The morning light filtered through the deep green waters of the Black Lake, casting rippling reflections across the dormitory walls.
Severus Snape opened his eyes. The faint fragrance of jasmine from his dream still seemed to linger at the tip of his nose.
In that dream, Nagini had returned to her human form, so vividly that his hand instinctively reached toward the pillow beside him, as though expecting to touch the warmth of human skin.
His fingertips brushed against only cool scales.
Snape pushed himself upright and looked at her carefully. Nagini was already awake, her green slit pupils fixed upon him. The color of her scales was indeed brighter than yesterday, no longer that heavy, dull green.
Even more surprising was that, as she raised her head in response, there appeared a faint gleam of long-lost vitality in those serpent eyes.
"Good morning, Nagini," he rasped softly in Parseltongue, his voice rough from sleep.
Nagini's tongue flickered rapidly, producing a faint hissing sound in reply. She affectionately rubbed her head against his wrist, then coiled up his arm and finally rested on his shoulder.
"You're feeling better, aren't you?" he asked quietly, his fingers brushing the top of her head. Nagini hissed back gently.
After dressing in his black robes, the little snake skillfully slithered into his robes, curling comfortably in his sleeve.
It was a weekend morning, and there were not many people eating in the Great Hall.
Snape sat alone at the far end of the Slytherin table, chewing his bread while his mind worked rapidly. If his suspicions were correct, then Tom would surely use Nagini to threaten him, whatever means he might choose.
"This can't go on," he muttered under his breath, setting down his knife and wiping his mouth. "Indulging in this illusion of tenderness will only make me weak. If Tom intends to use it against me, then I must be prepared with my own countermeasure. In the worst case, I'll have to find another way to dispel the Blood Curse."
Rising from the table and stepping out of the castle gates, the cold morning air quickly dispersed his irritation.
He walked across the dew-covered lawn toward Hagrid's hut, his shoes making soft, rustling sounds as they crushed the grass.
The massive figure of the gamekeeper was busy behind the hut, tending to his pumpkin patch.
Hagrid had his back turned, muttering under his breath at several pumpkins that were nearly half his height. His sneaky motions were entirely at odds with his enormous size, making for a rather comical sight.
"Hagrid, what exactly are you doing?" Snape called out, raising his voice slightly to get his attention.
"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid jumped, nearly stepping on his own foot.
He hurriedly hid something behind his back. "N–nothing, Severus!" he stammered, one hand awkwardly pointing at the pumpkins. "I was just... tending to them."
"What's that in your hand?" Snape asked, noticing the flash of a pink umbrella tip behind Hagrid. Pointing deliberately at the giant pumpkins, he asked, "How did they get so large? A special variety?"
"They... er... they've always been like that," Hagrid mumbled unconvincingly.
Snape nearly laughed aloud at the sight of the half-giant clumsily turning in circles, trying to block his view.
"You've done a fine job," Snape remarked dryly, observing the flourishing pumpkins. "The Engorgement Charm, I presume?"
Hagrid glanced around quickly to ensure no one else was nearby, then exhaled in relief.
"Heh, turned out pretty well, didn't they?" he said, grinning. "I gave 'em a bit of, how do yeh say, extra help."
"They'll be for the Halloween feast, by then, they'll be big enough." He carefully drew the little pink umbrella from behind his back and winked at Snape. "But... don't tell anyone, alright?"
"Of course," Snape said with a faint smile. "I'm sure everyone will enjoy your pumpkins."
"Hey, Severus," Hagrid suddenly leaned closer, lowering his gruff voice. "I heard Dumbledore say yeh joined that group too?"
"Yes. The Order of the Phoenix," Snape replied evenly. "We're on the same side now, Hagrid. By the way, have you had breakfast?"
"Sure have," Hagrid said cheerfully, clearly excited to share in a secret. "Got fresh rock cakes, want some?"
"Oh, no need. I've eaten," Snape declined firmly. The texture of those rock cakes still haunted his memory. Quickly steering the conversation, he said, "Actually, I came to borrow a few roosters."
"Roosters?" Hagrid scratched his shaggy hair, eyebrows knitting. "What for? Cookin' somethin'?"
"No," said Snape. "I just need to borrow them for a while. I might not be able to return them, but if not, I'll pay for them."
"Oh, er, alright," Hagrid said uncertainly, though still nodding. "How many d'ye need?"
"How many do you have?" Snape countered.
"Hmm..." Hagrid began counting on his fingers. "About ten or so."
"I'll take them all," Snape said bluntly.
"What d'ye need that many roosters for?" Hagrid's eyes widened even more.
"Don't ask further," Snape said, lowering his voice with unmistakable authority. "It's a task from Professor Dumbledore."
At the mention of the Headmaster's name, Hagrid immediately straightened up, face solemn.
"'Course. They're over there," he said, pointing toward a rough shelter made of branches and wire. "Come along."
He pushed open the creaking gate, and the chickens stirred noisily. A speckled rooster strutted to the front, puffing out its chest and eyeing Snape warily.
Hagrid happily gathered a few eggs from the corner, tiny and fragile in his massive hands.
"All here," Hagrid said. "Let me count, one... two... seven roosters in total." He hesitated. "How're yeh takin' 'em?"
"I'll have the house-elf Dobby help transport them," said Snape, already planning his next steps.
"Can Dobby carry that many?" Hagrid asked dubiously.
"Oh, I'll need you to help tie them together," said Snape gravely. "Thank you, Hagrid. This matter..."
"I know, I know!" Hagrid made a zipping motion across his lips. "Secret mission!"
After bidding Hagrid farewell, Snape did not return to the castle. Instead, he turned toward the wrought-iron gates and headed straight for Diagon Alley.
Inside a second-hand broom shop, Snape examined several brooms critically.
The shopkeeper, an old wizard with a deeply wrinkled face, kept boasting about which famous Quidditch players had once owned them.
"This here's a Cleansweep Three," the old man croaked. "Used by a reserve Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps back in 1972."
Snape scoffed but bought the cheapest one anyway, he only needed something that could fly.
Then, passing through the Leaky Cauldron into London, he visited a hardware store to purchase a head-mounted welding mask; at a nearby convenience store, he bought over ten cases of Coca-Cola; finally, at a pet shop, he bought several mottled rats.
"Money flows like water," he muttered, counting his now-thin coin pouch. "I'll have to go to Gringotts again. Best find a way to increase income, I can't live on reserves forever."
By the time he returned to Hogwarts, it was already afternoon. Snape headed swiftly to the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.
When he opened the door, he saw Pandora and Lily working busily with Dobby's help, brewing potions over bubbling cauldrons. Strange vapors curled up from the boiling liquid, but neither woman seemed bothered.
"Apologies for the interruption," he said, breaking their rhythm. "I need to borrow Dobby for a short while."
"Severus?" Lily looked up, blinking in surprise. "Uh, what do you need Dobby for?"
"A small errand," said Snape. "It won't take long."
Dobby set down the utensils in his hands, his large eyes filled with eagerness. "Dobby is willing to serve Mr. Snape!"
"I think that's fine," Pandora said, wiping her hands and nodding to Dobby. "We can manage here."
"Good. Dobby, come with me," said Snape, waving to them. "I'll be right back."
Once outside in the corridor, Snape led the elf toward the girls' bathroom that had once been Moaning Myrtle's haunt.
The corridor was empty, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls.
"I need your help with several things, Dobby," Snape said as he opened the door. The smell of mildew and damp hit him. "It's very important, this concerns the safety of Hogwarts."
"Dobby will do anything for you, sir!" the elf said eagerly, bowing low, his long ears twitching with excitement.
Since Myrtle's departure, no one had been willing to use this second-floor bathroom; it remained empty and neglected. The mirrors were dusty, the taps leaking, and the stained walls spoke of long abandonment.
"Good," said Snape, closing the door behind them. "First, go to Hagrid's chicken coop and bring all the roosters here. Make sure no one besides Hagrid sees you."
Dobby nodded and vanished with a soft pop.
Using the time, Snape checked each stall carefully to ensure they were alone.
Within five minutes, the elf reappeared with another pop, clutching a bundle of seven struggling roosters, and a large cloth sack.
One colorful rooster broke free from his grasp and flapped around the room, crowing loudly.
Snape quickly cast Muffliato on the door before exhaling in relief.
Dobby dropped the sack on the floor with a dull thud.
"What's that?" Snape asked.
"Rock cakes," Dobby replied. "Mr. Hagrid said they were delicious."
"Oh, fine," Snape said wearily. "Leave them be."
"Listen carefully, Dobby." He crouched to meet the elf's gaze. "In a moment, when I call for you, you must bring all the roosters to me, set them down, and leave immediately. Understood?"
"Dobby understands!" The elf nodded vigorously.
"Good." Snape drew two welding masks from his bag, shrinking one to the elf's size with a spell. "This will protect your eyes," he explained, fitting it over Dobby's head. The elf poked curiously at the lenses with his fingers. "When you bring the roosters, keep your head down. Don't look around."
Then Snape put on his own mask and adjusted the straps.
Through the dark-tinted glass, the world turned a murky green, reminding him of the lake's glow in his dormitory.
With Dobby watching, Snape stepped to the sink and fixed his eyes on the tiny serpent engraved on the copper tap. In a soft hiss, he spoke, "Open."
Instantly, the serpent's eyes flared with white light, and the tap began to spin rapidly. The sink sank slowly into the floor.
Snape watched as it disappeared from view, revealing a wide pipe, large enough for an adult to slide through.
"What is that!" gasped Dobby behind him.
"Don't worry, Dobby." Snape turned, his voice muffled by the mask. Pointing to the pipe, he said, "After you deliver the roosters, if I haven't returned in half an hour, go find Dumbledore and tell him everything that happened here. Remember that."
"Dobby remembers," the elf said nervously, twisting his fingers.
"I'm going down now." Snape checked his gear one last time and glanced at Dobby's masked head. "Remember what I said."
Dobby nodded clumsily.
Snape took a deep breath, drew Nagini from his robes, and placed her gently on the floor. "Stay here."
Then, holding his wand and the goblin-made dagger, he lowered his legs into the pipe.
"Remember, half an hour," he reminded once more. Then, bracing his elbows, he slid down into the darkness.
The fall was far more unpleasant than expected.
Snape felt as if he were plunging through a dark, slimy, endless chute.
He saw many branching pipes splitting off in all directions, though none as large as the main one. The pipe twisted sharply, winding down steeply toward the depths.
The slope grew steeper; he bumped hard at each curve, realizing he had already descended deep beneath the castle, far below even the Slytherin common room under the lake.
Just as he began thinking about slowing down, the pipe's angle gradually leveled out until it became horizontal. He braced himself for impact.
With a heavy thud, he shot out of the pipe's mouth and landed on damp ground, the sound echoing through the dark tunnel.
It was a stone tunnel, broad enough for him to stand upright.
Snape rose quickly, wiped slime from his hands, and raised his wand. "Lumos!"
The tip of his wand lit up, illuminating his surroundings.
The tunnel walls were coated with sticky secretions. The ground was slick and strewn with the bones of small creatures, and the air reeked of a nauseating, fishy stench of decay.
Snape stepped cautiously across the damp floor, each echoing footstep measured, his wand ready to cast at a moment's notice.