Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [88]

Snape lay on the ground, a faint smile on his lips.

With his dark, flowing hair, he looked oddly serene.

In Bruce’s first year, Snape’s hair had always been greasy; the students joked he must have something against shampoo.

The most popular shampoo in the wizarding world was Potter’s Potion.

After Harry Potter became Snape’s favorite student, his aversion to Potter’s Potion vanished, and he even grew fond of washing his hair.

But now, Snape lay there, locked in an endless slumber.

It would be a long time before he’d wash his hair again.

Harry, devastated, clung to Snape, sobbing uncontrollably, refusing to accept what had happened.

A strong hand pulled Harry to his feet—it was Hagrid, who had just arrived.

Hagrid held Harry gently, comforting him, “It’s alright, Harry. Dumbledore will wake him up.”

The other professors were there as well.

Dumbledore’s expression was grave as he looked upon the scene.

Snape wasn’t some defenseless student; the fact that someone had been able to curse him silently and without warning meant the situation was dire.

“Hagrid, take Severus to the hospital wing.”

Dumbledore’s voice was calm. “No need to worry, everyone. The school will handle this.”

The gathered students were led away as Hagrid carried the unconscious Snape to Madam Pomfrey’s ward.

The professors followed, and, trailing behind them, was a certain owl.

—

Bruce glanced around, but there was no sign of Kathoom.

No telling where he’d disappeared to now.

He joined the Hufflepuff group, walking beside the Gryffindors.

Harry was still in tears, with Hermione and Ron doing their best to comfort him.

“I was so stupid, truly!”

Harry sobbed, “I should have listened to that house-elf and not come to school this term. Then maybe Professor Snape wouldn’t have been hurt!”

From the way he spoke, it sounded like he thought Snape had been harmed in his place.

Bruce grew curious about the house-elf Harry had mentioned, and he was about to ask when he heard a familiar sound.

It was that same strange conversation—

A man and a woman, laughing together, this time joined by a child’s giggles.

They sounded so happy.

The voices felt so familiar. Bruce swore he’d heard them before, yet no matter how he tried to recall, there was a thin veil separating him from the memory.

The truth was right there, but somehow, unreachable.

Just then, Hermione asked Harry, “Harry, did you see anything?”

“No.”

Harry’s voice was choked with grief. “I had just left him for a moment, and when I came back, he was just…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish.

But Hermione pressed on, determined to uncover any clue that could help find the culprit.

“Did you hear anything?” she asked. “Around the time Snape was attacked?”

“I-I…” Harry struggled to remember, and then it hit him—

“I think I heard a man and a woman talking, and, oh yeah, there was a baby laughing too!”

A baby?

Bruce froze.

Did he and Harry hear different sounds?

—

Snape was laid on a bed as Madam Pomfrey immediately began to examine his condition.

“Exactly the same!”

She concluded, “He’s in the same state as Miss Brown—everything appears normal, but he simply won’t wake up.”

The room fell into silence. “It must be an exceptionally dark curse—perhaps even an ancient soul-binding spell.”

Lockhart, sighing dramatically, chimed in, “I know a spell even more potent than the Imperius Curse. Once, someone used it on me, and I managed to counter it.

“I happen to know the counter-curse. Had I been there, Snape would have been perfectly safe…”

None of the other professors responded to him.

Just then, hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Professor Gael burst through the door.

His gaze landed on Snape’s unconscious form, and his expression darkened.

“Another victim—inside the castle, no less.”

Gael remarked, “And this time, it’s a professor. Dumbledore, are you losing control over your own school?

“Keep this up, and the board of governors will have you removed. No one will be able to help you then.”

Dumbledore’s face remained impassive as he replied calmly, “Thank you for your concern, Professor Gael.”

Gael shook his head, producing a small vial.

It was the memory vial he had taken to study at Dumbledore’s request.

“I’m returning this to you; I’ve reached my conclusion,” he said. “This is unlike any Dark Magic known to us, and there is no counter-curse available.”

Dumbledore nodded, retrieving the vial as it floated back to his hand.

Another glimmer of hope extinguished.

Two victims, and they still had no idea what curse had been cast.

The atmosphere grew heavier; apart from Lockhart and Gael, the other professors’ faces were solemn.

Gael surveyed the room, noticing that Dumbledore didn’t seem inclined to continue speaking.

With a sigh, Gael broke the silence. “Actually, I may have thought of a way that could help.”

“Oh?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes fixed on Gael through his half-moon glasses.

“Professor Gael, why didn’t you mention it earlier? This could be important.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Gael didn’t dwell on it, returning to the topic. “Are you familiar with mediumship magic?”

“You mean the type Gypsy witches use?”

Dumbledore’s mind immediately went there. “Using specific herbs and incense to create a mediumistic environment to communicate directly with a soul?”

Gael nodded.

“Precisely. If we can’t find a solution, we might as well try to reach Snape’s spirit and ask him face-to-face.”

“Professor Gael, this method is risky,” Dumbledore said. “Severus isn’t dead. Attempting to contact his spirit in this state could be dangerous.”

“But it would give the Ministry some closure, proof that you, as Headmaster, aren’t doing nothing.”

Gael glanced at Snape lying on the bed. “Besides, I doubt Severus would mind these details.”

There were likely to be more victims.

If they reached a truly critical point, sacrificing one to save the others might be worth it.

Gael considered it a fair trade.

“We’ll revisit this idea later,” Dumbledore ultimately declined the suggestion.

Gael didn’t press further; they didn’t yet have the materials needed for a mediumship ritual.

Once they did, he would bring it up again.

Unless—

A new lead presented itself.

At the hospital wing’s window, a silent owl took flight, vanishing into the night.

—

Since the attack on Snape, a heavy tension settled over Hogwarts.

Dumbledore wasn’t keen on accepting Gael’s proposal, as he had his own plans in mind.

Over the following days, the school’s post owls worked tirelessly.

Then, on the last day of October, the breakthrough Dumbledore had been waiting for finally arrived.

Godric Gryffindor… had returned.