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Severus Snape gazed impassively at Dumbledore's face.
A faint breeze slipped through the window's crack, gently rustling the pages of the open book on the desk.
Dumbledore soon settled back into his chair.
Under the office's dim, flickering lamplight, he seemed older, wearier somehow.
"You know what that name means, don't you?" Dumbledore broke the silence first.
"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you," Snape replied, having already turned the question over in his mind.
"His traces seem to be everywhere at Hogwarts."
He counted off on his fingers.
"Recipient of the Special Award for Services to the School, Prefect, Head Boy, Professor Slughorn's favorite, the gamekeeper's nemesis, and perhaps even the creator of the ghost in the girls' bathroom?"
He paused for a few seconds before continuing.
"Such an outstanding person, adorned with so many dazzling accolades, left Hogwarts only to end up at Borgin and Burkes, then vanished without a trace."
"What exactly did you learn from the Death Eaters, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
Was it his imagination, or did Snape detect a hint of coldness in Dumbledore's gaze?
"Professor," Snape said, striving to keep his voice steady, "after that night on the Knight Bus, it suddenly occurred to me that Mulciber had once bragged to me.
"He boasted that, since his school days, his father had been Lord Voldemort's most loyal servant, and he was destined for greatness."
Dumbledore continued to watch him silently, and under that wordless pressure, Snape pressed on.
"It got me thinking. Since the start of term, I've been digging into who the most brilliant students were during old Mulciber's time.
"Among all the candidates, Riddle's brilliance outshone everyone else's.
"Coincidentally, Riddle seems to have lost his future, while Lord Voldemort has no past."
"So, Professor, may I ask you a question?"
Snape spoke slowly.
"Is Tom Riddle Lord Voldemort?"
Dumbledore sat up straight, his fingertips touching in his characteristic pose.
"Remarkable," he said softly, a trace of resignation in his tone. "Severus, since you've traced it this far, even if I denied it, you wouldn't believe me, would you?
"Tom was, in all likelihood, the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen. Over thirty years ago, I taught him myself here at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore drifted into memory, his gaze growing distant, as if transported back to that far-off time.
"Later, he left school and disappeared, traveling the world, his footsteps reaching the farthest corners, sinking deeper into the mire of Dark Magic, mingling with the wizarding world's most wicked.
"After many dangerous magical transformations, he reemerged as Lord Voldemort. By then, he was barely recognizable.
"Almost no one would connect Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome Head Boy who once studied here."
"So it really is him," Snape murmured. "Out of all the paths he could have taken, he chose the worst one."
He turned his gaze to Dumbledore, who was smiling faintly.
"I'm glad you've made a different choice, but I must ask you to stop pursuing this.
"You're still a student, not yet of age. Your task now is to learn and keep yourself safe.
"Also, please don't share this with anyone else. It could put them in danger."
"Very well, sir. I won't. Thank you for your trust," Snape said, though his expression was as blank as a cow listening to a symphony.
Snape couldn't suppress a yawn.
"It's getting late, Professor. Shall we call it a night?"
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Goodnight."
After leaving the Headmaster's office, Snape descended the spiral staircase slowly.
As he reached the gargoyle, it leapt aside, revealing the passage to the corridor.
Moonlight streamed through the high corridor windows, casting a silvery glow across the floor.
Snape had already started down the steps to the dungeons when he suddenly remembered the mess he'd left in Myrtle's bathroom during his fight with James. The place was still in disarray.
"Ugh, my own doing. Better go fix it."
He checked the Marauder's Map for any signs of trouble.
Satisfied it was safe, Snape turned and climbed the stairs to Myrtle's bathroom, pushing open the wooden door.
The sobbing inside stopped abruptly.
"Severus!"
Myrtle swooped to the door, her emotions exaggerated as she cried out.
"You came back to see me so soon!"
"What?!"
Snape nearly drew his wand in alarm.
"Er—yes, I'm back. Myrtle, how have you been since I last saw you?"
"Wonderful," Myrtle said, her face suddenly radiant. "I was starting to think you'd tricked me again."
"Oh, I'm really sorry about messing up your bathroom tonight."
"It's fine," Myrtle said gently. "If it's you, I don't mind."
"Huh?"
A sinking feeling hit Snape, urging him to flee. He had no desire to be the next Ning Caichen.
If there was a secret buried deep in his heart, it was this: he wouldn't mind a trip to the forests of Albania to see if he could still do something for Nagini.
"Wait, don't say anything."
Snape hurriedly waved his wand, pacing the bathroom.
With flashes of light, the shattered glass from his fight with James pieced itself back into a whole mirror, settling above the stone basin.
Warped candelabra straightened in midair, snapping back to their original places. Candle stubs flew up, reigniting with a dim yellow glow.
A pile of broken porcelain mended into a pristine toilet.
Every cracked, torn, or chipped surface in the room returned to its original state, the stains on the floor and walls vanishing as if scrubbed clean.
"You're so thoughtful," Myrtle said, sniffing as if on the verge of tears. "I don't know how to thank you."
"No need," Snape said quickly. "I've got to go. Goodbye."
"Can't you stay?" Myrtle said reluctantly. "I could let you have all these stalls."
"No, thanks!" Snape bolted for the door. "No need to see me out!"
Slamming the bathroom door shut, Snape finally exhaled.
"What a nightmare…"
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