Graveyard

Snape quickly scanned both ends of the corridor, then tucked the map away and strode into the passage.

The mirror clicked shut behind him, blocking out the light from the corridor chandelier, plunging the passage into darkness.

He couldn't help but sigh to himself: "Ah, compared to Slytherin, I'm more like a Gryffindor now. I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to be a Sword Saint..."

"Lumos!"

A soft ball of light bloomed at the tip of his wand, revealing a stretch of flat, open space ahead, with a faintly visible stone staircase descending at its end.

Wasn't this the secret passage that would collapse while the Weasley twins were still at school?

What could this place be used for? Snape rubbed his chin, pondering. Transporting cursed items through the secret passage, or secretly releasing dangerous magical creatures?

So, should he go down and take a look?

If he ran into Mulciber halfway...

At that thought, a cold smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. He thought to himself:

Oh, no need to worry about that. That kid's destined to be a Death Eater. He wasn't Dumbledore, after all—he didn't have that unrealistic notion of saving everyone's soul.

As long as sending Mulciber to meet Merlin didn't split his own soul, it was fine.

Good luck to him.

For safety's sake, Snape extinguished the light from his wand, chose to press himself against the wall, and carefully descended the steps sideways.

Time slipped by unnoticed. He didn't know how long he'd been walking when the passage began to slope upward.

As he walked, a pungent, strange odor grew stronger and stronger.

Suddenly, Snape's head bumped into something hard.

Rubbing his forehead, he paused for a moment, then slowly pushed open the trapdoor above him, squinting as he peered inside from the edge.

Once he got a clear look at the room, Snape finally understood where the strange smell came from—the floor was covered in straw and droppings, with bones from some unidentifiable small animals scattered about.

He climbed up and closed the trapdoor again. Beneath the straw, it blended seamlessly with the surrounding floor, leaving no trace of a flaw.

This was the owlery of the Hogsmeade Post Office.

Listening to the rustling sounds around him, Snape recalled the strange pattern he'd drawn on the mirror earlier. So, it had been the outline of an owl.

From time to time, owls flew in and out, and beyond the window was a bright, starry sky.

Snape carefully avoided the bird droppings on the floor and tiptoed outside.

Nighttime Hogsmeade was eerily quiet.

The shop fronts along the street were pitch black, the outlines of distant mountains fading into the darkness. The winding road ahead leading back to Hogwarts was faintly discernible, with only the dim yellow light from the windows of The Three Broomsticks shining through.

"Where's Mulciber..." Snape muttered under his breath.

He wandered up and down the street, but there wasn't a single person in sight.

Just as he was wondering whether to approach The Three Broomsticks and peek through the window into the bar, a figure came rushing from the end of the road outside the village.

The person was wrapped in a cloak and hood, glancing nervously around as they walked.

Snape stopped in his tracks, watching calmly as the figure passed by him and entered the owlery.

This person had to be Mulciber.

Snape walked in the direction Mulciber had come from. He'd never been this way before.

The winding path led him to the barren fields around Hogsmeade. There were only a few small wooden huts here, but their attached gardens were very large.

Scattered sparsely across the gardens stood ancient tombstones. This was the Villager Cemetery of Hogsmeade.

A narrow gate marked the cemetery entrance. Snape pushed it open as gently as possible and slipped inside.

From time to time, he spotted familiar surnames on the tombstones: Rosmerta, Devis, Pudifoot...

Had Mulciber been here just now? And what had he done here?

He'd originally thought Mulciber had come to Hogsmeade to meet someone.

Snape looked around. Aside from cold stone and the bones and earth buried underground, there was nothing here.

With no other choice, he had to start heading back.

Returning to Hogwarts, Snape suddenly realized a problem: why was he waiting for the Death Eaters to act? Why not just blow up the staircase leading down from the secret passage?

No sooner said than done. He raised his wand:

"Confringo!"

"Diffindo!"

"Bombarda!"

With a series of loud blasts, the wall shed a bit of skin, and a few specks of dust drifted lightly onto the stone steps.

"Huh?" Snape stared at the scene in disbelief, muttering, "How the hell did Fred and George manage to collapse this place?"

Just then, he spotted several black dots on the Marauder's Map rapidly approaching.

Not daring to linger, Snape hurriedly fled out of the secret passage and scurried down the path toward the dungeons.

Back in the dormitory, he noticed Mulciber's bed curtains were tightly drawn.

The next day in Charms class, students were all diligently practicing the Aguamenti Charm, streams of clear water gurgling forth across the classroom.

Taking advantage of everyone's practice, Snape quietly sidled over, leaned close to Pandora, and began chatting with her in a low voice.

"Let me ask you something," he decided to consult a professional. "How do you efficiently and precisely blast a building?"

"Just use the Blasting Curse, it's simple." Pandora answered without a second thought, twirling her wand as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Simple? You've tried it?"

"Yeah, lots of times." Pandora nodded firmly.

Snape sucked in a sharp breath and pressed further, "You tried it on objects, right?"

"What else would I try it on?" Pandora looked at Snape with confusion.

"Ahem, ahem. What if the spell doesn't work?"

"Hmm... it might be because there's protective magic on it." Pandora pondered. "But most ordinary protective magic will fail under the Blasting Curse too."

"What if that protective magic isn't ordinary?"

Snape told her about the effect of his own spell.

After hearing his description, Pandora's eyes lit up with excitement.

"That needs on-site assessment. Where's that passage? I want to see it."

"Alright, I'll take you there later," Snape said.

During the subsequent practice, Pandora was still lost in her reverie, putting a bit too much force into her wand movements.

She turned the stream of water she was supposed to conjure into a water dragon, which charged straight at Professor Flitwick, who was observing everyone's practice while standing on a stack of books, blasting him up to the ceiling.

After Professor Flitwick landed, dried himself off with a wave of his wand, and punished Pandora by making her copy the sentence "I am a witch, not a baboon waving a stick," Snape said to her with some skepticism:

"Are you sure you have enough precise blasting experience?"

"Trust me!" Pandora vowed, thumping her chest.