Snape's hand froze in midair, his wand raised. A chill seeped into his bones, cold enough to touch his very soul, yet his body remained completely unharmed.
Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick... everyone in the dining hall felt that same dreadful cold when the fire passed through them.
The panic-filled screams cut off abruptly, replaced by heavy, uncertain gasps.
But their momentary relief was soon shattered by a sound coming from deep within the ship. From somewhere below deck, perhaps the storage hold or the temporary cell for prisoners, came shrill, distorted screams.
The sound was filled with unimaginable agony and despair, echoing up through layers of the ship until it reached the now-silent dining hall.
Those who had just recovered from the illusionary flames turned pale once again. Terrified, they looked down toward the floor beneath their feet.
Mundungus shuddered so violently that both he and his wobbly chair toppled backward, landing on the floor with a crash.
"Merlin's filthy socks!" he swore under his breath, scrambling up clumsily. His dirty hands fumbled through his pockets before he pulled out a grime-covered black pipe. Without even looking, he shoved it between his lips and, with a trembling hand, tried to draw his wand to light it.
But before he could even aim his wand, Grindelwald's gaze swept lazily across him. Mundungus froze as if petrified; the pipe slipped from his pale lips, clattering onto the cold floor where it rolled twice and came to a stop.
Fortunately, those piercing screams did not last long.
After only a few seconds, the sound cut off abruptly, like a throat being crushed, and silence fell. Only a faint crackling remained, as though something below deck was still burning quietly.
"Professor McGonagall!" Hagrid cried out, horrified. "That's where we're keepin' the captured Death Eaters!"
"Not just them..." McGonagall's face turned ghastly pale. In the chaos, she had thought only of the students and Order members, completely forgetting the disarmed prisoners who had been tied and locked away in the lower decks.
"There are others down there too..." she whispered, still gripping her wand tightly as her face lost all color. "Sturgis Podmore, he's down there as well..."
Grindelwald seemed utterly indifferent to their panic and McGonagall's words. His faint smile never faltered.
With a graceful flick of his wand, the icy blue flames that had been scattered throughout the ship suddenly reversed their course, rushing back toward the dining hall like a receding tide.
They condensed rapidly, thicker, darker, more violent, until the blue deepened to near-black. The sea of fire coalesced into the form of a powerful, lifelike dragon made entirely of that eerie blue fire.
"Is this the one you meant?" Grindelwald finally spoke.
Everyone's eyes widened.
The indigo dragon was clutching something in its glowing claws, a limp human form. The figure's eyes were closed, his face pale, but his chest still rose and fell faintly. He was alive. It was Sturgis Podmore, a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Sturgis!" McGonagall and several Order members exclaimed, overjoyed and incredulous. Only moments ago, they had grieved his death, and now Grindelwald had brought him back unharmed.
"So many of you, and yet you all count as allies? Remarkable." Grindelwald's voice was calm, almost amused. "But," his eyes swept over McGonagall and the others, "you not only kept your enemies alive, you failed to notice there were still people hidden aboard this ship? And then you locked your own men together with the scum?"
"I believe he was under the Imperius Curse," McGonagall explained, relief mixed with guilt. "It was Sturgis who threw the smoke bombs in the corridor earlier. We thought he had betrayed us."
"The Imperius Curse?" Grindelwald let out a derisive chuckle. "Perhaps you should have taught him how to resist such third-rate tricks." With a flick of his wand, the dragon's claws opened, and Sturgis's body dropped.
McGonagall rushed forward and caught him carefully, checking his condition.
Grindelwald seemed satisfied. He was about to withdraw the dragon back into his wand when, suddenly, something went wrong.
The dragon did not obey. Instead, it twisted violently in the air, its burning blue eyes fixing on Snape.
It gave a silent roar, opened its fanged jaws, and dove toward him, claws of cold fire slashing through the air.
"Severus!"
Shouts erupted instantly.
Without hesitation, Lily and the others nearest to Snape fired Stunning Spells at Grindelwald. Pandora reacted even faster, her hand darted to her waist and hurled a closed-leaf Mimbulus mimbletonia straight at Grindelwald's chest.
Grindelwald's brow furrowed slightly. With a casual motion, his wand drew a semicircle before him, raising an invisible shield. The Stunning Spells hit it and vanished without a trace.
At the same time, his other hand snapped out and caught Pandora's thrown plant midair.
The Mimbulus mimbletonia writhed violently in his grip, its leaves flaring open to reveal sharp, jagged teeth that bit viciously into his sleeve.
Meanwhile, the blue dragon had already reached Snape, engulfing him completely in its icy fire.
As before, Snape's body did not ignite.
But his expression changed instantly. He felt searing heat against his chest, where Tom Riddle's diary was hidden beneath his robes.
A terrible, piercing scream tore through the air, so full of hatred and despair it felt like it could shred the soul itself. It came from Snape's chest.
Everyone froze. All eyes turned toward him.
Even the Mimbulus mimbletonia, still clamped to Grindelwald's sleeve, seemed to flinch at the sound. It released its bite and dropped to the floor with a soft thud, its leaves snapping shut.
Thick, black liquid began to seep through Snape's robes, pouring out in heavy streams that trailed down to the floor. It dripped steadily onto the wooden boards with a sickening sound.
As the inky fluid spread, the dragon seemed to relax, its task complete. It beat its flaming wings once, then dissolved into a streak of blue light and reentered Grindelwald's wand.
Snape stood amid the mess, his robes soaked in black stains. At his feet pooled a patch of dark ink that gave off faint wisps of shadow.
"Damn," he thought grimly. "Tom's diary, destroyed just like that. This was... completely unexpected." He reflexively reached into his robes to check the damage.
"Leave it," Grindelwald said sharply. His voice carried an unusual note of command. His gaze lingered on the black stains spreading across the floor. With a motion of his wand, he cleared the residue before asking, "Severus, you've been carrying that sort of thing with you?" He clearly understood what the black fluid and that scream meant.
"Uh..." Feeling the mixture of shock, suspicion, and even fear directed his way, Snape forced himself to sound casual. "Just a small Dark artifact. For personal research."
He sighed inwardly, accepting the diary's destruction. So be it. That makes three gone. Consider it advance work.
Grindelwald said nothing more. He simply touched his wand to the fallen Mimbulus mimbletonia, levitating it gently back toward Pandora.
Her cheeks flushed as she caught it and tucked it carefully back into her robes.
"Keep it safe, young lady," Grindelwald said mildly. "Throwing things around like that is dangerous, you might hit an ally next time."
Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened, holstered his wand, and looked around with his usual pleasant smile.
"Well, everyone," he said, clearing his throat, "the nuisance has been dealt with. I believe dinner should be served now?"
He even glanced leisurely toward the magical wall clock in the corner, then added reassuringly to the trembling house-elves huddled by the wall, "Oh, don't worry, the lower decks are clean now. You won't have extra work tonight."
Dinner's atmosphere was as grim as expected.
The roast chicken and stewed meat brought in by the house-elves smelled delicious, but few could bring themselves to eat. Every clink of knife against plate sounded painfully loud.
Students kept their heads down, eyes flickering nervously between their food and the professors. Eileen watched Snape with worry; Professor Flitwick poked absently at a potato, looking preoccupied; only Mundungus seemed unfazed, devouring his meal noisily.
At the staff table, Grindelwald sat as though untouched by the tension. He ate with impeccable grace, every motion precise.
Watching him eat so calmly, Snape could no longer hold back. He leaned closer and spoke under his breath. "Mr. Grindel, that thing, I still needed it. And now it's gone."
Grindelwald finished chewing, dabbed his lips neatly with a napkin, and turned his pale eyes toward him, curious.
"What did you need it for? If it's the method of creation you want, you could have simply asked me."
Snape shook his head, lowering his voice further. "It's Nagini, the Blood Curse on her. The fractured soul within that diary could serve as a unique vessel for absorption."
For the first time, genuine surprise flickered across Grindelwald's face. He set down his knife and fork, studying Snape for several seconds.
"Using a Horcrux to absorb a soul-bound curse?" he murmured, a note of admiration in his tone. "An intriguing idea, bold, even brilliant, but also reckless. That's not a reason to carry such a dangerous artifact on you. One misstep, and it would have consumed you instead."
Snape stayed silent. He didn't deny it. That was, in fact, his greatest fear, why he had slowed Nagini's treatment so carefully.
"Now then," Grindelwald said after a pause, his tone shifting, "your Headmaster, what exactly happened to leave him in such a state?" He gestured vaguely toward the direction of the infirmary.
"The details aren't entirely clear," Snape said quietly. "He left the school alone, searching for one of Riddle's creations. We believe he stepped into a trap, Riddle's domain, so to speak."
"As you've seen, the result speaks for itself." He spread his hands. "If not for the house-elves finding him, Professor Dumbledore might never have met you again."
"Heh." Grindelwald gave a cold laugh. "The great Albus Dumbledore, outsmarted by a boy's traps, all for the sake of a few trinkets? He's growing old indeed."
"Yes, Mr. Grindel," Snape said after a short pause, his voice carrying both weariness and confusion. "I think the Headmaster was after more than destruction. He might have been searching for the Resurrection Stone, another of Riddle's cursed relics."
"I just don't understand what he would want with such a thing." He shook his head. "Even children know that magic cannot truly reverse death. To tamper with it only breeds distortion and disaster. If anyone knows that, it's him."
At the mention of the "Resurrection Stone," Grindelwald's hand paused mid-motion. The mocking smile faded from his face. He said nothing.
He simply set down his utensils, lifted the napkin again, and wiped his mouth and hands with slow, deliberate care.
The hall remained quiet, filled only with the faint sounds of hesitant eating.
After a long silence, Grindelwald finally looked up.
"As for that curse upon the little serpent," he said evenly, no longer commenting on Dumbledore at all, "it will be difficult to remove, but I will think of something."
Then his eyes drifted across the dining hall toward the tired, shaken students. "After all this chaos, the ship needs stability. I suggest you say something to them after dinner, Severus.
"Reassure them, inspire them, whatever you must, but don't let them go to bed trembling in fear. They need direction, even if only a vague promise."
Following his gaze, Snape looked around the hall, the frightened faces, the quiet sobs, the awkward attempts at comfort among the students.
"I understand," he said softly, nodding. "It's time they knew."