Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 129 Will You Die, Professor?

"Please sit down." Dumbledore turned around and took out an old-fashioned wooden box from behind his desk. The most eye-catching thing was the nine locks of different shapes neatly arranged on it.

"The tiara is in here?" Snape sat down in the armchair, leaning forward slightly, and curiously examined the box.

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. He drew his wand from his sleeve and with a flick of his wrist, all the windows in the office closed instantly, and even Fawkes's chirping disappeared behind the invisible barrier.

The air became unusually quiet, with only their soft breathing audible.

After taking their seats, the principal took out a large bunch of keys from his drawer and began patiently inserting them one by one into the locks of the boxes. Each key corresponded to a specific lock, and even made a different sound when turned.

As the ninth key turned, the box made a dull click. Snape held his breath, expecting to see a large pit that resembled a basement—like the place Mad-Eye might spend the next year in—but inside was just another, slightly smaller box, this time with seven locks.

For the next few minutes, Snape watched as the headmaster repeated the unlocking ritual.

The third chest had five locks, the fourth had three, and by the time the fifth chest—the one with only one keyhole—was taken out, Dumbledore had run out of keys.

Under Snape's watchful eye, the headmaster pulled the last key from his robes. This key was unusual; it was entirely silver, with a small sapphire set in the handle.

With a crisp click as the key was inserted into the lock, the lid of the box slowly opened. On a red velvet lining lay a rusted crown. A sapphire was set in the crown, and liquid seemed to flow within it.

“The Ravenclaw Crown,” Dumbledore said softly, taking it from the box and placing it solemnly on the table. With a wave of his hand, the boxes folded together and flew into a corner.

Staring at the crown up close, Snape could hardly look away. The crown seemed to have a life of its own, drawing his attention.

“Hordeals resist those who try to destroy them.” Dumbledore took a deep breath, interrupting Snape’s reverie, “especially when the creator is still alive and in relatively good health.” He looked Snape straight in the eye and asked, “Are you ready, Severus?”

Snape nodded, forcing himself to concentrate. He stood up, drew a silver dagger from his sleeve, removed it from its sheath, and slowly approached the crown.

When the tip of the dagger was about seven inches from the crown, the crown began to tremble slightly, the sapphire burst forth with a dazzling light, and the tabletop emitted a series of faint tapping sounds, as if a swarm of invisible insects were crawling.

The things inside seem to be getting restless, Snape thought.

As the dagger drew closer, a semi-transparent female phantom rose from the crown. Her ethereal robes flowed like water, and she wore a crown identical to the real one, her face noble yet sorrowful.

Snape had seen her portrait in "Hogwarts: A History of the School." This was Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait.

"On what grounds do you intend to destroy the symbol of wisdom?" The phantom's voice, like the distant tolling of a bell, resonated directly in Snape's mind.

His hand paused for a moment. The sound reminded him of the first time he touched a book, of the smell of paper and ink, and of the pleasure he felt when he was engrossed in words.

"Continue," Dumbledore's voice came from afar.

"Do you know the weight this object bears?" the phantom continued, her hands clasped in front of her chest. Her eyes suddenly shone with an extraordinary brightness, like stars in the night sky. "Destroy it, and you will also destroy the only key to some ancient wisdom. Will you have no regrets?"

Cold sweat beaded on Snape's forehead. His hands drooped slightly, unable to move.

“Severus!” Dumbledore’s voice was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

Snape gritted his teeth, the dagger thrusting forward. The phantom's expression changed, nobility replaced by urgency.

"Wait!" Her voice suddenly became lively. "I know many lost spells—the secrets of turning stones into gold, the mysteries of flying without external objects, the potions that can bring the dead back to life. I can help you advance magic to unprecedented heights. I can teach you, and you can get everything you want..."

"Tell me, how do you fly without relying on external objects?" Snape asked unconsciously, stopping what he was doing.

The phantom's lips curled into a subtle smile: "This requires adjusting the magic circulation path and combining it with specific wand movements and spells. I can teach you in detail—"

"How long will it take to practice?" Snape pressed.

"Depending on qualifications, three months should be enough at the shortest," the phantom said gently.

"Cough, cough," Dumbledore reminded him again.

“Oh,” Snape shook his head, a cold smile playing on his lips, and pushed his wrist forward an inch. “But I’m in a hurry, beautiful and wise Lady Ravenclaw. You can teach me yourself next time.”

The crown suddenly bounced up half a foot, and Ravenclaw's face twisted into a ferocious expression.

Dumbledore swiftly reached out and pressed down on the restless crown, and the phantom immediately turned to the headmaster, its expression turning angry and distorted.

“You are the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and I am the relic of the school’s founder, Rowena Ravenclaw.” Her voice began to change, growing lower and lower. “I am the ancient symbol of this school, Headmistress. It is your responsibility and duty to protect the existence of the founder’s legacy…”

Dumbledore, however, wore a pleasant smile.

“Good evening, Tom,” he said casually. “You seem…” He looked at the beautiful figure in the shadowy image, “much more beautiful than the last time we met.”

The phantom froze, its face beginning to melt like hot wax. When it was reshaped, it retained the appearance of Ravenclaw, but completely lost its noble air.

“You’re not trying to destroy my life, are you, Dumbledore?” she asked in a chilling, male voice, completely different from before. “You wouldn’t stoop to such cruelty, would you?”

“We all know there are other ways to destroy a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said casually. “Besides, some things are far worse than death—”

"Nothing is worse than death, Dumbledore!" the phantom screamed, its pale silver eyes turning blood red, its pupils shrinking to slits.

The strange silver instruments on the desk began to whir rapidly, emitting puffs of white mist. Fox eagerly took flight from his perch, but could not get any closer to them.

“You’re mistaken,” Dumbledore said gently. He waved his hand, and the silverware gradually slowed down and returned to silence, while Fawkes landed back on the branch.

“Shall I continue, Professor?” Snape asked. He felt a sudden unease at Tom’s feminine voice and didn’t want to hear it for even a second longer. “Oh, of course. Please continue,” Dumbledore said in a light tone.

As the dagger advanced again, the crown emitted a piercing shriek, and the phantom completely transformed into a swirling cloud of black mist, its blood-red eyes fixed intently on Snape:
"You'll regret this! What do you want—power? Recognition? I can give you rewards you can't even dream of! Damn it, don't you want anything?!"

“I want a lot,” Snape said coldly, “like everything about you.”

The moment his dagger pierced down, the crown burst forth with a blinding red light. It suddenly became incredibly hot.

Dumbledore's hand, which was pressing on the crown, emitted blue smoke and made a hissing sound, but he remained motionless.

"Hurry!" The principal's voice was unusually tense.

With a flash of cold light and a crisp cracking sound, the sapphire split in two. A blood-like, black, viscous substance seemed to seep out of the crown, flowing down the table and onto the carpet, hissing as it corroded.

Rowena Ravenclaw's phantom writhed and struggled, her arms flailing wildly as she clawed at the air. She emitted faint, distant screams of agony before finally dissipating into a wisp of black smoke.

Snape staggered back, the dagger in his hand still trembling slightly. He watched as the slime corroded half of the desk, and acrid black smoke billowed from the carpet.

“Well done, Severus.” Dumbledore released his hands from the crown, which was now charred. “You were more decisive than I expected. And more importantly, you didn’t stab my hand.”

Snape didn't respond to the headmaster's joke. His gaze fell on Dumbledore's charred, blackened hand, and he asked worriedly, "Professor, your hand...?"

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dumbledore said with a smile. He went to the cupboard, his hands trembling as he tried to open the door, but he couldn’t. “Come, Severus, help me,” he said, “to relieve a helpless old man from suffering.”

Upon hearing these familiar words, Snape almost thought the old man before him was about to die, and he even conjured up a bunch of convoluted, seemingly ingenious plans in his mind, thoughtfully arranging the fate of everyone.

"Will you die, Professor?" he couldn't help but ask, his voice carrying a hint of tension he himself didn't realize.

"What are you talking about, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled. "Come here and open this cabinet for me!"

“Oh, well,” Snape seemed to snap out of a reverie, hurried over to Dumbledore, and opened the cabinet door. “And then, Professor?”

“This black potion bottle,” Dumbledore raised his hand and roughly pointed in a direction, Snape’s hand tentatively tracing over several crystal bottles, “No… another one… yes, this one.”

At the headmaster's signal, Snape opened the crystal bottle and poured the liquid inside onto Dumbledore's hands. Among the scents of the potion, he detected white cinnamon, dungstone, mandrake, and several other familiar healing or antidote ingredients.

Under the influence of the medicine, the scorch marks on Dumbledore's hands gradually faded.

“Thank you, Severus.” Dumbledore flexed his fingers, took his wand from his pocket, pointed it shakily at his hand, and muttered an incomprehensible spell. Then, he switched the wand to his other hand and repeated the process.

"Your hand is fully healed, isn't it?" Snape asked, carefully observing the headmaster's movements.

“Of course,” said Dumbledore. “You wouldn’t want me to be in a worse state, would you?”

“Of course not!” Snape exclaimed. “It’s just that what you just said was too easy to misunderstand!”

“Alright,” Dumbledore turned and walked to his desk, “these fragments of the crown…”

“Give them all to me,” Snape said, stuffing the Horcrux fragments into his pocket first. “They are very meaningful. Years later, perhaps I can point to them and tell young people about my great deeds.”

“As you wish, but please treat them with the same care.” Dumbledore suddenly smiled, a genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Looks like I’ll have to get a new table and carpet.”

“And,” he said, “I’m planning to visit an ‘old friend’ in Azkaban soon. Could I borrow your dagger—”

“What dagger?” Snape quickly concealed the weapon in his sleeve. “Oh dear, I forgot, Hagrid’s rooster!” He rushed towards the door. “Goodbye, Professor…”

Lights were on in Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimney.

When Snape led his roosters and knocked on his door, Hagrid's hairy face peeked out of the window.

"Merlin's dragon!" Hagrid exclaimed as he disappeared from the windowsill. A few seconds later, he flung open the door and stared intently at the rooster in Snape's hand.

The roosters immediately flapped their wings and rushed toward Hagrid, and Snape quickly untied the ropes binding them.

“They’re so cute, Severus,” Hagrid said, stroking the rooster’s feathers with his rough fingers, his voice trembling with excitement. “They’ve grown so much bigger!”

As the crested rooster flew up to the roof beam to peck at the ham and pheasant hanging from the ceiling, his eyes even glistened with tears.

“They’re eating your food,” Snape warned.

“Eat more so you can grow taller!” Hagrid stared adoringly at the rooster leaping between the rafters. “Eat more, my darlings…” Then, he suddenly lowered his voice and looked down at Snape, “What did you feed them, Severus?”

"Don't ask what you shouldn't ask, Comrade Hagrid!" Snape said sternly. "Don't forget the discipline of the Order of the Phoenix!"

"Okay, okay." Hagrid scratched his head. "I won't ask."

“Very good,” Snape said, pointing to the roosters. “They’ve done Professor Dumbledore a great favor this time. You’re not going to eat them later, are you, Hagrid?”

“Eat them?” Hagrid’s voice rose several octaves, a look of shock on his face. He clearly thought Snape’s words were completely absurd. “How could I do such a thing? I’m going to build them a new, bigger coop! Maybe I can even breed a new breed.”

A few minutes later, Snape waved a bag of rock cakes and smiled as he said goodbye to Hagrid. As he turned to leave, he heard Hagrid humming an off-key song from inside the house…

　Thank you to Jormungandr, Pig Can Fly, panzer5, Yaoling, Haichenzhou, 96838, and Long362935 for the monthly tickets.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)