Flobberworm

When Snape posed this question, Slughorn's relaxed expression instantly froze.

He looked at Snape in shock, his fat fingers unconsciously tightening around the stem of his goblet.

He slowly licked his lips and asked hoarsely, "What did you say?"

"I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes, sir." Snape's face remained calm, as though they were discussing the weather. He casually flicked his wand toward the door, casting a Silencing Charm, then tucked it back into his robes.

"What did you use your wand for?" Slughorn's tone had changed completely. It was no longer friendly, but full of wariness and hostility.

"A Silencing Charm, sir." Snape explained calmly and unhurriedly, "To prevent anyone from eavesdropping. An outstanding Auror once taught me, 'Constant vigilance.'"

"All right, all right." Slughorn waved a hand impatiently. "But that isn't something you should concern yourself with, child."

He paused, and his voice turned stern. "I know nothing about Horcruxes, and even if I did, I would not tell you! Leave at once, and don't let me hear you mention that again!"

"You know nothing about Horcruxes, sir?" As though he had not heard the dismissal, Snape instead stepped closer to Slughorn. "I had thought that if there were a professor at Hogwarts who could offer guidance on Horcruxes, it would certainly be you. So I wanted to ask."

"What did you say?" Slughorn looked disgusted as he said with distaste, "Is that so? Then you were wrong, weren't you? Completely wrong!"

He roared the final words and reached out, intending to shove Snape from the office.

"Was I wrong, sir?" Snape still refused to move. "I had also wanted to ask you what I should do if I found a Horcrux in the castle."

The look of revulsion on Slughorn's face could no longer hold. His round face seemed to cave in, making him look increasingly pale and haggard.

"What did you say?" It was already the third time he had repeated those words that day, his voice filled with disbelief.

"I found a Horcrux in the castle." Snape emphasized every word. "It looks remarkably similar to the descriptions I read in a book in the Restricted Section of the Library. I think it is a Horcrux."

"What book?" Slughorn fumbled around in his breast pocket for a while, then drew out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Quidditch Through the Ages by Ulick Gamp," Snape answered simply.

"Oh, Dumbledore!" Slughorn suddenly cried out, unusually calling the Headmaster by his surname. "That book should not be there!"

"But it is there, sir." Snape continued without reacting. "If I can see it, then others can too, can't they?"

"Perhaps," Slughorn said quietly, still incessantly wiping his pale face. "Although I know nothing about Horcruxes, as a Head of House, I can still help you examine that thing which resembles one. Where is it?"

"If you know nothing about Horcruxes—nothing at all," Snape said, staring into Slughorn's eyes and forcefully repeating the words, "then there is no need for you to be so nervous, sir."

"In that case, I needn't trouble you with it. I'll go directly to Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I'm not nervous!" Slughorn's voice was unnaturally loud as he stammered, "Yes, Albus, you can go to him, but I can help you as well."

"I would very much like to have your help, sir," Snape said. "That is precisely why I stayed behind tonight. But we need to be honest with each other, don't we?"

"You needn't be so clever and curious, Severus." Slughorn muttered somewhat unhappily as he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Your curiosity will lead you into mistakes."

"That is something very evil, very evil... What exactly do you want to know?"

What did he mean, I needn't be so clever? Snape thought. If you old fools were capable enough, would I need to work myself to the bone like this?

Watching Pandora conduct experiments or having a glass of Mead at the Three Broomsticks—either would be far more pleasant than facing your wrinkled old faces.

The entire British Wizarding World was actually waiting for a baby to be born, relying on him and his parents' sacrifice before they dared celebrate in secret for a little while, yet hardly anyone even dared speak Voldemort's name.

Snape could not help feeling bitterly indignant. How ridiculous. If I don't step forward now, who will?

How could the Wizarding World ever prosper with a bunch of Flobberworms like this!

This was so that more people could survive together!

Coming back to himself, Snape stared into Slughorn's eyes and said, "Purely out of curiosity, sir. I want to know whether a soul can only be split once. Would splitting it into more pieces be better?"

Slughorn's hand jerked violently, and the goblet he held fell to the floor with a smash, shattering into pieces.

"What did you say?!" Sweat began streaming from Slughorn's face.

One of his fat hands trembled as it reached into his pocket. It took him far longer than before to pull out the handkerchief again, and he shakily wiped at the beads of sweat pouring from his brow.

"You—" Slughorn now looked deeply unsettled. He glared at Snape, his eyes filled with fear and anger, but above all, worry. "You—why are you asking such questions too—"

"—Too?" Snape caught the slip in Slughorn's words. "Has someone asked you the same question before, sir?"

"No!" Slughorn clearly already regretted taking part in this conversation, and he was nearly unable to control his voice. "Don't ask me, I don't know!"

"You still haven't answered my question, sir," Snape pressed relentlessly. "I am merely curious why someone would leave a Horcrux so casually in a place that so many people could visit."

"A Horcrux is such a precious magical object that I cannot help wondering whether its owner may have made more than one. What do you think, sir?"

Slughorn retreated several steps and, in his panic, bumped into a chest of drawers. Several bottles atop it swayed and clattered, nearly falling.

"How many times can a soul be split at most, sir?" Snape continued to press. "When the person who asked you the same question before asked it, what did you tell him?"

"According to the magical theory of the famous Arithmancer Bridget Wenlock, isn't seven the most powerful magical number? For example, seven pieces—?"

Thanks to FeatherS for the monthly ticket.