The dust from the ruined old house had not entirely settled. Snape cautiously surveyed his surroundings: though the immediate tremors couldn't be avoided, birds on distant branches still hopped about merrily. This meant that the explosion, powerful enough to alarm the entire village, had been perfectly contained within this area by his spells.
With his wand tracing complex patterns in the air, new protective enchantments formed a shimmering, transparent aura around him. This time, he'd added more advanced counter-curses and magical detection. After picking up a branch from a crushed bush, he slowly approached the heap of rubble. Each step felt like treading on thin ice; each step caused a grating crunch as his boots ground against the debris.
Inside, the house looked far worse than from the outside. Sunlight streamed through the broken roof and walls, forming golden pillars of light in the dust, illuminating the utter disarray within – torn planks of wood, shattered artefacts, scattered stones – the last dwelling of Slytherin's heir, now nothing but decay and ruin.
Snape carefully picked his way through the corridor, his gaze, sharp as a hawk's, sweeping over every detail, searching for any possible clue. Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught an unnatural glint. He spun around, wand pointed directly at the source of the light – an unnatural depression in the centre of the ruins. This would have been the old house's sitting room, right by the armchair where Morfin Gaunt had once sat, if memory served. Now, only a few broken planks and rubble remained, but beneath them, something seemed to be hidden.
He carefully used his wand to gently pry away the broken planks and stones. As the covering was removed, a delicate golden locket gradually revealed itself. It was only the size of his palm, its surface carved with lifelike serpentine patterns, the serpents' eyes set with two tiny emeralds that glinted eerily in the dim light.
"I found you," he murmured, his voice laced with ill-concealed excitement. But he didn't touch it rashly. Holding his breath, Snape's wand tip glowed with a pale blue light, moving slowly above the locket. A series of complex detection spells, like invisible tendrils, probed this potentially deadly artefact.
Next, he stepped back a few paces and took out a small, leaden square container from his bag – it could block most magical fluctuations. He slowly and carefully used the branch to push the golden locket into the container.
The moment the golden locket left its original position, a plume of black smoke billowed up from beneath it, twisting and condensing in the air, finally forming the shape of a venomous snake. The snake opened its gaping maw, revealing glittering, razor-sharp fangs, and lunged straight for Snape.
"Back off!" Snape reacted instantly, hissing a low command in Parseltongue, while his wand sliced through the air, creating a silver flash. That light, like a sharp blade, cut the black smoke in two. The smoke quickly reformed, but this time it did not attack. The venomous snake hovered in the air, hissing inquisitively. Snape remained motionless, his wand still pointed.
"Leave," he hissed softly.
Finally, the snake seemed to confirm something, slowly dissipating into the air. Snape breathed a sigh of relief, swiftly closed the lid of the leaden container, and applied several sealing charms to its exterior.
"Now, to deal with the scene," he muttered, looking around and considering his next move. He had no intention of leaving a trace in the old house. That would be too risky and utterly unnecessary. On the one hand, imitating Voldemort's protective magic was beyond his capabilities. On the other, unlike non-sustained, instant spells that left no lasting marks—such as the Wand-Lighting Charm, the Exploding Charm, or the Repairing Charm—the traces left by complex protective or offensive magic would be easily recognised by Professor Dumbledore. Besides, from his perspective, it made more sense for Tom not to hide a Horcrux here.
He decided on a simpler, more direct method: to restore the entire scene to its original state, as if nothing had ever happened, save for the disappearance of magical traces. After stowing the leaden box, Snape raised his wand: "Reparo!"
With a faint clicking sound, the entire ruin began to vibrate. Scattered stones and decaying wooden beams began to move, as if an invisible pair of giant hands were pulling them back into place. Walls rebuilt themselves brick by brick, roof tiles flew back to their original positions, and even the moss, cobwebs, and grime precisely returned to where they belonged.
When the last stone fell into place, the Gaunt family shack was restored to its appearance before Snape's arrival – dilapidated, filthy, and lifeless. Only a lingering trace of dust in the air proved that something had happened there.
Snape didn't let his guard down. He backed out of the room, pointing his wand at the ground, erasing his footprints and marks, and restoring the dust in the places he'd trodden. Finally, he walked around the house, checking every detail: the cracks in the stone walls, the bird droppings on the window sills, the shape of the spiderwebs under the eaves… all perfectly restored. After putting the branch back, even the crushed bush was back to normal.
"Perfect," Snape nodded with satisfaction, after one last look around to confirm no traces were left, and prepared to depart from the house.
Just then, the diary in his breast pocket suddenly vibrated. He frowned and pulled it out. On the once blank page, ink was spreading by itself, forming a new, blurry line of writing: "What enemy did you encounter, Snape? Could you tell me? Perhaps I can help you. Sometimes battle isn't the only option."
Snape's lips thinned into a fine line. He wasn't sure if Tom had sensed something, or if it was merely a simple test. He didn't answer, quickly closed the diary, and tucked it back deep into his pocket.
'Not much time left,' he thought, 'I must leave here before Professor Dumbledore arrives.' He cast a final glance at the Gaunt family shack in the shade of the trees, clearing away his own traces as he retreated from the narrow dirt path to the lane leading to Little Hangleton. There were plenty of signs of villagers passing by here, which would effectively conceal his movements.
Upon reaching the sunlight, Snape gripped his wand tightly, and his figure vanished abruptly from the country lane, leaving only the rustle of the breeze through the hedgerows.
The evening wind rustled through the pine forest, and the candlelight in Hogwarts' towers twinkled in the twilight. Snape checked the leaden container – it was intact, with no signs of magical leakage.
"I even have time for dinner," he muttered to himself, a faint smile on his lips, as he carefully tucked the container deeper into his robes.
Few students remained in the Great Hall, but the four long tables were still laden with a sumptuous feast. Snape walked to the end of the Slytherin table and quietly enjoyed his supper. His gaze occasionally swept towards the staff table – Dumbledore's seat was empty; it seemed the Headmaster had not yet returned.
After finishing his dinner unhurriedly, Snape left the Great Hall, pondering whether he could handle the golden locket on his own. Just as he stepped across the threshold, a tall figure appeared before him. Dumbledore was heading towards the staircase. His face seemed rather grim, and his long black robes still carried the dust of travel.
"Aren't you having dinner, Professor?" Snape asked, initiating the conversation.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Severus," he said gently, "would you mind coming with me?"
"Is there something you need help with?" Snape asked casually, his heart quickening slightly, but his demeanour remaining calm, trying hard not to reach for the leaden box inside his robes. The Headmaster offered no explanation, merely gestured for him to follow. They walked in silence through winding corridors, finally arriving at the Headmaster's office. All the while, Snape's mind raced: 'Did Professor Dumbledore go to Little Hangleton? Did he discover anything? Did I leave any loose ends?'
After closing the door, Dumbledore took a small bottle from his pocket, filled with swirling, pearly substance.
"Is that Morfin Gaunt's memory?" Snape's gaze fell on the small bottle as he asked.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, taking the Pensieve from a cabinet and placing it on the desk. Amidst the gentle clinking of silver instruments in the office, he poured the shimmering contents of the bottle into it. "I took a trip to Azkaban."
"I see," Snape nodded; he was quite familiar with this procedure. He approached the stone basin, leaned over, and immersed his face in the memory. The familiar sensation of falling washed over him, and a moment later, he was standing once again in the squalid living room of the Gaunt family – only this time, it was decades in the past.
The scene in the memory was vividly real: a handsome young Tom Riddle engaged in a "friendly and pleasant" conversation with his uncle, Morfin Gaunt. Snape observed with cold detachment how Tom cleverly manipulated the conversation, how he extracted crucial information from the drunken Morfin. From Morfin, Tom learned that his Muggle father and his family, who had abandoned his mother, lived in the large house across the way.
When the memory ended, Snape and Dumbledore returned to reality.
"Next," Dumbledore beckoned Snape to sit down, "Morfin woke up alone on the floor the next morning, and Slytherin's ring was gone. At the same time, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was screaming and running through the streets, saying there were three bodies in the drawing-room of the Riddle house: old Tom Riddle and his parents."
Snape listened quietly, maintaining an appropriate expression of surprise and contemplation, while inwardly analysing the connection between this information and himself. Dumbledore continued to recount how Morfin had readily confessed, how he boasted of killing those Muggles, and how he feared the loss of his father's ring.
"A clever frame-up," Snape remarked. "Much like Hagrid's experience. In both cases, there was a scapegoat, and the scapegoat had a clear memory of the killing. It seems Tom was quite familiar with this process even before graduating. It's a shame he didn't work for the Ministry of Magic."
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, a lingering weariness in his voice. "This confirms some of our previous suspicions, such as Tom acquiring Slytherin's ring, and very likely making it into a Horcrux."
"And did you find the ring afterward?" Snape asked, his black eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Headmaster.
"After obtaining Morfin's memory, I went to the Gaunt family shack immediately," the Headmaster slowly shook his head, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "To my particular dismay, I found no magical traces of Tom in that ruin; the dilapidated stone house appeared to have been untouched for years."
Snape secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but outwardly merely frowned slightly. His Repairing Charm and trace-erasing work had clearly been successful.
"And," Dumbledore sighed, "simply because I was unwilling to give up easily, I made another trip to the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. That grand house is now also damp, desolate, and dilapidated, little better than the Gaunt's place. Unfortunately, there too, I found no trace of any Horcrux."
Snape, at the appropriate moment, adopted a thoughtful expression: "I believe Tom wouldn't choose to place such a precious Horcrux in either of these two places. The Riddle House symbolises his Muggle father; he didn't even want that common name, so why would he place a fragment of his soul in Little Hangleton?"
Dumbledore nodded slightly, gesturing for him to continue.
"As for the old Gaunt family shack," Snape continued, his voice calm and rational, "thinking carefully, it's also quite unlikely. Consider, Professor, in Morfin's memory that we just witnessed, Tom was filled with disgust and disappointment for that place. How could the so-called Gaunt family, heirs of Slytherin, be so destitute and still be worthy of Tom's ambition? In my opinion, Tom is more likely to hide a Horcrux in a place connected to Slytherin."
"A valid point, Severus," Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I only considered the Gaunt family shack as a link between Tom and Slytherin, yet I overlooked his attitude when he met Morfin." The Headmaster took a deep breath. "Perhaps I don't know Tom Riddle as well as I thought I did."
"It's quite alright, Professor," Snape said, his voice genuinely comforting. "Everyone makes mistakes; you must learn to forgive yourself. Look forward, don't look back."
The conversation fell into a brief silence.
"Did you see anything else strange in the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore suddenly looked up and asked.
"No, nothing, save for the Basilisk and Slytherin's statue," Snape said, feigning a sudden realization. "Perhaps you should check it yourself? After all, my knowledge of various magics is far inferior to yours. The entrance to the Chamber is in that long-disused girls' lavatory on the second floor of the castle. There's a tap with a little snake carved on it; if you say 'Open' to it in Parseltongue, the entrance to the Chamber will open."
"You know how to speak that in Parseltongue, I presume?" Snape asked, and without waiting for Dumbledore's reply, he hissed the phrase himself. "Just like that," he said. "Did you remember?"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with interest. "I will inspect the Chamber as soon as possible. I hope to find new clues there."