The door to the infirmary opened once again, and Grindelwald stepped out.
All trace of the complex emotion on his face was gone, replaced once more by the disguise resembling a middle-aged Dumbledore, short dark-brown hair, expression calm and detached.
Madam Rosier silently returned to stand behind him, as if she had never left.
At the door, Gideon and Fabian Prewett straightened at once, watching Grindelwald with a hint of wariness.
Professor McGonagall immediately stepped forward. Her eyes flicked rapidly between Grindelwald and the closed infirmary door.
"Mr. Green," she addressed him using the alias, her tone weary but hopeful. "Thank you for your willingness to offer help. We'll arrange suitable quarters for you and Madam Rosier. Also..." she hesitated, then asked the question she cared about most, "about Albus's condition, do you... have any suggestions?"
"Your handling of it is, adequate." Grindelwald adjusted the cuff of his robe, smiling faintly. "My advice is patience. Wait and watch. Let him sleep for a while longer."
The answer wasn't what McGonagall had hoped for, yet her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"I understand. Thank you, Mr. Green."
Grindelwald nodded lightly, then turned toward Snape. "Gather everyone. Where would be convenient?"
"The dining hall, it's large enough," Snape answered, glancing toward McGonagall. She nodded in agreement.
"Excellent. Then to the dining hall," Grindelwald said as he began walking, as though he were master of the ship.
After a few steps, he seemed to remember the Prewett brothers at the door. Without turning his head, he gave a lazy flick of his wand, and an unseen spell settled upon them.
"You two, stand guard here. Do not leave. Ensure his safety. The meeting in the dining hall does not require your presence."
Fabian and Gideon exchanged glances, then nodded in unison. "Understood."
The group proceeded down the corridor. The air still carried the faint tang of smoke and blood. As they turned a corner, that scent grew heavier.
Pandora emerged from a nearby cabin door.
Her silver hair was loosely tied back, several strands falling against her cheeks. Her robe was smeared with soil and streaks of some strange green fluid, and she held a sturdy woven basket.
Inside were several vivid red, tightly closed Mimbulus Mimbled plants that looked to be in a state of dormant tension.
"Sev!" Seeing the approaching group, and especially Snape, Pandora's face lit up with delight. "Thank goodness, you're back!"
"Pandora." Snape's eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe, then dropped to the basket in her hands. "You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, not at all." Pandora shook her head, silver hair swaying.
"You used them this time?" Snape asked. He had noticed the plants in her basket, their hue had shifted, green thinned and red deepened.
"Yes." Pandora raised the heavy basket a little; the plants inside quivered faintly. "See? They've all turned this color."
Her movement made Professor McGonagall instinctively step back half a pace, then she caught herself, returning to her place with faint embarrassment.
"Sev," Pandora said, her pale eyes holding a trace of fear and puzzlement, "I have to tell you, they seem far more dangerous than we expected."
Snape nodded gravely, eyeing the vivid red of the plants. "But effective, weren't they?"
"They were," McGonagall answered softly before Pandora could. "The Death Eaters were bitten quite miserably." She gazed uneasily at the uncanny plants, then hesitated before speaking again. "Perhaps... we should destroy them? These things are far too dangerous. If they go out of control-"
"Destroy them? Ha!" Grindelwald's low chuckle cut her off.
He strode forward, his face showing clear appreciation, and reached into Pandora's basket to seize the reddest, thickest one.
The plant writhed faintly in his grasp, letting out a faint creak as if trying to open its leaves, but his grip rendered it motionless.
"Such a brilliant creation," he said, toying with the dangerous plant as though admiring a work of art. His gaze toward McGonagall held open disdain. "And you would destroy them? Unthinkable." He tossed the plant back into the basket and said to Snape, "Keep them. From now on, this place answers to me."
"Mr. Green," McGonagall said sharply, "you cannot be so overbearing here. Professor Dumbledore-"
"I believe I can," Grindelwald interrupted. "Besides, I've always been overbearing."
"Professor," Snape said, looking to her, "I don't see the harm, do you? Since Mr. Green is willing to take responsibility, why not let him?"
McGonagall gave a stiff nod.
Snape took the basket from Pandora's hands. It was heavy, the plants inside exuding a faint scent of iron and soil.
He looked at her. "Nothing left in the cabins?"
"No," Pandora said firmly. "That was the last of them."
"Good," Snape said. "Come with us to the dining hall, then."
Snape and McGonagall began to move on, and Pandora instinctively started to follow.
But Grindelwald stopped. His eyes fixed on her, brow furrowing faintly.
"Wait." His tone carried a hint of puzzlement. "There's... something familiar about you." His magically disguised eyes bored into Pandora.
"Me?" Pandora looked startled.
Snape immediately shifted, stepping protectively in front of her.
"Mr. Green, what makes you say that?" he asked.
Grindelwald did not answer him. His gaze remained locked on Pandora.
At that instant, a small green snake slipped silently from the collar of Pandora's robe.
Nagini had sensed the tension and the piercing stare. She lifted her head high and hissed, her tongue flickering in threat toward Grindelwald.
His eyes instantly fixed on the snake. For several long seconds, ten, perhaps more, he stared. Confusion faded from his face, replaced by dawning realization and a strange, indefinable melancholy.
His lips twitched faintly. He shook his head.
"So, it's you." His voice was quiet, half-murmur, half-address to the snake.
The curiosity left his eyes. He waved a hand. "Nothing. Let's go." He turned and continued toward the dining hall.
Snape exhaled softly, soothingly stroking Nagini's small head. Bending down, he whispered a few words in Parseltongue. Pandora, too, gently patted the snake hidden inside her robe until Nagini calmed and retreated beneath the fabric once more.
The dining hall was bustling when they arrived, the air heavy with unease and subdued murmurs.
As soon as the group appeared at the doorway, every eye turned toward them. And when the crowd saw the basket of vivid red Mimbulus Mimbled in Snape's hand, a wave of sharp inhalations swept the room.
Snape immediately realized how deeply these little plants had impressed everyone.
Under their collective gaze, he tapped the basket twice with his wand, attempting to remove the crimson stains, but the color remained stubbornly bright. Helpless, he simply tucked the entire basket into his small enchanted pouch.
Only then did the tension in the hall ease.
"This way, Mr. Green," McGonagall said, leading Grindelwald toward the front of the hall.
Grindelwald seated himself unceremoniously in the central chair, clearly the main seat. Behind him, Madam Rosier stood silently in the shadows, hands folded elegantly before her.
His gaze swept the crowded room, pausing briefly on each face as though assessing them.
Then he turned his head toward McGonagall. "Is everyone here?"
"Most of the students and teachers are," McGonagall replied, adding, "A few senior students and professors are still on deck duty, and some are stationed at key posts."
"Call them down," Grindelwald said with a dismissive hum, leaning back in the chair with effortless authority. "With me here, this ship needs no sentries roasting under the sun. Bring them all. I have important words, and everyone should hear them."
McGonagall hesitated briefly, but under his gaze, she relented.
She raised her wand, and several silver tabby-cat Patronuses leapt from its tip, darting through the doors to deliver the summons.
The murmurs in the hall grew louder as students whispered and speculated about the powerful stranger's intentions.
Before long, footsteps sounded at the entrance. Professor Flitwick was the first to hop lightly inside, followed by several upper-year students.
Next came a handful of weary Order of the Phoenix members. Among them, a shabby, shifty-eyed figure stood out, Mundungus Fletcher.
No sooner had he entered than his beady eyes darted about the room.
Spotting Snape at the high table, he waved exaggeratedly. "Hey, Severus! Heard from Minerva up on deck you were off on some secret mission! Back already, eh? How'd it go?"
"Yes, Dung, I'm back." Snape fixed him with a look. "Funny, though, I didn't see you on deck earlier."
"Me?" Mundungus gave a couple of dry laughs, patting his greasy robes as though proud. "I was in the kitchen, Severus, the big one, down on the lowest deck."
"That's the true fortress, mate. Didn't move an inch!" He rubbed his hands together earnestly. "You know how it is, in a place like this, food's the most vital resource of all, far more important than any guard post. Had to keep watch, make sure none of the clever ones nicked it!"
Professor McGonagall's sharp glare pinned him like a spear.
He shrank at once. Grinning sheepishly, he threw her an exaggerated salute. "Of course, Professor! Duty calls!" Then he scuttled to the back row, tipped his chair dangerously, and lounged as if perfectly at ease.
Grindelwald's eyes swept the room once more, and he asked McGonagall again, "Are you certain everyone is here?"
McGonagall glanced over the packed dining hall and was just about to nod when,
"Wait," Snape said suddenly, turning slightly toward her and Grindelwald. "The house-elves aren't here. Shall we summon them as well, Mr. Green?"
McGonagall looked at Grindelwald.
He waved a hand indifferently. "As you wish. Since this concerns everyone, bring them too."
"Understood." McGonagall nodded, then her eyes snapped toward the back, where Mundungus was still rocking his chair. "Mr. Fletcher!"
"Ah, yes!" Mundungus flailed for balance, nearly falling backward.
"Kindly go fetch all the house-elves aboard and bring them here. Mr. Green wishes to address everyone. Now."
"What? Me again?" he groaned. "What's so important about house-elves-"
But under McGonagall's withering stare, he muttered inaudible complaints, dragged himself upright, and trudged out of the hall amid amused glances.
After some time, Mundungus returned, leading a small crowd of anxious, trembling house-elves. Their ears twitched as they huddled nervously by the wall.
He dropped back into his seat, resuming his perilous balancing act.
Grindelwald slowly rose to his feet. At once, every whisper ceased. The room fell utterly silent.
All eyes turned toward him, faces young and old, filled with confusion, tension, and expectation.
Grindelwald stepped to the center of the hall, expression unreadable.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his calm voice rang clear, carrying to every corner, "you are living through an age of darkness. Fear, betrayal, and death walk beside us. And trust," he paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, "is both the most precious and the most perilous thing in such an age."
Before the echo of his words faded, Grindelwald lifted his wand and pointed it lightly forward.
A soft, chilling sound whispered through the air,
A surge of cold, pure flame burst from his wand tip, gleaming like liquid sapphire.
It was a terrifyingly beautiful fire, alive and conscious, swirling once in place before expanding outward in a breathtaking wave.
"No-!"
"What is he doing?!"
Cries of alarm erupted instantly.
Wands were drawn, spells half-formed, but it was too late. They were far too close.
The blue Fiendfyre swept through them.
It did not burn flesh or cloth. Instead, it passed like a ghostly tide through every body, through tables and walls alike.
Then it spilled outward, through doors, windows, cracks in the floorboards, the corners of the ceiling, racing in all directions to flood every inch of the Founders' Ark.