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Snape raised his wand and muttered an incantation under his breath. He had, after all, been a dark wizard 'redeemed' in the public eye. The difference between him and true practitioners of the Dark Arts?
He had the option of using 'Obliviate'— the cleanest erasure of troublesome memories. Marcus Flint's connections in the Ministry were a potential nuisance, but if Flint 'remembered nothing,' then naturally, there would be no issue.
'Influence? Connections?'
What was the point of all that when a well-cast spell was far more effective?
"Severus, I hope I'm not interrupting."
Just as Snape finished adjusting the color of the ominous potion in his hand, a familiar voice rang out. He turned swiftly— only to see Albus Dumbledore standing in his office, seemingly having materialized out of thin air.
"Albus, you... why are you here?"
Startled, Snape took a subtle step back, instinctively hiding the potion behind his robes. Clearly, this was not a concoction he wanted Dumbledore to scrutinize too closely.
"I simply wished to hear Mr. Flint's account as soon as possible."
Dumbledore cast a cursory glance at the bound and unconscious Flint before turning back to Snape.
"It was indeed the Imperius Curse," Snape stated quickly. "If I hadn't restrained him, I wouldn't have been able to fulfill your request— he might have attempted a lethal ambush at any moment."
The Imperius Curse.
One of the three Unforgivable Curses.
It stripped a victim of all thought and responsibility, leaving them in a state of blissful obedience. Under its influence, they would carry out any order given— murder, betrayal, self-destruction— without hesitation or remorse. Only the strongest minds could resist it.
"Indeed."
Dumbledore nodded lightly, his expression unreadable.
"Did you uncover anything useful in Mr. Flint's mind?"
Dumbledore took a step closer to the unconscious Slytherin. Then, under Snape's watchful gaze, he raised his wand.
A shimmering silver thread of memory was drawn from Flint's temple and placed into a prepared phial— a container of fine crystal, crafted to preserve extracted recollections.
"The spellwork behind this is exceptionally meticulous," Snape muttered. "Whoever put that curse on him ensured that their identity was entirely erased from his thoughts."
For a fleeting moment, Snape hesitated. Was Dumbledore 'doubting' him?
Did the headmaster suspect a Death Eater's involvement?
Did Dumbledore no longer trust him?
Snape's frown deepened as various thoughts plagued his mind.
"It seems our hidden adversary is quite the instructor," Dumbledore mused. "Flint, for all his... limited abilities, somehow managed to master 'your' Sectumsempra in a single night and used it to murder our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Dumbledore's ability to perform Legilimency without making direct eye contact was unsettling— one of many reasons so many feared him.
"Yes. Adding the name 'Prince' and then conveniently coming to 'us' to place blame was merely an act of petty vengeance."
Through Legilimency, Snape had already grasped the nature of Flint's resentment toward Ian and Daphne. The boy had been plotting and waiting for something like this from the start.
"Before even arriving in Hogsmeade, he was already scheming. Under the Imperius Curse, such commands may have been seamlessly woven into his subconscious," Snape remarked. "Though I can't be certain if its effects allow for such subtle manipulation."
He preferred the Cruciatus Curse for that sort of persuasion.
Or, better yet, his own jinxes.
"Perhaps we should focus on reinforcing young wizards' education on resisting deception," Snape added, his voice edged with frustration.
Dumbledore remained silent.
"These potions— did they yield results?" He asked instead, glancing at the scattered vials on the table.
They are useful in unearthing the truth.
But not 'necessary.'
"I was stabilizing his condition," Snape replied smoothly. "The Unforgivable Curses leave lasting effects beyond just mere compulsion."
His tone was flat, his expression impassive as he spoke.
Dumbledore studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded.
As if he had already known what the answer would be.
"A good excuse."
Dumbledore nodded, surprisingly without reprimand or advice. Snape found the old man's demeanor oddly uncharacteristic today. Before he could discern what was amiss with Dumbledore,
"I need a list of those who know the original incantation of the Sectumsempra curse," Dumbledore said abruptly, pulling Snape from his thoughts.
"I haven't shared this curse with many," Snape replied. He strode to his desk, scribbled down a list, and handed it to Dumbledore with a grave expression on his face.
"This list is essentially useless. Bellatrix— that deranged woman— knows it as well. She may have already passed it on to Merlin-knows-how-many others."
Dumbledore merely smiled at Snape's warning.
"Even so, investigating this list may help us narrow the field a little," Dumbledore said, his tone straightforward. Snape grasped his implication immediately.
"Those individuals wouldn't dare show their faces now," Snape countered, unimpressed.
"Regardless, there must be an infiltrator among the young wizards at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with certainty. "Foolish he may have been but Ronnie Ehrlich was no mediocre wizard; otherwise, my old friend would not have sent him to protect and observe. This man has slipped through Riddle's grasp more than once."
Snape nodded, acknowledging Dumbledore's assessment. They had both seen Marcus Flint's memories and knew precisely how Flint had murdered the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"At the time, Ronnie Ehrlich appeared to be searching for his lost wand, and given his unsteady posture, he must have been under the influence of some toxin."
"I need Pomona's assistance to examine Professor Ehrlich's... remains." Snape hesitated over the word; referring to the scattered fragments as "remains" felt grimly inadequate.
His own spell had indeed gone too far.
"I will assist you in the examination," Dumbledore offered. His words, however, only deepened Snape's frown and etched displeasure onto his face.
"Are you suspecting me?" Snape snapped, still fixated on Dumbledore's unusual behavior. Under normal circumstances, Dumbledore would never question his work.
With Voldemort's return looming, he couldn't afford to be complacent.
"Of course not, Severus. You are the last person I would suspect," Dumbledore assured him.
"I am well acquainted with the methods of these fanatics. Perhaps, by analyzing the poison used, I can uncover valuable clues."
It was a reasonable argument.
Yet, Snape's unease remained.
"You have never truly trusted anyone, Albus. The closer I get to you, the clearer I see it..."
"You are not wrong," Dumbledore acknowledged, his voice calm. "Over the years, indeed, no one has truly seen through me."
His response was devoid of the usual cryptic amusement.
Snape felt something was off.
Dumbledore, as he had always known him, might have delivered the same words in the same measured tone, but his very presence felt altered.
More concerning still—
He hadn't reprimanded Snape for his punishment of Flint.
"You haven't taken Polyjuice Potion to become... some other old wizard, have you?" Snape questioned sharply, reaching for his wand, suspecting that a follower of Grindelwald might be attempting to infiltrate Hogwarts in search of answers regarding a fallen comrade.
(To Be Continued…)