"Please, sit."
Dumbledore turned around, taking from behind his desk an old-fashioned wooden chest, its most striking feature being the nine locks arranged neatly across its front, each in a different shape.
"The diadem is in there?" Snape sat down in the armchair, leaning forward slightly as he examined the box with interest.
Dumbledore didn't answer right away. He drew his wand from his sleeve and gave it a gentle wave. Instantly, every window in the office closed, and even Fawkes's song was silenced by an invisible barrier.
The air grew unnaturally still. Only their quiet breathing could be heard.
Seated now, the Headmaster pulled from his drawer a large ring of keys and began patiently inserting them one by one into the locks. Each key fit a specific lock, and each emitted a different sound as it turned.
When the ninth key turned, the chest gave a heavy click. Snape held his breath, expecting to see a vast pit inside, something like the one Mad-Eye Moody might one day be trapped in, but instead, within was another, slightly smaller chest, this one bearing seven locks.
Over the next few minutes, Snape watched as the Headmaster repeated the process of unlocking.
The third chest had five locks, the fourth three, and when he finally produced the fifth chest, the one with a single keyhole, Dumbledore's ring of keys was exhausted.
Under Snape's gaze, the Headmaster reached into his robes and withdrew one last key. This one was different, silver from end to end, with a tiny sapphire set into its handle.
As the key slid into the keyhole with a crisp metallic sound, the lid opened slowly. Upon a red velvet lining rested a single, darkened diadem. A sapphire was set in its center, and within the gemstone, something seemed to flow like liquid.
"Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem," Dumbledore said softly. He lifted it from the chest and reverently placed it upon the desk. The nested boxes folded back into each other at a wave of his hand and floated to a corner of the room.
Up close, Snape found it nearly impossible to look away. The diadem seemed almost alive, drawing his attention irresistibly.
"A Horcrux resists those who attempt to destroy it," Dumbledore said, taking a deep breath and snapping Snape from his trance. "Especially while its creator still lives in a relatively whole form." He fixed Snape with a steady gaze. "Are you ready, Severus?"
Snape nodded, forcing himself to focus. He rose, drew the silver dagger from his sleeve, unsheathed it, and slowly moved it toward the diadem.
When the dagger's tip was still about seven inches away, the diadem began to tremble. The sapphire flared with blinding light, and a faint tapping filled the table's surface, like a swarm of unseen insects crawling across it.
Something inside it was becoming restless, Snape thought.
As the dagger inched closer, a translucent female figure rose from the diadem. Her spectral robes flowed like rippling water, and upon her head was an identical diadem. Her face was noble, yet sorrowful.
Snape had seen her image before in Hogwarts: A History.
It was Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
"By what right dost thou seek to destroy the emblem of wisdom?"
The voice rang like a distant bell, resonating directly inside Snape's mind.
His hand faltered. That voice evoked memories of parchment and ink, of the scent of books, and the quiet joy of losing himself in study.
"Continue," Dumbledore's voice called from far away.
"Dost thou know what weight this object bears?" The phantom crossed her hands before her chest. Her eyes suddenly shone like stars in the night sky. "To destroy it is to destroy the sole key to ancient wisdom. Canst thou do so without regret?"
Cold sweat gathered on Snape's brow. His arm began to lower against his will.
"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice struck like a bucket of ice water over his head.
Snape gritted his teeth and pushed the dagger forward again. The phantom's expression changed; nobility gave way to urgency.
"Wait!" Her voice suddenly grew vivid. "I know many lost magics, the secret of transmuting stone into gold, the art of flight without a broom, potions that can resurrect the dead. I can help you advance magic itself beyond imagination! I can teach you, you can have everything you've ever wanted..."
"How does one fly without relying on external tools?" Snape asked before he realized it, his hand pausing.
The phantom's lips curved faintly. "It requires a reconfiguration of one's magical circulation paths, combined with precise wand movements and incantations. I can teach you in detail-"
"How long would it take to master?" Snape pressed.
"That depends on one's aptitude. The fastest could achieve it in three months-"
"Ahem." Dumbledore coughed softly in reminder.
"Oh." Snape blinked, then gave a thin, cold smile, pushing the dagger forward another inch. "But I'm afraid I'm short on time, beautiful and wise Lady Ravenclaw. You'll have to teach me in person next time."
The diadem suddenly leapt half a foot into the air. Ravenclaw's noble visage twisted into a grotesque snarl.
Lightning-fast, Dumbledore pressed his hand down upon the restless diadem. The phantom's face turned toward him, fury twisting her features.
"You are Headmaster of Hogwarts, and I am the relic of its Founder, Rowena Ravenclaw," her voice deepened, trembling with menace. "I am this school's ancient emblem! Headmaster, it is your duty to protect the Founders' legacy-"
But Dumbledore smiled pleasantly.
"Good evening, Tom," he said conversationally. "Compared to our last meeting, you seem..." he gave her form an amused glance, "...far lovelier this time."
The phantom froze. Her face began to melt like wax under heat. When it reformed, she still wore Ravenclaw's likeness, but all grace and purity were gone.
"You don't truly mean to destroy me, do you, Dumbledore?" she said, now in a man's cold voice. "You're not cruel enough for that, are you?"
"We both know there are other ways to destroy a man, Tom," Dumbledore replied lightly. "And some fates are far worse than death."
"Nothing is worse than death, Dumbledore!" the phantom screamed, her silvery eyes turning blood-red, pupils narrowing to slits.
The strange silver instruments on the desk whirred wildly, spewing white smoke. Fawkes launched himself into the air, flapping anxiously but unable to approach.
"That's where you're wrong," Dumbledore said gently. He waved his hand, and the instruments slowed, falling silent once more. Fawkes returned to his perch.
"Shall I continue, Professor?" Snape asked. The sight of a woman's face speaking with a man's voice filled him with such revulsion he could hardly stand another second of it.
"Oh, of course. Do carry on," Dumbledore said cheerfully.
When the dagger pressed forward again, the diadem shrieked. The phantom dissolved into a mass of roiling black mist, its blood-red eyes glaring fixedly at Snape.
"You'll regret this! What is it you want, power? Recognition? I can give you rewards beyond your wildest dreams! Damn you, is there truly nothing you desire?!"
"There's plenty I want," Snape said coldly. "For instance, everything that's yours."
As the dagger pierced downward, the diadem exploded with blinding red light. It grew searingly hot.
Smoke curled from Dumbledore's palm as he held it down, his hand hissing, yet he did not move.
"Now!" the Headmaster's voice tightened, rarely so sharp.
A flash of cold steel, and a clear, ringing crack. The sapphire split clean in two. A black, viscous substance, thick as blood, seeped out from within, dripping down the table and onto the carpet, where it hissed corrosively.
Rowena Ravenclaw's phantom twisted and writhed, clawing madly at the air, her screams faint and distant, echoing as if from another world, until she dissolved into smoke and was gone.
Snape staggered backward, the dagger still trembling in his hand. He watched the black slime eating away half the desk, the carpet billowing foul black smoke.
"Well done, Severus," Dumbledore said, releasing the diadem at last. His hands were scorched black. "You're even more decisive than I thought. And best of all, you didn't stab my hand."
Snape ignored the humor. His eyes fixed on Dumbledore's burned hand. "Professor... your hand...?"
"Oh, nothing serious." Dumbledore smiled. He went to a cabinet, his fingers trembling as he reached for the door but failed to open it. "Come, Severus, help an old man avoid unnecessary suffering."
At those familiar words, Snape nearly thought the old man before him was about to die, and had already devised some elaborate, multi-layered plan in his mind, arranging everyone's fates neatly before his end.
"Will you die, Professor?" he asked before he could stop himself, his voice betraying a note of tension he hadn't noticed.
"What are you talking about, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled. "Come on, help me open the cabinet!"
"Oh, right," Snape said quickly, snapping from his thoughts. He hurried to open the cabinet. "Then what, Professor?"
"That black potion bottle," Dumbledore lifted a hand vaguely toward the shelves. Snape's fingers brushed past several crystal flasks. "No... the other one... yes, that one."
At Dumbledore's instruction, Snape uncorked the crystal bottle and poured its contents over the Headmaster's hand. From the scent of the potion, he caught traces of dittany, bezoar, mandrake, and several other familiar healing and antidotal ingredients.
Under the potion's effect, the charred skin on Dumbledore's hand slowly faded back to normal.
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, flexing his fingers. He took out his wand, pointed it at his hand, and muttered an unfamiliar incantation, then switched hands and repeated the motion.
"Your hand's fully healed, isn't it?" Snape asked, watching carefully.
"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "Surely you don't wish it were worse?"
"Of course not!" Snape exclaimed. "It's just, your earlier words could've easily been misunderstood, you know?"
"Very well," Dumbledore said, turning back to the desk. "As for these fragments of the diadem..."
"Give them all to me," Snape interrupted, sweeping the Horcrux shards into his pocket. "They're of great sentimental value. Years from now, I might point to them while recounting my glorious exploits to the younger generation."
"As you wish," Dumbledore said with a genuine smile, the kind that made his eyes crinkle with mirth. "It seems I'll be needing a new desk and carpet."
"And," he added, "I'm planning to visit a certain 'old friend' in Azkaban soon. Might I borrow your dagger-"
"What dagger?" Snape instantly hid the weapon up his sleeve. "Ah yes, Hagrid's roosters!" He strode to the door. "Goodbye, Professor..."
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the lights in Hagrid's hut were glowing, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.
When Snape knocked on the door, leading the proud line of roosters, Hagrid's shaggy face appeared in the window.
"By Merlin's blazing dragons!" Hagrid gasped, disappearing from sight. Seconds later, the door flew open. His dark, beady eyes went wide at the sight of the roosters in Snape's hand.
They flapped their wings and rushed toward him as Snape quickly loosened the ropes binding them.
"They're beautiful, Severus," Hagrid said, his huge fingers stroking their feathers, his voice trembling with emotion. "They've grown so much bigger than before!"
When the mottled rooster flew up to the rafters and began pecking at the hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, tears gleamed in Hagrid's eyes.
"They're eating your food," Snape reminded him.
"The more they eat, the bigger they'll get!" Hagrid gazed up at the roosters in rapture. "Eat up, my beauties..." Then he lowered his voice, looking down at Snape. "What did you feed them, Severus?"
"Things you shouldn't ask about, comrade Hagrid," Snape said sternly. "Remember the discipline of the Order of the Phoenix!"
"Right, right," Hagrid muttered, scratching his head. "Didn't ask, didn't ask."
"Good." Snape pointed toward the roosters. "They were of great help to Professor Dumbledore this time. You won't be... eating them later, will you, Hagrid?"
"Eat them?" Hagrid's voice rose several pitches, his face aghast as if Snape had said something unthinkable. "How could I ever do such a thing? I'm going to build them a new, bigger coop! Maybe even breed a whole new species!"
A few minutes later, Snape waved goodbye with a bag of rock cakes in hand, smiling faintly.
As he turned to leave, he heard Hagrid's off-key singing drifting from the hut...