Snape Robbed

"Since I refused Voldemort, there hasn't been a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who could teach me for more than a year."

Back in his office, Dumbledore sat down in his chair and said softly.

"We lost an excellent professor almost every year, and it took me several years to realize it."

Voldemort cast a curse on this position—a very powerful curse. Even I cannot break it.

"It will only be automatically deactivated when Voldemort dies," Dumbledore said.

"Therefore, I had no choice but to take appropriate measures to deal with this situation."

Dumbledore- called measures were quite obvious: he specifically selected problematic dark wizards to serve as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

The Dark Lord dealt with the Dark Wizard perfectly.

He even invited Black Malfoy to take the position.

Black Malfoy, Lucius's father, was a man of considerable experience and a veteran of many battles.

He immediately saw through Dumbledore's sinister intentions and wrote to the headmaster, using the most vicious words to insult Dumbledore's family.

They even smugly humiliated him in the Daily Prophet.

Then... the following year, Old Malfoy contracted Dragon Pox and died.

On the day of the funeral, Dumbledore also sent a bouquet of flowers to express his condolences.

This is truly a sad story.

In those years, rumors circulated about death invitations.

The most vicious curses people have against others are. "Your mother will definitely receive Dumbledore's owl tonight."

It's just that the Wizarding World doesn't have insurance, otherwise there would definitely be a bunch of wizards committing insurance fraud.

If things get even more ruthless, the professor's relatives could gather all his distant aunts and uncles, unfurl a banner, place a coffin, play music, and have him lie down in front of the school.

No matter Dumbledore in his vaults, it won't be enough to cover the losses!

The Wizarding World is still so peaceful and simple, almost as peaceful as Gotham.

"William, I'm curious, how did you manage to destroy that soul without destroying this Diadem?"

Dumbledore fingers traced the Scabbers Diadem.

"Dementor? I found a dying Dementor in France, and seeing it was all alone, I took it in," William said.

His tone suggested that he had unintentionally picked up a wild Dementor.

Dumbledore gave William a half-smile, glancing at him but ignoring his ambiguity.

Everyone has secrets.

Dumbledore himself had many.

In the words of his brother Aberforth, "That bastard learned to keep secrets on my mother's lap. Secrets and lies, Albus... no one knew them better than him."

"Professor, there's something else I need to tell you." William's smile gradually faded.

"When the Dementor devoured that soul, they saw a small amount of Voldemort's memories."

"What did it see?" Dumbledore squinted.

"I asked him about the Horcrux, and it said the diary... Slytherin's Ring, Gaunt Shack!"

"Slytherin's Ring... Gaunt Shack?" Dumbledore frowned, as if deep in thought.

"Besides the diary and Slytherin's Ring, did the Dementor see anything else?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.

William shook his head.

"Voldemort's soul had completely disordered memories; most of them were vague or were memories of murder."

It only saw the diary and the Slytherin's Ring.

"It's probably because Voldemort tore souls apart too many times," Dumbledore sighed. "But it's already very good, William. You and Hermione have done an excellent job."

At least, we now know the whereabouts of another Horcrux.

Dumbledore stood up and paced slowly around his office.

"Are you free this weekend, William? I think we should make a trip to the Gaunt Shack."

William thought for a moment and said, "Saturday morning probably won't work; there's Quidditch Match against Slytherin."

"Oh, of course! We can go after lunch; the match is very important," Dumbledore said gently.

"I don't like to miss any of the ' Community Cup ' ten-pillar bowls games."

"Community Cup?"

"The Sunset Red Retirement Home, where there's a group of elderly wizards," Dumbledore said.

Are you confident about Saturday's game?

You should ask Professor Snape about that.

Since Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, I've maintained a perfect record against them!

I think this will be a remarkable record.

"I will relay your words to Professor Snape," Dumbledore soft laugh.

"Professor, that's not very fair of you. Gryffindor's House Points are at the bottom, there's no need to drag us down with them, is there?" William said helplessly, spreading his hands.

"What? Gryffindor is already at the bottom?" Dumbledore asked, feigning surprise.

"This was simply unimaginable in my time."

Before the two could finish speaking, there was a knock on the door.

William quickly put the Diadem into the Safety Watch.

"Please come in," said Dumbledore.

Professor Snape pushed open the door and walked in with a grim face.

He suddenly caught sight of William and frowned in surprise. Why was Stark always there whenever he came?

Was it intentional?

Professor Snape glanced at William and said sourly:

"Oh dear, I've come at the worst possible time! If I had known he was coming, I wouldn't have come."

"..." Severus Daiyu Snape, is that you?

"Or should I head out first? Mr. Shidake and Miss Know-It-All- All weren't here last night, probably busy saving the world, right?" Professor Snape said sarcastically.

"Is it time to report on work?"

"You discovered that?" William chuckled. "This is a Ministry of Ministry of Magic secret, it can't be revealed to outsiders, Minister Fudge just gave me that instruction."

Snape snorted and didn't continue the argument.

William thought that if Snape became the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, his death would be very simple:

His strange and unpleasant manner led to bronchitis, causing difficulty breathing, and ultimately suffocation and death.

"Severus, what's wrong?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"My office has been burgled; someone broke in!"

Did you lose something?

The veins in Snape's shiny temples throbbed terribly as he roared:

"The Potions ingredients in my private storage room are gone... There's no doubt someone's trying to make a forbidden Potions..."

William had to admire the thief's audacity.

The timing was excellent. Professor Snape has been patrolling outside since last night and hasn't had time to check his office at all.

This is truly a great opportunity to make a move.

"Is it Peeves?" Dumbledore asked.

"It wasn't him!" Snape squinted. "I sealed my office with a spell; only a wizard can get in!"

Snape glanced at William.

"You don't doubt me, do you? Although I wasn't in the Great Hall last night," William said speechlessly.

"Maybe."

Although Snape said that, he immediately ruled out William.

With his back against the Forbidden Forest, Centaur, Acromantula, and Hagrid helped him collect the materials.

Now we're essentially raw material suppliers; we have no shortage of various magical materials.

Of course, the possibility that Stark and Miss Know-It-All might be seeking thrills cannot be ruled out.

"It was probably Weasley's doing," Snape said through gritted teeth.

"He was writing a self-criticism in my office during the dinner last night! He had every opportunity to do so."

William and Dumbledore exchanged a glance.

"Of course, it could also be Black! Or some professor who's so poor he can't even afford to eat, who helped him steal it!"

The phrase "so poor they can't even afford to eat" undoubtedly refers to Professor Lupin.

Professor Trelawney was quite poor, but she was so poor that she couldn't afford sherry for the rest of the month.

"You remember our conversation, Headmaster, right there on the office stairs—oh—at the beginning of the term, right?" Snape said.

"I remember, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying a hint of warning.

"It seems—almost impossible— that Black won't get into this school without inside help, and my Potions ingredients... these are all dangerous signs..."

"I don't believe anyone in this castle would help Black get in. Nor do I think anyone would steal your things," Dumbledore said.

His tone made it clear that this matter was best left unresolved.

Snape's ashen face turned an ugly brick red, and the vein in his temple throbbed even more vigorously.

William shifted back slightly, afraid that his blood vessels would burst and splatter bat blood all over him.

Snape glared at Dumbledore angrily, turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

This time he learned his lesson and didn't get his hand caught; instead, he shattered the carved glass on the door.

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