Only by evening, an hour before the banquet began, did he finally finish deciphering.
"'Hidden in the mouth of the snake' — hm... nothing is clear..." The mage concluded gloomily, exhaling and closing the book.
"What could that mean?
On the surface, the legacy should be in a snake's mouth.
But logically, 'snake' could refer to something else: after all, Slytherins are called 'snakes.'
It might be a statue or a painting.
Or something else depicting a snake or Salazar himself.
He was quite a narcissistic type, after all.
Most likely, the entrance is his image.
The only issue is Parseltongue: I never studied it.
What if it's needed to enter?
I should find someone who knows the language and learn it.
It's not some rare gift, after all."
Reflexively reaching for his wand, Alan quickly stopped himself.
With a wave of his palm, he calmly returned the books to their places using telekinesis.
Still pondering Salazar's words, he left the library.
Noticing the Archmage exit the room, the girl quickly returned her book to the shelf and ran out of the library.
But turning the corner, she bumped into someone and fell to the floor.
"Why are you following me?" Snape's voice sounded indifferent, with notes of irritation.
"I... I'm not following you! And even though the headmaster believed you, you're not Sev! What did you do to him?!"
Jumping up and drawing her wand, she exclaimed, pointing it at Alan's chest.
"I ate him. Then used a potion to take his appearance."
Pushing the wand tip aside, the mage said with a terrifying grin that made Lily shudder.
"And what will you do?
You ended all relations between us yourself.
So leave me alone and stop following me.
Otherwise, I'll complain to the headmaster."
Paying her no more attention, he turned and headed toward the Great Hall.
The girl gripped her wand tighter, looking determinedly at Alan's retreating back.
Though it was easy to notice her hands trembling.
"I'll prove you're not Sev!"
"Hey, Lily, what are you doing here?"
Four boys approached the witch.
One of them stayed a meter behind the others, looking slightly dejected.
"James..."
As soon as she saw the young man, the fear she had felt during her encounter with "Severus" instantly vanished.
"I was just lost in thought..." She smiled in response.
Then looked puzzled at the dejected Lupin walking behind.
"Did something happen?"
Seeing where Lily's gaze was directed, the three boys shuddered.
Their faces instantly lost all color.
As one, they reflexively reached for their rears.
The Great Hall was the place where all meals were held, as well as celebrations.
One of them was the beginning and end of the school year.
In the hall stood four long tables where excited and happily chatting Hogwarts students sat.
At the end was the staff table.
Behind it hung a huge green banner with the Slytherin house emblem.
Smaller ones lined the walls.
Entering the vast hall, Alan immediately headed to the leftmost table: his house's.
"Not bad..." The young man thought with a smile, seeing the multitude of dishes practically overflowing the tables.
The festive atmosphere in the air was quite contagious.
"I think today I really can relax a little..."
Approaching the table, the mage smiled as he watched the huge number of ghosts flying over the tables.
"Hm?"
Out of the corner of his eye, in the corner, the wizard noticed a familiar ghost.
"Why is she standing there alone?"
Tilting his head, he thought and headed toward her.
The ghost of a fourteen-year-old girl sat in the corner, merely watching the chatting students from afar.
She felt longing and a touch of envy.
"Myrtle, why are you standing here alone?"
Hearing a familiar voice, she looked at the young man with mild surprise.
After all, few ever spoke to her.
Among the students, she had a poor reputation.
And she had nothing to talk about with the ghosts: many of them were hundreds of years old.
"Severus... I'm glad you're okay, but you'd better leave..."
Seeing the girl's saddened face, he raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.
"Is something wrong? Or are you upset I didn't visit after being discharged?" Alan asked with a smile, trying to pat her head.
His hand passed right through, making the young man a bit embarrassed.
"Forgot."
"No, that's not it. It's just... you're from Slytherin, and they don't like Muggle-borns there. If you talk to me, they'll start..."
"Oh, that's what you mean. Forget it. I have no friends there: no one to lose. And I don't care about their opinions. So mind if I stand here with you until the banquet starts?"
"..." The ghost was a bit flustered by such frankness.
"Great."
Without waiting for an answer, he leaned against the wall and looked toward the staff table.
"By the way, you've lived here a long time. I'm sure you know plenty of 'interesting' stories."
"Stories...?"
"Yes. Like this one a ghost told me: 'One evening, a Gryffindor student stayed late for detention with Filch. Running through pitch darkness toward his common room, he hadn't eaten dinner: his stomach growled. Slowing down a bit, he rummaged in his pockets for something to eat. But besides a lemon drop — which he hated — there was nothing. As he cursed himself, his stomach growled again. He looked at the candy. Just as the boy was about to eat it, footsteps sounded...'"
At that moment, Alan's voice dropped lower and more ominous.
Eavesdropping Ravenclaws swallowed hard, as did Myrtle herself.
"...The boy shuddered and cried in panic: 'Who's there?!'
But only approaching footsteps answered.
He cried again: 'Who is it?!'
Again: silence and footsteps growing louder every second...
The Gryffindor backed away. He wanted to run but tripped over something and fell. Curling into a ball, he squeezed his eyes shut as the steps drew nearer. And in one moment... it stopped right by the student's ear..."
Hufflepuffs joined the listeners. Every student eagerly awaited the story's climax.
"...The boy heard strange rustling, then a smacking sound and satisfied muttering: 'Mmm... lemon...'
The student immediately recognized the voice. Opening his eyes, he saw..." Dramatic pause. "Headmaster Dumbledore."
At this twist, students' eyes widened in surprise. Some older ones merely smiled. But Alan wasn't done: he grinned wider.
"Stammering, the boy whispered: 'H-headmaster?' As if not believing his eyes. Then a wrapper fell on his face... The headmaster looked at him. Squinting — making the student fear again — he quietly said: 'You can't prove anything...' Raising his gaze from the Gryffindor, he vanished into the darkness. The boy was found unconscious in the corridor the next day... Whether it was the real headmaster or a prank on a first-year: no one ever knew... But remember: if you stay out after curfew and wander dark Hogwarts corridors, always carry a lemon drop. Because... you might run into... the 'Headmaster'?"
At the last questioning word, first- and second-years shuddered and quickly rummaged in their pockets. Older students barely held back laughter.
"That's the story."
"I-I-Is it true?" A shaggy twelve-year-old boy stammered, asking Snape.
"Of course not. I just made it up." He replied with a smile.
Then, lowering his voice and serious-faced: "But better carry a lemon drop anyway."
Unable to hold back, the students burst into laughter, embarrassing the boy.
~ Ahem! ~ Ahem!
"You told quite an entertaining story, Mr. Snape." The laughter stopped instantly.
"Did you like it, Headmaster?" Turning with a smile, he asked the elderly man who stroked his long beard, smiled kindly, and nodded.
Minerva standing behind him frowned disapprovingly.
"Of course. But why choose me?"
"Well... that day I saw a saucer of lemon drops on your desk. And you're the only teacher who indulges in sweets. So I picked you as the main character." The mage explained "embarrassedly".
"I hope I didn't offend you?"
"Of course not." Rummaging in his sleeve, he pulled out a candy with a drawn lemon.
Under shocked student gazes, he popped it in his mouth.
Slightly lowering his glasses and squinting, he looked at the paling audience and calmly headed to the staff table, smacking contentedly.
McGonagall walking behind merely sighed deeply and shook her head.
"What a cheerful old man..." The mage thought with a smile, looking at the pale first-years.
Then shifting to the embarrassed Myrtle from the whole situation: "Well, will you tell us something similar? I'm sure you have plenty of stories."
"Well..." Flustered by so much student attention, the girl quickly composed herself.
"I'll try..."
"Great." Pointing his palm at the Gryffindor table, he pulled a chair toward himself and calmly sat on it.
"Hey! Go get a chair from your own house!" A sixth-year grumbled, standing and heading toward Alan to take the chair.
Several other Gryffindors supported him, rising to follow.
"You forgot where we are?" Seeing the insolent smile on the Slytherin's face, he stopped abruptly and looked toward the staff table.
The frowning dean glared at him incineratingly.
"Come on, take it by force. I don't mind taking another five points from Gryffindor."
"Damn you! But better not wander the corridors alone..."
"Are you threatening me? Openly? Looks like you don't care about your house. Or did you forget that wizards — especially powerful ones like our headmaster — have much better hearing? Better sit down."
Paying him no more attention, the mage looked at the stunned Myrtle and nodded.
"Begin..."