore’s.

A half-blood wizard who entered Slytherin during a time when pure-blood supremacy ran rampant, he spent seven years immersed in a toxic atmosphere.

Both insecure and prideful, hyper-aware of others’ opinions, and shaped by a dysfunctional family, he was driven by ambition and desire.

Coupled with a deep need for power—fueled by his rivalry with the Marauders—Snape’s eventual allegiance to Voldemort seemed inevitable to those around him.

But becoming a Death Eater didn’t bring him what he wanted. Instead, it marked the beginning of his tragic life.

One careless slur—calling Lily a Mudblood—drove a wedge between him and his childhood friend, sending her into the arms of his worst enemy.

Later, he worked desperately under the Dark Lord, hoping to spare Lily’s life.

But after he unknowingly relayed the prophecy that sealed her fate, she died because of it.

Broken by guilt, he turned to Dumbledore, agreeing to become a double agent in order to protect the only thing Lily left behind—her son.

In short, Snape’s deepest pain was always tied to the names Voldemort and James Potter.

And now?

What was he looking at?

A potential Dark Lord in training who acted like James Potter?

To Snape, this was a nightmare.

Especially when he singled out that Dawn Richter during class, and Dawn merely smiled back. He didn’t argue or talk back foolishly like Harry often did.

That made Snape even more concerned—

What a cunning and manipulative young man!

……

Though in this case, Snape was misjudging Dawn.

Was Dawn angry? Not really. The targeted hostility didn’t sting as much as Draco’s public humiliation attempts.

Still, it would be wrong to say he was happy or unaffected.

But he hated the ugliness of impotent rage. Until he found a proper way to retaliate, he preferred to maintain a baseline of dignity.

……

And so, the class finally came to an end under Snape’s relentless nitpicking.

Dawn alone lost Ravenclaw 35 points in a single period—surpassing Harry to become the new record-holder for most points lost in one class.

On his way out of the dungeon, he even lost another five points for not greeting the professor.

Not that it mattered much.

Neither the House Cup nor Quidditch rankings seemed to concern the Ravenclaws around him.

Least of all Dawn.

…….

Leaving the cold, damp dungeon classroom,

Dawn immediately wanted to head to Professor McGonagall’s office. Not to complain, of course—but to ask if he could join the Transfiguration Club she was organizing.

Aside from books, guidance from a master of Transfiguration might truly inspire and enlighten him.

Unfortunately, McGonagall was probably still busy with the Philosopher’s Stone matter, and he once again made the trip in vain.

So Dawn returned to the library to spend the rest of the day.

…….

Time flowed without pause.

Friday.

The last day before the weekend.

Be it Muggles or wizards, there was always a unique energy on Fridays.

Especially when that morning, Harry received a brand-new broomstick and was set to join the Quidditch team, causing the entire Great Hall to erupt with excitement.

Even the study-hungry Ravenclaws around Dawn were drawn into heated discussions about Harry, the youngest Seeker in a century.

Ron was so excited he ran all the way to the Slytherin table to loudly “thank” Draco, whose face was twisted in fury.

The argument grew louder, and soon Gryffindor and Slytherin students stood on opposite sides of the Ravenclaw table, ready to clash.

Dawn sighed. They were unbearably noisy.

He swallowed his last mouthful of milk, picked up his Silver Star Grass, and walked to the Gryffindor table, where he placed it into Neville’s hesitant hands.

“I’ll take good care of it!”

Neville promised earnestly, holding the plant with great care.

Dawn nodded and gave him a few words of encouragement before turning to leave.

He had Herbology with Professor Sprout first thing today. He wanted to do well, hoping to get his hands on some mandrake leaves to practice Animagus transformation.

But just then—

Hermione suddenly spoke up, complaining to him,

“Dawn, can you believe it? They’re actually fighting over something this ridiculous!”

“I can’t even imagine the look on Professor McGonagall’s face! Oh! This is just awful!”

Hermione had thrown him a conversational hook.

In fact, she had been wanting to talk to Dawn again for the past couple of days.

Well…

Even though she’d sworn never to speak to that jerk again. But the things he said to Dumbledore that night kept circling in her mind. She just couldn’t forget them.

She had so many thoughts she wanted to hear his opinion on.

Dawn paused and gave her a strange look.

Now he understood why Hermione hadn’t been very likable at the beginning of the term.

He offered a rare piece of advice,

“You might be used to not having many friends, but if you want to change that, I suggest you study a bit about emotional intelligence and social interaction.”

Granted, Dawn’s own EQ wasn’t particularly high either, but at least he didn’t care what others thought of him.

Finishing his sentence,

He didn’t give Hermione a chance to respond. With a wave, he turned and left, leaving her stunned and speechless.

________________

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