Chapter 681: The Resurrection Stone
"Severus, I believe you've forgotten what just happened, haven't you?"
Dumbledore asked nonchalantly as he rose from the ground, dusting off his robes as though nothing unusual had occurred.
Who would have thought that the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts, widely regarded as the most powerful wizard in the world, could be knocked to the ground—on his face, no less—by one of his own professors? If word of this got out, his reputation would be in tatters.
Dumbledore wasn't certain how he felt about it, but he was positive that Dugald McPhail would be ecstatic, likely trembling with excitement. And if McPhail found out, it would only be a matter of time before the entire wizarding world knew.
To prevent such a catastrophe, Dumbledore even entertained the fleeting thought of silencing Snape permanently.
Well... this place is secluded, unfrequented, and fully furnished. It would be perfect for someone wracked with guilt, like Severus, to remain indefinitely. No one would ever find him, of that I'm certain, he mused.
Meanwhile, Snape stood there, his focus inexplicably lingering on the sensation in the soles of his feet. He hadn't noticed it before, but now, seeing Dumbledore's disheveled state, a peculiar realization dawned. Why did it feel so... pleasant?
It was as though he had stepped into a stream of Felix Felicis mixed with phoenix tears—a profound, inexplicable relief and satisfaction radiating from his feet, spreading through his entire being.
If only there were a spell to preserve this feeling forever.
"Severus..."
Dumbledore's voice pulled him from his reverie. Snape blinked, suddenly aware of an icy draft swirling through the room.