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Dinner time, the Great Hall.
The vast hall was filled with the comforting, heavy scent of roasted meats, rich gravy, and sweet baked apples. Hundreds of floating candles cast a warm, flickering glow over the four long House tables.
Regulus, completely riding the administrative high of having just successfully, flawlessly manipulated Professor Stokke onto the 'Dueling Club' bandwagon, walked purposefully down the aisle. He bypassed his usual seating arrangement and headed straight toward the far end of the Slytherin table, where Severus Snape was currently dining entirely alone, hunched over his plate.
"Severus. Good news," Regulus said smoothly, sliding onto the wooden bench directly beside the lanky boy. He offered a brilliant, highly mysterious smile. "I think I've just officially unearthed a massive, legendary 'treasure' hidden inside Hogwarts!"
Severus paused, his fork halting halfway to his mouth. He blinked, completely taken aback.
"Ah? You mean—" Severus suddenly noticed a few older Slytherins glancing over at them. He immediately snapped his mouth shut, leaning in close and violently lowering his voice to a harsh, guarded whisper. His dark eyes were wide with intense curiosity. "A hidden treasure... truly?"
"Truer than Merlin's own beard," Regulus whispered back, leaning in to match the conspiratorial energy. "And I haven't breathed a single word of this to anyone else yet—" Regulus deliberately paused. He let his dark eyes flick across the hall, visibly landing on Sirius, who was currently laughing loudly at the edge of the Gryffindor table, before looking directly back at Severus.
"Severus... can you swear to keep an absolute secret?"
"A Slytherin never snitches!" Severus hissed instantly. Without a second of hesitation, he raised his pale hand, pointed his index finger directly up at the enchanted floating candles near the ceiling, and swore the solemn vow in a low, fierce voice. The dramatic, highly serious physical action was exactly the same as the vow Regulus had forced the first-years to swear last semester.
"Not even to Miss Evans?" Regulus joked softly, an incredibly sly, teasing smirk playing on his lips.
Severus, who had just been acting like a fiercely loyal, unshakeable vault of secrets, obviously froze. He hesitated for a long, agonizing moment—Not even tell Lily?—before gritting his teeth and nodding his head vigorously up and down.
"Excellent. Then eat up. Right after dinner, we'll sneak out and go together," Regulus leaned back, picking up a silver goblet. "I promise you, Sev. You are going to absolutely, positively love this."
Severus couldn't contain his burning, agonizing curiosity at all. He immediately abandoned all pretense of pureblood table manners. He quickly, aggressively shoveled the roasted sausages and baked potatoes he usually savored directly into his stomach, completely forgetting to even drink the sweet apple juice in his goblet.
"Pace yourself, Sev. Don't rush," Regulus laughed softly, cutting his own dinner at his usual, impeccably elegant pace. He raised his golden goblet. "Come on, Severus... let's have a toast!"
Severus swallowed hard, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and smiled a rare, genuinely sheepish smile. Following Regulus's lead, he raised his own cup.
"I haven't actually, officially thanked you yet," Regulus said, his voice dropping its teasing tone, replaced by warm, unvarnished sincerity. "Thank you for immediately stepping up and being willing to be my Dueling assistant against Lestrange in the corridor. To friendship."
"Of course, Regulus. It was absolutely nothing," Severus said softly, a sudden, intense warmth blooming in his usually cold, heavily guarded chest. "To friendship."
Regulus smiled brilliantly. (～o￣▽￣)～ Severus offered a rare, genuine grin. (～o￣▽￣)～
The two heavy golden cups clinked together with a sharp, crisp ring that echoed over the chatter.
The surrounding older Slytherin students, watching the notoriously cold, greasy half-blood and the pristine, aristocratic Black Heir happily toasting each other like war veterans, exchanged deeply bewildered looks. What exactly are those two high on?
Twenty minutes later, Severus followed closely behind Regulus, deeply amazed by how skillfully the younger boy mapped the castle. Regulus flawlessly, effortlessly dodged patrolling prefects, shifting staircases, and nosy portraits along the way. Before Severus fully realized how high they had climbed, they arrived in a quiet, drafty corridor on the seventh floor of Hogwarts Castle, stopping directly opposite an enormous, highly ridiculous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy frantically trying to teach ballet to a group of violent Trolls.
"Alright, watch closely," Regulus instructed, gesturing to the completely blank stretch of solid stone wall across from the tapestry. "Like this: you need to fiercely, obsessively concentrate your mind entirely on the specific thought, 'I need a secure place to perfectly brew potions,' and then you physically pace past this exact stretch of wall three times."
"Let's do it together," Regulus offered.
"Okay," Severus muttered. Deep in his heart, he thought the action sounded incredibly foolish, but out of his absolute, unwavering trust in Regulus, he didn't voice a single doubt.
They paced. One. Two. Three times.
Suddenly, the solid stone wall shimmered violently. With the heavy, satisfying click of internal tumbling locks, a highly polished, incredibly smooth brass door magically materialized completely out of thin air right on the white wall.
"Go ahead. You open it, Severus," Regulus said, stepping back with a magnanimous gesture.
Severus reached his pale, trembling hand out toward the gleaming brass handle. He was completely fascinated. He gripped the metal, pushed down, and pulled open the heavy door—
A rush of warm, perfectly ventilated, herb-scented air hit his face.
An incredibly spacious, absolutely immaculate, state-of-the-art Potion-brewing laboratory appeared before Severus Snape's disbelieving eyes. Dozens of smokeless, alchemical heatless lamps mounted on the stone walls illuminated the massive room brilliantly, entirely free of the gloomy, damp shadows that plagued the dungeons.
Sweet Merlin, Severus thought, his jaw literally dropping. This... this is vastly bigger and infinitely better equipped than Professor Slughorn's actual, official Potions classroom!
A massive, heavy oak workbench dominated the center of the room, already perfectly neatly laid out with a staggering variety of solid brass, copper, and even pure pewter cauldrons, precision alchemical stoves, and gleaming silver preparation tools. Floor-to-ceiling shelves at the far end of the room held hundreds of pristine, highly calibrated glass measuring instruments, crystal phials, and brass scales...
And to his immediate left was an entire, massive wall of solid wooden bookshelves. It was packed tightly with incredibly rare, highly advanced, leather-bound books on complex Potion-making, and a complete, pristine, chronological row of every single issue of Potions Today magazine ever published!
It was absolutely, flawlessly perfect. It was exactly like the ultimate, legendary Potion classroom that would usually only ever appear in Severus's deepest, most desperately ambitious dreams!
Severus practically floated into the room. His sallow face was actually glowing. He reached out with trembling fingers, reverently touching the thick, gold-embossed spines of the parchment-bound books. He walked to the workbench, gently tapping the rim of a pure solid-brass cauldron, his long fingers lovingly tracing the perfectly balanced, long handle of a solid silver stirring spoon...
Severus was so completely, overwhelmingly engrossed in examining every single priceless tool that he entirely forgot about his companion for several long minutes. When he finally managed to tear his eyes away and turn around, he saw Regulus sitting comfortably on a plush, emerald-green satin sofa that had miraculously, silently appeared in the corner at some point. Regulus was lounging back, smiling warmly at him.
And such a miraculously perfect, priceless room... Severus thought, a massive, overwhelming lump suddenly forming in his throat. Regulus explicitly chose to share it with me first. He didn't even bring his own brother here.
Severus blinked his dark eyes rapidly, violently swallowing hard to hide the sudden, burning tears that welled up from the sheer, shocking weight of the surprise and deep emotional validation.
"Regulus... what exactly is this place?" Severus whispered, his voice thick. "I've read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover twice. I've literally never heard of a room like this existing..."
"This is officially known as the 'Come and Go Room,' or the 'Room of Requirement'," Regulus explained smoothly, pretending he absolutely hadn't just seen the stoic Slytherin boy nearly cry. He stood up from the sofa and walked over to the workbench. "As the name heavily suggests, it is a highly sentient architectural space that only physically appears when a person genuinely, desperately needs something."
"Why isn't it on the Mara—I mean, any of the castle maps?"
"Because you can literally only enter this room when someone truly needs it," Regulus said happily, tapping a brass scale. "It's sometimes there, and sometimes it's completely inaccessible solid stone. But when it finally appears, it's absolutely always fully furnished and perfectly equipped to flawlessly meet the seeker's deepest, exact needs."
"My sweet Merlin. Regulus, how on earth did you manage to find it?"
"Honestly? You might not actually believe me if I told you," Regulus shrugged casually, deploying a flawless, canonical lie. "A highly loyal House-elf friend of mine secretly told me about it. He said he once desperately brought a drunken fellow elf here to rest and hide. He also casually mentioned that Filch the caretaker once desperately needed extra cleaning supplies, paced this exact hallway, and the room provided him with an endless closet of mops."
"It was... a House-elf?" Snape was visibly startled. Like most wizards, he inherently held a less-than-positive, highly dismissive pureblood stereotype regarding the intelligence of house-elves. "Exactly how many people actually know about this place?"
"Very, very few people know about this place. According to the elf's exact words: 'Most people only ever stumble upon it by complete, desperate accident when they need it most. But they almost always can't ever find it again, simply because they don't understand the mechanism. They don't know it's always right there, invisibly waiting to be actively called.'"
Regulus smiled a highly knowing, secretive smile. Much like how the Death Eaters haven't figured out how to use it properly at Malfoy Manor yet.
"It's absolutely amazing... it's a miracle..." Severus said, his dark eyes shining with fanatical, burning excitement. "Regulus, from now on, we won't ever need to secretly, dangerously brew our cosmetic Potions in Moaning Myrtle's flooded, filthy bathroom ever again!"
Regulus rubbed his nose guiltily. Yeah, sorry about making us brew in a literal toilet for months, Sev. I actually knew about the Room of Requirement for a long time, I just needed to organically 'discover' it...
Severus was far too excited to notice Regulus's small, guilty physical action. He practically lunged at the bookshelf and eagerly grabbed the absolute latest, highly expensive issue of Potions Today.
Instantly, the heavy stone floor shifted, and a deeply plush, highly comfortable velvet reading armchair miraculously materialized completely out of thin air directly beside his legs. Severus gasped, sitting down in the chair in sheer, unadulterated surprise, looking up at Regulus in absolute disbelief.
"This is simply too magical! The room literally instantly knows exactly what physical objects I require!" Severus gripped the armrests. "It truly, genuinely lives up to its legendary name. The 'Room of Requirement'."
Regulus nodded, leaning back against the workbench. He continued, dropping his voice into a highly theoretical, academic tone. "I don't fully understand the complex, architectural runic matrix of how this room actually works either, Sev. But it is undoubtedly, undeniably the masterpiece work of an absolute Grandmaster of spatial Transfiguration and Charms. To be entirely honest with you, given the sheer scale of the magic, I highly suspect the original creator of this room was Godric Gryffindor himself."
"Indeed..." Severus looked around the sprawling, perfectly equipped room with newfound, incredibly deep awe. He nodded thoughtfully. "If this room possesses the highly advanced, sentient magic required to actively sense and read my internal thoughts and desires... it operates on the exact same theoretical magical framework as the Sorting Hat... and canonical history proves the Sorting Hat was personally enchanted by Gryffindor."
"Regardless of who built it, the important fact is that this miraculous room can be actively, freely used by us, even though we are highly ambitious Slytherins," Regulus said smoothly, perfectly planting his ideological seed. "And I am quite, absolutely sure that my arrogant brother and his Gryffindor gang don't actually know about this room yet. It clearly doesn't specifically favor any particular House's bloodline."
Regulus offered a brilliant, highly disarming smile. "See? Gryffindor—he really wasn't actually that bad of a wizard, was he?"
Whenever he got the tactical chance, Regulus thought proudly, he would actively, subtly try to reconcile the massive, historical conflicts between the different parties.
Severus sat in his plush armchair, frowning slightly as he processed the thought.
How to put it... Severus thought defensively. Yes, Lily is obviously in Gryffindor, and she is perfect... but the vast majority of Gryffindor students are just far, far too incredibly lacking in basic, foundational survival wisdom! They actively cause massive trouble, recklessly break rules, and practically court lethal death every single day! I really, truly cannot appreciate their reckless ideology—
Severus's internal rant suddenly, violently hit a brick wall. He froze completely stiff in his velvet chair.
His dark eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror as a horrific, highly logical realization slammed into his brain:
Wait a minute. If this sentient room can actively, flawlessly sense exactly what I need and desire... then it is undeniably, aggressively reading my internal thoughts right now! It's a massive, architectural Legilimens!
And he actively, desperately wanted to continue to make good, highly lucrative use of this incredibly vital, priceless Potions room in the future! He absolutely could not afford to physically anger the sentient room by actively insulting its legendary, founding creator!
So, when Regulus casually asked him exactly what he thought of Gryffindor?
Severus's neck snapped upward. He looked directly at the massive, incredibly heavy, spiked brass chandelier hanging ominously from the ceiling directly above his skull. He rapidly weighed its potential, crushing weight in his highly paranoid mind.
"Yes! Absolutely! Gryffindor is still quite, undeniably good! A fantastic founder! Truly!" Severus blurted out instantly, his voice cracking slightly as he stared in absolute terror at the chandelier, speaking as loudly and truthfully as he physically could to appease the room.
Regulus blinked, completely taken aback by Severus's sudden, highly intense, almost fanatical enthusiasm for Gryffindor.
Meanwhile, Severus was sweating cold bullets.
Right. Wait a second. Isn't there a highly obscure, extremely advanced branch of defensive mind-magic specifically designed to block mind-reading? Occlumency? Little Severus thought to himself, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stared at the ceiling.
A new, burning obsession was violently born in the dark.
The absolute, undisputed top academic priority for this semester, Snape decided fiercely, is that I absolutely must find a book and teach myself Occlumency immediately, before this bloody room decides to crush me.