Upon hearing the question Snape had just thrown at him, Slughorn's relaxed expression instantly stiffened. He stared at Snape in shock, his plump fingers unconsciously tightening around the stem of his glass. He slowly licked his lips, his voice hoarse as he asked, "What did you say?"
"I asked if you know about Horcruxes, sir," Snape replied, his face calm, as if discussing the weather. With a casual flick of his wand towards the door, he cast a **Muffliato Charm**, then tucked his wand back into his robes.
"What are you doing with your wand?" Slughorn's tone had completely changed, no longer amiable, but filled with suspicion and defiance.
"A **Muffliato Charm**, sir," Snape explained calmly and unhurriedly. "To prevent eavesdropping. An excellent Auror once taught me, 'Constant vigilance.'"
"Alright, alright," Slughorn waved a dismissive hand. "But that's not something for you to concern yourself with, my boy." He paused, his voice turning stern. "I know nothing of Horcruxes, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you! Get out at once, and don't let me hear you mention it again!"
"You know nothing of Horcruxes, sir?" Snape asked, as if he hadn't heard Slughorn's dismissal, stepping closer to him. "I thought if there was any professor at Hogwarts who could offer guidance on Horcruxes, it would surely be you. So I simply wished to inquire."
"What are you saying?" Slughorn asked, his face etched with distaste, his voice filled with revulsion. "Is that so? Well, then you are mistaken, aren't you? Terribly mistaken!" He bellowed the last word, reaching out to push Snape out of his office.
"Am I mistaken, sir?" Snape refused to move. "I was also hoping to ask you what one should do if they happened to discover a Horcrux in the castle."
The distasteful expression on Slughorn's face faltered; his round face seemed to sink in, looking paler and more haggard than ever. "What did you say?" This was the third time he'd repeated the question today, his voice filled with disbelief.
---
"I found a Horcrux in the castle," Snape stated, enunciating each word slowly and deliberately. "It bears a striking resemblance to the descriptions I read in a book from the Restricted Section of the library. I believe it is a Horcrux."
"What book?" Slughorn fumbled in his breast pocket for a moment, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his sweating forehead.
"*Secrets of the Darkest Art* by Orla Brock," Snape answered simply.
"Oh, Dumbledore!" Slughorn suddenly exclaimed, unusually using the Headmaster's surname. "That book shouldn't be there!"
"But it is there, sir," Snape continued, unperturbed. "If I can see it, others can too, can't they?"
"Perhaps," Slughorn whispered, still constantly wiping his pale face. "Though I know nothing of Horcruxes, as a Head of House, I could certainly take a look at this... *thing* that appears to be a Horcrux. Where is it?"
"If you know nothing of Horcruxes — *nothing*," Snape said, looking into Slughorn's eyes, emphasizing the words. "You needn't be so anxious, sir. If that's the case, then there's no need to trouble you. I'll simply go directly to Headmaster Dumbledore."
"I am *not* anxious!" Slughorn's voice was unnaturally loud and stammering. "Yes, Albus, you can go to him, but I can help you too!"
"I would very much appreciate your help, sir," Snape said. "That's precisely why I stayed tonight. But we need to be frank with each other, don't we?"
"You don't need to be so shrewd and inquisitive, Severus," Slughorn muttered, somewhat displeased, as he stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. "Your curiosity will lead you astray. Those are very evil things, very evil... What exactly do you want to know?"
*What does he mean, I don't need to be so shrewd?* Snape thought. *If you old chaps were more competent, would I have to exert myself like this? Visiting Pandora's experiments, or enjoying a tankard of mead at the Three Broomsticks, either would be far more pleasant than facing your wrinkled old faces!*
The entire British wizarding community, waiting helplessly for the birth of a baby, relying on his sacrifice and that of his parents, only daring to be secretly pleased for a brief moment, yet few still dared to utter Voldemort's name. Snape couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache: *How ridiculous! At this point, if I don't step forward, who will? How can we ever improve the wizarding world when we're surrounded by Flobberworms like these! This is for the survival of everyone!*
Snapping back to the present, Snape stared into Slughorn's eyes and said, "Purely out of curiosity, sir. What I'd like to know is, can a soul only be split once? Wouldn't splitting it into more pieces be better?"
Slughorn's hand jerked, and the cup he was holding clattered to the floor, shattering into pieces. "What did you say?!" Sweat beaded on Slughorn's face. One of his plump hands trembled as he fumbled in his pocket, taking much longer than before to retrieve his handkerchief, shakily wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"You—" Slughorn now looked utterly distressed. He stared at Snape, his eyes showing fear, anger, and more than anything, worry. "You—why would you ask such a question—"
"—Also?" Snape seized on the slip in Slughorn's words. "Has someone asked you the same question before, sir?"
"No!" Slughorn was clearly regretting this conversation, barely managing to control his voice. "Don't ask me! I don't know!"
"You haven't answered my question yet, sir," Snape pressed on. "I'm just curious why someone would leave a Horcrux so casually in a place so many people can access. Horcruxes are such precious magical objects, so I couldn't help but wonder, perhaps the owner of that Horcrux created more than one? What do you think, sir?"
Slughorn stumbled back a few steps, bumping clumsily into a chest of drawers. Several potion bottles clinked loudly, nearly falling off.
"How many times can a soul be split at most, sir?" Snape continued to press. "And when the person who asked you the same question before, what did you tell him then?"
"According to the magical theory of the renowned Arithmancer, Bridget Wenlock, isn't seven the most magical number, for instance, seven pieces—?"
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