Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 308: Snape’s Discovery – Two Kyles?

Eighth Floor, Headmasterʼs Office.

After seeing Harry out, Dumbledore reached over to gently stroke Fawkes, who had just risen from the ashes, his feathers sparse and wrinkled.

“He’s not telling the truth,” Snape said, stepping forward. “I can tell he’s hiding something… and he’s known he was a Parseltongue for years, yet he’s kept silent about it.”

Snape had been present in the Headmasterʼs Office when Harry arrived, and he was clearly unsatisfied.

“Severus, the boy knew nothing of the wizarding world until recently.” Dumbledore set the newly reborn Fawkes on his perch, then turned back to Snape. “Perhaps Harry didn’t think it unusual that he could talk to a snake—many wizards can. And if he were trying to conceal it, he wouldn’t have shown it so openly in the Duelling Club.”

Dumbledore held Snape’s gaze. “As for the rest… everyone has secrets, Severus. You, me… even Harry.”

Snape’s eyes flickered away from Dumbledore’s piercing look.

“Tell me what you do know,” Dumbledore continued, moving aside and taking a sip of his black tea. “About the Chamber of Secrets.”

“I don’t know,” Snape said, his voice firm. “The Dark Lord never spoke of it. You should remember, he never discussed his past.”

As he spoke, Snape bent down and, with practiced ease, gathered the ashes beneath Fawkes’s perch into a small glass bottle, as though tidying an old shelf. His movements were unhurried and precise.

Dumbledore’s eye twitched slightly. Phoenix ashes from Fawkes’s rebirth were incredibly rare and valuable, prized in both alchemy and potions. Dumbledore had planned to use the ashes to enhance the enchantments on the Mirror of Erised but had been caught off guard by Snape’s quick hands. If Fawkes hadn’t given Snape a sharp peck, he might not have kept even half.

“Severus, you…” Dumbledore began, but Snape had already pocketed the bottle and was now brushing off his robes, looking up as if nothing had happened.

“What was it you were saying, Headmaster?”

“Nothing…” Dumbledore sighed. “Would you care for some tea? It’s quite good. Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons sent it.”

Snape gave a curt nod. “I’ll take a cup, then.”

With a wave of Dumbledore’s hand, a new teacup and a small saucer of sugar appeared on the table. Snape took a sip, his expression impassive.

“You might find a bit of sugar enhances the flavor,” Dumbledore suggested.

“No, I don’t use that,” Snape replied, setting the cup down. “There is something else, though…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to use the Pensieve,” Snape said. “I saw someone in that corridor on the day Charity Burbage was attacked.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows lifted. “Who was it?”

“The glimpse was too brief,” Snape admitted. “I couldn’t get a good look.”

“Very well…” Dumbledore gestured toward a cabinet in the corner. “You know where it is.”

Snape nodded, got up, and crossed the room. Opening the cabinet door, he revealed a shallow stone basin, its rim etched with strange letters and symbols. Lifting his wand, he held it above his temple and drew out a fine silver strand—a shimmering substance that seemed to be light turned to liquid or wind made solid.

”I didn’t think I’d be doing this again,” Snape muttered, a mix of emotions crossing his face as he added his memory to the Pensieve. “You should take a look as well… I know you’re able to.”

With that, Snape leaned forward and dipped his head into the swirling surface of the Pensieve. In an instant, he found himself standing in a corridor, with Dumbledore appearing beside him. They seemed to glide forward, observing the memory as if walking.

When they reached the end of the corridor, the view shifted, catching a fleeting figure disappearing around a corner. The glimpse was brief—too brief to discern anything beyond a hazy outline.

Dumbledore’s expression tightened as he turned toward a door nearby. “That’s where Charity was attacked. The House-elves discovered her while cleaning.”

Snape nodded, and in the next moment, they returned to the present, back in the Headmaster’s office.

“What are you suggesting?” Dumbledore asked.

Retrieving his memory, Snape looked pointedly at Dumbledore. “Don’t you think that silhouette looked like someone?”

“I believe I understand your implication, Severus,” Dumbledore said, pausing. “But it’s impossible. The incident in your memory occurred in the morning, and there are witnesses confirming that Kyle was at the Quidditch Pitch, watching the match, and never left… he couldn’t have been here.”

“Is there any possibility… a Time-Turner?” Snape asked, his voice low.

“No.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Those who know enough to use a Time-Turner also understand the dire consequences of manipulating time. She would never allow Kyle to use one, not even under minimal conditions.”

Though Dumbledore hadn’t spoken a name, Snape knew exactly who he meant.

“So those last two requests…” Snape began.

“Yes, Diana refused,” Dumbledore said with a faint smile. “Two refusals in a row. I half-expected to be finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor by now.”

Dumbledore thought his remark amusing, but Snape’s expression remained serious, unamused.

“That’s precisely what I don’t understand,” Snape said, his brow furrowing. “If it wasn’t a Time-Turner, then how was he in two places at once? Could it be… Polyjuice Potion?”

Snape’s frown deepened. Someone had broken into his private storeroom not long ago, taking ingredients like Boomslang skin and Bicorn horn—key components of Polyjuice Potion. But there was a timing issue; the theft had happened only days ago, whereas Charity Burbage’s attack had been a month prior.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Severus,” Dumbledore said, pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. “All we saw was a silhouette. It could have been anyone, and there’s no need to overthink it.”

“So that’s your stance, Dumbledore?” Snape asked, looking at him sharply. “That we both just ‘got it wrong’? Don’t forget, I never said who I thought the silhouette resembled.”

“I trust Kyle,” Dumbledore replied, looking thoughtfully out the window. “Just as I trust Harry. And you.”

“Ah, I’m honored,” Snape sneered. “To be mentioned in the same breath as the ‘Boy Who Lived’ and the youngest Order of Merlin recipient.”

“Being the Boy Who Lived is a burden, not an honor. But the Order of Merlin… well, that’s another matter.” He tilted his head. “You don’t need one, Severus.”

Snape’s face darkened as he processed Dumbledore’s words. “Do you think I care about things like that?”

“If you did, you’d have earned a First Class Medal long ago,” Dumbledore replied mildly. “But others don’t always see it that way, and when it comes to public accolades, people may always consider you ‘less than’ Kyle.”

Snape’s expression soured. “All because of a gilded plaque?”

“Second Class is actually solid gold—”

“Is that what I meant?” Snape snapped, his irritation flaring.

A strange anger surged within him, something he rarely felt. He usually shrugged off any talk of fame or recognition. It didn’t bother him that others might consider Lockhart, or even Harry Potter, as more celebrated than himself. Those things never mattered to him. But, for some reason, hearing that he was thought of as inferior to Kyle stung, as though all the effort he’d poured into his work had been dismissed.

“Severus, if you’d consider publishing your potion-brewing methods, I could nominate you,” Dumbledore said with a warm smile. “I daresay you’d win a medal at the next opportunity.”

“First class?” Snape asked, unable to hide a flicker of interest.

“No, third class… or perhaps second, depending on the specific contributions,” Dumbledore replied with a chuckle.

A third-class medal… what a waste of time. Snape scoffed. “I’m not interested. I’d rather not waste my time on it,” he replied curtly.

“A pity,” Dumbledore said, winking. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”