"Bullarum!"
The moment he plunged into the water, Snape struggled to utter the spell.
From the tip of his wand burst a string of silvery-blue sparks, and a transparent bubble swelled rapidly like an inflating balloon, sealing perfectly around his head like an upside-down fishbowl.
"Cough... cough..." Snape gasped and choked violently.
Sunlight filtered through the murky surface into wavering streaks, casting emerald ripples all around him.
He could feel the muscles beneath the serpent's scales undulating as it dragged him deeper with astonishing speed.
"I should have used Reducto just now," he thought fleetingly, only for a swarm of horned, green Grindylows to dart out from the tangles of waterweed.
Their fanged mouths twisted into greedy grins as they reached out with their long, twig-like fingers, clawing toward the hem of Snape's robes.
The serpent suddenly let out a hiss so deep it seemed to vibrate the very water. Snape felt the pressure on his chest ease, its coils loosened, and he was violently flung aside.
Through the dim waters, he saw the snake's thick tail whip out like a scourge, smashing a Grindylow into pulp. Green blood swirled outward in clouds.
The surge of current spun Snape around helplessly. His wand slipped from his grasp, tumbling away into the gloom. Worse still, his Bubble-Head Charm struck against a jagged rock,
with a sharp pop, the bubble burst.
"Grr- my- wand-"
Snape's muffled voice escaped in a stream of bubbles. He reached out, grasping desperately at the water, catching nothing but cold emptiness.
Before his eyes, a small green thief darted past, snatched the drifting ebony wand, made a rude gesture at him, and vanished into the depths.
At that moment, he could almost hear again the wails of the Death Eaters who had lost their wands at his hands.
Water poured in from all sides, cold, foul, thick with the stench of rotting weeds, filling his lungs.
His chest burned as if aflame; the darkness of suffocation crept in, devouring his vision.
Through the blur, he saw the serpent again, tearing Grindylows apart in fury, before coiling back around him and racing into the depths with terrifying speed.
A sound, faint and echoing, reached him from afar, water dripping.
When consciousness surfaced once more, the first thing Snape noticed was that steady drip.
He opened his eyes slowly. A soft azure glow surrounded him. The light came from colonies of luminescent organisms clinging to the rock walls, pulsing faintly like enchanted fireflies.
"I'm... still alive?" Snape's own voice startled him, it was clear, echoing faintly in the cavern.
He propped himself up on his elbows and realized he was lying in a shallow stone basin. A thin layer of water had nearly dried, leaving only damp pebbles pressed against his back.
Strangely, he felt no discomfort, no signs of drowning, no pain from the serpent's constriction. Even his ribs, once bruised and aching, no longer hurt.
Instead, he felt an uncanny vigor coursing through his veins. He was healthier than he had ever been.
"This isn't right..." Snape muttered, carefully sitting up. His robes were half-dry.
By the faint blue light, he surveyed his surroundings.
He was inside a vast cavern that opened into an underground lake. The vaulted ceiling soared high above; stalactites and stalagmites met to form massive pillars.
All around were unmistakable traces of ancient craftsmanship, collapsed stone walls, and the remnants of columns carved with archaic runes.
Snape descended a slope, his boots crunching through brittle plant remains. Kneeling, he examined the withered stems closely.
"Moonshadow Grass?" he whispered in disbelief, staring at the silvery remains of a plant he had seen only in the oldest potion texts. Even dead, the spiral veins of its leaves were visible. "A primary ingredient in the Elixir of Immortality... this species has been extinct for at least three centuries..."
The cavern had once been a meticulously designed magical garden. Most flora had turned to dust, but their arrangement suggested this had been a trove of ancient potion ingredients.
But he had no time to marvel. His immediate concern was escape.
"Just my luck. No wand either." He muttered, choosing a tunnel that bore signs of artificial construction and following it cautiously along the cavern's edge. "That fool who started all this mess is long dead, I can't even hex him for it."
The air was damp and chill. Occasionally, a drop of water struck the back of his neck, trickling coldly down his collar.
The passage twisted and narrowed. After several bends, the phosphorescent glow thinned, and Snape began wondering if he should turn back.
At the next sharp corner, he froze, two emerald slits gleamed in the darkness, fixed upon him.
"Hello," Snape said dryly, his Parseltongue hissing against the stone walls. "Lovely place, isn't it?"
The eyes blinked. With the rasp of scales on rock, the serpent's full form emerged from the shadows.
It stared at him for several long seconds, then opened its jaws wide, baring its fangs,
Snape flinched, only to see it spit out several small, silver-scaled fish. They flopped weakly on the damp stone, their gills fluttering.
The serpent nudged the fish toward him with its tail and hissed in halting speech, "Eat... eat..."
"Raw?" Snape looked at the still-twitching fish, hesitating. "I've lost my wand. I can't cook them."
The serpent tilted its head as if thinking, then said slowly, "Wait... wait..."
With that, it turned and slid away into the darkness, its scales rasping faintly against the rock until the sound faded.
While waiting, Snape examined the fish, Albanian Silverfins. Edible, yes, but their poison glands needed to be removed first. He sighed and tried to gut them with a sharp stone, but his efforts were clumsy.
By now, his suspicions about the serpent's identity had solidified.
Roughly half an hour later, the scraping of scales echoed again, the serpent returned.
It looked burdened. Its tail dragged a Grindylow's corpse, and Snape's heart sank, for clutched in the creature's hand was his wand. Or half of it.
The ebony wood was snapped unevenly, the dragon heartstring core frayed and exposed like torn veins.
"This..." Snape crouched, prying the half-wand from the Grindylow's fingers. "You didn't happen to see the other half, did you?"
The serpent's eyes told him all he needed to know.
The wand was beyond saving. Even Dumbledore, even with the Elder Wand, couldn't mend damage like this.
He looked up. In those cold green eyes shimmered something unexpected, something like regret.
The serpent nudged the Grindylow's body gently with its snout.
"Well, it's better than nothing. Thank you," Snape sighed, pocketing the half-wand. "Do you have a name? Can you tell me your name?"
The serpent regarded him for a long moment before answering in broken hisses: "Na... gi... ni..."
Snape's pupils dilated slightly. The name confirmed his suspicion, the creature before him was none other than the Maledictus once known to Newt Scamander.
Memories surfaced of a shy, gentle girl doomed by a blood curse.
And with them, questions flooded his mind:
After meeting Dumbledore with Newt outside Hogwarts in 1927, where had Nagini gone?
When had the Blood Curse trapped her permanently in serpentine form?
And why was she here, in Albania?
Before he could think further, Nagini lifted her head and hissed softly, beckoning him to follow.
She glided ahead, pausing often to glance back to ensure he kept up.
They passed through a narrow, twisting tunnel until they reached a partially collapsed passageway.
Nagini gestured with her tail toward a gap barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through, motioning for him to go first.
After a brief moment's hesitation, Snape decided to trust her. From her behavior, she had not yet fallen under Voldemort's influence, she bore no sign of malice.
He squeezed through the crevice. The space beyond was pitch-black; he had to steady himself against slick stone as he moved forward, scraping his arms and back on the rock.
After about twenty feet, the tunnel opened abruptly into a larger chamber.
His boot struck something hard, sending it rolling ahead with a hollow clatter.
Snape crouched, groping forward until his fingers brushed a slender object. His heart quickened, a wand?
He gripped it eagerly and tried a spell.
"Lumos!"
The decayed wand shuddered violently, spitting erratic sparks that nearly singed his eyebrows.
In those brief bursts of light, he glimpsed a vast hall, and the macabre sight of skeletal remains sprawled in various poses. Some wore rotting robes, others tarnished armor, their rusted weapons still clutched in bone hands.
Snape tried several illumination charms, each flickering briefly before dying. Gathering what light he could, he scavenged among the remains and found several more wands.
After some trials, one finally obeyed, a wand of dark wood with blackened silver filigree wound around the handle.
"Lumos," he murmured again. This time, a steady white glow blossomed at the tip.
In the soft light, the entire scene became clear. This had once been an expedition, likely from the Middle Ages, judging by their garb.
One skeleton stood out, seated against a wall, its robes more finely made and its bones better preserved.
In its withered fingers was clutched a roll of parchment.
Snape cast several Reparo-type restoration charms before carefully prying it free.
Though mold-spotted and faded, the magical ink still revealed fragments of words:
"...searching... legends... ancient tome... Fountain of Fair Fortune... truth... friends... twelve knights... spring... eternal power... greatest... rule... only one..."
The rest was unreadable, but the scene told the rest of the story.
He studied the dents in the armor and the skeletal postures, some locked in combat with each other.
The realization struck him: they had found the Fountain of Fair Fortune, only to learn it would grant its gift to one alone. Friendship turned to bloodshed.
He looked up sharply, recalling the dry basin where he'd awakened. The image returned vividly.
Could that have been the Fountain of Fair Fortune?
He touched his arm, his skin was unnaturally smooth, but otherwise unchanged.
"Well... the book did say the fountain's water had no magic at all," he muttered. "Besides, Severus Snape owes his success to talent and effort alone, never to luck or relics..."
Then again... "But what if..." He turned toward Nagini, who waited silently, and asked, "Nagini, the place where you put me... are there any others like it?"
Nagini stared, eyes gleaming unreadably. Then she turned and began sliding back toward the lake.
Snape hurried after her. She stopped where she had earlier dropped the silver fish.
"Ah... so not another spring after all," Snape said, a bit disappointed.
Still, hunger gnawed at him. He sat down, cleaned the fish, and tried roasting them with his new wand.
Moments later, he regarded his results with dismay: several blackened, ashen lumps vaguely shaped like fish.
"Would you like some?" he asked politely.
Nagini recoiled several feet, her meaning obvious.
"Wait, just one more try!"
He rushed to the lake's edge, raised his wand, and called out, "Accio Silverfish!"
Two loud splashes answered, followed by the sound of fish smacking against stone.
Ten minutes later, he was staring at another indistinguishable mass of charred meat.
"Look, I can explain, this wand's not well-balanced.." Snape said awkwardly.
Nagini simply closed her eyes and coiled in silence, tucking her head beneath her body.