Harry Potter: The Golden Viper
0459 Ideas

0459 Ideas

Slytherin House's Head of House and Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had his office in the dungeons. Perhaps it was due to the constant dampness and darkness, but there was always a faint, musty smell lingering in the air. Coupled with the various potion ingredients and plant materials stored there, it was not a place most people would replace pleasant.

Achoo—

Standing outside the office, Bryan was immediately hit by the odor seeping through the crack in the door, causing him to sneeze. He rubbed his nose and muttered a few words of discontent before bypassing the formality of knocking. Instead, he used magic to remove the protective wards guarding the office.

An eerie, greenish light seeped out from behind the now-open door. It emanated from a collection of jars filled with preserved plant and animal specimens, lining the wall. Snape turned his head, his face expressionless, and cast a cold glance at Bryan.

"I must say, I preferred your manners when you were a student at Hogwarts, Bryan," Snape said in his trademark icy tone. "You were much more polite back then."

"It was a necessity back then, Professor," Bryan replied calmly without flinching, slipping his wand back into the folds of his robes. "I'm not particularly fond of formalities these days."

Snape's lips curled into a mocking snort as he returned his attention to the task at hand, grinding lionfish spines into a fine powder over a shallow basin on his desk. It was clear from the man's brief demeanor that he was not in the most amiable of moods.

Undeterred, Bryan chuckled lightly and strolled past Snape, entering the smaller adjoining room where the school's rarest and most expensive potion ingredients were stored. Familiar with the space from his own student days, he began to inspect the meticulously organized shelves with open fascination.

"Hmm, a new shipment, I see," he murmured, plucking a small glass vial from the midst of a particularly well-stocked crate. Holding it up to the eerie green light, he examined the contents closely. "Ah, gillyweed – and in such perfect condition! This must have come directly from its natural habitat, not one of those dreadful wizard-bred varieties grown in bathtubs. This is worth a small fortune!"

"Put it down, Bryan," Snape said coldly, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder. "That is reserved for my seventh-year students preparing for their N.E.W.T.s."

"Of course, of course," Bryan acquiesced, carefully returning the vial to its place. His gaze continued to rove the shelves, taking in the dizzying collection of exotic ingredients before his attention was drawn to Snape's movements.

Professor Snape had finished grinding the lionfish spines and was now standing at the sink, meticulously washing his hands.

When Snape returned to his desk, he found Bryan wandering back into the main office and picking up a bottle of Invigoration Draught. Without waiting for permission, he uncorked the stopper and took a large sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction.

Snape's thin lips twitched at the casual disregard for his personal stores, but after taking a deep breath he managed to suppress the urge to throw Bryan out of his office. Instead, he stared at Bryan with a penetrating gaze, his voice deceptively calm as he asked a seemingly unrelated question.

"What's the deal with that woman?"

"Which woman are you referring to, Professor?" Bryan arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye. "I know quite a few ladies—"

"The one who brought you such 'notoriety' that you even outshone our beloved Headmaster for a time," Snape replied calmly, ignoring Bryan's attempt at humor. "The papers say she's a dark witch from Albania, and that you once tried to put her in prison, but she escaped. Lately, replaceing the truth in the Daily Prophet is harder than getting a straight answer from that fugitive's godson."

It took Bryan a few seconds to realize who that "fugitive's godson" referred to. He chuckled, but rather than answer the question directly, he countered with one of his own.

"Didn't you ask Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore says he knows nothing," Snape said, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Bryan's face. "He told me only you can answer this question."

"Some of what the Daily Prophet reported came from me and is true." Bryan admitted, meeting Snape's probing gaze calmly. "I did try to capture her, and yes, she did manage to slip away. But that incident didn't take place in Albania, as they claimed."

He paused, a faint smile appearing across his lips. "As for the nature of the grudge between us, well, that's my little secret, Professor."

Snape's posture stiffened at Bryan's words.

There was only one reason why Professor Snape would pay attention to Cliodna, and his next words confirmed Bryan's suspicions.

"That woman serves the Dark Lord, doesn't she?" Snape pressed on, his voice tinged with barely concealed alarm.

"Why would you think that?" Bryan's lips curled slightly as he looked into Snape's eyes, trying to discern what lay hidden in the dark depths. But the emotions there were shrouded in mist, making it impossible to read. "Did Dumbledore tell you something?"

Bryan had initially thought Dumbledore might have mentioned how Cliodna had appeared first in Harry's box that night, making a big show of trying to take Harry away, leading Snape to suspect something. However, judging from the fact that Professor Snape subconsciously pulled his sleeves down after hearing his question, it should not be the case.

"Did the Mark react that night?" Bryan asked quietly, his eyes briefly flicking towards Snape's covered forearm.

Snape's body stiffened for a moment, instinctively wanting to avoid the topic. For reasons unknown even to himself, he was reluctant to discuss the Dark Mark on his arm with Bryan. But eventually, he overcame this hesitation. With a barely perceptible nod, his tone turned grim.

"I had just Apparated back to my doorstep that night when the Mark flared up more violently than it had in the last ten years. For a moment, I thought the Dark Lord was right inside my house—"

Recalling the unease of that moment, Snape's breathing hitched. He stared at Bryan's calm face and continued, "After thoroughly checking my home and replaceing nothing amiss, I immediately went to Hogwarts to report to Dumbledore. But Minerva told me Dumbledore had just been summoned by the Minister of Magic. It wasn't until the next day that I learned from the newspaper what had happened the night before."

Snape's face turned an alarming shade of white.

"Dumbledore didn't want to say much, but the Daily Prophet practically laid out the duel between you, that woman, and the wizard you fought with at last—"

Snape's fists clenched tightly under his sleeves, his lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body tense.

"I know him, Bryan. Given his current situation, there's no way he would risk orchestrating such a pointless attack. What is he planning?"

Sirius, Remus, and even Severus—all of them were elites in the British wizarding world, yet just the hint of a shift in the wind had unsettled them. It was clear how much they had suffered under Voldemort's regime and Dumbledore's reluctance to share more with Snape and others likely stemmed from his understanding that they needed time to come to terms with the growing tension.

"The witch I dueled at the Quidditch World Cup is indeed a new ally of the Dark Lord," Bryan said, his tone somber. "I'm not sure what led them to join forces, but it's certainly not his charisma. As for the masked Dark Wizards who first appeared after the match, they were just brought in by a fool to cause chaos. But Cliodna – she was there to kidnap Harry."

Snape's complexion paled further, This was news to him.

"—From what I can gather, the plan to kidnap Harry during the Quidditch final wasn't the Voldemort's idea. He only risked showing himself in the crowd to save his newly recruited, hard-earned assistant from me—"

As Bryan took his leave of the dungeons, Snape remained rooted to the spot, a haunted expression etched upon his features. He was beginning to realize that the Dark Lord was willing to stop at nothing to return to the public eye, forcing Snape to confront the ghosts of his past that he had tried so desperately to bury for years.

The night had deepened, and a torrential downpour now lashed against the windows of Hogwarts, the howling wind making the ancient castle feel as if it were sinking into the abyss, with nothing visible outside.

In his dimly lit office, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, dressed in a flowing nightgown and engrossed in the pages of a thick book. Apart from him, the previous headmasters in their portraits on the wall and Fawkes on his golden perch were all soundly asleep.

Dumbledore's calm demeanor did not seem to be disturbed by Bryan's sudden arrival though a trace of helplessness appeared on his wrinkled face when Bryan unceremoniously tossed a stack of documents onto the desk. However, when Bryan spoke his first sentence, Dumbledore's expression morphed from one of helplessness to one of sheer astonishment.

"Have you ever considered making Hogwarts independent, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

The warm and comfortable atmosphere in the circular office changed after Bryan's seemingly unintentional words, and became somewhat tense. Even the Sorting Hat, which had been diligently composing a song for the next evening's Sorting Ceremony from its perch on the shelf behind Dumbledore's chair, paused, its brim no longer swaying and a crack near the hat's edge, resembling a mouth, slowly opened.

Dumbledore, masking his surprise behind a composed expression, closed the book he had been reading. His piercing blue eyes, behind half-moon spectacles, bore into Bryan with a gaze as deep and heavy as the ocean, though his voice remained gentle.

"Making Hogwarts independent... That's an interesting thought, Bryan. When did you first come up with this—"

"Don't get me wrong, Headmaster—"

Bryan remained at ease despite Dumbledore's weighty gaze. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled slightly.

"I'm not suggesting that Hogwarts should become a second Ministry of Magic, vying for power with Cornelius Fudge's administration, and eventually replace them."

"What, then, do you mean?"

Dumbledore's gaze didn't waver.

"The only way for Hogwarts to be free from the Ministry's jurisdiction is if Hogwarts *is* the Ministry. Failing to see that would be foolish. What I'm saying is—" Bryan's eyes pointed to the stack of documents on Dumbledore's desk as he spoke calmly. "I do believe that having a Board of Governors overseeing Hogwarts is somewhat unnecessary."

A sudden silence fell over the room. The oppressive intensity of Dumbledore's gaze vanished as he took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair like Bryan, rubbing his brow gently.

In his sleep, Fawkes emitted a melodious, unconscious warble, while Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, slyly opened one eye, casting a look of admiration toward Bryan before quickly pretending to be asleep again.

As Dumbledore looked at the young face across the desk, a face far more composed than most of his age but still vibrant with youthful energy compared to his own, his lips twitched slightly.

"You didn't come up with this idea just to get rid of these tedious application processes, did you, Bryan?"

"To be honest, a considerable part of the reason is because of this--" Bryan chuckled, his voice light and cheerful.

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