Snape caught the small golden box that Grindelwald tossed him with steady hands.
The box was cold, and its weight pressed heavily against his palm.
He drew in a deep breath of frigid air, feeling for the tiny clasp at the edge of the lid. With a gentle flick-
Click! The lid sprang open.
Nestled within the velvet lining lay what looked like a pile of moonlight, spun into gossamer-thin fabric. It shimmered faintly in a silver-gray hue, fluid and translucent, and as Snape lifted the lid fully, its edges rippled as though stirred by an invisible breeze.
The Invisibility Cloak, an ancient artifact of immense power, one of the Deathly Hallows; and at this moment, also one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.
Seeing that Grindelwald made no move to stop him, Snape hesitated no further. Carefully, he lifted the flowing silver fabric from the box.
The cloak draped over his hands, soft and light as mist. Even without being worn, the air around it seemed to shimmer; light itself bent to avoid touching it.
Yet Snape's eyes showed no trace of greed or wonder. His other hand slipped into his robes and withdrew a goblin-forged dagger, its edge glinting with a cold, steely light.
Under Grindelwald's calm, unblinking gaze, Snape raised the dagger and plunged it down into the shining cloak.
Hiss!
A faint, muffled sound, like puncturing a water skin, broke the silence.
Then came a thin, distant scream, raw and venomous, echoing faintly in their ears before cutting off abruptly.
From the small puncture in the cloak's surface, black liquid seeped out like ink, each drop hissing as it hit the snow, burning deep pits into the ground.
Snape noticed the cloak's silvery luster dim slightly, though its ethereal sheen remained.
He twisted the blade a few more times to draw out every last trace of the tainted essence. Then, lifting the damaged cloak, he asked Grindelwald, "Is there any curse left on it? Can I wear it now?"
Grindelwald cast a casual glance at the torn Hallow in his hands. His tone was even. "No. Apart from some protective hexes, it was merely a filthy vessel. Despite the hole and the stains, it will still render you invisible."
Receiving the answer, Snape stuffed the cloak roughly back into the box, shut the lid, and slipped it into an inner pocket of his robes.
Once that was done, he drew his wand. "Shall we return?"
Grindelwald's gaze drifted briefly to Snape's hand, to the Elder Wand, and then to the pocket holding the Invisibility Cloak.
"How amusing," he remarked. "At this moment, you possess both the Elder Wand and the Cloak. Only the Resurrection Stone remains. I rather suspect it, too, might be one of his Horcruxes."
"Yes," Snape said with a faint smirk. "I think that's a reasonable assumption, Mr. Grindelwald. Though I wonder, once I collect all three Deathly Hallows, will I become the Master of Death?"
"The Master of Death?" Grindelwald's voice dripped with disdain. "Boy, I advise you not to lose yourself in fairy tales meant for children. Before you wake from that delusion, you may have already paid a price you cannot bear.
"Rather than chasing the hollow fantasy of conquering death, I prefer to think the Hallows were simply three magical artifacts crafted by ancient wizards with extraordinary skill and power. Remarkable, yes, but nothing more."
"Of course," Snape replied smoothly. "Don't worry. I'm not so easily bewitched."
The two returned to the Founders' Ark without further discussion.
....
Over the next few days, aside from his regular Potions classes, the careful brewing of restorative draughts for the comatose Professor Dumbledore, and tending to the irritable Mandrakes in the greenhouse, Snape spent nearly all his remaining hours locked in his cabin.
His focus: the three fabled Deathly Hallows.
The Elder Wand lay quietly on the desk, its surface gleaming faintly under the lamplight.
Snape picked it up again and again, feeling the vast magic coursing within. He had cast several complex spells with it, their power indeed exceeded anything his usual wand could achieve, but... that was all.
It was an extraordinary wand, yet still just a wand.
The damaged Invisibility Cloak rested in his palm, still shimmering like liquid silver.
He tried wearing it. The effect was flawless; he blended into the air itself.
Yet a skilled Disillusionment Charm or a high-quality Demiguise-hide cloak could achieve similar, if lesser, results. In the end, it was merely a superior tool of concealment.
Lastly came the black gemstone pried from the ring, a cold, dense stone with a faintly carved symbol.
Snape clenched it in his fist, closed his eyes, and turned it three times. When he opened them again, the cabin was silent. No voices from beyond, no figures from the dead. It seemed nothing more than an ordinary carved stone.
Even wearing the Cloak, clutching the Stone, and wielding the Wand all at once, nothing changed.
"The Conqueror of Death, the Master of Death? This is it?"
Though he had half-expected disappointment, Snape couldn't suppress a flicker of frustration. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, there was some hidden spell or ritual yet unknown.
He yanked off the cloak impatiently, just as someone knocked on his cabin door.
Snape stuffed both the Cloak and the Stone into his pocket, took up his wand, and strode over to unlock the door.
Standing outside was Regulus Black. The young man looked pale, a touch nervous, his dark hair neatly combed back.
"Severus," he said. "Sorry to disturb you. I wanted to borrow the Two-Way Mirror, to speak with my family. I haven't heard from them in so long. My father and mother must be worried sick."
"This mirror was yours to begin with," Snape replied, stepping aside. "Come in."
Regulus exhaled in relief and entered quickly.
Snape closed the door, went to his desk, reached into his ever-present enchanted pouch, and retrieved the Two-Way Mirror, handing it to Regulus.
"Here," he said.
Regulus accepted it with a nod of gratitude. But instead of using it immediately, he hesitated, glancing toward Snape.
"Severus... would you mind..." he faltered, "leaving for a bit? Or maybe... could I step outside?" He clearly hoped for some privacy to speak with his family.
"No." Snape leaned against the desk, denying him flatly. "What are you waiting for, Regulus? Get on with it, I have a second-year Potions class shortly."
Regulus's jaw tightened. Realizing he had no choice, he lowered his head and spoke into the mirror.
"Walburga Black."
The mirror's surface rippled like water, then cleared.
Walburga Black's gaunt, anxious face filled the glass.
"Regulus? My little Regulus! Is it you, my son?" Her voice trembled between excitement and disbelief. "Merlin's beard, you're all right? Oh, thank heavens!"
"Orion! Orion!" she cried over her shoulder. "Come quickly, it's Regulus! Our boy!"
Moments later, Orion Black's equally weary but composed face appeared beside hers. He scanned his son up and down, voice urgent. "Regulus, are you safe? Where are you? What's happening?"
Seeing their faces, the raw worry, the love, Regulus's eyes reddened. He steadied his breath and answered softly, "I'm fine, Father, Mother. Truly. I'm safe. You don't need to worry..."
He spoke of harmless matters, mundane updates, family questions.
Once Snape confirmed that the conversation contained nothing sensitive, no names, no locations, no Dark Lord business, his vigilance eased. His mind drifted, listening only for any suspicious word that might arise.
Regulus, noticing Snape's inattentiveness, relaxed. With growing ease, he spoke more naturally with his parents.
Time slipped away amid the Blacks' tender chatter.
At last, Regulus's voice pulled Snape from his reverie.
"Severus?"
Snape refocused, assuming the call was over. "Finished? Give me the mirror."
"Not yet." Regulus shook his head. "My sister wants to speak with you."
"What?" Snape's hand froze midair. "Which sister?"
"Narcissa Malfoy, of course," Regulus said, puzzled. "Who else, Bellatrix? She says it's important. She needs to talk to you. She's waiting on the other side right now."
"Oh." Snape's tone flattened. "Then hand it here."
Regulus placed the softly glowing mirror in Snape's hand, then quietly slipped out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Snape looked down.
The mirror reflected not Narcissa's face, but a blur, a glimpse of pale fabric, the edge of a chin, and a shifting background of dark drapes and ornate ceilings.
She was walking quickly.
After about ten seconds, the image steadied.
Narcissa Malfoy's beautiful face came into view. Her golden hair hung loose for once, framing anxious, storm-gray eyes.
She glanced around cautiously, ensuring Snape was alone, before lowering her voice.
"Has Regulus gone?"
"Yes," Snape replied. "It's just me. You can speak freely, Narcissa."
Hearing that, her shoulders relaxed slightly. She took a slow, shaky breath, cast another furtive glance behind her, then leaned closer to the mirror and whispered, her voice trembling:
"Listen, Severus, he... the Dark Lord... he's placed one of his treasures... inside the Malfoy family vault at Gringotts..."