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  Behind a wide desk, Albus Dumbledore was hunched over documents in the flickering candlelight.

  He wore snow-white pajamas beneath a deep purple velvet robe, yet he appeared remarkably alert.

  On a shelf behind him sat the tattered, crumpled Sorting Hat, next to a glass case containing a gleaming silver sword.

  Dumbledore looked up.

  “Oh, it’s you, Professor McGonagall. And James and Severus, good to see you again.”

  “Professor Dumbledore,” McGonagall said sharply, her voice tinged with indignation, “these two were just caught dueling with magic in the girls’ bathroom. Utterly disgraceful!”

  “It wasn’t a duel,” Snape interjected quickly. “I was defending myself.”

  McGonagall turned to glance at Snape, her brows knitting slightly.

  “Is James hurt?” Dumbledore asked.

  “I’m fine!” James snapped, his tone a mix of irritation and defiance.

  Snape, meanwhile, rolled his eyes inwardly. Who’s not being trusted here?

  “Tell me what happened,” Dumbledore said, setting his papers aside. His sharp blue eyes flickered between Snape and James. “Who wants to start?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Snape said with a casual shrug.

  James looked both resentful and uneasy. “Headmaster, I caught him sneaking into the second-floor girls’ bathroom in the middle of the night, so I went to see what he was up to.”

  “Sneaking around with a Stunning Spell, you mean?” Snape retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  He pulled a shimmering, liquid-like Invisibility Cloak from his robes.

  “Potter, care to tell us who this little trinket belongs to?”

  “Give it back!” James lunged forward, snatching the cloak from Snape’s hands.

  Dumbledore’s gaze settled on the silvery-gray Invisibility Cloak, his brows rising slightly. A fleeting, complex expression passed through his eyes, barely noticeable.

  “Sir,” Snape said, addressing Dumbledore, “do you think Potter needs an Invisibility Cloak on school grounds?”

  “Of course not,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “I trust Professor McGonagall will assign appropriate punishments.”

  He turned to McGonagall. “Minerva, what’s your view on this?”

  McGonagall nodded, recounting what she had witnessed and her proposed consequences. “Fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, and a week of detention for each, starting tomorrow at six in the evening.”

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  “Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Magic is meant for protection, exploration, and learning—not for squabbles between students. I hope you both take this lesson to heart and avoid repeating this mistake.”

  “Headmaster,” Snape interjected, “I’ve checked Mr. Filch’s list of prohibited items. Invisibility Cloaks are number one hundred and twenty-eight.”

  He had no intention of letting James keep a cloak impervious to spells—it would mean living in constant paranoia.

  “Severus,” Dumbledore said with a slight shake of his head, “even as headmaster, I can’t simply confiscate a student’s valuable possessions. This is an extraordinarily rare Invisibility Cloak.”

  “You can’t only enforce school rules when it’s convenient for ordinary students,” Snape said, his tone laced with frustration. “Is a valuable Invisibility Cloak somehow not an Invisibility Cloak?”

  “Sir,” James cut in urgently, “he was sneaking into the girls’ bathroom at night. He was up to no good, and I couldn’t just ignore it. I only used the cloak to—”

  James’s attempt at an explanation was silenced by Dumbledore’s raised hand.

  “Young people are always full of curiosity and a thirst for adventure,” Dumbledore said, his smile gentle as he fixed his gaze on Snape. “Severus, what were you doing in the girls’ bathroom?”

  “Please don’t say you were chatting with Moaning Myrtle. We both know you’re not exactly friends.”

  “I’d prefer to discuss that privately later, sir,” Snape replied evenly. “I’m certain you’ll find it intriguing—once Potter’s Invisibility Cloak is properly dealt with.”

  “Sir, it’s a family heirloom from my father,” James said, casting an anxious glance at Dumbledore. “If I lose it, I won’t know how to explain it to him.”

  Ignoring James’s glare, which carried a hint of a threat, Snape addressed Dumbledore. “You could hold onto the cloak for him temporarily and return it at the end of the term.”

  “Hm… that’s a reasonable suggestion, James,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll keep it safe for now and return it when you head home.”

  James hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding and handing the Invisibility Cloak to Dumbledore.

  “It’s getting late. You should all get some rest,” Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand. “Though perhaps Severus has something more to share with me.”

  “Wait!” James blurted. “There’s something else—a piece of parchment he’s got.”

  “That blank piece of parchment?” Snape said coolly. “You might’ve heard, I flushed it down the toilet earlier.”

  “What?” James stared at Snape, shock etched across his face. “You did what?”

  “Sorry about that, Potter. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a whole quire of parchment to make up for it.”

  “That’s not the same thing!”

  “Oh, I know. A quire’s much more, but don’t worry—it’s my way of apologizing.”

  Snape’s words seemed to push James to the brink of fury. His cheeks flushed, and his lips trembled, too angry to form a response.

  “Enough,” Dumbledore said. “Professor McGonagall, please escort James back to the tower.”

  McGonagall gave Dumbledore a curt nod and led a reluctant James out of the headmaster’s office.

  “Muffliato,” Dumbledore said, casting the spell before Snape could request it. “You can speak freely now.”

  Through his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes studied Snape intently.

  For some time, Snape had been wrestling with how to navigate this situation.

  On one hand, he couldn’t ignore Dumbledore—a wizard unmatched in both power and intellect, the so-called “white Dark Lord.” He needed Dumbledore’s help.

  On the other, taking any unconventional actions at Hogwarts without Dumbledore noticing was nearly impossible. The castle’s portraits were his eyes and ears.

  So, Snape had decided to share some of his discoveries with Dumbledore to gain his trust and support.

  Of course, he wasn’t about to reveal everything. Deep down, he still harbored reservations.

  “Professor,” Snape said, settling into the chair across from Dumbledore, “I went to the girls’ bathroom to speak with Moaning Myrtle. I wanted to learn more about Tom Riddle. Do you know him?”

  Dumbledore stood abruptly, so swiftly it startled Snape.

  His gaze locked onto Snape’s, sharp and piercing, like an icy arrow trying to bore through his eyes.

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