"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 190: For the Child Who May Yet Find Their Way
Snape pursed his lips, offering no argument.
Truth be told, Dumbledore wasn't wrong. When Voldemort returned, something like this was all too likely to happen.
Beyond his complicated friendship with Lucius and the respect Draco had shown, Snape understood that weakening Voldemort's advantage before his return was reason enough to hold his tongue.
Catching the thoughtful glint in Snape's eyes, Dumbledore continued in his gentle, unhurried tone, "Severus, truly, there's nothing you need to say…"
"All you have to do is bring Dobby back to the manor. I imagine Mr. Malfoy… will weigh his options and make the right choice, don't you think?"
Snape watched Dobby moving about, his silence unbroken.
Dumbledore paced the study, hands folded behind his back. "In fact… he's already choosing. Otherwise, he wouldn't have told young Mr. Draco Malfoy to reach out, would he?"
"As for me, I'll simply play the role of a doddering old fool… Let Hogwarts fall victim to darkness under its own roof, and give our dear Dark Lord Wyzett… the opening he's been waiting for."
A sly smile tugged at Dumbledore's lips. "I must admit, I'm starting to feel a little nervous… Our Dark Lord Wyzett might just invite me for a private chat one day, and then—flash!—a jet of green light…"
"Eager to die, are you?" Snape arched a brow. "You'll have to wait until after we've finished off Voldemort. Even if I have to pickle you in potions, I'll keep you alive, Albus."
Dumbledore chuckled, "Let's hope you can brew something sweet… Being steeped in bitter, spicy potions would be simply dreadful!"
"Ha!" Snape answered with a cold double snort.
…
The memory shifted again. This time, Dobby appeared in Lucius's bedroom.
He didn't dare linger, only snatched up the robes Lucius had worn that day and hurried out.
He turned the robes inside out, searching every pocket with frantic precision. His face grew more anxious by the second, muttering, "Gone! It's gone!"
"Master must've sent it away… It'll end up back at Hogwarts! Harry Potter's in danger! I have to do something—I have to do something!"
Dumbledore watched Dobby scurry about like a frantic insect. "He's searching for something—perhaps the magical artifact used to summon the basilisk."
"If it fits in a pocket and can be passed along so easily… it must be something small."
"A notebook?" Snape frowned.
"Oh? You've seen it before?" Dumbledore looked surprised.
"I don't know exactly what it does—just a quick handoff," Snape said, brow furrowed in thought. "I think it was during some meeting about Harold Minchum…"
"Harold Minchum?" Dumbledore's eyes lit with memory. "You mean the retaliation that ruined his reputation and forced him out as Minister for Magic?"
"That's the one," Snape nodded. "After that meeting, the Dark Lord said that with Minchum dealt with, Hogwarts was next."
Dumbledore pressed, "And about the notebook—did Voldemort seem particularly serious? Or was it just casual?"
Snape paused, focusing on the memory. "He was casual. Just said not to lose it, that it could be used to threaten Hogwarts' safety and undermine your authority."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, turning his attention back to Dobby.
Dobby returned the robes to the bedroom, then shuffled to the fireplace, picked up a poker, and began beating himself—punishing himself for daring to meddle in his master's affairs.
…
With a dizzying swirl, Dumbledore and Snape left Dobby's memory behind and found themselves once more in the headmaster's office.
Gazing at Fawkes, the phoenix now looking more ancient and frail than ever, Dumbledore seemed lost in thought.
At last, he spoke, voice soft and slow, "Severus, what happens to Lucius is none of my concern. But for those children who might yet find their way back…"
Snape narrowed his eyes, cutting him off harshly. "Trying to atone for your past, are you?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose I am making some progress… When Voldemort returns, chaos will follow, just as it did before."
"There will always be some Slytherins… who can't help but be caught in the middle. Severus, you know exactly who I mean…"
Snape's face darkened. "Now you think you were wrong back then?"
Dumbledore neither confirmed nor denied it. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two Sherbet Lemons, and held them out. "Go home and think it over, as I said… All you need to do is bring Dobby back to the manor."
Snape didn't take the offered sweet. He cast a glance at Dobby in the corner, then swept from the office without a word or a backward look.
Watching Snape's retreating silhouette, Dumbledore stroked his beard and carefully unwrapped a Sherbet Lemon.
He popped the sweet into his mouth, raised his wand to the Pensieve, and drew out the silvery thread of Dobby's memory.
"Using emotion as a fulcrum… to pry open memory," he murmured. "An elegant idea…"
"Wyzett, you haven't disappointed me. You really can learn some fascinating magical tricks from Lockhart."
"If emotion can serve as a fulcrum, perhaps memory itself can be leveraged as well… to alter other memories?"
"Perhaps it's worth a try…" He gently swirled the silver thread, his attention fixed on the shadows in the corner.
…
As a corridor every student had to pass through, the shifting words on the walls soon drew everyone's attention.
The Ravenclaws analyzed the text itself—some even copied down the sentences and compared them to earlier versions, eager to spot every change.
Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were just there for the spectacle, hoping to sniff out who'd tampered with the wall.
The Slytherin common room had a more complex mood. Many Slytherins watched with the same curiosity as the Gryffindors, but beneath it all was a flicker of hope—
They longed for the true "Heir" to appear, to prove that the Chamber was real.
Pansy gripped her quill tightly, her mind still spinning with the altered words.
She pressed her pen to her diary, writing harder than usual, her script a wild scrawl: "Riddle, I think Slytherin's been insulted. They're looking down on us!"
[Pansy, we should hurry up… let's get that notebook finished… That way, we can put them in their place, can't we?]
"Yes! I'll do it as quickly as I can!" Pansy scribbled back. "The house-elves will deliver the materials soon. Just wait and see!"
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