Hogwarts i am snape

The Chamber of Secrets reeked of Basilisk blood, a truly unpleasant scent. "Hiss—" Snape gasped, his fingers fumbling with the ties of his mask.

When the stained mask was finally pulled away, he greedily gulped down a few breaths of relatively fresh air, only to find that his hands trembled uncontrollably now that the thrill of battle had faded.

He sank onto the damp floor of the Chamber, feeling a sharp pain with every breath. Gritting his teeth, he pulled two vials of potion from his robes.

After downing the deep purple pain-relieving potion, a cool sensation spread from his stomach throughout his body, instantly easing his agony. Next came the silver healing potion; upon drinking this, a tingling itch spread from his broken ribs as the bones rapidly knitted back together under the potion's magic.

Once he had recovered some strength, he carefully carried Dobby closer to the Chamber's entrance, gently laying him on a flat stone slab.

"Thank you, little fellow," Snape murmured, lightly brushing dust from Dobby.

The house-elf's face still held an expression of fury. His reddish-brown face had turned a pale, ghastly grey due to the petrification.

His gaze shifted to the other end of the Chamber—those roosters, enlarged by a powerful charm, stood almost motionless, eyes closed in contemplation.

Their vibrant feathers stood out remarkably in the dim Chamber, their red combs like burning flames.

Only the speckled rooster remained, strutting proudly, its sharp beak still scratching at the ground, pecking at the scattered Basilisk flesh and blood.

"Come here, cluck, cluck," Snape called, puckering his lips, trying to coax these heroes to a safe spot.

The roosters haughtily held their heads high, ignoring his summons. The speckled rooster even gave him a disdainful glare.

He narrowed his eyes, assessing the positions of the fallen stones. These creatures were clearly cleverer than he'd imagined. He then raised his wand, pointing it at the scattered rocks, and uttered, "Reparo!"

With a swish of his wand, the broken stones immediately soared into the air, automatically reassembling into pillars and ceiling, rumbling back to their original places.

The colossal noise of the stones returning to their positions finally startled the roosters awake. They flapped their wings, clucking and scattering to avoid the falling debris.

When the last stone settled, the Chamber was restored to its former glory. Salazar Slytherin's stone statue still gaped, its eyes hollowly observing everything.

The only difference was the lifeless, scale-shedding Basilisk lying before Snape. The monster's massive body was covered in wounds, its yellow-green eyes half-open, utterly devoid of light.

Snape strode towards the Basilisk, stopping ten feet away. He raised his wand and cautiously cast, "Diffindo!"

The moment the spell struck the Basilisk, a large patch of scales flew off, and black blood spattered onto the ground like rain. The Basilisk remained unresponsive—it was truly dead, then. Snape finally let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, a nearly imperceptible smile gracing his lips.

He pulled a pair of dragon-hide gloves from his small bag and carefully reached for the Basilisk's head.

From the monster's gaping maw, venomous fangs gleamed, and poison still slowly oozed from its lower jaw.

Snape held his breath and plunged the goblin-made dagger he held deep into the Basilisk's jaw, right up to the hilt. Venom trickled down the hilt, hissing as it touched the dagger's surface.

The weapon to destroy a Horcrux was now acquired, and he nodded in satisfaction.

Next, he had no intention of letting the Basilisk's precious body go to waste.

Snape aimed his wand at the Basilisk's teeth. Unlike common snakes, every one of the Basilisk's fangs contained venom.

Under the influence of a Levitation Charm, the Basilisk's first curved, gigantic fang gently swayed with his arm and was finally uprooted. He swiftly moved it into a prepared dragon-hide pouch. One, two, three—when he had collected the twentieth, the Basilisk's mouth was utterly bare.

"And the scales," he mused, looking at the now calm roosters, which were eagerly pecking at the Basilisk's exposed flesh. "As well as the meat." Thinking of their contribution to this battle, he shook his head, implicitly allowing their actions. "Eat your fill; you've earned it."

He began collecting the Basilisk scales scattered on the ground. Each of these dark green scales was the size of his palm, with edges as sharp as knives. They could be used for crafting top-tier armour or for brewing certain extremely rare potions.

After dissecting Slytherin's inherited bounty, Snape felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him again. He leaned against a cold stone pillar to rest for a moment, estimating the value of his spoils.

"At least three to five thousand Galleons, I'd say," he thought, and at the mere idea, a surge of energy seemed to flow back into his body. "This is a King of Serpents that lived for over a thousand years."

He took out a large quantity of parchment, reinforced it with spells, and used it to wrap each part of the Basilisk before placing them into his small bag, which was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

Despite the Feather-light Charm, the bag was still astonishingly heavy. When he tucked it into his robes, they sagged considerably.

"Now, it's your turn. Come back with me." Snape turned to the roosters, raising his wand. "Reducio!"

A flash of magical light, and the roosters remained unchanged, still the size of hounds. Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise.

He tried again, but the result was the same.

"Could it be that eating Basilisk blood has given you magical resistance?" he murmured in astonishment. "You're not ordinary roosters anymore?"

The roosters proudly held their heads high, as if confirming his suspicion. One even spread its wings, flapping a few times, creating a small whirlwind.

Snape pondered for a moment, deciding to put this problem aside for now. He needed to get Dobby to the hospital wing as quickly as possible.

"All right, big fellows, follow me."

With that, he tore a few strips of cloth from his robes and tied Dobby to his back, then strung the seven roosters together with the original rope. These mutated creatures docilely allowed him to handle them, though their eyes still held a proud gleam.

Hagrid must have trained them well, he thought. These roosters were indeed gentle—at least they wouldn't attack him.

Lighting his wand, Snape, carrying the house-elf and pulling the roosters, walked out of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Come on, Dobby, let's leave this place," he whispered, though the petrified house-elf couldn't hear him.

Passing through the dim, empty, echoing room, they returned to the tunnel.

The tunnel sloped upwards, Snape's footsteps and the occasional clucking of the roosters echoing in the narrow space.

After turning bend after bend, they finally returned to the pipe's entrance.

Snape took out the Cleansweep Three broom he had purchased earlier, put his wand away, and awkwardly straddled the broom.

"Up!" he commanded, and the broom shakily ascended, agonizingly slow.

At this rate, he wouldn't reach the surface until next year. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so frugal in this matter, Snape couldn't help but think.

Just then, the roosters he was holding suddenly flapped their wings and soared past him, the powerful pull nearly yanking him off the broom.

"What in the—" he exclaimed, quickly clamping his legs around the broom and tightening his grip on the rope.

The roosters whisked him through the pipe, flying upwards, cold air whipping at his hair and robes. Snape quickly recovered his composure and began to enjoy the thrill of this unprecedented mode of flight.

Alas, the journey was too short—in a blink, he landed on the damp floor of the girls' lavatory.

The sink that concealed the pipe automatically slid back into place, hiding all traces.

The roosters looked particularly majestic in the dim light of the lavatory, their eyes bright, their long tail feathers proudly swaying, as if awaiting Snape's praise.

"Truly magnificent, all of you," Snape sincerely expressed his respect to a flock of poultry, then waved his wand to clean the dust and blood from his robes.

After Nagini slithered back into his robes, he untied Dobby from his back. Looking at the house-elf's stiff face, he decided to leave the roosters in the lavatory for the time being.

"Stay here," he told the preening roosters. "I'll be back in a bit."

The evening corridor was empty, only his footsteps echoing between the stone walls.

He carried Dobby towards the hospital wing on the same floor.

As he pushed open the hospital wing doors, Madam Pomfrey was dozing in an armchair, her head nodding, a copy of the Daily Prophet still clutched in her hand.

Hearing the sound, she jolted awake, her gaze immediately falling upon the house-elf in Snape's arms.

"What's happened?" she rose, walking quickly towards the door, directing Snape to place Dobby on the nearest bed. "Over here." Her voice was a little hoarse from sleep, but she immediately adopted her professional demeanor.

Madam Pomfrey swiftly examined Dobby, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper. "He's been petrified," she finally announced, looking up at Snape. "Snape, are you injured?" Her gaze swept over his torn robes.

"No," Snape replied curtly, then couldn't help but press Madam Pomfrey further. "Will Dobby be alright?"

"His life isn't in danger. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him." Madam Pomfrey, her face stern, pulled the curtains around the bed. "But what exactly happened? A regular Petrificus Totalus wouldn't cause this effect."

"Well, an unforeseen magical accident," Snape explained.

"Students shouldn't be experimenting with nasty Dark magic at school," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "I believe you're well aware of that. Wait here, I'm going to inform the Headmaster."

"We needn't bother the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey," Snape said. "It was just an accident."

"I don't think so," Madam Pomfrey huffed, then swept out of the hospital wing.

"Fine," Snape shrugged, walking around the curtains to Dobby's bedside. He hadn't intended to tell Dumbledore so soon, but he supposed it would be difficult to keep secrets from the Headmaster in this castle, so be it.

He gently adjusted the pillow beneath the house-elf's head, making him more comfortable.

Then, he walked to the window, looking past the swaying Whomping Willow towards the Quidditch pitch in the twilight.

There was no match today, but a few blurry figures in the distance were still soaring through the air on brooms, chasing each other in the sunlight.

Soon after, a knock sounded at the hospital wing door again. Madam Pomfrey entered with Professor Dumbledore.

"What's wrong with Dobby, Severus?" Dumbledore walked to the bedside, drew back the curtains, and carefully examined Dobby. His crooked nose nearly touched the house-elf's stiff, greyish-white face. He peered at him through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently poking here and there.

Dumbledore murmured some strange words and tapped the house-elf with his wand. But Dobby remained unresponsive, still lying there stiffly, like a freshly prepared specimen.

Finally, he straightened up.

"As you said, he's not dead," Dumbledore said softly to Madam Pomfrey. "I know of a potion that can bring Dobby back to life. But Poppy, might I have a moment alone with Severus?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and left, returning to her office.

"Severus, I believe we need to talk." Dumbledore turned to Snape, his voice gentle but firm. "Decades ago, I witnessed the same situation.

"At that time, I was not yet Headmaster, and an old friend we know was still at school.

"Several students fell into this state back then, and tragically, one girl lost her life in the end—"

"Moaning Myrtle, I know who you mean, Professor," Snape interjected directly. "I found and entered the legendary Chamber of Secrets. From now on, you won't have to worry about similar incidents—the Basilisk in the Chamber has been killed by me."

"That was dangerous, Severus," Dumbledore said sternly, showing no hint of praise or surprise. "You should have told me instead of going in alone."

"Thank you, Professor," Snape said. In truth, he had gone to the Chamber alone because he didn't want Dumbledore to obtain the Basilisk's fangs, which would provide a means to destroy a Horcrux.

"My judgment was indeed poor," he added, lowering his eyes. "It won't happen again."

"Very well." Dumbledore nodded. "How did you manage to kill the Basilisk?"

"A rooster's crow is fatal to a Basilisk," Snape replied. "A very clever idea," Dumbledore said approvingly, a flicker of acknowledgment finally in his blue eyes. "A monster that lived for a thousand years, dying at the beak of the most common fowl. Sometimes, a rooster can be more effective than a phoenix. But—"

He paused for a moment and asked, "Why did you do this?"

Snape didn't answer immediately.

He slowly pulled the dagger, steeped in Basilisk venom, from his robes and drew it from its sheath.

"This dagger has been imbued with Basilisk venom," he said calmly, holding the dagger between them. The blade glinted in the hospital wing's light. "As far as I know, Basilisk venom is an incredibly destructive substance. It has only one antidote, the exceedingly rare tears of a phoenix.

"And this goblin-made dagger can absorb and amplify what it touches."

"So, where have you put Ravenclaw's Diadem, Professor?" he asked.

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