"Bubblehead Shield—Bullarum!" Snape struggled to utter the incantation the moment he plunged underwater.
Silver-blue sparks erupted from the tip of his wand, conjuring a transparent bubble that expanded swiftly like a blown bubblegum balloon, finally enclosing his head with the tightness of an upturned fishbowl.
Cough, cough... Snape spluttered violently.
Sunlight fractured through the murky water above, casting flickering bands of light that formed dark green whirlpools around him.
He could feel the rippling muscles beneath the serpent's scales as it propelled him with astonishing speed toward the lake's bottom.
Maybe I should've used a Blasting Curse earlier, the thought crossed his mind just as a swarm of green, horned Grindylows burst from the tangled waterweed.
Their sharp-toothed mouths curled into greedy grins as their spindly, branch-like fingers reached for the hem of Snape's robes from every direction.
The giant serpent suddenly emitted a low, rumbling hiss that seemed to shake the currents itself. Snape felt his chest loosen as the coiling body abruptly released him, flinging him sideways.
In the dim water, he glimpsed the serpent's thick tail whip through the water, smashing one Grindylow to pieces; a cloud of green blood bloomed in the water.
The force spun Snape around; his wand slipped from his fingers and twirled away into the distance. Worse still, his protective bubble collided with a jagged rock and burst with a crisp pop.
Glub... my... glub... wand!
Snape exhaled bubbles, futilely reaching for something to grasp but caught only cold water currents.
He watched helplessly as a nimble green thief snatched the drifting ebony wand, made a rude gesture, and vanished into the shadowed depths.
In that moment, the anguished wails of the Death Eaters who'd lost their wands to him echoed in his mind.
Water surged from all sides, cold, murky, heavy with the scent of rotting plants flooding his lungs.
His lungs burned like fire, the dark suffocation swallowing his vision.
In his final blurred sight, the serpent angrily tore several Grindylows apart, then coiled its tail around him again, darting swiftly through the murky tunnels.
Tick... tick... tick...
A sound echoed from far away, reverberating with a cavernous resonance.
When consciousness surfaced again, Snape's first notice was the steady dripping.
He slowly opened his eyes to a faint, eerie blue glow. The light emanated from microbial colonies clinging to the cave walls, pulsing like enchanted will-o'-the-wisps in the darkness.
Am I... still alive? Snape marveled at the clarity of his voice, which echoed softly in the cavern.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he found he was lying in a shallow stone basin, nearly dry save for a thin film of moisture and cool pebbles pressed to his back.
Stranger still, he felt no ill effects—no drowning aftermath, no headache from impact, not even the rib pain from the serpent's coil remained.
Instead, a strange vitality coursed through his veins; he felt healthier than ever.
Something's off... Snape sat carefully, his robes half-dried.
Bathed in the glow of the fungal colonies, he surveyed his surroundings.
The cavern opened onto a vast subterranean lake, its soaring dome adorned with stalactites and stalagmites, some joined to form massive stone pillars.
What caught his eye even more were unmistakable signs of human handiwork: collapsed stone walls, columns carved in ancient runes reminiscent of Niven, relics scattered about.
Snape cautiously descended a slope, crunching dry plant debris under his boots. He crouched, studying brittle, weathered leaves.
Moonshade Grass? he whispered in disbelief, staring at a long-dead silver plant. He'd only seen illustrations in the oldest potion tomes. Even dead for centuries, its distinctive spiral venation remained visible. A key ingredient in the Elixir of Life, extinct for at least 300 years…
The entire cavern had once been a meticulously designed magical garden. Though most plants had turned to dust, the remnants suggested countless rare potion ingredients once cultivated here.
But Snape had no time for botanical mysteries—the priority was escape.
Bloody unlucky. And no wand. He muttered, selecting a passage marked by artificial traces, tracing the cavern's edge forward. The wizard who caused this is long dead; there's no one left to make trouble for.
The air grew damp and cold; occasional droplets from above slid down his neck, chilling him through his collar.
The passage twisted and narrowed, then widened again.
After two bends, the cavern grew darker; the glowing fungi thinned. Snape wondered if he should turn back.
Then suddenly, at the next sharp turn, he froze.
Two vivid green vertical pupils stared motionless from the dark.
"Hello," Snape said dryly, the hiss of Parseltongue reverberating among the stone walls, "The scenery nearby... quite nice, isn't it?"
The eyes blinked. The sound of scales scraping rock accompanied the full emergence of the serpent.
It stared at him for seconds before suddenly opening its cavernous maw, revealing sharp fangs.
Snape instinctively stepped back, but it only expelled a few shimmering silver fish, their gills fluttering faintly.
The serpent nudged the fish toward him with its tail, locking cold eyes on Snape and emitting a strange, awkward hiss: "Eat... eat…"
"Raw?" Snape hesitated, watching the twitching fish. "I lost my wand, so no way to prepare food."
The serpent tilted its head as if pondering, then slowly replied, "Wait... wait…"
With that, it turned swiftly and slid into the darkness, its scaled body vanishing deeper into the cave, the scraping fading behind.
While waiting, Snape examined the fish—Albanian Silverfish—edible, but normally requiring removal of venom glands. He sighed and tried to clean them with a sharp stone, without much success.
By then, Snape's suspicion about the serpent's identity had solidified.
About half an hour later, the sound of scales scraping rock returned as the serpent came back.
It moved with effort, its tail coiled around something—the corpse of a Grindylow and—Snape's heart sank—his wand still clenched in the creature's hand, but only half remained.
The broken wand's uneven fracture exposed the injured core of the phoenix feather.
"Here…" Snape bent down and extracted the broken wand piece from the Grindylow's grasp. He looked helplessly at the serpent and asked, "Have you seen the other half?"
He read the answer in the serpent's eyes.
The wand was now a ruin; even with Dumbledore's Elder Wand, it would be beyond repair.
He looked up to the serpent and, to his surprise, caught a hint of apology in those cold vertical pupils.
It gently nudged the Grindylow's corpse with its head.
Sigh, Snape exhaled, pocketing the broken wand, "Well, it's better than nothing. Thank you." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you have a name? Could you tell me?"
The serpent stared for a long time before producing a fragmented hiss: "Na... gi... ni…"
At the mention of that name, Snape's pupils dilated. It confirmed his theory: before him was the very serpent he'd heard of—the cursed beast linked to Newt Scamander.
Images of the shy, gentle girl doomed to misfortune flickered through his mind.
At the same time, countless questions flooded him:
After meeting Dumbledore outside Hogwarts in 1927, where had Nagini gone?
When had the blood curse trapped her fully in this serpentine form?
Why was she now here, in Albania?
Before he could ponder further, Nagini lifted her head, hissing softly, signaling for him to follow.
She slid forward, frequently looking back to ensure Snape kept up.
Through a narrow, winding passage, they arrived before a partially collapsed tunnel blocked by fallen stones.
Nagini pointed her tail at a narrow crevice barely wide enough for one person, motioning for Snape to enter first.
After brief thought, Snape decided to trust her. From her recent behavior, she was likely not yet corrupted by Voldemort.
He squeezed sideways through the gap into utter darkness, relying on the slippery walls, which scraped his arms and back.
After about twenty feet, the space suddenly opened.
His toe touched something hard; it rolled forward, knocking crisply against stone.
Snape bent down, fingers brushing a slender object—his heartbeat quickened—a wand?
He grasped it eagerly and tried a spell.
Lumos!
The rotten wand trembled violently, sparks flying wildly, nearly singeing his eyebrows.
Amid fleeting flashes, Snape glimpsed a chilling sight: rotting skeletal figures in decayed robes sprawled on the floor; some clad in rusted armor, gripping corroded weapons.
He carefully cast a few more Lumos spells, collecting several more wands scattered nearby.
After some attempts, he found one somewhat "obedient"—made of dark wood with blackened silver wire spiraling the handle.
"Lumos," he whispered; this time the wand's tip emitted a steadier white light.
Under the glow, the entire scene became clear: this was clearly an expedition's remains, likely medieval judging by the clothing.
Most notable was a wizard skeleton leaning against the wall—more intact than the rest, his decayed robe finer.
Clutched tightly in his skeletal fingers was a parchment scroll.
Snape cast Revelio carefully before unrolling the brittle parchment.
Though its edges were moldy and ink faded, some magical ink words remained legible:
"...seek... legend... ancient tome... fountain of fortune... true... friends... twelve knights... waters... eternal power... greatest... reign... sole…"
The latter half was illegible, but the grim scene suggested a tragic end.
Snape surveyed the area, noting dents in armor and the postures of skeletons locked in combat.
A theory formed: this group found the fountain of fortune but learned it could serve only one. Friendship turned to deadly rivalry.
He looked sharply toward where he had awakened, the dry basin suddenly vivid in memory.
Could that be the legendary Fountain of Fortune? He touched his arm absentmindedly; the skin was unusually smooth but nothing else seemed remarkable.
"Hm… I remember the books saying the fountain's waters hold no true magic..." he murmured. "Besides, my accomplishments come from my own talent and effort, never relying on such things…"
"But what if…" he glanced at the serpent waiting quietly nearby, urgency in his voice. "Nagini, is there anywhere else like the place you put me in?"
Nagini gazed at him with unfathomable emerald eyes.
Then she slowly turned and slid back toward the entrance.
Snape hurried after her but she stopped where she had earlier tossed the fish.
"Ah… not leading me to other fountains, huh," he said, a bit disappointed.
Now feeling hungry, he sat down, prepared the fish, and tried roasting them with the newly found wand.
After a while, Snape looked gloomily at the charred, grayish remains.
"Want some?" he asked.
Nagini slid back a bit, her refusal unmistakable.
"Wait, give me another chance!"
He hurried to the lake's edge and raised his wand. "Silverfish, come!"
Two splashes followed by a sharp thud as the fish hit the stones.
Snape hurriedly repeated the process.
Ten minutes later, he held a burnt, barely recognizable fish-shaped lump.
"Listen, this wand's not exactly user-friendly!" Snape said awkwardly.
Nagini had closed her eyes, resting her head curled into a coil.