Grindelwald, clutching Snape and Madam Rosier by their arms, did not pause for even an instant. He adjusted his direction slightly in midair and dove straight toward the scarred, smoke-belching magical ark below.
The Founders' Ark expanded rapidly in their field of vision. As they drew closer, the frantic figures running about on deck became clearly visible. They had obviously noticed the three uninvited guests descending from the heavens at tremendous speed.
Someone screamed and pointed skyward, mouth wide open, shouting something inaudible; others scrambled aimlessly, searching for cover.
But through the ship's shielding wards and the howling wind at that altitude, Snape could hear nothing, only see the silent chaos unfolding below.
Grindelwald's speed did not slow in the slightest. Just as they were about to collide with the faintly flickering transparent protective barrier over the ship's hull, the silver badge, the token, flew out of Snape's pocket, positioning itself before them.
There came a faint impact, soft as a bubble bursting.
Under the token's effect, they passed effortlessly through the barrier, the sensation like slipping through a warm, elastic membrane of water.
In an instant, the surroundings changed. The roar of the wind vanished, replaced by the clamor of the deck, the cries of alarm, the sound of spells, and the shrill shrieks of house-elves all blending together.
"Enemy attack!"
"Protect the students!"
Those with the quickest reflexes, several travel-worn adult wizards in plain clothes but with sharp, vigilant eyes, instinctively raised their wands.
In panic, multiple streaks of red light, Stunning Spells and Disarming Spells, flared to life, whistling mercilessly toward the three intruders.
"Stop!"
A voice Snape knew more intimately than any other pierced the uproar, sharp and urgent. "It's Severus! Don't attack!"
Lily was the first to rush from the crowd. Her face was pale, her emerald eyes full of worry and fear, her red hair disheveled and streaming back, her robe marked with smudges of grey and ash.
She ignored the spells flying past her and sprinted straight toward Snape.
"Get out of the way!" another voice shouted, trying to push aside those taking aim.
Someone hastily raised their wand tip a few inches, but several spells had already been cast, flying straight toward Grindelwald and the others.
Amid the cries that turned to shrill gasps, Grindelwald did not even spare those Accio spells a glance. He simply set Snape and Madam Rosier down, and with an almost lazy flick of his wand,
No brilliant light burst forth. Instead, an invisible wave of magical force expanded outward from him in an instant. The incoming spells struck what felt like an elastic wall of air some ten feet before him, flickered a few times, and vanished without a trace.
However, Lily and several others who had been charging forward were caught by the edge of that force field. They stumbled backward, pushed off-balance by the backlash, and barely managed to steady themselves.
Only then did Snape and the other two land firmly on the deck with a soft thud.
In a flash, Lily had reached Snape. She ignored Grindelwald's overwhelming aura and Madam Rosier's silence, grasping Snape's arm tightly.
"Are you all right?"
"Are you hurt?"
Their voices overlapped, speaking almost in unison.
Snape turned his hand to clasp Lily's cold fingers, scanning her up and down to confirm she was unharmed save for disheveled hair and fright. Lily, equally anxious, inspected him in return.
Their eyes darted quickly over each other's forms, and once assured of safety, the tension in their bodies eased. Silent joy and relief radiated between them, the unspoken elation of reunion after peril.
"Young people, it's a wonderful thing." Grindelwald's teasing voice sounded beside them, breaking the fragile moment.
Lily immediately snapped back to herself, releasing Snape's hand. Realizing how long she had been clutching it, a quick flush of red swept across her face.
"Lily, where's Pandora? How's everyone else? Any serious casualties? What happened?" Snape's eyes swept rapidly across the chaotic deck, his voice sharp and quick.
He saw shattered railings, scorch marks from spells, and house-elves frantically working with magic to repair cracks along the hull.
"The situation's fine, no one died!" Lily said quickly, her voice steadying. "Pandora's safe! She's in the cabin tidying up..." At the mention of Pandora, her tone faltered, an odd hesitation creeping in, and she even gave a small involuntary shiver.
Snape's heart eased somewhat, though her strange tone kept him from full relief.
Leaning close, Lily lowered her voice so only he could hear.
"Not long ago, a few people from the Order of the Phoenix came aboard seeking refuge. We let them in..." Her voice trembled faintly, tinged with lingering fear.
"One of them, Sturgis Podmore, suddenly threw something onto the floor when everyone relaxed their guard. Everything went pitch-black, we couldn't see a thing. Must've been some kind of powerful stealth smoke bomb.
"Luckily, in the chaos, Professor McGonagall reacted fast and stunned the traitor. But right after that, something even worse happened."
"The shield, it broke somehow. A group of masked Death Eaters burst in. They took two younger students hostage and stormed into the cabin. It was chaos." Her face turned paler as she spoke. "Fortunately... Pandora, Barty, and Abbott reacted fast. They rallied the upper-year students and fought back.
"With the professors' help, we won. Captured a few, saved the students. But the ship..." She looked worriedly at the smoking mainmast and the scorched hull.
At that moment, after calming the students and Order members on deck, Professor Flitwick squeezed through the shaken crowd.
His small face looked weary, but his sharp eyes immediately found the man standing beside Snape, an imposing figure whose features eerily resembled a middle-aged Dumbledore.
Flitwick's gaze held both tension and disbelief as he shot Snape a questioning look.
Snape gave a single, firm nod.
Flitwick's small eyes widened before a grave understanding replaced the shock. He drew a deep breath and bowed slightly toward Grindelwald, his expression a mix of solemn respect and caution.
"Ahem." Grindelwald's timely cough was soft, yet it carried across the deck with perfect clarity.
Every gaze shifted to him, awed, uncertain, the noise fading instantly.
His eyes swept over the crowd, seeming to pierce straight through the deck to the cabin below.
Then his hoarse, commanding voice rang out, brooking no refusal.
"Now. Take me to him."
Snape understood at once. He turned to Flitwick and said quietly, "Professor, please handle things here." Then he gave Lily a reassuring look that said without words, Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Though she looked anxious, she nodded.
He moved to Grindelwald's side, gestured for him to proceed, and led him and the ever-silent Madam Rosier toward the cabin interior.
The people in their way, Hogwarts' senior students and Order members alike, instinctively parted to both sides, opening a wide path.
The sheer weight of Grindelwald's presence, that invisible force of dominance, and his effortless deflection of the earlier attacks filled everyone with instinctive awe.
Inside the ship, the sight was even grimmer. The corridor reeked of blood and potion fumes.
Though Lily had said all was well, Snape's chest tightened. The walls and carpets were splattered with dark-red stains, still wet in places.
"Meeper!" Snape called out to a house-elf scrubbing the carpet with magic, its tiny body trembling with effort. "How many of ours were hurt? How bad are the injuries?"
Seeing who had spoken, Meeper's tennis-ball-sized eyes lit with reverence and relief. She bowed deeply. "Honored Master Snape, welcome back! Only, only one or two are injured! Professors McGonagall and Prince are tending to them."
"Then why is there so much blood?" Snape frowned, pointing at the dark-red streaks along the corridor.
"These," the elf blinked, lowering her voice, tinged with fear and awe, "these are...the enemy's blood, sir."
"Who did it?" Snape asked, incredulous. "Who could've...?" He couldn't picture anyone aboard fighting with such brutality.
Meeper didn't answer. She merely bowed lower, her large ears twitching uneasily.
"Severus." Grindelwald's calm, insistent voice came from ahead.
Since the blood wasn't theirs, Snape forced down his doubts, nodded to Meeper, and hurried to catch up, continuing to lead the way.
As they passed the dining hall, the open doorway revealed what lay within. The space had been converted into a temporary refuge, filled with shaken students and a few lightly wounded.
Professor McGonagall stood at the entrance while Eileen directed house-elves inside, distributing calming draughts and hot cocoa.
When McGonagall saw the group approaching, her eyes immediately fixed on the man beside Snape, his features too close to Dumbledore's to ignore.
She stepped quickly forward, blocking their way, her sharp eyes scanning Grindelwald's altered face. "Severus, who is this?"
"He's a guest I deliberately invited," Snape said quietly. "Professor McGonagall, we're going to see Professor Dumbledore. This man has been waiting for that meeting...for many years."
He didn't name Grindelwald outright, but the implication was unmistakable.
Grindelwald met McGonagall's guarded stare with a faint, ironic smile.
Her gaze flickered between the two men as if weighing an impossible choice. Finally, she gave a curt nod. "Fine. I'm coming with you."
Grindelwald merely cast her a sidelong glance, one that seemed to say as you wish, utterly indifferent to her presence.
He tilted his chin toward Snape, signaling him to continue.
In silence, they walked the blood-stained, tension-filled corridor until they reached the medical ward at the far end of the ship.
Two adult wizards stood guard outside, wands drawn, faces taut. It was the Prewett brothers, Gideon and Fabian. At the sight of McGonagall and Snape, their stances relaxed slightly.
But when Grindelwald stopped before the door, the air grew heavy. An invisible pressure rolled off him, making both brothers stiffen and exchange uneasy glances. They looked pleadingly toward McGonagall until she gave a silent nod for them to step aside.
Without hesitation, Grindelwald pushed open the door.
The room was softly lit and scented with the faint calm of soothing herbs. On one side, Albus Dumbledore lay quietly upon a feather-mattressed bed. His face was pale, his long silver hair and beard neatly arranged, fanning gracefully over the white pillow.
His breathing was faint but steady, chest rising and falling gently, as though lost in a deep, unwilling dream.
Grindelwald stepped forward purposefully toward the bed, Madam Rosier trailing behind. McGonagall and Snape followed.
At the bedside, Grindelwald stopped and stood still for a long moment.
He looked down at the sleeping old man, as if trying to see beyond the calm surface, to glimpse the state of his soul.
Finally, he spoke to those behind him. "Leave us."
At once, Madam Rosier inclined her head and gestured to Snape and McGonagall to follow her out.
McGonagall's lips parted, as though to object. She looked at Snape, but he gave a small shake of the head, a silent trust him.
After a long, heavy glance at Dumbledore's sleeping face and the imposing stranger standing before him, McGonagall reluctantly nodded and turned to leave.
The three stepped out quietly.
Snape, before leaving, cast one final look back,
Grindelwald stood motionless, back to the door.
At that instant, his Transfiguration dissolved.
The short brown hair lengthened, paling to streaked silver once more, falling loosely over his shoulders.
Before Dumbledore, he had returned to his true self, the weathered, sharply defined face, lined with time yet still bearing traces of its former brilliance.
Snape's keen ears caught fragments of his murmured words.
They sounded half like muttering to himself, half like a soft confession to the slumbering man before him:
"Now... who else would still... you, Dumbledore... you..."
The rest was cut off as the door closed with a click.
Clack. The lock fell into place.
The corridor grew silent. Madam Rosier stood before the door like a statue, expressionless.
Leaning against the bulkhead, Snape shook his head slightly and murmured under his breath, so softly that only McGonagall beside him could barely hear:
"Oh, the gift of age, to savor the sting of love again and again."