In the wizarding world, pure-blood families are related to each other.

After all, if a wizard only wants his children to be united with pure-bloods, then he has very limited options - the idea of pure-bloods is like an invisible barrier that simply and brutally separates wizards from each other.

This is also the reason why Snape, despite his strength, has never been able to truly gain the approval of the Death Eaters.

As a Muggle-wizard half-blood, Snape didn't even have the qualifications to be a pure-blood wizard godfather, let alone interfere in the complex family conflicts and kinship between pure-blood wizarding families.

"This damned, arrogant black dog......"

Snape returned to his lodgings, leaning against the wall by the fireplace, taking a deep breath.

From the day he lost Lily forever, he thought he wouldn't be thrilled by something anymore, until Harry Potter re-enrolled last year, and this stubborn little guy made him feel a long-lost affection for the first time.

It reminded him of the time he and Evans had relied on each other at Hogwarts many years ago.

The appearance of Sirius Black brought back some bad memories of Severus Snape, who broke with Evans more than a decade ago because of that unforgivable impulse, and this time he would not let that happen again.

The blame for Lucius Malfoy wasn't the biggest concern right now - if Blake's actions did break the law, the Ministry of Magic would naturally trouble him, and that was something Snape wanted to see.

Harry was only an underage wizard who had just turned twelve, and was easily influenced by others when it came to discerning right from wrong.

You know, Sirius Black is not a decent man, and Black may be serious and responsible in tutoring Harry's studies, but he will definitely instill some bad thoughts, especially taking the opportunity to discredit his image.

It was undoubtedly a terrible thing for Snape to see Harry become close to his godfather.

To make matters worse, Snape, who failed to apply for a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor again, had already received from Dumbledore the name of the professor of the course next semester - Remus Lupin, the brains of the Breaking Four.

As Sirius and Lupin become Hogwarts professors, things will only get worse.

As Sirius Black had said, he was just an outsider with no position in the whole affair, at best an old classmate of Harry's mother, and a professor of classes that Harry liked.

It's just that it's just about liking......

There are so many amazing peers at Hogwarts.

Even though little Harry had worked hard, as a playful little boy by nature and a little wizard who was not so wicked, even with Snape's make-up class, Harry's Potions class grades only fluctuated between second and fourth places in the grade.

Whether it's Hermione Granger or Draco Malfoy, they are both extremely strong competitors for Harry Jr...... Not to mention that above these two, there is also the "Moonlight" in the clouds of Hogwarts.

"Maybe ......"

Snape muttered for a few seconds, then subconsciously shifted his gaze to the stone platform on the top of the fireplace.

There was an old textbook he had just dug through in the locker in the Potions classroom some time ago, the Potions textbook he had used decades earlier when he was attending Hogwarts - if it weren't for the old textbook, Snape would have almost forgotten that he had a history of shame and second-year shame

According to Snape's original idea, it was intended to seal this past as if it had never existed.

But......

Snape's mind suddenly came to mind a passage that Elena had inadvertently said - "No one likes a subject that they are not good at, and for students, the subject they like the most and the subject they are best at are actually the same thing. 】

The former half-blood prince tapped his finger at the old potions textbook and muttered to himself thoughtfully.

"Perhaps in addition to the regular classroom teaching, Harry needs some small but important tips that will help him excel in the Potions class, and preferably defeat Elena Kaslana......"

The professors at Hogwarts don't think of Elena as a "once-in-a-century" magical genius anymore.

It's hard to say what the future will be for now, but if you only compare Elena with her age, even if you look back at the nearly 1,000-year history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you can't find a wizard who can compare with this girl.

Severus Snape can be said to be one of the professors who felt the most about the evil of this "little assistant teacher in Potions class", whether it is in terms of rigor, creativity, and knowledge absorption, Elena has reached the level of half a professor.

There is no doubt that for now, none of the students can beat Elena Kaslana.

This is especially true in the Potions class - the average student is impossible to beat the professor, even if the other party is just a teaching assistant, who is also one of the in-depth participants in the course and exam sessions, and the referee is almost invincible.

But......

If the opponent is replaced by another full professor, the result is not easy to say......

Snape raised an eyebrow, put down his old textbook, and raised his wand and waved it lightly around the room.

Click.

A crumpled copy of Magic Potions and Potions flew out of the bookshelf and landed in his hand.

The Potions class in Year 1 and 2 at Hogwarts uses this textbook written by Professor Arseny Giger.

Although in Snape's opinion, many of these potions concepts were outdated, and there were many improvements to be made in the preparation and material handling of some basic potions, it was still barely qualified as an introductory lesson for children.

"This book, it seems...... A little too new?"

Snape frowned, carefully comparing the two potions textbooks at hand, his wand tapping on the cover of the book "Magical Potions and Potions", the pages of the book he had specially purchased as preparation materials instantly yellowed and rolled, and all kinds of wrinkles and creases spread little by little through the cover and pages, as if decades had passed in an instant.

"Well, that looks a lot more normal, and now there's only one missing from the mysterious former owner of the textbook......"

His brow softened, and he glanced at the tattered "Advanced Potions Making", and the wand was tapped again, and the bottom of the back cover of a small, dense line of "Magic Potions and Potions" - [This book belongs to the half-blood prince].

That way, even if Elena discovers Harry's secret later, it doesn't matter.

Compared to losing to her peers around her, being crushed by a note left by a mysterious senior decades ago may be an even more uncomfortable blow for the proud Elena Kaslana.

Snape tapped his finger lightly with the textbook in his hand, revealing a meaningful smile.

As long as he doesn't tell the mystery, even if Elena searches through the student files of all Hogwarts over the years, and even asks Albus Dumbledore, it is impossible to know who the "half-blood prince" is—the unknown is the most terrifying opponent.

............

The next day, early in the morning.

On the other side, Moscow.

Newt Scamander, holding an address left over decades ago, stood somewhat blankly on the deserted streets of Moscow, frowning, carefully examining the map of Russia he had just bought.

Decades have passed, and much has changed in this far-flung eastern country.

Newt tried several times, but couldn't connect directly to the city where his old friends lived through Floo.com.

In desperation, he had no choice but to arrive in Moscow through the official passage of the Ministry of Magic, where he planned to take a look at the latest maps of the local Muggles, and then use the apparition to travel to the city where his old friends lived.

Merely......

Looking at it now, the map doesn't seem to be able to help him.

Newt sighed, looked around the hurried street, and walked to a stall selling metal badges, handicrafts, cigarettes, and various foreign magazines with scantily clad women on the cover.

"Good morning, friend, do you want to buy something?"

The stall owner was an old man with gray temples and calluses on his mouth.

The old man looked at Newt's English trench coat, his eyes lit up, and he spoke enthusiastically in broken English.

"Look, there's Playboy magazine here, it may be a little outdated, but it's still quite hard to buy in the city, and you're going to love it!

"Oh yes, there are a lot of good badges here, I promise you've never seen them......"

In this day and age, foreign tourists are the most popular customers.

The most important reason for this is that these tourists from Western countries usually buy goods in very valuable currencies such as the US dollar and the British pound, rather than the former Soviet ruble, which is moving towards the price of toilet paper every day.

"I'm sorry, I'm not here to buy something, I'm here to ask for directions......"

Newt scratched his nose in some embarrassment, and in the old man's disappointed eyes, he pointed to the map in his hand.

"Okay, are you going to Citibank for business, or are you going to the Kremlin for a photo?"

The old man put down the magazines in his hand and the pile of metal badge boxes with some disappointment, and waved his hand.

"Citibank can be seen all the way back down this road, while the Kremlin is in the opposite direction. ”

After a slight pause, the old man struggled to squeeze out a not-so-skilled smile on his face, raised his head and looked at Newt Scamander expectantly, thought for a moment and added.

"By the way, if you need a local guide, you can hire me. Fifteen dollars a day, pounds will do! I'm definitely much cheaper than the unreliable young people in the square—not just Moscow, I know how to get around most places in Russia. ”

"Really? That's great!"

Newt let out a long sigh of relief, took out twenty pounds and handed it to the old man, and asked in Russian, which was not so proficient.

"Hi, comrade! Do you know where Leningrad and Stalingrad are? I can't find them on the map. ”

The old man's outstretched hand stopped in mid-air.

The twenty pounds with the Queen's ****** fluttered down on the stall between the two men, obscuring the silver badges with sickles and hammers that the old man had been trying to sell.

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