"Nothing, Professor." Snape hastily returned the Sorting Hat to its shelf. "Just… having a look."
"Albus," the Sorting Hat suddenly squirmed and twisted, the rip along its brim widening like a yawning mouth. An indignant voice burst out, "He touched me!"
What?
Snape mentally raised a slow, incredulous eyebrow. Do you hear yourself, you dusty old hat?
"How's Professor Slughorn doing?" Snape quickly asked, raising his voice to prevent the hat from saying anything even more outrageous.
Dumbledore stepped forward, gently patted the hat as if to soothe it, then replied calmly, "Horace is asleep now. I gave him a small dose of Madam Pomfrey's Dreamless Sleep."
"He must be completely exhausted after tonight," Snape said, sighing. Slughorn had been through quite an emotional storm; it couldn't have been easy at his age.
"You too have done well," Dumbledore said, eyes warm with approval. "It's no small feat to extract such critical information from Horace."
But then, his tone shifted, more severe. "That said, it seems you've conveniently forgotten my last warning: not to investigate Voldemort alone."
"That's hardly fair, Professor," Snape objected, scowling. "If nothing is moving forward on your end, am I not allowed to pursue leads myself?"
Dumbledore let out a long breath. "So be it. Tonight's discovery is crucial. One way or another, you have my thanks, Severus.
"Apologies, I'm afraid I can't award any House Points for this—this matter must remain strictly confidential. Is there anything else you'd like as a reward?"
"Oh, no House Points?" Snape deadpanned inwardly. As if I care about those measly tokens. Out loud, he adopted a disappointed tone. "That's a shame, Professor.
"How about a phoenix of my own? And the Head Boy badge next year?"
"The second request is… negotiable," Dumbledore replied with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "So long as you don't end up working in a shop like Borgin and Burkes as a clerk, that is."
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Snape gave a dry chuckle. "You're hilarious, Professor. I could never let this face go to waste."
"Quite right," Dumbledore said with a knowing nod. "Young wizards should value their talents as much as their appearance."
He paused, then added, "By the way, Severus. Do you remember the MacKinnon family? They were attacked over the summer by Death Eaters."
"I remember," Snape said quickly. "Have they been attacked again?"
"No," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "But something you told me tonight gave me a theory."
He grew pensive. "Ever since the attack, I've wondered why the MacKinnons were targeted. If Voldemort created Horcruxes, things start to make sense.
"They ran a small apothecary in Dundee. Not particularly powerful, but they were known for their expertise in healing magical damage to the soul—a rare talent, even among skilled mediwizards."
"You think Voldemort sought them out… to heal his soul?"
"I can't imagine a more logical explanation."
"Are they safe now?"
"They've shuttered the apothecary and gone into hiding."
That didn't sound reassuring at all. Snape pressed further, "Who's the Secret-Keeper?"
"Oh, so you know that charm." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. "The Secret-Keeper is me."
For once, Snape thought, that's actually a sensible decision.
"Now," Dumbledore continued, "tell me. Did you mention a Horcrux to Horace just to draw him out—or is there truly one in the castle?"
Snape hesitated. Then, deciding to be honest, he replied, "There is, Professor. It's hidden in the Room of Requirement."
"Ah… the Room of Hidden Things," Dumbledore murmured, his eyes distant. "A most peculiar room.
"One morning, I accidentally turned a corner on the seventh floor and stumbled into a chamber I'd never seen before—sumptuously decorated, lined with ornate chamber pots of every kind.
"When I returned later to investigate, it was gone. I suspected it only appeared at dawn, or perhaps during a waning moon—or more likely, when one's bladder was particularly urgent."
He chuckled. "Eventually, the house-elves told me it only appears when someone truly needs it. They call it the Room of Requirement."
"And yet, Tom was foolish enough to hide a Horcrux in there." Dumbledore sighed. "Another lesson: we should not defy nature by splitting the soul."
"I agree, Professor," Snape replied. "But I have to ask—can you destroy a Horcrux?"
"It won't be easy," Dumbledore said, tilting his head. "But with my magic—dare I say—if I can't do it, no one can."
"Overconfidence isn't always a virtue, sir," Snape said under his breath. "Voldemort taught us that, didn't he?"
"You're quite right. I apologize for my arrogance." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Now—why don't you take me to see it?"
"Let's go, Professor. Looks like I'll be sleep-deprived again tonight. Can I get a note for class tomorrow?"
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed easily.
…
As they stepped into the towering maze of clutter, Dumbledore gazed around in awe. "What a treasure trove… generations of students' secrets, perhaps even tragedies."
"—Or disasters," Snape added dryly.
He led Dumbledore past stacks of forgotten furniture, over a mound of crumbling spellbooks, beside the remains of a Vanishing Cabinet. Eventually, they came to a tall heap.
Clearing away some dusty debris, Snape uncovered a scrap of cloth—his own torn sleeve.
"Professor, don't look directly at the Horcrux. It's bewitching—it might tempt you to wear it."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
Snape steadied his nerves, kept his eyes unfocused, and used magic to shift the cloth away.
"'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,'" Dumbledore read softly, his gaze falling on the delicate crown. "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem."
"Professor, you—"
"Don't worry," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "Thanks be to heaven for my extraordinary intellect—I won't be so easily seduced."
"Oh."