The morning light filtered through the deep green lake water, casting shimmering ripples across the dormitory walls. Severus Snape opened his eyes, the faint scent of jasmine from his dream still lingering at the tip of his nose.
In the dream, Nagini's human form had been so vivid that he instinctively reached toward his pillow, half-expecting to feel the warmth of human skin.
His fingertips met only cold scales. Snape propped himself up, studying her closely—Nagini was already awake, her green, slitted eyes fixed on him. The color of her scales seemed brighter than yesterday, no longer the dull, heavy green they had been.
More surprising still, as she lifted her head in response, there was a spark in her serpentine eyes, a glimmer of something long absent.
"Good morning, Nagini," he said, clearing his throat and speaking in Parseltongue, his voice rough from sleep.
Nagini's tongue flickered rapidly, emitting a soft hiss in reply. She nuzzled his wrist affectionately, slithering up his arm and coiling comfortably around his shoulder.
"You're feeling better, aren't you?" he asked softly, his fingers gently brushing her head. Nagini hissed in response.
After donning his black robes, the little snake deftly slipped into Snape's sleeve, finding a cozy spot to curl up within.
On a weekend morning, the Great Hall was sparsely populated.
Snape sat alone at the end of the Slytherin table, chewing on a piece of bread while his mind raced. If his suspicions were correct, Tom would surely use Nagini to manipulate him, no matter the method.
"This can't go on," he muttered, setting down his knife and wiping his mouth. "Indulging in this illusory tenderness will only make me vulnerable. If Tom thinks he can control me this way, I need a countermeasure. At worst, I'll find another way to break the blood curse."
Rising from the table, he left the Great Hall. As he stepped through the castle doors, a crisp breeze dispelled the irritation clouding his mind.
He strode across the lawn toward Hagrid's hut, his shoes rustling against dew-soaked grass.
The gamekeeper's towering figure was busy in the vegetable patch behind the hut.
Hagrid, with his back to Snape, was muttering to several pumpkins the size of half a person, his movements so furtive they clashed comically with his massive frame.
"Hagrid, what are you doing?" Snape called out, raising his voice slightly as he approached the patch.
"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid jumped, nearly tripping over his own feet.
He quickly hid something behind his back. "N-nothing, Severus!" he stammered, one hand tucked behind him, the other pointing at the pumpkins. "Just… tending to 'em."
"What's in your hand?" Snape asked, catching a fleeting glimpse of a pink umbrella tip behind Hagrid. He gestured at the oversized pumpkins, feigning curiosity. "How'd they get so big? Special breed?"
"They… er… they just grow like that," Hagrid mumbled, clearly flustered.
Snape nearly laughed, watching Hagrid awkwardly pivot to block his view.
"You've done well," Snape said, inspecting the thriving pumpkins with a nod. "Engorgement Charm, I presume?"
Hagrid glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby before relaxing slightly.
"Heh, they're comin' along nicely, aren't they?" he said. "I gave 'em a bit of… well, a bit of help."
"For the Halloween feast, I take it? They'll be plenty big by then." Hagrid carefully pulled the pink umbrella from behind his back, winking at Snape. "But…" he lowered his voice, "don't tell anyone, alright?"
"Of course," Snape said with a faint smile. "I'm sure everyone will love your pumpkins."
"Hey, Severus," Hagrid suddenly leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble, "I heard from Dumbledore you've joined that group?"
"Yes, the Order of the Phoenix," Snape replied. "We're on the same side now, Hagrid. By the way, have you had breakfast?"
"Aye," Hagrid said cheerfully, clearly thrilled to share a secret. "Got some fresh rock cakes. Want some?"
"No, thank you, I've eaten," Snape said quickly, the memory of rock cakes' texture still vivid. He shifted to the matter at hand. "I'm here to borrow a few roosters."
"Roosters?" Hagrid scratched his tangled hair, his bushy brows knitting together. "What for? Cookin' somethin'?"
"No," Snape said. "I need to borrow them, but I can't guarantee I'll return them. If I don't, I'll pay for them."
"Oh, alright then," Hagrid said, his face a mix of confusion and agreement. "How many d'you need?"
"How many do you have?" Snape countered.
"Well…" Hagrid counted on his fingers. "'Bout a dozen, I reckon."
"I'll take them all," Snape said without hesitation.
"What d'you need so many roosters for?" Hagrid's eyes widened.
"No more questions," Snape said, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice with an air of authority. "This is a task from Professor Dumbledore."
At the mention of the headmaster, Hagrid straightened, his face solemn.
"Right, they're over there." He pointed to a makeshift coop of branches and wire netting. "Follow me."
Hagrid pushed open the creaking gate, and the chickens inside erupted into a flurry of movement.
A speckled rooster strutted forward, eyeing Snape warily. Hagrid, undeterred, happily gathered a few eggs from the corner—eggs that looked tiny in his massive hands.
"Here they are," Hagrid said. "Let's see… one, two… seven roosters in all." He hesitated. "How're you gonna take 'em?"
"I'll have Dobby the house-elf help," Snape said, already planning his next steps.
"Can Dobby handle that many?" Hagrid asked.
"Oh, you'll need to help him tie them together," Snape said, adding with gravity, "Thank you, Hagrid. This matter…"
"I get it, I get it!" Hagrid mimed zipping his lips. "Secret mission!"
After bidding Hagrid farewell, Snape didn't return to the castle. Instead, he headed toward the wrought-iron gates and made his way to Diagon Alley.
At a secondhand broom shop, Snape inspected several brooms with a critical eye.
The shopkeeper, a wrinkled old wizard, rambled on about the brooms' supposed ties to Quidditch stars.
"This Cleansweep Three," the old man rasped, "used by a reserve Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps in '72."
Snape snorted but purchased the cheapest, oldest model—he only needed it to fly.
Next, he passed through the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London. At a hardware store, he bought a welding helmet; at a corner shop, he picked up over a dozen cans of Coca-Cola; and finally, at a pet shop, he purchased a few fancy rats.
"Money flows like water," he muttered, checking his dwindling coin pouch. "I'll need to visit Gringotts again. Better find a way to bring in some income—I can't keep burning through my savings."
By afternoon, he was back at Hogwarts and headed straight for the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.
Pushing open the door, he found Pandora and Lily brewing potions with Dobby's help, the cauldron emitting strange, swirling vapors they seemed oblivious to.
"Sorry to interrupt," Snape said, breaking their rhythm. "I need Dobby for a small task."
"Severus?" Lily looked up, blinking in surprise. "What do you need him for?"
"Just a small matter," Snape said. "It won't take long."
Dobby set down his tools, his large eyes gleaming with eagerness. "Dobby is happy to serve Mr. Snape!"
"I think we'll manage," Pandora said, wiping her hands and nodding at Dobby. "We can handle things here."
"Right, Dobby, come with me," Snape said, waving to the women. "I'll be back soon."
In the corridor, he led the elf toward the second-floor girls' bathroom, once haunted by Moaning Myrtle.
The hallway was empty, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
"I need your help with a few things, Dobby," Snape said, pushing open the bathroom door, the musty, damp air hitting him. "It's very important—for Hogwarts' safety."
"Dobby will do anything for sir!" the elf said, bowing so low his ears twitched with excitement.
Since Moaning Myrtle's departure, the second-floor girls' bathroom remained unused, its dusty mirrors, leaking faucets, and peeling walls a testament to its neglect.
"Good." Snape closed the door behind them. "First, go to Hagrid's coop and bring all the roosters here. Make sure no one but Hagrid sees you."
Dobby nodded and vanished with a pop.
While waiting, Snape checked each stall to ensure they were alone.
Within five minutes, Dobby reappeared with a squawking bundle of seven struggling roosters and a large sack.
A brightly feathered rooster broke free, flapping wildly and crowing loudly in the bathroom.
Snape quickly cast a Muffliato charm on the door, exhaling in relief.
Dobby placed the sack on the floor with a thud.
"What's that?" Snape asked.
"Rock cakes," Dobby said. "Mr. Hagrid says they're delicious."
"Right, leave those," Snape said dryly. "Listen, Dobby," he crouched to meet the elf's eyes, "I'll call for you later. When I do, bring all the roosters to me, set them down, and leave immediately. Understood?"
"Dobby understands!" the elf nodded vigorously.
"Good." Snape pulled two welding helmets from his bag, shrinking one to fit Dobby with a spell. "This is to protect your eyes," he explained, placing it on Dobby's head. The elf poked at the visor curiously. "When you bring the roosters, keep your head down and don't look around."
He donned the other helmet, adjusting the straps.
Through the tinted visor, the world took on a greenish hue, reminiscent of his dormitory's lake light.
Under Dobby's watchful gaze, Snape approached the sink, staring at the tiny snake etched on the copper tap. In Parseltongue, he hissed, "Open."
A blinding white light burst from the tap, which spun rapidly. The sink began to shift, sinking into the floor.
Snape watched as it vanished, revealing a wide pipe large enough for an adult to slide through.
"What's that?" Dobby gasped behind him.
"Don't worry, Dobby," Snape said, his voice muffled through the helmet. He pointed at the pipe. "After you deliver the roosters, if I'm not back in half an hour, find Dumbledore and tell him everything that happened here. Got it?"
"Dobby understands," the elf said, wringing his hands nervously.
"I'm going down," Snape said, checking his gear one last time. He looked at Dobby's helmeted head. "Remember what I said."
Dobby nodded clumsily.
Snape took a deep breath, gently placed Nagini on the floor from his robes. "You stay here."
Wand and goblin-made dagger in hand, he slid his legs into the pipe.
"Half an hour," he reminded Dobby, then pushed off with his elbows, plunging into the dark tunnel.
The descent was more uncomfortable than he'd imagined.
Snape felt like he was hurtling down a dark, slimy, endless slide.
He glimpsed branching pipes veering in all directions, none as wide as the main one. The tunnel twisted and turned, its steep slope propelling him downward.
The pipe wound sharply, and Snape collided with its curves, certain he was now far below the castle, deeper even than the Slytherin common room beneath the lake.
Just as he wondered how to slow down, the pipe's angle eased, leveling out. He adjusted his position, bracing for the landing.
With a thud, he shot out of the pipe, landing heavily on the damp ground, the sound echoing in the dark tunnel.
It was a vast stone passage, tall enough for him to stand.
Snape scrambled to his feet, brushing slime from his hands and raising his wand. "Lumos!" he whispered.
The wand's light illuminated his surroundings.
The tunnel walls were coated in sticky secretions, the floor slick with scattered animal bones, the air thick with a rotting, fishy stench.
Snape stepped cautiously forward, his boots squelching on the wet ground, wand ready to cast at a moment's notice.
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