At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the last rays of sunset melted into the gaps between the treetops.
Severus Snape paused, scanning his surroundings.
After confirming no creatures—human or magical—lingered nearby, he waved his wand, casting an advanced warding charm.
The air around him shimmered faintly.
Only then did he pull a square object, tightly wrapped in layers of parchment, from his pocket.
With a light tap of his wand, a soft sound accompanied the unraveling of protective spells, revealing a diary with a black cover. It looked unremarkable, yet it seemed to devour the fading light around it.
Under Snape's direction, nearby twigs and fallen leaves twisted and reshaped, drawn by an invisible hand to form a rough wooden table and chair before him.
"Lumos."
A cold white light flared at the tip of his wand. Snape sat, opened the diary, and gazed at the blank page illuminated by the glow.
Dipping his quill into the ink he carried, he hesitated for a moment before writing.
"Are you still there, Riddle?" The ink bled swiftly across the page.
The response appeared almost instantly. Elegant, slanted script not only formed on the page but echoed in Snape's mind like a voice:
"Of course, Snape. I've been pondering how to assist your… special friend."
"So, have you made any progress?" Snape wrote quickly. Nagini stirred faintly within his robes, her cool scales brushing against him.
"If your friend could still occasionally revert to human form," the ink writhed and reformed, "it would be far simpler." The writing paused briefly before continuing, "But since she's been 'permanently' trapped as a snake, it's not so straightforward."
"So, do you have a solution?" Snape wrote calmly.
This time, the reply came more slowly, the script more deliberate: "I can help you absorb the curse from her soul, but it will take a long time."
"You're not just a simple memory, are you?" Snape narrowed his eyes, probing directly. "A portrait couldn't do this."
"You should be glad I'm not," the diary's words suddenly sharpened. "Otherwise, how would you save your precious friend?"
"Then what are you?" Snape wrote slowly, curious how much Tom would reveal.
"I'm something that can help you," Tom replied. "Isn't that enough, Severus?"
Silence stretched between them. In the distance, an owl hooted, and the forest's shadows deepened into twilight.
Snape felt Nagini shift restlessly against his chest, as if sensing his unease.
Finally, he wrote, "Fine. What do we need to do next?"
"Have your snake friend write in my diary."
"Oh," Snape scrawled, almost picturing Tom's smug, superior expression. "Don't you think that's asking a bit much? How can a snake manage that?"
"I don't mean she needs to write words," Tom's reply carried a clear edge of impatience. "Figure it out. Scribble something, anything. Get her to trust me."
"Trust you?" Snape pressed. A prickle of danger stirred; Riddle had an uncanny knack for charming others, especially women. But surely a diary, a mere object, couldn't wield the same allure as the Hogwarts heartthrob of old. At least, he hoped so.
The diary seemed to grow irritated with his hesitation: "Sort it out yourself. Talk to her, or give up."
Snape stared at the words for a long moment before writing, "Wait."
Setting the quill aside, he gently touched Nagini's form and called softly, "Nagini, come out."
The emerald-green snake poked her head from his collar, slithering down his arm onto the table, raising her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes gleamed almost translucent in the wandlight.
"Next, Nagini, you need to leave a mark on this diary," Snape murmured in Parseltongue, his voice soft. "Like this." He picked up the quill and drew a light stroke along the diary's edge. "It can be anything, but you need to trust it won't harm you—at least while you're marking it with ink."
Nagini tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes. Her tongue darted out, tasting the air. Snape patiently repeated himself, using the simplest terms to ensure she understood.
The green snake rose, nuzzling his chin, her cool tongue brushing his cheek—a sign she understood.
Snape studied her mouth, realizing she couldn't grip a quill. His gaze shifted to her tail, and inspiration struck.
"Got it," he said softly, pulling a shimmering unicorn hair from his inner pocket.
The unicorn tail hair was exceptionally durable. He deftly tied the quill to the tip of Nagini's tail. She watched his movements calmly, offering no resistance.
Once secured, she curiously twisted her body, the quill tracing aimless arcs in the air.
"Just like that. Good," Snape said, guiding her tail over the open diary. "Now, try moving it."
At first, Nagini's movements were clumsy, leaving uneven streaks of ink on the page. Snape patiently steadied her tail, helping her control the pressure, correcting her gently.
As she moved, the ink sank into the page, instantly absorbed, vanishing as if consumed by some unseen force.
A crescent moon rose quietly, its silver light replacing the last traces of crimson at the horizon.
Nagini showed no change, and Snape eyed the diary skeptically. Still, he didn't stop, guiding her to keep marking the page, occasionally adding more ink.
Time blurred. Perhaps an hour passed, perhaps more. Nagini's movements grew sluggish, the light in her eyes dimming.
Noticing her fatigue, Snape stroked her head and untied the quill from her tail.
"Enough. Rest now," he said softly. Nagini obediently slid back into his pocket, coiling into a tight ball and falling still.
Snape picked up the quill, ready to ask Riddle for progress.
Suddenly, the diary shuddered violently. Thick, black liquid oozed from the pristine pages, like venom seeping from a wound, dripping onto the table.
A chilling hiss accompanied a pungent smoke.
Snape leapt back, watching the black liquid corrode the table's surface, leaving honeycomb-like holes.
As it spilled to the ground, the surrounding grass withered and blackened, reeking of decay.
When the last drop drained, Snape cautiously approached the table.
The diary remained pristine, its pages as white as ever.
"What was that, Riddle?" he wrote carefully with a fresh quill.
"Blood curse," Tom replied tersely, his script sloppier than usual, ink splattering as if the process had affected him too.
"So it's working?" Snape's eyes lit up, his quill moving eagerly. "How many more times until she can return to human form?"
"What do you mean, 'how many times'?" The diary's text turned frantic. "Tell me, Snape, how long has your friend been a snake? I never imagined a curse this strong!"
"It's been a while," Snape wrote hesitantly.
"How long, exactly?" Tom's script seemed to pierce the page.
"Er, about fifty years or so."
"What—" A lone question mark appeared, followed by a long blank, as if the diary's writer held their breath, grappling with the revelation.
When the reply finally came, the script was unnervingly precise, laced with coldness:
"This time, I'm at a loss. As things stand, I don't have the power to fully remove her curse."
"Then what will it take?"
"You need to be more open with me," Tom wrote. "Less guarded, more honest."
Snape's fingers tightened around the quill, pausing. He knew what Tom wanted.
"You're interested in my soul too?" he wrote clearly.
"I need energy," the diary replied without pretense. "What's your answer?"
"I'll think about it." Snape scribbled, swiftly closing the diary, wrapping it in three layers of parchment, sealing it, and tucking it away.
As he raised his wand to vanish the remnants of the table and chair, a faint sound of footsteps made him freeze.
He spun, wand reflexively aimed at the source, but lowered it upon seeing the figure.
"Ah—what a lovely evening! Professor, when did you arrive?"
"A while ago," Albus Dumbledore said calmly, his blue eyes twinkling with warmth, though a sharp glint lingered beneath.
"You saw everything?" Snape asked.
"Yes, the werewolves' new camp is coming along nicely," Dumbledore said, stepping closer, his gaze settling on the pitted table. "It seems that diary is indeed a Horcrux."
"As I said before," Snape replied, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He drew Nagini from his pocket. The snake, exhausted, curled into a small coil in his palm, her scales dull. "Look. Did the process have the effect we hoped for?"
Dumbledore extended a long finger, hovering over Nagini. His expression grew solemn, and he nodded slowly.
"There's some progress," the headmaster said softly. "But you must still be cautious."
"I know," Snape replied, gently returning Nagini to his pocket.
"You should also monitor Nagini's condition closely," Dumbledore added, his gaze piercing through his spectacles with concern.
"I understand," Snape said. "Shall we head back?"
They walked silently through the grounds, leaving the forest behind.
At the castle's stone steps, Dumbledore suddenly pulled two crystal vials from his robes, their silver-blue contents shimmering.
"These are from Mr. McKinnon," he said. "After I mentioned you needed a potion to nourish the soul, he crafted these with the most effective formula."
Snape took the vials. The potion inside glowed faintly, like starlight distilled into liquid.
"How are the McKinnons?" he asked, thumb tracing the smooth glass.
"They're doing well," Dumbledore said, a smile flickering in his eyes. "Though, with their limited range of movement, they've both put on a bit of weight."
"Tell them thank you for me," Snape said, pocketing the vials with a small smile.
Back in the Slytherin dormitory, he lay on his four-poster bed, staring at the green hangings.
The Black Lake's ripples cast wavering light across the ceiling. A giant squid's tentacle glided past the window, casting a brief shadow.
After administering the McKinnon potion, Nagini rested by his pillow, breathing steadily.
Snape closed his eyes, slipping into a silver-white dream.
In the haze, a green snake slithered through grass, then rose, transforming into a girl with gentle black eyes.
Her steps were light, like mist scattered by the wind, her toes brushing the grass with a faint rustle—the only trace of her presence.
Yet that soft sound drew his gaze.
Half-dreaming, half-awake, he seemed to drift through the Black Lake's gentle waves, suspended between the dark depths and the shimmering surface, enveloped in soft, sprawling seaweed.
He didn't move, his eyes fixed on her.
She approached lightly, bare under the moonlight that flowed over her skin.
When her cool fingers grazed his wrist, he looked at her through lowered lashes.
Suddenly, she pushed him down onto the soft meadow, coiling around his limbs like a snake.
Her arms braced above him, her jasmine-scented hair teasing his neck.
He smiled, his arms slowly but deftly encircling her. With a twist, she slipped free.
In the dim light, her body glowed softly.
Her head tilted back, black hair dancing in the air.
Her skin was cold as snow, smooth as satin.
Her large, dark eyes evoked the spirits of the marshes.
In the swaying motion, he sank into a sea of jasmine.
Waves surged, undercurrents churned.
Snape jolted awake, glancing to his side. The green snake still lay curled, quiet.
"Tom, oh Tom," he said, sitting up and retrieving the diary, studying its parchment wrapping in the dim light. "You test me with this?"
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