Hogwarts: I am Snape

The figure on the chair slowly raised its head.

His face then emerged from the shadows:
He was bald, snake-like, with two thin nostrils and a pair of gleaming scarlet eyes with vertical slits in the pupils. His skin was extremely pale, seemingly emitting a pearly sheen.

Voldemort's eyes swept down and landed on Axley, who was bowing his head, and the trembling thing on the ground.

“Yaxley,” a cold, clear voice rang in everyone’s ears, “what important matter is there that you’re in such a hurry?”

“Master,” Yaxley lowered his head even further, his voice trembling with a hint of eager anticipation, “I…I have obtained information about an extremely precious treasure…a…legendary Deathly Hallows!”

"The Deathly Hallows?" Voldemort's high-pitched voice was unusually tinged with curiosity and interest.

He rose from his throne-like high-backed chair. The roaring flames in the fireplace danced around him, casting his long, slender silhouette onto the opulent carpet and walls. The shadow stretched out, twisting and swaying, like a writhing serpent.

“Yes, Master!” Yaxley’s excited voice rose slightly. “I think that in this world, only you are worthy of possessing such a legendary sacred object!”

"Where is it?" Voldemort's voice remained calm.

He walked barefoot and silently down the steps that symbolized power, stepping onto the thick, soft, dark carpet that covered the entire living room.

The carpet supported his steps as he walked, step by step, toward Yaxley and Peter Pettigrew curled up on the ground.

Although it was just a phantom memory recreated in the Pensieve, the fear originating from Voldemort himself was so real that it still made Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Moody, and others who were watching feel a chill.

Almost instinctively, they took a few steps back as Voldemort approached, trying to create distance between themselves and this terrifying figure.

Snape remained standing, watching the scene with great interest. The word "Deathly Hallows" uttered by Yaxley was like the final piece of the puzzle, confirming his earlier guess.

He finally understood why the Potter family hadn't escaped disaster even though Sybil Trelawney's first true prophecy hadn't come true. The invisibility cloak passed down through generations of the Potter family had become the source of the calamity.

At the same time, upon hearing Voldemort directly inquire about the whereabouts of the Deathly Hallows, a tremendous fear suddenly gripped Axley's heart.

Cold sweat poured from his forehead and back. He then realized his foolishness and recklessness; he had not retrieved the legendary artifact, nor had he personally verified the truth of the news.

He was only spurred by the Malfoy family's recent favor with their masters, and driven by jealousy and resentment at his own precarious position. He was blinded by an eagerness to make a name for himself and unwilling to be second to anyone, which is why he rashly brought this unverified information and this lowly traitor to claim credit.

“Master…Master…” Yaxley’s legs went weak and he collapsed heavily to his knees on the carpet with a thud, his body trembling like a leaf. “The Invisibility Cloak…it…it’s still…still at the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow…” His voice was hoarse and tearful, his forehead almost touching the rough wool fibers of the carpet.

However, Voldemort's steps did not falter for him. Those pale, bony, bare feet swept straight past his sight.

Voldemort approached Peter Pettigrew, who lay sprawled on the ground like a rag doll, his crimson snake eyes gazing down at the lowly life.

“Yaxley,” his voice came from behind Yaxley, “did you get your information from him?”

Upon hearing the question, Yaxley hurriedly twisted his knee on the ground, awkwardly turning around to face Voldemort's back, and explained hastily:

“Yes, Master! This Mudblood is one of James Potter’s closest friends. From his sordid memories, I… I saw it!”
"The Potter family has an ancestral invisibility cloak, which is said to have been inherited from...Ignotus Peverell."

"In his fragmented memories, I saw that cloak with my own eyes. It flowed like liquid, shimmering with silver light!"

“Master,” Yaxley said rapidly, his voice even becoming somewhat shrill, “it is definitely not an ordinary rag with an illusion spell on it, nor is it a contraption, nor is it a crudely made travel cloak from the fur of an invisible beast!”

"It's a cloak that makes a person truly and completely invisible, passed down through at least several generations in the Potter family! And it's been used by James Potter and his gang for at least six or seven years! Yet... yet it's still as good as new, as pristine as ever, with no sign of its magic diminishing at all!"
"Therefore, Master, as soon as I saw this, I didn't dare to delay for a moment and came to report to you immediately!"

Voldemort ignored Axley's incessant explanations. He simply looked down at Peter Pettigrew on the ground.

A moment later, he extended his pale finger and gently tapped his wand at Peter.

Peter's limp body was immediately lifted up by an invisible force and suspended in the air. His limbs hung limply at his sides, his head was tilted to one side, and his eyes were empty.

Voldemort's gaze pierced through Peter's unfocused pupils.

This most accomplished Legilimency master in the world roughly rummaged through Peter's memories of the Invisibility Cloak—its magical effects, the way James had boasted about it to the other three…

Soon, Voldemort seemed to have gotten everything he wanted. He waved his hand lightly, and the floating Peter crashed heavily back to the ground with a dull groan.

"Death's invisibility cloak..." Voldemort's voice rose softly, tinged with a hint of mockery. "Heh, Death..." he savored the word. "Although, it's not very useful..."

"What a pity... we were just one short... but there's still one left... the Elder Wand..."

This cryptic whisper sent a chill down the spines of Professor McGonagall and the others present: The Deathly Hallows? Death? The Elder Wand? These familiar yet strange words seemed to foreshadow the beginning of the Potter family's disaster…

Voldemort stopped looking at Axley and Wormtail.

He turned around, his bare feet stepping on the thick carpet, and walked back to the high throne.

“Yaxley,” Voldemort’s icy voice echoed again in the hall, “you did well this time.”

"Let's keep the poor worm tail; it'll serve as a message of our kindness towards the Mudbloods. Even trash has its uses..."

Before he could finish speaking, darkness surged in from all sides, engulfing Voldemort's retreating figure as he walked toward the throne, and also swallowing the entire gloomy living room.

They soared higher and higher in the darkness, feeling weightless... "Whoosh—!"

They almost simultaneously jerked their heads up, pulling themselves out of the swirling silver substance in the basin, panting, pale-faced, with beads of sweat on their foreheads.

They stood around the stone basin, silent for a moment, with only their hearts pounding wildly in their chests.

Then, they heard sounds from the real world. Peter Pettigrew was still curled up on the floor, his body still bound, occasionally letting out suppressed, dying whimpers.

Snape seemed not to hear Peter's voice, nor did he respond to the complicated gazes of those around him. He simply calmly gestured for everyone to make way, picked up the Pensieve from the table, walked to the cabinet in the corner, opened the cabinet door, and carefully placed it back deep inside the cabinet.

Voldemort's words, "Just one more," kept echoing in his mind.

His hand rested on the cabinet door, but he didn't close it immediately. He lowered his head, lost in thought.
He now even began to strongly suspect that Voldemort's choice of Harry Potter over the pure-blood Neville Longbottom from two eligible wizarding boys after learning of Sybil Trelawney's prophecy about "being born at the end of July and possessing the power to conquer the Dark Lord" was not solely because Harry was a half-blood wizard like him.

There is an even more alluring temptation here: the Invisibility Cloak, one of the three Deathly Hallows, happens to be in the hands of the Potter family.

In this way, on the night Voldemort goes to Godric's Hollow to deal with the future threat, he will be able to use the life of the "Child of Prophecy" to complete the creation of the last Horcrux in his plan with a ready-made Deathly Hallows...

Isn't this a "grand event" that kills two birds with one stone and perfectly matches Tom Riddle's aesthetics?
“Severus? Severus!” Professor McGonagall’s worried and urgent voice startled Snape from his reverie. “What are you doing there? Why aren’t you moving?”

Snape snapped out of his reverie and realized he had been standing in front of the cabinet with his head down for quite some time. He quickly composed himself, gently closed the cabinet door, and turned to face the people inside the cabin.

“Oh, Professor, it’s nothing,” he said casually. “I was just thinking about something.”

His gaze was then drawn to James Potter, who was bound by ropes, his eyes still burning with hatred.

“James,” he asked, “when you and Sirius went out to gather information that day, did you bring your invisibility cloak with you?”

James was taken aback by the sudden question and looked at Snape with some confusion, not understanding why he had suddenly asked this.

“No,” he shook his head and answered in a hoarse voice, “it can’t cover both of us now, and the Disillusionment Charm is more convenient to use.”

“So,” Snape pressed on, “did you later…find the Invisibility Cloak in the ruins after you got home?”

James's eyes dimmed, he shook his head again, and closed his eyes in anguish.

“I don’t know,” he said. “In the rush… Sirius and I…we were only thinking…only thinking…” He choked up, unable to continue. The sight of his parents’ gruesome deaths was enough to shatter his sanity; who would have thought to look for a cloak?
“Understood.” Snape nodded, having received an answer. He glanced at James and Sirius, announcing with pity, “We have confirmed that Peter Pettigrew did indeed betray you.”

"He revealed the Invisibility Cloak to the Death Eaters, and it was his betrayal that directly led to the deaths of the Potters."

Upon hearing this, James abruptly opened his eyes and looked up at the insect's tail. If looks could kill, Peter would probably be torn to pieces by now.

Professor Flitwick sighed deeply and turned to Professor McGonagall, his voice low and weary: "Minerva, shall we lock Peter Pettigrew in the lower deck cabin? There are newly reinforced magical enchantments there."

James and Sirius immediately turned their gazes to Professor McGonagall, their eyes filled with resentment and unvented anger. They clearly preferred a more "direct" punishment than imprisonment.

Professor McGonagall's expression was equally grave. She glanced at Peter, who lay on the ground like a dead dog, then at James and Sirius, consumed by hatred, and finally agreed to Professor Flitwick's suggestion:

"Okay, lock him up first."

"Professor!" James and Sirius cried out in frustration, struggling to their feet. "I want to..."

“James, Sirius,” Snape interrupted them with a spell, “the two of you should be in the infirmary right now, not venting your pointless anger here.” With that, he reached out and rang a small bell on the captain’s cabin table.

Shortly after, a house-elf dressed in a neat tea towel knocked on the door and came in.

"Sir?" He bowed respectfully.

"Take this suspect to the lowest solitary confinement cell and keep him under strict guard," Snape ordered, pointing to the motionless Wormtail. "No one is to touch him without Professor McGonagall's and my orders."

“Yes, Mr. Snape!” the elf answered loudly. He walked to Peter’s side, showing no disgust at the filth on his body, and simply extended his withered finger and gently touched him. Peter, who was lying on the ground, along with the chair that bound him, floated up, like a lifeless piece of cargo, and was carried away from the cabin.

Moody's blue demonic eye spun wildly, staring at the traces Peter had left behind.

“Minerva,” he tapped his wooden leg twice on the floor, “so what are we going to do with Peter Pettigrew? The Ministry of Magic and Wizengamor... law and order have long since vanished…”

"Keep them locked up for now," Snape shrugged indifferently. "We'll see when things become clearer."

He opened the hatch, and cold air rushed in.

“Now, James, Sirius,” he said, turning around, “come with me to the medical room.”

After experiencing such a depressing drama filled with betrayal and death, the shadow of the Dark Lord, and the baseness of human nature, a heavy sense of exhaustion and powerlessness permeated the cabin.

No one wanted to talk anymore. They simply followed Snape out of the captain's cabin in silence, each carrying their own heavy thoughts.

Professor McGonagall patted Professor Flitwick on the shoulder, offering a silent word of comfort, and then staggered out with him.

Snape, leading the unsteady, vacant-eyed James and Sirius, headed towards the infirmary. (End of Chapter)