The next morning, when the first sleepy-eyed student pushed open the doors of the dining hall, he could hardly believe what he saw.
He rubbed his eyes hard, then let out a shout loud enough to wake the entire ship.
"Professor Dumbledore?!
"It's really you, that's wonderful!"
Albus Dumbledore had returned.
At the staff table, that familiar tall figure sat once more in the center seat.
He was wearing his brilliant purple star-patterned robe, his long silver-white hair and beard neatly combed, and behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes shone with that same kind, gentle light.
The news spread like wildfire.
Every person who entered the dining hall afterward, students, professors, even the house-elves bustling between tables with silver trays, stared at the sight in joyous disbelief before bursting into cheers and greetings.
Dumbledore smiled warmly, waving to each person in turn, calling them by name and asking after their well-being.
Because of Dumbledore's return, Snape naturally resumed his place at the students' table.
The seat he had occupied at the staff table was now once again the Headmaster's, though curiously, the "Professor Green" with short brown hair, still maintaining his disguise, remained calmly seated right beside Dumbledore in the principal's place.
Though a few found it strange that the stern Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sat where the Headmaster usually did, and that Dumbledore himself seemed perfectly content beside him, the joy of reunion was so overwhelming that no one gave the matter a second thought.
Snape sat with Pandora, Lily, Abbott, and their friends, enjoying a lavish breakfast while they buzzed excitedly about the Headmaster's return.
A house-elf carrying a tureen of pumpkin soup, trembling with excitement, accidentally spilled a bit of soup across their tablecloth.
The poor elf burst into loud, tearful apologies, nearly smashing his head against the table leg in remorse, while Pandora and Lily hurried to reassure him that it was truly fine, over and over again.
Then Dumbledore quietly picked up his goblet and tapped it twice with a silver spoon.
Clink, clink.
The clear sound drew everyone's attention; the dining hall gradually fell silent.
Dumbledore's speech was, as always, brief.
He rose, sweeping his gaze across the sea of eager faces, and smiled.
"Good morning, everyone. It's been a while. I'm back. How is everyone?"
At first, students called out noisily, voices overlapping,
"Doing great, Professor!" "We're fine, sir!"
But soon, a louder, more urgent voice broke through the crowd.
"Professor! When can we go back to Hogwarts?"
That question was instantly echoed by dozens of others.
"Yes, Professor, we miss the castle and the grounds!"
"I miss the fire in the common room!"
"I miss the courtyard behind the library!"
"And the Black Lake! I wonder how the giant squid is doing?"
"Yeah! I can't wait to 'mount Sir Cadogan's pony' and have a real, valiant duel again!"
A student shouted the last in a mock-knight's accent, sparking laughter throughout the hall.
The noise swelled, then slowly subsided as everyone turned expectantly to Dumbledore.
Life aboard the ship might be safe and decently supplied, but it could never match the freedom and vastness of Hogwarts Castle, the shimmering depths of the Black Lake, or the grandeur of the surrounding mountains.
Over time, even the things that used to annoy them, the trick staircases, for instance, had become fond memories.
Dumbledore gazed down at all those young faces. Though he had no intention of letting the students face danger directly, he couldn't bring himself to quash their hope.
He smiled gently, his tone warm and full of promise. "I understand how you all feel. Returning to Hogwarts is our shared goal. And I believe, that day is not far off.
"In the meantime, I hope you'll continue working hard, practicing diligently... all those practical defense skills that Mr. Green has been teaching you. Be ready. I believe our time to return will come soon."
"Yeah!"
"That's wonderful!"
Though he had given no specific date, Dumbledore's words filled everyone with hope and energy. The hall once again erupted in cheers. Breakfast ended in an atmosphere of optimism and renewed determination.
Since Professor Dumbledore's return, morale aboard the Founders' Ark soared higher than ever. Only one person seemed less than delighted: Argus Filch, the caretaker.
Students' enthusiasm for spellwork and dueling reached unprecedented heights. In corridors, empty cabins, even on deck, flashes of spellfire could be seen at almost any hour.
Inevitably, this led to what Filch called "little messes": scorch marks on the walls, slick puddles of conjured grease on the floors, and the occasional explosion scattering debris everywhere.
His workload grew unbearable, and for a man who prized order above all, it was torture.
On the eve of the Easter Feast, a kind-hearted student passing by found Filch hunched in a corner with a bucket and rag, scowling at a stubborn stain. Offering to help with a Scourgify spell, the student barely got the words out before Filch sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Off with you! Don't need it! I can get it clean without your flashy nonsense! Traditional methods, you hear? Traditional!"
Muttering, he bent back down, scrubbing furiously as he grumbled under his breath, "Hmph... in the old days... I had my whip... and the shackles... and detention..."
Snape happened to be walking by and paused for a moment. Watching the man's hunched figure, struggling with ordinary tools against magical grime, a flicker of sympathy crossed his mind.
In a world where everyone could wield a wand, being a Squib was indeed a painful and lonely fate.
But he didn't linger. With a small shake of his head, he continued toward his destination, the ship's greenhouse.
Lately, the Mandrakes there had become moody and uncommunicative, a sure sign they were leaving childhood and entering their volatile adolescent phase.
Snape needed to check whether the unsightly acne on their faces had healed so they could be safely transplanted. If all went well, they could soon be harvested and boiled, meaning that Dobby, the house-elf, would soon be revived.
Outside the greenhouse, Easter decorations, enchanted eggs and rabbit-shaped charms, were strung up in bright colors.
Through the glass, Snape saw Eileen, Pandora, and Lily inside. Each wore thick earmuffs and was carefully operating a well-maintained vintage phonograph, playing records.
A few Mandrakes had already been pulled from the soil and rested in their own pots, their wrinkled faces pocked with fading blemishes. As the record spun, they grinned grotesquely and twisted their little bodies in rhythm to the music.
Even through the door, Snape could hear the muffled hum filling the air, the effect of a Muffliato charm.
Wisely, he refrained from barging in. Instead, he rapped lightly on the glass.
Lily was the first to notice him. She gestured: pointing to her own ears, then to a small stool near the door.
Following her signal, Snape saw a few spare pairs of earmuffs resting there. He picked one up, secured it over his ears, then slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.
After walking a little further in, the buzz of sound was replaced by a kind of muffled quiet.
Snape joined Eileen and the others, helping check the Mandrakes' condition. They pulled up the ones whose blemishes had faded and met the transplant standards, setting them among their companions in the "silent dance."
After a long while, the singing Mandrakes finally tired. One by one, their faces drooped, the leaves on their heads wilting. Snape and the others tried to move them into larger pots.
But these rebellious little creatures clung stubbornly to the edges of their old ones, refusing to let go. A few even tried to bite the hands that reached toward them.
After several failed attempts, the group gave up and buried the stubborn Mandrakes back in their familiar soil.
Once everything was in order, they removed their earmuffs. Sound rushed back instantly.
Eileen cheerfully placed the pots back on the shelf with a sigh of relief. "Almost there! Once they're willing to move into the new pots on their own, we'll know they're fully mature, and ready for potion use."
"In that case," Pandora said brightly, turning to Snape, eyes shining, "we'll be able to bring poor Dobby back to life!"
Afterward, they all went together to the dining hall for the Easter Feast.
The celebration was filled with laughter, delicious food, and a lively, cheerful atmosphere.
When it ended, Snape and a few friends strolled up to the deck, enjoying the calm of the night after the feast.
The evening was beautiful. The weather had grown clearer and warmer lately, and the gentle breeze carried away the last of the day's heat.
They leaned against the railings, gazing at the stars scattered across the deep night sky and the dark waves far below, chatting idly.
But their peaceful moment was soon interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who came hurrying toward them.
Her face shone with excitement; even her usually brisk steps seemed lighter.
"Severus," she called, "come with me to the captain's cabin. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you."
Snape raised an eyebrow in mild surprise but said his farewells to his friends and followed the clearly elated McGonagall into the ship's interior.
When he entered the captain's cabin, he found Dumbledore there, with Grindelwald, still maintaining his disguise as Professor Green.
After brief greetings, Dumbledore skipped any pleasantries and went straight to the point.
"Severus," said the Headmaster cheerfully, "Minerva has received a rather interesting message from one of her contacts in the Ministry. It strongly suggests that Tom may have hidden one of his Horcruxes within the Department of Mysteries."
Snape's mind sharpened at once. He immediately understood why McGonagall seemed so excited, this was a major lead.
"What kind of information?" he asked cautiously.
"Recently," Dumbledore explained, "under the pretext of 'an accident requiring absolute staff safety,' the Ministry has replaced nearly all Unspeakables with its most loyal Death Eaters. That department is now under their full-time guard."
At this, Grindelwald, who had been listening silently, gave a derisive chuckle.
"That reminds me of the night we broke into the Ministry," he said, voice dripping with irony. "That ill-mannered Voldemort found out that one of his followers, what was his name again? Ah yes, Rookwood, was still alive, and his first reaction was to kill him on the spot."
"At the time, I thought it mere cruelty and paranoia," he went on, eyes glinting with mock amusement. "But now, perhaps it was fear, that the poor fellow might reveal certain secrets."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Whatever his reasons, this clue, combined with previous signs, makes the Department of Mysteries a place we must investigate."
"When do we move?" Snape asked immediately.
"No rush," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "Even if a Horcrux is indeed hidden in the Ministry, we still have one more whose location is unknown.
"Until we've identified all remaining Horcruxes, storming such a heavily guarded place would only alert our enemies. The Department of Mysteries must be left as our final target."
At that, Snape gave a polite cough and turned to McGonagall. "Professor, forgive me for asking, but could you share your source? You've consistently obtained valuable information from within the Ministry. I'd like to assess the reliability of this intelligence.
"After all, if we're to infiltrate the Ministry's core, we must ensure this isn't a trap designed to lure us in."
McGonagall hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore. After a moment's silence, she seemed to make up her mind. "I can assure you, Severus, the source is absolutely reliable."
"Why are you so certain?" Snape pressed. "We need to eliminate any uncertainty."
McGonagall looked around, then lowered her voice. "It was Elphinstone Elcott who told me."
"He's..." Seeing the doubt still in Snape's eyes, she added, "a senior official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and... a trusted old friend." A faint blush rose to her cheeks, though her tone remained firm.
Snape wanted to ask more about this Mr. Elcott to better gauge the risk, but Dumbledore intervened gently.
"Severus, Minerva's judgment is trustworthy. And as I said, we won't be heading to the Ministry just yet, so there's no need to dwell on it."
Hearing Dumbledore emphasize once again that the Ministry raid could wait, Snape fell silent.
Then, after a moment's thought, he reached into his black robe and slowly pulled something out.
It was a roughly crafted gold ring. Where a black stone should have been set, there was now only emptiness. The ring itself was dull and scarred, a black burn mark running across it.
"Professor, Marvolo Gaunt's ring," Snape said, handing it carefully to Dumbledore. His tone was grave as he added, "The stone that was once set in it, I've already taken care of it in advance.
"So, there's no need for anyone to put it on."