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"Nothing, Professor," Snape said quickly, placing the Sorting Hat back on the shelf. "I was just looking."
"Albus," the Sorting Hat suddenly twitched, its wide brim splitting open like a gaping mouth. A huffing voice emerged from within. "He touched me."
What?
Snape's mind slowly conjured a question mark. Did this hat even hear itself?
"How's Professor Slughorn doing?" Snape asked loudly, eager to prevent the Sorting Hat from saying anything more absurd. "Is he alright?"
Dumbledore stepped forward, patting the Sorting Hat soothingly before speaking in a gentle tone. "Horace is asleep. I gave him some of Madam Pomfrey's Dreamless Sleep Draught."
"Poor man, tonight really wore him out," Snape said with a sigh. Slughorn had been through such an emotional rollercoaster tonight—at his age, it couldn't have been easy.
"You've worked hard too," Dumbledore said, looking at Snape with approval in his eyes. "To extract such vital information from Horace."
"But," his tone shifted, growing stern, "it seems you've forgotten what I told you last time. You're still investigating Voldemort on your own."
"That's not fair, Professor," Snape retorted, a hint of frustration in his voice. "If you're not making progress, am I not allowed to investigate on my own?"
"Oh, well," Dumbledore said with a helpless sigh. "Tonight's information is crucial, and regardless, I must thank you, Severus."
"I'm afraid I can't award you any house points this time," he continued. "This matter must remain absolutely confidential. That said, is there any reward you'd like?"
"No house points, huh," Snape thought, mentally rolling his eyes. As if I care about a few measly points. Still, he put on a regretful expression. "That's a shame, Professor. How about you give me a phoenix and make me Head Boy next year?"
"The latter is something I can consider," Dumbledore said, nodding with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "As long as you don't run off to a place like Borgin and Burkes after graduation to become an ordinary shop clerk."
"Ha, ha, ha," Snape let out a dry laugh. "Very funny, Professor. I'm far too attached to my face for that."
"Well said," Dumbledore agreed, his tone approving. "A young wizard should cherish their appearance as much as their talents."
"By the way, Severus, do you remember the McKinnon family, the ones attacked by Death Eaters over the summer?"
"I do," Snape replied, his curiosity piqued. "What about them? Were they attacked again?"
"No," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "But tonight's information has led me to a theory."
He paused before continuing.
"After their attack, I kept wondering what made the McKinnons special. Now, if Voldemort has created a Horcrux, it starts to make sense. The McKinnons have been running a small potion shop in Diagon Alley. If there's anything unique about them, it's their expertise in treating accidental soul damage—a rare skill, even in the wizarding world."
"Are you saying Voldemort sought them out to treat damage to his soul?" Snape asked.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "At the moment, I can't think of a more plausible explanation."
"Are they safe now?" Snape pressed.
"No need to worry," Dumbledore assured him. "They've temporarily closed their potion shop and gone into hiding."
Snape thought to himself: I'm not exactly worried about their safety, but that's hardly reassuring. He pressed further. "Who's their Secret-Keeper?"
"Oh, you know about that spell?" Dumbledore said, mildly surprised. "The Secret-Keeper is me."
Not a bad choice this time, Snape thought.
"Now, tell me," Dumbledore continued, "when you told Horace there was a Horcrux in the castle, were you fishing for information, or is it true?"
"Um—" Snape hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell the truth. "It's true, Professor. The Horcrux is in the Room of Requirement."
"Ah, the Room of Requirement," Dumbledore said with a soft sigh. "What a remarkable place."
"One morning," he went on, "I took a wrong turn on my way to the bathroom and found myself in a room I'd never seen before, beautifully furnished with an array of exquisite chamber pots. When I went back to investigate, the room had vanished. I suspect it only appears at half-past five in the morning, or perhaps during a waxing crescent moon—or maybe when someone's bladder is particularly full."
He chuckled. "Later, the house-elves in the kitchens told me it's called the 'Come and Go Room' or the 'Room of Requirement.' It only appears when someone truly needs it."
"But for Tom to be foolish enough to hide a Horcrux there," Dumbledore continued. "You see, Severus, this is another lesson: we should not defy nature by splitting our souls."
"I agree, Professor," Snape replied. "But I need to confirm something with you. Do you have a way to destroy a Horcrux?"
"It won't be easy," Dumbledore said, tilting his head back with quiet confidence. "But with my abilities—and I'm sorry to sound boastful—if I can't do it, no one can."
"Overconfidence isn't always a good thing, sir," Snape said, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Voldemort's taught us that much."
"You're right, my apologies," Dumbledore said sincerely. "I shouldn't be so complacent. Now, why don't you show me this Horcrux?"
"Let's go, Professor," Snape said with a resigned sigh. "I'm going to be short on sleep tonight. Can you write me a note for tomorrow?"
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed readily.
As they stood before the towering piles of objects, Dumbledore couldn't help but marvel. "This must be the accumulation of generations of students and teachers. Who knows how many stories are hidden here."
"—Or accidents," Snape added dryly.
He led Dumbledore through the maze of towering clutter, passing a stuffed troll and the wreckage of a Vanishing Cabinet, until they reached a particularly tall pile of junk.
After clearing away the objects covering it, Snape spotted the tattered sleeve of his old robe.
"Professor, don't look directly at the Horcrux," he warned. "It's enchanting—it'll make you want to put it on."
When Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment, Snape took a deep breath, trying not to focus his eyes as he carefully used magic to move the sleeve aside.
"'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,'" Dumbledore murmured, reading the inscription on the diadem. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes. "Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem."
"Professor, you—"
"Don't worry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Thanks to the extraordinary intellect heaven has granted me, I won't be so easily swayed."
"Oh."
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