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Severus Snape quickly scanned both ends of the corridor, then tucked the map into his pocket and slipped into the passageway.
The mirror behind him clicked shut, blocking out the light from the corridor's chandeliers, plunging the passage into darkness.
He couldn't help but muse to himself, "Well, compared to Slytherin, I'm acting more like a Gryffindor these days. Wonder if I'll ever get the chance to be a Swordmaster…"
"Lumos!"
A soft glow bloomed at the tip of his wand. Before him stretched a flat, open space, at the end of which a downward stone staircase flickered faintly in the light.
Isn't this the secret passage that's supposed to collapse during the Slytherin twins' time at Hogwarts?
What could this place be used for? Snape rubbed his chin, pondering. Smuggling cursed artifacts through the passage, perhaps, or secretly releasing dangerous magical creatures?
Should he go down and investigate?
If he ran into Mulciber halfway…
A cold smirk curled his lips as he thought, Oh, no need to worry about that. That fool's destined to be a Death Eater. I'm not Dumbledore, burdened with some unrealistic notion of saving every soul.
As long as sending Mulciber to meet Merlin wouldn't split his own soul, he was fine with it.
Good luck to him.
For safety's sake, Snape extinguished the light from his wand and sidled along the wall, descending the steps with cautious precision.
Time slipped by unnoticed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking when the passage began to slope upward.
A pungent, foul odor grew stronger with every step.
Suddenly, Snape's head collided with something hard.
Rubbing his forehead, he paused before slowly pushing open the trapdoor above. He squinted, peering through the narrow gap.
When he saw the state of the room, Snape finally understood the source of the stench—straw and droppings littered the floor, mingled with scattered bones of some small, unidentifiable creatures.
He climbed up and closed the trapdoor behind him. Covered in straw, it blended seamlessly with the surrounding floor, leaving no trace of its existence.
This was the owlery of the Hogsmeade Post Office.
The faint rustling of wings filled his ears, and Snape recalled the strange pattern he'd drawn on the mirror earlier. It had been the outline of an owl.
Owls flitted in and out intermittently, the bright starry sky visible through the windows.
Snape carefully avoided the bird droppings on the floor and stepped lightly outside.
Hogsmeade was silent under the cover of night.
The shops lining the street stood dark and shuttered. The distant outlines of mountains melted into the blackness, while the winding path back to Hogwarts was just barely discernible. Only the Three Broomsticks glowed with the faint, warm light spilling from its windows.
"Where's Mulciber…" Snape muttered under his breath.
He wandered the empty streets, not a soul in sight.
He was debating whether to approach the Three Broomsticks and peer through its windows when a figure appeared, hurrying from the far end of the village road.
The figure was cloaked, hooded, and glancing nervously around as they moved.
Snape stopped, watching calmly as the figure passed by and entered the owlery.
That had to be Mulciber.
Snape headed in the direction Mulciber had come from. He'd never ventured that way before.
The twisting path led him to the desolate fields surrounding Hogsmeade. A few small wooden cottages dotted the landscape, each with sprawling grounds.
In those grounds stood ancient tombstones, scattered sparsely. This was the Hogsmeade village graveyard.
A narrow gate marked the entrance to the cemetery. Snape pushed it open as quietly as he could and slipped inside.
From time to time, he spotted familiar surnames on the tombstones—Rosmerta, Davies, Patil…
Was Mulciber here earlier? What had he been doing?
Snape had assumed Mulciber was meeting someone in Hogsmeade.
He scanned his surroundings. Beyond the cold stone, the bones buried in the earth, and the dirt itself, there was nothing here.
With no other leads, he turned to head back.
Upon returning to Hogwarts, a sudden realization struck Snape: Why wait for a Death Eater to make their move? Why not just blast the staircase in the passage to bits?
No sooner thought than done. He raised his wand.
"Bombarda!"
"Reducto!"
"Bombarda Maxima!"
A series of loud explosions echoed through the passage. The walls took a slight beating, and a smattering of dust drifted onto the steps.
"What?" Snape stared at the scene in disbelief, muttering, "How on earth did Fred and George manage to collapse this place?"
Just then, he noticed several dark dots on the Marauder's Map speeding toward his location.
Not daring to linger, Snape bolted out of the passage, racing down the path to the dungeons.
Back in his dormitory, he saw Mulciber's bed curtains tightly drawn.
The next day in Charms class, the students were diligently practicing the Aguamenti Charm. Streams of clear water bubbled forth in the classroom.
While everyone was focused, Snape leaned toward Pandora.
whispering quietly to her.
"Got a question," he said, deciding to consult an expert. "How do you efficiently and precisely demolish a building?"
"Use the Blasting Curse. It's simple," Pandora replied without hesitation, twirling her wand as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Simple? Have you tried it?"
"Oh, loads of times," Pandora nodded vigorously.
Snape inhaled sharply. "You tested it on objects, right?"
"What else would I test it on?" Pandora shot him a puzzled look.
"Cough, cough. What if the spell doesn't work?"
"Hmm… probably because there's a protective enchantment," Pandora mused. "But most protective charms fail against a Blasting Curse."
"What if the protective charms aren't ordinary?"
Snape described the lackluster effect of his spells.
Pandora's eyes lit up with excitement.
"That'd need an on-site inspection. Where's the passage? I want to see it."
"Alright, I'll take you there later," Snape said.
During the rest of the lesson, Pandora was lost in anticipation, waving her wand with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Instead of conjuring a gentle stream, she produced a roaring water dragon that surged toward Professor Flitwick, who was perched atop a stack of books observing the class. The torrent sent him crashing into the ceiling.
After Flitwick landed, dried himself with a flick of his wand, and sentenced Pandora to copy the line "I am a witch, not a baboon brandishing a stick," Snape turned to her with a hint of skepticism.
"Are you sure you've got enough precision blasting experience?"
"Trust me!" Pandora thumped her chest confidently.
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