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After Harry left, Archer stayed in place for a while.
It wasn't because he enjoyed standing in the corridor getting chilled, but because…
In the shadows, a pair of eyes were watching him.
"Professor Snape, have you come to see the moon too?" Archer turned around and smiled awkwardly at a dark corner.
Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the corridor.
The black robe blended almost perfectly with the surrounding darkness, making it difficult to make out his gloomy face.
Archer inwardly thought that things had taken a bad turn.
He hadn't noticed Professor Snape standing there at all.
Worse still, he didn't know how long Snape had been there.
Perhaps the professor had overheard his conversation with Harry just moments ago.
Thinking about it, Archer mentally reviewed what he'd said earlier.
Nothing too out of line, he supposed—just a couple of older students discussing a younger one.
Everyone at Hogwarts knew that Gryffindor's James Potter and Slytherin's Severus Snape often clashed.
As for Harry's mother… well, that was a whole different matter.
Archer figured that if he even hinted at mentioning Harry's mother, Snape wouldn't just glare coldly; he'd likely be met with a Sectumsempra spell on the spot.
That was definitely not something he should bring up.
"The moon..." Professor Snape muttered, gazing out the window.
Unfortunately, tonight's weather was anything but clear; thick clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the moon entirely.
Seeing this, Archer tried to make his smile look more natural. He shrugged and turned to walk toward the dining hall behind Snape.
"I think I should head off before the house-elves clear away the food from my table..."
But before he could finish, Professor Snape's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You seem to know a lot about the past, Professor Archer."
Archer turned his head and saw Snape glaring at him with a terrifying intensity.
His smile faltered for a moment but quickly returned. "I've only heard some stories. After all, Hogwarts students love to gossip, don't they?"
Snape didn't answer right away. His knife-sharp eyes seemed to dissect Archer, making him shiver despite himself.
Though Archer didn't think he was any weaker than Snape—if they dueled, Snape wouldn't necessarily have the upper hand—there was something oppressive about Snape's presence.
Snape had returned to Hogwarts just two years after graduation to become the Potions Master.
His talent in potion-making was exceptional, even Archer had to admit that.
In fact, Archer had once attended Snape's N.E.W.T.-level advanced class.
And everyone knew: professors naturally had a suppressive effect on students.
Archer was no exception. He had been targeted more than once during class by Snape.
…
Finally, Snape spoke again, though it was less of a statement and more of a warning.
"Professor Archer, it's dangerous to know too much," Snape said in a low, threatening tone. "Don't talk too much. Don't meddle. Just do what a professor should do."
Archer's fingers unconsciously rubbed the cuff of his sleeve. He forced a helpless smile.
"What could I possibly know?" he said lightly. "Really, I have to go now, Professor."
This time, Snape didn't stop him. Narrowing his eyes, he sneered, "I'll be watching you, Archer… Professor."
With that, he snorted coldly, flicked his black robe, and vanished down the corridor.
…
Watching Snape leave, Archer sighed on the spot.
Well, it seemed he'd just been marked by something troublesome.
But worse was waiting. When Archer finally returned to the dining hall, he discovered that all the plates had been cleared away—including his own.
He hadn't even had a bite to eat!
Standing in front of the empty long table, Archer stared at the spotless surface.
Somehow, the disappointment of missing his meal felt even heavier than the pressure of being targeted by Snape just now.
It seemed he'd have to rely on the time-honored Hufflepuff tradition—
Go to the kitchens and get something to eat!
Archer skillfully bypassed the main corridors and made his way toward the kitchen.
Hogwarts' kitchen was located near the Hufflepuff common room, and any self-respecting Hufflepuff knew its location like the back of their hand.
Archer was no exception. Without taking a single wrong turn, he soon arrived at the familiar painting that concealed the entrance.
The painting showed a bowl brimming with fruit. All one had to do was tickle the pear, and it would turn into a doorknob.
But as Archer approached, he noticed the pear had already become a handle.
Clearly, someone had entered before him.
That wasn't too strange—students sneaking into the kitchen wasn't exactly uncommon.
Pushing open the door, Archer was immediately greeted by the sight of several house-elves who paused their work to look at him.
One elf, whose ears were so long they nearly brushed the floor, shuffled over and asked nervously, "Professor, what do you need?"
"Well..." Archer glanced around, then smiled. "I'm just hungry. Could you whip up a little something for me, Tata?"
The elf's eyes lit up instantly. "Professor remembers Tata's name! Tata is so honored!"
Truth be told, back in his student days, Archer had been able to name almost every house-elf in Hogwarts.
But that was years ago, and most names had slipped his mind.
Tata, however, was one of the few he still remembered.
"Same as before, Tata. I hope you haven't forgotten," Archer said with a nostalgic smile.
Tata beamed and hurried away. In no time, he returned with a plate of steaming beef pie.
"Less onions! Professor, Tata hasn't forgotten."
Archer took the plate with satisfaction.
House-elves truly were amazing!
Such good helpers!
It even made Archer quietly rekindle his old idea—maybe one day he'd get a house-elf of his own.
As he was about to leave, Archer paused and casually asked, "By the way, Tata, has anyone else been here before me tonight?"
Tata blinked at the question, then nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Professor Quirrell was here."
Quirrell?
Archer frowned. He was sure he'd seen Quirrell in the dining hall earlier.
Could it be that Quirrell had missed dinner too and come here afterward?
"Professor Quirrell? What was he doing here?" Archer couldn't help but probe further.
Tata's ears twitched nervously. "Um… Professor Quirrell said he just came to look around. He wandered around the kitchen and even checked the storage rooms a few times. But he didn't take any food."
Hearing this, Archer's suspicion deepened, though he kept his face neutral.
He nodded at Tata with a smile. "Thank you, Tata. You've been a big help."
"Tata is very happy to help Professor Archer!" the elf squeaked proudly.
Archer left the kitchen with the beef pie in hand, his mind swirling.
First, Professor Snape had appeared out of nowhere, warning him to stay out of things.
Then, Quirrell—of all people—had come snooping around the kitchen and storage rooms for no apparent reason.
Archer chewed on a bite of pie, but the savory flavor couldn't distract him from the unease settling deep in his chest.
…
When he reached the corridor again, the castle felt colder than usual.
The moon was still hidden behind thick clouds, casting no light on the stones of Hogwarts.
For some reason, Archer felt as though the shadows had grown deeper tonight.
And in those shadows, something dangerous was watching… waiting.
He tightened his grip on the plate and hurried back toward the safety of his quarters.
As much as he wanted to dismiss it all as coincidence, his instincts told him otherwise.
Whatever game was being played in the darkness of Hogwarts—
he was already caught in it.
And there was no turning back now.
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