At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the last ray of the setting sun melted into the gaps between the treetops.
Severus Snape stopped and looked around.
After confirming that no creature, human or magical, was nearby, he raised his wand and cast an advanced warding spell.
The air around him quivered faintly.
Only then did he take from his pocket a square object tightly wrapped in multiple layers of parchment.
With a tap of his wand, a faint crackling sound followed as the layers of protective enchantments unraveled, revealing a black-covered diary within. It looked ordinary, yet seemed to devour the lingering light around it.
Under Snape's direction, the nearby dead branches and fallen leaves twisted as though guided by an invisible hand, assembling themselves into a crude wooden table and chair.
"Lumos."
The tip of his wand glowed with cold white light. Snape sat down, opened the diary, and looked at the blank page illuminated by the glow.
He dipped his quill into the ink bottle he carried, held it above the page for a moment in hesitation, then let it fall.
"Are you there, Riddle?" The ink spread quickly across the page.
The reply came almost immediately. Those smooth, italic letters appeared not only on the page but seemed to echo directly in Snape's mind:
"Of course, Severus. I've been thinking about how to help your... special friend."
"Then? Any progress?" Snape wrote quickly. Nagini stirred faintly within his robes, the cool scales brushing against him.
"If your friend could still occasionally turn back into human form," the ink shifted and reformed, "it would be much simpler." The words paused before continuing, "But since she's been permanently trapped in serpentine form, it's not so easy."
"So, you still have a way?" Snape wrote calmly.
This time, the reply came slower, the letters seeming more deliberate:
"I can help you absorb the curse in her soul, but it will take a long time."
"You're not just a simple memory, are you?" Snape narrowed his eyes, probing directly. "A portrait couldn't do this."
"You should be glad I'm not," the letters sharpened, "otherwise, how would you hope to save your precious friend?"
"Then what are you?" Snape wrote slowly, curious how much Tom was willing to reveal.
"I'm a being who can help you," Tom replied. "That's enough, isn't it, Severus?"
Silence stretched between them. An owl hooted in the distance, and the shadows of the Forbidden Forest deepened with dusk.
Snape felt Nagini shifting uneasily against his chest, sensing his tension.
Finally, he wrote, "Alright. What do we need to do next?"
"Let your snake friend write something in my diary."
"Oh?" Snape wrote, almost imagining the smug, superior expression on the other's face. "You don't think that's a bit unreasonable? How is a snake supposed to write?"
"I don't mean actual writing," Tom replied with thin patience. "Have her mark something. Doodle, if you must. She just needs to trust me."
"Trust you?" Snape wrote back. He felt a flicker of unease, Riddle had always possessed a dangerous charisma, particularly over women. But this was just a diary, an object. It shouldn't wield such influence. At least, he hoped not.
The diary seemed to sense his hesitation and grew curt: "Figure it out yourself. Talk to her, or forget it."
Snape stared at the words for a long while before writing, "Wait."
He set down his quill, gently stroked Nagini's body, and murmured, "Nagini, come out."
The small green snake emerged from his collar, gliding along his arm onto the wooden table, raising her head to meet his eyes. Under the wandlight, her eyes gleamed a translucent green.
"Now, Nagini," Snape hissed softly in Parseltongue, "you need to leave a mark on this notebook, like this." He picked up his quill and drew a small line on the diary's edge. "It doesn't matter how, but you must believe it won't hurt you, at least, not while you do it."
Nagini tilted her head, eyes glimmering with confusion. Her tongue flicked rapidly, tasting the air. Snape repeated himself patiently several times, using the simplest words to make sure she understood.
The green snake straightened and brushed against his chin, her moist tongue flicking his cheek, leaving a cool trace, her way of showing understanding.
Snape studied her jaw structure and realized she couldn't grasp the quill with her mouth. His gaze dropped to her tail, and an idea struck him.
"Got it." He murmured, pulling from his inner pocket a strand of unicorn hair shimmering with pearly luster.
Unicorn hair was remarkably strong; he deftly used it to tie the quill to the tip of Nagini's tail. The snake watched quietly, showing no resistance.
When he finished, she curiously moved her body, the quill's tip tracing meaningless arcs in the air.
"Just like that. Good." Snape guided her tail above the open diary. "Now, try moving it."
At first, Nagini's movements were clumsy and uneven. The ink left broken, scattered traces across the page. Snape patiently steadied her tail, helping her adjust her pressure while murmuring soft corrections.
As she moved, the ink soaked into the paper and vanished without a trace, as though devoured by something unseen.
The crescent moon rose silently, replacing the last crimson light of dusk with silver glow.
Nagini showed no outward change. Snape frowned at the diary but didn't stop. He guided her to keep smearing ink, replenishing it when needed.
Time lost meaning. Perhaps an hour passed, or longer. Nagini's movements grew slow, her bright eyes dimming.
Noticing her fatigue, Snape gently stroked her head, untying the quill.
"That's enough. Rest." He said softly. Nagini obediently slithered back into his inner pocket, curling into a small coil and quickly falling still.
Snape picked up the quill again, ready to ask Riddle about the results.
Suddenly, the diary shuddered violently. Thick black fluid oozed from the pristine paper, like venomous blood seeping from a wound, dripping down onto the wooden table.
A sickening hiss accompanied the stench of burning smoke.
Snape recoiled instantly, watching as the black liquid corroded the table's surface, leaving honeycomb holes.
When it dripped to the ground, the surrounding grass withered into black rot, releasing a foul, decaying odor.
Only after the final drop dried did Snape cautiously approach again.
The diary remained unscathed. The pages, pure white, spotless.
"What was that, Riddle?" he wrote with a new quill.
"Blood curse," Tom replied tersely. The letters were messy, ink spattered, as if the process had strained him too.
"So it worked?" Snape's eyes brightened. He wrote urgently, "How many more times before she can return to human form?"
"What do you mean, how many times?" The letters suddenly turned wild. "Tell me, Severus, how long has your friend been trapped as a snake? I didn't expect such a powerful curse!"
"It's been... a while." Snape hesitated before writing.
"How long, exactly?" Tom's script nearly tore through the paper.
"Uh, around... fifty years."
"What, " A single question mark appeared, followed by a long silence. It was as if the person on the other end had stopped breathing, stunned.
When the reply finally came, the handwriting was eerily neat, cold:
"I've suffered a loss this time. At this rate, my power won't be enough to remove the curse."
"Then what would it take?"
"You'll need to communicate more openly with me," Tom wrote. "Less concealment. More honesty."
Snape's fingers pinched the quill tightly but didn't write for a long time. He knew exactly what Tom wanted.
"You're interested in my soul too, aren't you?" he wrote clearly.
"I need energy," the diary answered bluntly. "What's your answer?"
"Let me think about it." Snape quickly finished writing, then closed the diary firmly. He wrapped it again in parchment, three layers, and sealed it before putting it away.
Just as he raised his wand to clear away the remains of the wooden table and chair, faint footsteps made his body tense.
He turned instantly, wand lifted, then lowered it just as fast when he saw who it was.
"Ah, what a lovely evening! Professor, how long have you been here?"
"For some time," said Dumbledore calmly. His blue eyes twinkled with warmth, but the sharpness beneath it was unmistakable.
"You saw everything?" Snape asked.
"Yes. The werewolves' new camp looks rather well-built." Dumbledore walked closer, his gaze falling on the ruined table. "It seems that diary truly is a Horcrux."
"Yes, as I said before." Snape's shoulders eased slightly. From his pocket, he took out the sleeping Nagini. The little snake, utterly exhausted, coiled weakly in his palm, her scales dulled. "Look, did the process have the effect we anticipated?"
Dumbledore extended his long fingers, hovering them above Nagini's body. His expression turned serious, and he nodded slowly.
"To some extent, yes," he said softly. "But you must still be cautious."
"I know," Snape replied, carefully returning Nagini to his robes.
"And keep an eye on her condition," Dumbledore added, his gaze kind yet penetrating behind the lenses.
"I understand," said Snape. "Shall we head back?"
They walked out of the forest in silence.
As they approached the stone steps before the castle, Dumbledore drew two crystal vials from his robe, the liquid within shimmering with a silvery-blue glow.
"This is from Mr. MacKinnon," he said. "After I told him you needed a soul-nourishing potion, he crafted this, his finest formula."
Snape accepted the vials. The potion shimmered faintly, like condensed starlight.
"How are the MacKinnons?" he asked, thumb brushing the smooth glass.
"They're doing quite well," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "With their movement restricted, they've even put on a bit of weight."
"Please thank them for me." Snape tucked the vials away, a faint smile crossing his lips.
Back in the Slytherin dormitory, he lay on his four-poster bed, staring at the green curtains.
The waters of the Black Lake cast shifting ripples of light across the ceiling. A giant squid's tentacle slid slowly past the window, casting a fleeting shadow.
After taking the potion gifted by Mr. MacKinnon, Nagini coiled beside his pillow, breathing softly in sleep.
Snape closed his eyes and drifted into a silver-white dream.
In the haze, a green serpent glided through the grass, then slowly lifted itself, transforming into a girl with gentle dark eyes.
She moved with airy grace, like mist carried by the wind, her bare feet brushing the grass with a faint whisper.
That soft sound drew his gaze irresistibly.
Half dreaming, half awake, he felt himself suspended in the dark waters of the Black Lake, caught between the shadows below and the wavering light above, drifting amidst tender strands of kelp.
He didn't move. His eyes simply followed her.
She approached lightly, naked, moonlight flowing across her skin.
When her cool fingertips touched his wrist, he gazed at her through half-lowered lids.
Suddenly, she pushed him down into the soft meadow, winding around his limbs like a serpent.
She raised herself, her fragrant hair brushing teasingly against his neck.
He smiled, arms tightening to hold her, but she arched and slipped free of his grasp.
In the dim light, her body glowed faintly.
Her head tilted back, black hair streaming in the air.
Her skin was cold as snow, smooth as silk.
Her eyes, dark and deep, reminded him of spirits of the water.
The world swayed, he was falling into a sea of white blossoms.
The waves surged. The currents roared.
...
Snape awoke with a start and turned. The small green snake lay quietly coiled beside him.
"Tom, oh Tom," he murmured, sitting up and looking at the diary wrapped in parchment under the dim light, "you're testing me with this?"