The days following the events beneath the castle were drenched in rumor.
Hogwarts was abuzz with whispers, speculation, and a healthy dose of Weasley exaggeration.
Ronald Weasley, newly mended and thoroughly enjoying the attention, had from the moment of his waking within the hospital wing begun regaling the heroic epic that had occured.
He and Harry had faced down against a great demonic beast, battled with a horde of vicious man eating plants, fought for their lives against the trials of the teacher.
When harry finally woke up two days later, and told ron what happened after he'd fallen unconcious, the story finally received its second chapter, with a newly twisted tale of fighting any army of trolls, getting one up on Professor Snape, before encountering and defeating He who must not be named himself.
Harry, for his part, stayed quiet—uneasy, pale, and avoiding questions.
But Ron's enthusiasm filled in every silence, inflating their tale with each retelling.
By the end of the week, Gryffindor Tower treated him like a hero second only to Harry himself who was scorned hourly by the slytherins who reacted like he was a traitor for taking on Lord Voldemort rather than siding with him.
Every recounting made it sound more and more like the two boys had single-handedly saved the wizarding world.
No one mentioned Cassius Snape.
No one even seemed to realize he'd been there at all.
Except, of course, the professors.
Cassius noticed it in the way Flitwick gave him a knowing nod when they passed in the hall, in how McGonagall's usually strict tone softened for a moment when addressing him.
Even Sprout gave him a subtle, respectful smile, though she said nothing.
And Severus—his father—watched him now with a wary pride, the kind one reserved for a child too clever for his own good, but not without also being tsun and dropping plenty of extra credit work worth absolutely nothing other than experience upon him.
Cassius preferred it that way.
Let the school gossip itself to death over Gryffindor bravery.
He worked best in shadow.
Friday during the day was an open day, no classes, no homework, just sitting around waiting for the final year end feast before everyone went home tommorow.
But during lunch an unknown owl swooped down.
golden plumage trailing light like sunbeams.
It landed directly in front of Cassius, dropping a folded parchment into his hand before taking flight again.
The wax seal was unmistakable—Albus Dumbledore.
"Of course," Cassius murmured, breaking the seal.
The note was brief.
My office. When available.—A.D.
He sighed. "So much for a quiet final day."
Dumbledore's office was just as he remembered—half library, half museum, smelling faintly of lemon drops and phoenix droppings.
Fawkes perched near the window, preening himself in the sunlight while the headmaster sat behind his desk, fingers steepled.
"Ah, Cassius," Dumbledore greeted warmly, eyes twinkling in that frustrating way that suggested he already knew every answer. "You've been rather busy lately."
Cassius remained standing. "Not as busy as others seem to think."
"Quite." The old man gestured toward a chair. "Please, sit."
Cassius did not.
"I'll stand."
"Very well," Dumbledore said mildly, though the faintest crease appeared between his brows. "You've already guessed why I called you here."
"The Stone," Cassius replied.
The headmaster inclined his head. "Yes. It has been… recovered. I'm sure you understand how serious its disappearance was. I must ensure it is safely returned."
Cassius's expression didn't change, but his eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Dumbledore's brows rose.
"Something amusing, Mister Snape?"
"Yes," Cassius said, still smiling faintly. "You. Asking for a fake stone back."
The silence that followed was palpable.
Even Fawkes paused his grooming to glance between them.
Dumbledore's voice, when it came, was soft but sharpened. "A fake, you say?"
Cassius clasped his hands behind his back, pacing leisurely before the desk.
"You're a clever man, Headmaster. Surely you can feel it. The Stone I retrieved from harry wasn't truly the Philosopher's Stone. It was… incomplete. A facsimile, at best."
Dumbledore's expression didn't shift, but his gaze deepened.
"And what makes you so certain?"
Cassius turned toward the phoenix, as though speaking to it instead. "Because a true Stone—Flamel's Stone—is a masterpiece of alchemy. It should be near impossible to damage, while being able to transmute at will, but i've had the stone for near a week now, and in that time i discovered that i could scratch its surface as easily as i wanted."
He looked back at Dumbledore.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a failed prototype. A decoy meant to draw attention away from the real one."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, studying him over his half-moon spectacles.
Cassius smirked.
"Afterall in that state, desperate as he was, 'he' would take nearly any bait to restore himself to full life, rather than remain the pitiful parasitic state he was in currently."
That, at last, seemed to unsettle the headmaster.
Cassius continued, voice low and measured. "Flamel still lives, doesn't he? Hidden somewhere, watching the chaos he's helped create. I'd wager he and his wife are preparing to vanish again—fake their deaths, as they've done before, so the legend of the Stone's destruction can discourage any further attempts by the Dark Lord, until the time when his defeat happens for real and they can surface once more."
Dumbledore's silence was telling.
"I imagine," Cassius said, "you've been in contact with him. Perhaps he even suggested the ruse, history has recorded a few attempts of doing just this in the past afterall."
Dumbledore exhaled slowly. "You have a sharp mind, Mr. Snape."
The headmaster smiled faintly. "If what you say is true, then the Stone in your possession is a fake, Yet, I must ask—if you believed it false, why take it?"
Cassius tilted his head.
"Because even fakes have value. Sometimes, they tell you more about the maker than the masterpiece, while even a failed sorcerors stone still can grant some advantage even if not as strong as the true one."
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then Cassius added, almost casually, "So. I'll be keeping it."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again, but not with humor this time.
"I cannot allow that."
Cassius's smirk returned.
He slipped a hand into his robes.
With a smooth flick of his wand and no incantation, the weight in his pocket increased, before he pulled his hand out holding onto the stone.
Dumbledore's gaze fixed on it immediately.
Cassius said nothing.
He simply around rolled it around with his fingers.
"Fine fine, its yours, if i want one of my own, i'll just have to make it myself one day."
Cassius merely chuckled saying so before placing the stone down on the headmasters desk.
"If that's all headmaster, i have some packing yet to complete."
"Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Snape."
Cassius turned round leaving the office only to slip his hand into his pocket wrapping his fingers around the true stone within, having left nothing more than a gemini duplicate behind.
This was the most telling sign it was a fake, the real stone could not be copied by the use of magic like this afterall.