After finishing his day of teaching, Snape returned to his office to enjoy a brief moment of leisure. Soon he would have to patrol the castle. Even he—someone long accustomed to constant work—felt a flicker of resignation when he thought about the task Dumbledore had assigned him.
...
Headmaster's office.
"I may be leaving the castle tomorrow to attend to other matters. Until I return, I need you to protect the students within the castle."
Dumbledore's sapphire eyes, hidden behind his spectacles, still shone sharply as they fell upon Snape.
Snape met the gaze of the greatest wizard without the slightest trace of fear, and replied coolly,
"You're rather fond of that Fawley, aren't you? Why not let him handle this?"
Dumbledore chuckled, the sharpness in his eyes easing away.
"What? Do you think I trust him more than you? Severus, I would entrust even my life to you."
Snape's cold demeanor paused for a moment, and he turned his eyes aside.
"The students in the castle have nothing to do with me. My task is to protect that child. Nothing more."
"As for the rest of the students, let the other professors handle them."
"Don't be so cold, Severus," Dumbledore said, a touch of dissatisfaction in his tone. "The others have their own tasks. But you—I need you to keep a close watch on the third floor."
"Pay attention to any students who appear there, and any disturbances."
"The third floor?" Snape forgot to be spiteful for a moment. "You suspect Fawley? Or that idiot?"
There weren't many rooms on the third floor—just the two Defence Against the Dark Arts offices, the Trophy Room, and the abandoned girls' lavatory.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Not necessarily either of them. I suspect the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lies there—perhaps even in that peculiar lavatory."
"If you'd done your research, you'd know the only fatality from the Chamber opening fifty years ago occurred precisely there."
"Then why not seal that lavatory and investigate it?" Snape demanded.
"Or has your strength deteriorated to the point where you can't face a creature that might be a Basilisk?"
Dumbledore seemed entirely used to Snape's venomous tongue. He merely smiled gently.
"The Chamber has only one entrance, but the Basilisk has many exits. And what we must do is find the Heir of the Chamber."
"That's why I need you to watch the third floor closely. See if anyone suspicious appears."
The earnestness in Dumbledore's voice made the situation clear. Snape stopped arguing.
"Fine. But if the one I catch is Fawley, don't expect me to go easy on him."
Dumbledore only nodded faintly in response.
...
Thinking back on that conversation, Snape rose with a sigh.
The old man had no shortage of ways to push him toward matters unrelated to protecting Harry.
Still, Snape often found that Dumbledore's decisions turned out to be right. He would follow the instructions.
As night descended, Snape left his office, watchful as he headed toward the third floor.
The suspicion that the monster of the Chamber was a Basilisk was a theory he and Dumbledore had reached after careful study.
He hadn't faced the creature yet, but deep down he had already accepted the conclusion.
The texts were clear: the Basilisk's greatest weapons were its eyes and its fangs.
But Snape's strength was not something that fool Lockhart could compare to. As long as he was cautious, dealing with a Basilisk wouldn't be difficult.
Especially after that duel—he had trained in secret for a long time since then.
Just waiting for another chance to fight that brat Fawley, with any excuse he could find!
His thoughts churned, though none of it showed on his face.
When he reached the third floor, he walked straight toward Tver's office.
It was the only path leading to the girls' lavatory—he certainly wasn't trying to pick on Fawley~
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
But in the next second, that smirk vanished completely.
"Who are you?!"
He actually saw someone who looked exactly like him, standing right outside the Fawley office door.
With years of potion-making experience, he instantly thought of the Polyjuice Potion. His fury nearly boiled over. Someone actually dared to use Polyjuice Potion to transform into his likeness.
The flustered "Snape" trembled at his icy voice and turned around in panic. One glance confirmed everything. It was Hermione Granger.
She suspected Fawley was the Chamber of Secrets heir (Good guess, Snape sneered coldly); then had obtained a strand of his hair in class, adding it to the Polyjuice Potion (impressive—a second-year capable of brewing potions of this caliber, though a reckless Gryffindor, alas); finally, she had transformed into his likeness, intending to confront Fawley (...).
Withdrawing his Legilimency, Snape found himself momentarily at a loss for words. Bold ideas, intriguing theories, resolute execution, fearless courage. If only she hadn't transformed into his form...
As he pondered, Hermione's transfiguration began to wear off. The potion left over from Christmas was already scarce, and after pounding on his office door for ages, she was just now reverting.
In her panic, her stature suddenly shrank. Within five seconds, her petite frame was swallowed by the wide robes, and she was back to normal.
"Hermione?"
Just then, Harry, Ron, and Ginny suddenly appeared around the corner, all staring in alarm at Snape's cold smile. The three of them ducked their heads but still resolutely approached Hermione.
"If you lack brains, I can remind you once more: no wandering the castle grounds at night!" Snape swept his gaze over the cowering young wizards.
"Professor," Hermione stammered, lifting her head, "I was just… just testing the potion's effects, I didn't—"
A golden membrane of light snapped around her before she could finish. Simultaneously, her body stiffened, turning ashen pale as she fell backward, eyes wide, into Harry and Ron's arms.
The Basilisk.
Snape's hair stood on end as a palpable sense of danger surged through his heart. Damn it, these children are still here.
His expression hardened instantly. Closing his eyes as he turned, his wand was already in his hand. Without needing to see, he could pinpoint the basilisk's location.
He raised his hand and unleashed a Sectumsempra spell. Simultaneously, the floor and ceiling near the basilisk instantly transformed into sharp stone pillars, piercing deep into its body. He felt no immediate reaction, but Snape was confident the basilisk was wounded.
This technique he'd learned from Fawley. Even he had been flustered when first facing it—how much more so for the basilisk.
Snape pressed his advantage. The corridor's confines were too narrow for the Basilisk; he could strike it easily even with his eyes closed. Several successive Sectumsempra spells sent the creature reeling back. Snape could even hear the sound of its blood splattering. Its tough hide proved as flimsy as paper against the curse.
A faint, triumphant smile played on Snape's lips. If I can't handle Fawley, why should I be unable to handle you?
But then, Harry let out a sudden cry from behind him.
Damn it!
Snape snapped his eyes open, but before he could turn, a huge yellow snake pupil filled his entire vision. Snape stared blankly as the golden membrane before him vanished. His final thought before freezing solid swirled in his mind—
"Damn it, Potter—if something happens to you, I'll skin you alive to make potions!"