fantasy novels Chapter 137 Look at him with those eyes!
Chapter 137 Look at him with those eyes!
Chapter 137 Look at him with those eyes!
Harry's heart began to pound, a complex emotion he couldn't quite put into words surging through his chest.
But he dared not make a sound, even holding his breath, for fear that any noise would interrupt this rare narration.
He had no idea about any of this.
He knew very little about his mother.
Lynch continued his narration:
Even with Voldemort's shadow looming over them, they did not give up their beautiful dreams for the future.
"Lily plans to open a potions shop here after the war ends. She's even come up with a name for it: 'Moonlight and Morning Dew.'"
He drew a circle in the air with his finger: "This place is the goal she set for her life."
Harry's gaze swept over the empty wooden shelves and the dusty counter.
He could almost picture the scene in his mind: a young mother with long, deep red hair and emerald green eyes like his, bustling about in the room, shelves filled with shimmering jars containing brightly colored, bubbling potions, the air thick with the scent of herbs. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting golden beams through the air, instead of being blocked by the thick layer of dust.
"And then—what happened?" Harry felt a tightness in his throat.
Lynch looked at Harry: "After you were born, she couldn't take care of the shop anymore and had to hide it to protect herself, and more importantly, to protect you."
Lynch stood up, walked to an empty shelf, and used two fingers to wipe away the thick layer of dust, revealing the still sturdy wood underneath. "After your parents... passed away, this shop was confiscated by the Ministry of Magic because they couldn't find you. I only recently managed to get it back after someone contacted the Ministry."
Lin Qi rubbed the dust off his hands with his fingertips, but his gaze never left the exposed wood grain, as if he could see shadows of the past in it.
He remained silent for a moment, allowing Harry's emotions to settle and ferment in the silence.
When he turned to look at Harry again, his eyes softened.
"Harry, legally, it belongs to you now. As your uncle, I will keep it safe for you until the day you come of age, and then hand it over to you in perfect condition."
He paused, his voice growing deeper, "But I didn't bring you here today to give you a property deed. I want you to understand your mother better—about her dreams and passions."
His gaze swept over the empty shelves before returning to Harry's moist green eyes.
"So when I asked you how your Potions were going, it wasn't just a casual remark. What I wanted to know was, Harry, whether you were willing to learn what this art that fascinates her so much is all about?"
"I've seen your final exam results from last year. You got excellent grades in almost all of your courses, except for one: Potions, which exceeded my expectations."
Lynch's voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet shop, every word striking Harry's heart.
"Exceeding expectations is a pretty good result for most students," Lynch said slowly, his gaze sharp as if he could see into Harry's mind. "But I know that for you, this is more than just a grade on a report card. What has never held you back has been your ability, Harry."
Harry felt his cheeks burning. He wanted to defend himself, to say it was Snape, the man who was always picking fights, favoring Slytherin, and humiliating him countless times for no reason, making every Potions class an ordeal.
But the words caught in his throat, and he swallowed them back, simply pursing his lips.
Lynch seemed to read his thoughts and gently shook his head.
"You mean because of Professor Snape?" he said, his tone carrying a complex meaning that Harry couldn't quite grasp at the moment. "Yes, I know about his special treatment of you."
"His harshness towards you is clearly a huge obstacle between you and potions studies. I won't deny that."
He took a step forward, closer to Harry, his voice softening but becoming more earnest.
"But Harry, listen to me. If you give up or even hate a subject that could be incredibly brilliant and creative because you hate a professor, who is the ultimate loser? Snape? No."
He pointed to the empty frame behind him.
"In the end, you were the one who gave up a treasure. And more importantly, you also unknowingly drifted away from what your mother once deeply loved and placed high hopes on."
"Potion making isn't just those bubbling, foul-smelling cauldrons in Snape's classroom, nor is it merely a series of tedious steps requiring millimeter-level precision." Lynch's voice was infused with a genuine enthusiasm. "It's a language, a language expressed through moonlight, dew, and..."
The language written from the juice of sleeping beans and the tears of phoenixes is used to understand this world, even to change it. Your mother, Lily, understands this language and longs to use it for the rest of her life to do something beautiful and warm.
He stared intently at Harry, his gaze incredibly serious.
"Don't let Snape take away your ability to understand this language. Learn potions not to prove anything to him—how he sees you should never be the standard by which you measure your worth."
"You learn it well for your own sake. So that one day, when you can freely walk into this place and decide whether to let 'moonlight and morning dew' shine again, or simply preserve this memory, your decision will be based on genuine understanding, not on regret and emptiness left by a youthful dislike for someone."
Lin Qi sighed softly, his tone softening, revealing a hint of barely perceptible concern.
"So answer me, Harry. In the new term, even if Snape continues to make things difficult, can you truly value it for your own sake, and for the sake of understanding the world your mother loved?"
He paused for a moment and then offered a suggestion for help.
"As long as you remain in the Potions class at Hogwarts, Snape cannot hold anything back; he can only teach you as he would any other student. But if you truly cannot tolerate his sarcastic and mocking remarks, I can speak with him. What do you say?"
Harry stood there, his heart heavy, yet a strange warmth welled up inside him.
He looked at the dilapidated space before him, a space that held his mother's unfulfilled dreams, and then thought of Snape's greasy hair and mocking sneer.
This time, the sneer seemed to have lost some of its overwhelming power.
He took a deep breath of the air, which was thick with the smell of dust and decay, and looked up, his emerald eyes gleaming with determination.
"Thank you, Uncle Lynch." His voice wasn't loud, but it was much firmer than before. "But I think... I can handle Professor Snape's difficult questions."
Lynch didn't answer immediately. He gazed at Harry silently, his eyes sweeping over the boy's clear green eyes, as if he were seeing another figure through time.
After a long pause, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Very good." His voice became softer, yet deeper. "Then, promise me, keep this look in your eyes."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.
"Next Potions class, when Snape targets you and makes things difficult for you again—I want you to look at him just like you do now. Don't flinch, don't give in, and don't let anger cloud your judgment."
"Look at him clearly and straight with those eyes. Let him see your determination, your choice—and the resilience in your eyes that comes from your mother."
"Can you do it?"