At the edge of a dense forest, as the momentary dizziness of Apparition faded, Severus Snape immediately pulled a charmed token from the inner pocket of his robe, one that could sense the location of the Founders' Ship.
However, when he infused his magic into the badge to pinpoint the precise location of the magical vessel, the feedback revealed something unexpected: the ship was at nearly the same altitude as himself.
"The Founders' Ship isn't in the sky," Snape said, his face darkening as he turned to share this discovery with his companions.
"What?!" Moody's hand was already on his wand. The Longbottoms and the Tonks family tensed immediately, and Kate Prendergast instinctively edged closer to the group.
"Let's go take a look," Snape said in a low voice.
Without hesitation, they crouched low and moved swiftly along a concealed path winding between the coastline and the forest's edge, following the direction indicated by the token.
As they drew closer to the area the token pointed to, the air grew heavy with the salty tang of seawater, and the ground beneath their feet shifted from firm earth to soft sand.
The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore became audible, mingled with strange human voices—faint, indistinct sounds of laughter and chatter.
Snape raised a hand, signaling the group to halt. He lowered himself silently, parting the branches of a bush with a barely perceptible movement to peer cautiously through the gap.
The sight that met his eyes made him pause, a flicker of absurdity crossing his mind:
On the golden beach, bathed in the soft glow of dawn, a group of indistinct figures ran about, splashing in the water, building sandcastles, or playing a rudimentary game of beach volleyball with a few taller children.
At the edge of the beach, several adult figures were faintly visible. They appeared to stroll casually, but their positions subtly encircled the playing children, their eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.
Snape instantly recognized the diminutive wizard among them, unmistakable in his stature.
"Phew…" He let out a long breath, straightening up and raising his voice toward the beach. "Professor Flitwick, it's us! We're back!"
His shout shattered the tranquil morning air. The students playing on the beach paused curiously, looking over, while the adult wizards on guard spun around. Recognizing Snape, their faces broke into relieved smiles.
The group behind the bushes exhaled in unison and stepped out into the open.
Flitwick and Professor Burbage hurried forward to meet them.
"Severus, Alastor, Emmeline, thank Merlin you're all safe!" Flitwick's voice trembled with excitement. "Oh, Frank, Alice! Ted, Andromeda, and little Nymphadora! Wonderful, you're all safe!"
In the midst of this warm reunion, Snape did something entirely unexpected.
Without warning, he raised his arm, wand pointed directly at Kate Prendergast, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the group.
"Don't move, Ms. Prendergast," he said. "Please, wait a moment."
Flitwick's smile froze. With lightning reflexes, he raised his own wand, his joy overtaken by wariness, though he had no idea what was happening. "Severus, what's going on?" At the same moment, Moody swiftly positioned himself on Kate's other side, forming a subtle pincer with Snape, effectively boxing her in.
The newly rescued Longbottoms and others froze, bewildered by the sudden confrontation.
"Sir," Kate's face paled, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "What… what is this about?"
Snape didn't answer immediately. Keeping his wand trained on Kate, he softened his tone slightly, addressing both the group and her. "Everyone, relax. It's just a small verification procedure."
"Professor Burbage, I need a favor," he said, glancing at the equally stunned professor. "Please fetch Ressie Polk, the first-year Hufflepuff, and bring her here. Thank you."
"Of course, right away!" Burbage nodded without hesitation, turning and hurrying toward the beach to find the familiar small figure among the crowd.
The wait felt interminably long. The students on the beach noticed the odd scene and began to glance over curiously, but Gideon and the others gently reassured them, keeping them at a distance.
Soon, Burbage returned, leading a small girl with neatly combed brown hair, her face a mix of confusion and curiosity. It was Ressie Polk.
Before Ressie reached the group, Snape's wrist flicked almost imperceptibly, and his wand slipped silently into the depths of his wide black sleeve.
"Good morning, Mr. Snape, Professor Flitwick!" Ressie said politely, bowing to Snape and Flitwick.
As she straightened, preparing to greet the others, her gaze swept over the group and locked onto Kate Prendergast.
"Aunt Kate?!" Ressie's eyes widened, her face bursting with incredulous joy.
She instinctively moved to run toward her aunt, as she always did, but Snape gently raised a hand, subtly blocking her path. "Ressie," he said, bending slightly, his voice carrying a soothing strength. "Not yet."
Ressie stopped, confused, looking up at Snape with a puzzled expression. "Professor? It's my aunt."
"Ressie, I know you miss her. But do you remember what I told you in Potions class?" Snape said. "A hint: it earned you the first Outstanding badge I ever awarded."
Ressie blinked, then answered automatically, "Caution. It's the first lesson you taught us when we stepped into your classroom."
She reached into her small robe pocket and pulled out a tiny badge.
"I remember, sir," she said, though her eyes kept darting anxiously toward her aunt.
"Good," Snape nodded. "Now, I need you to maintain that caution. Just like brewing a potion, verify the identity of the woman before you."
"Sir…" Ressie looked bewildered, her small face scrunching up. She glanced at Snape's stern expression, then at Kate's face, a mix of fear, hurt, and hope, and seemed to grasp something. Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you worried she's an imposter?"
"Very clever," Snape said approvingly.
Ressie fell into a brief moment of thought, her little brows furrowing.
Kate watched her niece with concern, her lips parting as if to speak, but she held back.
Finally, Ressie's face lit up as an idea struck her.
"Aunt Kate!" she called out boldly, looking at Kate a few steps away. "Last Christmas, the scarf you gave me—what pattern was embroidered on it?"
"The scarf?" Kate thought hard. "It was a Snitch with a little snowball on its head. I embroidered the nose crooked, and your mother teased me about it…"
At this answer, the last trace of doubt vanished from Ressie's face. She turned to Snape, nodding vigorously with absolute certainty. "That's right, sir. It's my aunt. She's definitely real!"
Snape finally relaxed. He patted Ressie's head and stepped aside. "Go on."
"Auntie!" Ressie, like a joyful little bird, threw herself into Kate's arms. "Auntie, it's really you! How did you get here? I missed you so much!"
Kate hugged her tightly, kissing her hair, the earlier shock and hurt washed away by overwhelming joy.
Snape approached Kate and inclined his head slightly. "Ms. Prendergast, I apologize for the offense. These are cautious times."
"No, no, sir," Kate said, still holding Ressie, shaking her head. "You did the right thing. No need to apologize! Thank you, thank you all for protecting Ressie so carefully."
After calming the reunited aunt and niece, Snape walked over to Flitwick.
The group began heading back toward the beach.
"Professor," Snape asked quietly, his gaze sweeping over the students playing on the sand. "What's going on here? Why are you here, and why bring the students down?"
"Severus," Flitwick said, stroking his beard with a gentle smile, "it's Halloween, after all! I know the situation is tense, but the children need a break, a chance to breathe."
"They've been cooped up on the ship day after day, seeing nothing but glaring sun or monotonous clouds. If this goes on, I'm afraid they'll start falling ill. It's a rare holiday—let them feel the sand, listen to the waves."
"Don't worry," he added. "We've been careful. All the students surrendered their wands before coming down, and we're keeping them secure. There won't be any magical emissions to alert the Ministry."
Snape watched the students, momentarily free of fear and displacement, laughing and running joyfully. He gave a slight nod. "It's good. They do need to relax."
He paused, then lowered his voice further. "Professor, what about Mr. Green? Has he returned?"
"Not yet," Flitwick said, shaking his head, a trace of worry crossing his face. But he quickly shrugged with forced lightness. "That's him, though, isn't it? I wager he's got his own plans or maybe ran into a bit of trouble he's sorting out."
Snape didn't press further, only murmuring, "Mm."
Though concerned, he shared Flitwick's sentiment. If even Gellert Grindelwald couldn't return unscathed, then likely no one could. He chose to trust that Grindelwald could handle his "mission."
So, Snape took up a post by a high rock at the beach's edge, silently assuming guard duty. Moody, leaning on his staff, stationed himself under a nearby tree, watching another direction. The rescued Longbottoms, the Tonks family, and Kate Prendergast were led by Emmeline and Professor Burbage back to the Founders' Ship.
Hours earlier, in London, England, the streets were dark and deserted.
Gellert Grindelwald's figure appeared soundlessly in a secluded alley.
Before him stood a dilapidated red telephone booth, several of its glass panes cracked or missing, revealing rusted metal beneath peeling paint.
The booth was pressed against a filthy brick wall, covered in layers of graffiti. The old-fashioned telephone receiver hung crookedly on its hook, the cord dangling loosely.
Grindelwald stepped forward and lifted the receiver.
Instead of dialing the usual "62442" like an ordinary visitor, he casually tapped his wand against the receiver's interior.
A low hum vibrated through the booth, and the ground beneath began to tremble.
Then, the pavement outside the glass windows started to rise like an elevator, while the entire booth, with Grindelwald inside, sank into the earth.
After about a minute of descent, a thin beam of golden light shot out from a crack in the booth, routinely scanning the visitor's body.
But the light passed through Grindelwald's feet, body, and face as if he were air, meeting no resistance.
The beam paused, as if confused, circling the "empty" booth for several seconds before reluctantly fading away.
A cold, mechanical female voice echoed in the cramped space:
"Visitor to the Ministry of Magic, you are required to undergo a security check and register your wand at the security desk. The desk is located at the far end of the Atrium. The Ministry wishes you a pleasant evening."
With a clunk, the booth's door sprang open.
Grindelwald stepped out into the Ministry's iconic Atrium.
In the dead of night, the hall was dimly lit, with only a few wall lamps casting feeble glows.
Grindelwald stood at the far end of the hall, the polished dark wood floor stretching out beneath his feet, disappearing into the shadows ahead.
Looking up, he saw the high peacock-blue ceiling embedded with countless shifting, shimmering golden symbols, like an enormous overhead bulletin board glowing faintly in the gloom.
The walls were lined with glossy black wood panels, interspersed at intervals with gilded fireplaces, none of which held a fire.
In the center of the hall stood an empty pool, devoid of statues or the sound of flowing water.
The "Fountain of Magical Brethren" statue group that once stood here had apparently been removed, with no replacement yet arranged.
A grimy sign lay overturned by the pool's edge, its inscription—"All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren are donated to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries"—marred by several distinct footprints.
Grindelwald's gaze swept over the fountain's remnants, lingering on the few glinting silver Sickles and copper Knuts at the bottom of the dry pool.
"Hmph," he snorted derisively.
Without lingering, he strode confidently toward the only faintly lit spot at the far end of the Atrium.
At the security desk, under a dim solitary lamp, a balding red-haired man was slumped over the table, snoring evenly.
Grindelwald's footsteps roused him.
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