The voice abruptly stopped.
Standing outside the door was a man with neatly combed brown hair. His face still carried faint traces of Dumbledore's youthful features, but his expression was much harder, and his eyes entirely different.
He and the white-haired Dumbledore inside the captain's cabin, dressed in star-and-moon pajamas beneath a forget-me-not-blue robe, locked eyes across the room.
It was exactly the scene Snape had dreaded most: the two old men, entangled for half a lifetime, meeting suddenly and without warning.
No one knew how long the silence lasted before Grindelwald finally exhaled softly, almost inaudibly.
His gaze swept away from Dumbledore, drifting past the bloodstains on the werewolf's body, and he strolled into the cabin with leisurely composure.
Dumbledore's eyes moved slowly away from him and turned toward Professor McGonagall, who was trying to quietly usher James and the others out of the room, silently asking her what she intended to do.
McGonagall's face flickered with panic. She quickly lowered her head, pretending to adjust her robe, uncharacteristically avoiding the Headmaster's gaze.
She gave Sirius a hard shove between the shoulders, whispering urgently, "What are you standing there for? Move!"
Then, with her head still down, she almost pushed James, Sirius, and Lupin along the cabin wall, pressing themselves flat to squeeze past Grindelwald and toward the open door.
Seeing this, Snape immediately lifted a foot to follow them, planning to slip away quietly and avoid being caught between these two titans.
However, just as he reached the doorway and was about to step out, a silent spell struck him squarely in the back.
Snape felt his arms and legs seize up. With a sharp snap, his limbs clamped together, his whole body, from neck to toes, turned stiff as wood. Apart from his eyes, he lost all control.
Before he could topple backward, the last thing he saw was Professor McGonagall turning to cast him a look filled with sympathy and the unspoken message, you're on your own now. Then she closed the captain's door behind her, leaving him alone inside.
I'm done for, was all Snape had time to think.
But just before he crashed onto the floor, another force, a flexible, cushioning sort of magic, caught his robes, yanking him upward and twisting him midair so that instead of facing away from the room, he was turned to face Dumbledore.
Only then did the effects of the body-bind fade away.
Snape staggered, barely catching his balance.
When he looked up, Dumbledore was standing serenely by the fireplace not far away, his wand seemingly untouched.
Meanwhile, Grindelwald had already seated himself casually in the corner of the room's sitting area. He'd poured himself a steaming cup of red tea and was using the lid to skim away the froth.
Snape straightened his crumpled robes, pretending composure. "Professor," he said stiffly, "if there's nothing else, I have two second-year Potions classes tomorrow morning. I should really prepare my lesson plan. Perhaps I'll just... turn in for the night?"
Dumbledore said nothing, merely fixed him with those piercing blue eyes. Snape's nerves tightened. He forced a dry smile and added, "You did say earlier you would understand..."
Dumbledore's expression suddenly softened into something almost kindly. Gesturing toward the seating area, he said gently, "Severus, don't rush off. Sit down and have some tea. I think we could all use a bit of time, to talk."
Snape's eye twitched. Brilliant, he thought bitterly. He glanced at Grindelwald, whose face was blank as he sipped his tea, then back at Dumbledore's increasingly benevolent smile. Seeing no way out, he shuffled toward the chairs.
Dumbledore followed, tapping the table lightly with his wand.
The teapot lifted itself and poured deep crimson tea into Snape's empty cup, then filled one for Dumbledore.
Snape picked up his cup, watching the rippling surface, waiting for Dumbledore to speak while his mind raced through possible explanations.
The cabin was so quiet that the crackle of the fireplace and the faint clink of porcelain were the only sounds.
At least Dumbledore didn't make him wait long.
Setting his cup down with a clear, delicate sound, the Headmaster finally looked up and asked evenly,
"Severus, is this what you meant by those 'unconventional measures', the ones you claimed were necessary for the safety of all?"
Before Snape could answer, Grindelwald moved.
Click. The soft sound of his teacup being set back on the table.
Both Dumbledore and Snape turned to look at him.
Leaning back into the sofa, Grindelwald met Dumbledore's gaze with his steely gray eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" he said slowly, his tone edged with irony. "Wasn't it he", he nodded slightly toward Snape, "who came to me, following your will, to seek my help?"
"Cough, cough..." Snape nearly choked on his tea. He seized the moment. "Yes, well... that's quite right. When Professor Dumbledore fell into a coma, the situation was dire. One night, while I was watching over his bedside, uncertain what to do next, I suddenly... felt it, a clear impression of his will, his guidance..."
"The feeling was indescribable," he went on earnestly, eyes wide with sincerity.
"It was that powerful subconscious call from Professor Dumbledore himself that drove me to risk everything and cross the continent in search of your aid. I am convinced, it was the instinctive guidance of a great wizard, even while unconscious, acting for the greater good!"
Dumbledore blinked at him, clearly puzzled. "Is that so? Strange, I don't seem to recall anything of the sort."
Snape felt sweat bead on his neck. Come on, he thought. Take the out when I give it to you! He could almost feel the tension between the two elder wizards.
"Professor," he said quickly, "it was under his direction that the Cloak of Invisibility was found and destroyed! And thanks to him, we've been able to secure and develop informants within the Death Eaters.
"That insider believes that even if you had fallen, there would still be another wizard of equal strength to hold the line. Without that confidence, we'd have lost everything!"
To strengthen his case, Snape pulled something from his robe, a dull, magicless shard of a locket, and dropped it onto the table with a clang.
"Look, Professor! Look at what we've achieved! This came from our informant!"
"And this," Snape continued before Dumbledore could speak, pulling out a corroded diary with a gaping hole burned through its center, setting it beside the locket, "this is another Horcrux, Riddle's old diary. It was destroyed by him personally!"
"Professor," Snape said, catching his breath, "to find and destroy these objects, to fight such unspeakable evil, we risked our lives. And now, now you fault me for taking 'unconventional measures'? Without them, would we even be alive to share tea tonight? Would we have made such progress against the darkness?"
Dumbledore said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the two broken Horcruxes, wonder flickering in his eyes.
He reached out with trembling fingers, gently lifting both relics, tracing the faint remnants of dark magic lingering on their surfaces.
Seeing Dumbledore's attention successfully diverted, Snape exhaled in relief. He steadied himself and turned toward Grindelwald, who sat quietly as if watching a fine play, and decided to press the advantage.
"Sir," he began, softening his tone, "although I sought you out of my own will, if you were not the only wizard alive both willing and able to aid Albus Dumbledore in his time of crisis, would I have dared to defy the world to find you?
"The world only knows you two as rivals, as enemies. But had Professor Dumbledore never hinted otherwise, never spoken of the regret he felt upon hearing of your lonely imprisonment, how could I have found the courage to approach such a formidable unknown?"
Snape paused, watching Grindelwald's face. A flicker of emotion stirred in those gray eyes before he turned back to Dumbledore.
"Professor, if his years in that tower had not changed him at all, if his thoughts, his desires, his will had remained untouched, then why is he here now, protecting this ship and everyone aboard it? Why spend his time teaching them, if not because something within him has shifted?"
At those words, Dumbledore's hand, still holding the diary, trembled faintly. He did not expose Snape's embellishments, he merely kept silent, continuing to study the Horcrux remains.
Snape silently wiped the sweat from his palm. Good, he thought. He's not calling me out. That means he accepts at least part of this.
After a long inspection, Dumbledore set the diary down gently, sighing as though a weight had lifted from him.
Still not looking at Grindelwald, he said softly, as if to the air, "Will you really keep that face on?"
Grindelwald was silent for several seconds, then gave a dry chuckle.
Without any visible gesture, his face began to shift, the brown hair fading to silver-white, the youthful features melting into the lines and loosened skin of age.
For a long moment, the room was wrapped in a strange, heavy quiet.
Two old men, both white-haired, sat across a small tea table, barely half a meter apart.
"You've grown old," Dumbledore said, eyes closing briefly.
Grindelwald's voice rasped, though still tinged with mockery. "And you, who can barely take care of yourself and almost died in your sleep, what right have you to say that to me?"
Dumbledore didn't argue. He merely nodded, lowering his gaze, fingers absently stroking his wand.
Neither spoke again.
For Snape, wedged between them, the silence was unbearable, like sitting on needles, like insects crawling under his skin.
Just as he was about to try once more to excuse himself, Dumbledore lifted his head, forcing his focus back to business. His tone grew calm again.
"Severus," he said, tapping a finger on the table beside the Horcrux fragments, "that makes four we've destroyed. Two remain, the ring of Marvolo Gaunt, and Hufflepuff's cup. As for our next steps..."
"The ring?" Snape's heart gave a jolt. The Resurrection Stone he'd pried from it was still in his pocket. This was not the time to bring it up, better not to stir old grief or impossible hopes.
Before Dumbledore could continue, Snape cut in swiftly, "Professor, I've already gathered some leads on the remaining Horcruxes and am pursuing them. However," he gestured at the magical wall clock, its hands now pointing to the early hours before dawn, "it's getting quite late."
"As for our next course of action," he added quickly, standing up, "we can discuss it in detail another time. For tonight, I'll take my leave."
Dumbledore looked at him, then slowly nodded.
Relief flooded through Snape. He turned at once, strode to the door, twisted the handle, and slipped out into the dimly lit corridor.
He closed the door quietly behind him.
In the last instant, before the gap sealed shut, he caught one final glimpse of the scene within:
Under the warm yellow glow of the firelight, two white-haired men, one seated, one standing.