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[Hogwarts] Ch 68: Snape Has Another Meltdown
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 18:01:42 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
"Dragon heartstring—this one's essential. Can't leave it behind. Gotta take it all."
"Dragonblood… not bad quality. Half should be enough."
"Ah, sphinx claws and eyeballs? Definitely taking those. You never know when you'll find them again."
"Got lacewings already—fresh ones from the Forbidden Forest. No need to grab these."
"…And this one… probably useless?"
Tom paused in front of two horns sealed inside glass jars. Twin-horned beast horns—not quite unicorn, but still very rare and valuable.
"Not useful right now, but you might need them later," Andros said inside his head. "I know at least a few high-grade healing potions that require these. They're especially effective against dark magic."
Hearing that, Tom didn't hesitate—he packed them up jar and all.
And since he was already raiding the place, he threw in some Boomslang skin too. Who knew? Maybe one day he'd need to brew Polyjuice Potion.
After all, it was way more reliable than Transfiguration. Even Dumbledore had trouble spotting it. Barty used it to infiltrate Hogwarts for a whole year—and only got caught because he exposed himself.
By the end of the sweep, Snape's office looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
Tom, who had a touch of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), couldn't stand the mess. So once he had everything he wanted, he even took the time to reorganize the place for Snape.
Looking at his work, Tom nodded in satisfaction.
Now it looked like a proper office—spacious and clean. Not like the chaotic mess it was before, with ingredients and cauldrons stuffed into every corner. The whole room had felt more like a storeroom than a professor's office.
So really, this counted as a good deed.
Honestly, Snape had been acting way nicer to Tom lately. He was a lot calmer now, and whenever Tom had questions, the man would actually take the time to explain everything in detail—really laying it all out.
The change was so drastic, Tom had even wondered if someone had used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Snape.
But the knowledge was real, and incredibly advanced.
So… it had to be the real Snape.
That made Tom hesitate for a second. Was it really okay to rob the guy like this? He was teaching him valuable magic, after all. This felt a little… backstabby.
But two and a half seconds later, Tom made his decision: Yeah, still doing it.
At the end of the day, Tom was a pragmatist. Power came first. And professors were supposed to reward talented students, right?
Worst case, he'd just pay Snape back later.
He wasn't sure how he'd do it… but the opportunity would come eventually.
With that guilt out of the way, Tom finished his little shopping spree without a care in the world.
[Bonus: Sneaking Into a Professor's Office at Night — 20 achievement points.]
Not wanting to risk Snape coming back early, Tom made his exit fast. Mission complete, he returned to the Slytherin common room.
The entrance was at the top of the dungeon level, and you had to go down a long spiral staircase to reach the actual room. So no one even noticed the door had been opened. No one suspected a thing.
The whole operation had gone perfectly.
In a great mood, Tom found Daphne and sat down to play a few rounds of wizard chess with her.
— — —
Meanwhile…
In a second-floor girls' bathroom…
Professor McGonagall, a bruised and limping Quirrell, and Snape had all gathered.
The place was a disaster. The whole bathroom was wrecked. A massive unconscious troll lay bound in enchanted iron chains, held down by four burly magical constructs.
Surrounding it were the three professors—plus Harry, Ron, and… a ghost girl wearing glasses.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" McGonagall's lips were tight, her eyes blazing with fury behind her spectacles.
"I told you to go back to your dorms! What are you doing here!?"
Ron was pale as a sheet. Harry didn't look much better—dripping wet and covered in grime.
"S-sorry, Professor," Harry stammered. "Ron and I never made it to the feast. We ran into the troll first."
That gave McGonagall pause. If they'd missed the feast, then… they really wouldn't have heard about the emergency. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Harry in the Great Hall earlier.
As for Ron… well, there were just too many Weasleys. One missing didn't stand out.
Just as Harry started to think they might get off easy, Snape chimed in coldly:
"Oh? Mr. Potter missed the Halloween feast? Must've been something really important to pull you away from that kind of food. Let me guess… planning a prank, were you?"
"Of course not!"
Harry answered a little too quickly—then realized he had no idea what excuse to use.
Was he supposed to admit that he spent the evening comforting Ron, who'd had a meltdown after getting verbally annihilated by Daphne?
Yeah, right.
Even Harry knew that would permanently destroy Ron's dignity.
"I… I wasn't hungry. Just wanted to walk around a bit. Ron came with me. We were on our way to the feast when we ran into the troll."
Snape didn't buy it for a second, but before he could push further, McGonagall cut in:
"Regardless of the reason, you two nearly caused a disaster. To make sure you don't do this again, Gryffindor will lose twenty points."
With the punishment handed out, Snape could only grunt in disapproval. "…So how exactly did you two manage to knock out a troll?"
His tone dripped with disbelief.
Honestly? Harry and Ron agreed.
They had no idea either.
Harry quickly ran through what happened.
He'd been trying to cheer up Ron, who was still emotionally wrecked after Daphne's brutal takedown—when out of nowhere, the troll showed up.
They hadn't even thought about fighting it. Their first instinct was to run for their lives.
But the troll smashed through the wall between the boys' and girls' bathrooms… which happened to be where Moaning Myrtle was haunting.
The moment the troll saw her, it went berserk—swinging its club wildly, trying to hit her.
Of course, a ghost can't be touched. The more it missed, the angrier it got. Eventually, it swung so hard it lost its balance, slammed headfirst into the wall…
…and knocked itself out cold.
"You two are incredibly lucky," McGonagall muttered, giving them both a stern glare. Then she turned to Myrtle.
"Thank you for saving them, Myrtle."
Myrtle blushed and looked down shyly. "Oh, um… no problem. They could repay me with a kiss or two~"
She snuck a quick glance at Harry.
Harry: "....."
Lady, I'm a child.
With the crisis resolved, McGonagall ordered Harry and Ron back to their dorms.
She stayed behind to clean up, Quirrell was left to deal with the troll, and Snape was sent to inform Dumbledore.
— — —
Headmaster's office
Snape limped into Dumbledore's office.
The headmaster, as if expecting him, was already sitting behind his desk, waiting.
He glanced down at Snape's leg, visibly concerned.
"Severus, what happened?"
"That damn dog," Snape growled as he sat down. "I barely stepped into the room—didn't even close the door. It charged me before I had a chance to react."
"I couldn't go all-out, so… it bit me."
Dumbledore looked like he was about to laugh… but managed to hold it in.
Snape wasn't just a potions master—he was a magical prodigy who'd invented multiple spells during his school days. Most of them were nasty curses or borderline dark magic.
If he'd really tried, no way would a three-headed dog have gotten the jump on him.
No, this wasn't just a case of being careless.
He'd panicked. Probably worried that Quirrell had already made his move and rushed in without any protection.
…Or maybe… it was something deeper.
He thought back to the last time he had checked on Fluffy. Snape's reaction afterward had been… memorable.
Had he been traumatized? Maybe triggered into some kind of fight-or-flight response?
"Severus, actually—here's what I think happened…" Dumbledore began gently, explaining his theory.
Snape's face went from blank disbelief to deadpan fury.
Had that little gremlin Tom set him up again?!
He slammed the desk, the sharp thud! echoing through the room. "That boy! He's up every night wandering around the castle instead of sleeping—how is this acceptable!?"
"Dumbledore, I strongly recommend giving him detention. Serious detention!"
Dumbledore, ever the expert in subject changes, smoothly deflected: "Did you run into Quirrell while you were up there?"
Just like that, Snape was distracted.
"No. I was coming downstairs as he was going up. We met halfway and headed to the bathroom together to meet McGonagall. There's no way he got to the floor before me."
Dumbledore nodded. "Sounds like Quirrell was just probing—testing the defenses. Now that he knows they're tight, he'll probably try a different approach."
Snape agreed with that assessment.
Unfortunately, while the conclusion was correct… their reasoning was way off.
It's not that Quirrell didn't want to show up.
It's that after getting trampled nearly to death earlier, he spent a solid few minutes just lying there, stunned. By the time he managed to crawl to the second floor, Snape was already on his way down. There was no chance to sneak off.
With their discussion over, Snape dragged his injured leg back to his office.
Fluffy's fangs were venomous, and regular healing spells wouldn't cut it. He needed a proper antidote brewed from magical ingredients to even start the healing process.
Thankfully, his storeroom had everything he needed. As long as he got started tonight, he wouldn't fall behind.
He pulled out his key and opened the door. With a flick of his wand, the fireplace roared to life and the candles lining the shelves lit up, filling the room with warm, flickering light.
And then… Snape froze.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again.
Was this… his office?
Why did it look so empty?
Where shelves used to be stacked with bottles, flasks, and ingredient jars, now two whole shelves were just… gone. And the rest were only half full—if that.
His expression shifted from confused… to stunned… to full-on rage.
Then, ultimate evolution: pure, unfiltered Snape Red Mode.
He'd been robbed.
And judging by the damage, the thief had been efficient.
His injury forgotten, Snape shot across the room like a man possessed, darting from one shelf to the next, tallying up what was missing.
It didn't take long. He knew his collection inside and out.
Minutes later, he collapsed into his chair, dazed.
Good news: All the ingredients needed to brew the antidote were still there. No delays on that front.
Bad news: Everything else was practically wiped out.
The rarest ingredients had been cleared out completely. The slightly less rare ones had been picked over—some left with half, some with just a third remaining.
"..."
"This thief… sure knew what they were doing!"
The words squeezed out between his clenched teeth as he gripped the armrests hard enough to make the wood groan.
"Quirrell… if I catch you, I swear I'll make you pay for every last vial… with blood!"
He didn't even consider anyone else.
To Snape, it was obvious that Quirrell was the culprit.
What other suspicious people were there in Hogwarts? Students might steal a little here and there, maybe grab something they needed for class—but this? This was wholesale theft. The thief didn't come to "borrow" supplies; they came to stock up.
And on top of that, he'd run into Quirrell earlier, heading upstairs. The man had looked nervous, trying to avoid eye contact.
Everything fit.
…Now he just had to pray Dumbledore would cover the damages.
He'd bled for this school. The least they could do was reimburse his losses!
Snape lay there for nearly half an hour, paralyzed by grief over his looted stockpile.
Eventually, he took a deep breath, forced himself upright, and started brewing his antidote.
.
.
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Comments
Mc54322
Ok this was hilarious
