After walking in silence for a while on the rugged Alpine path, Snape's voice cut through the howling wind:
"Mr. Grindelwald, we need to Apparate to Vienna, and then take a Muggle plane to London. It'll be less conspicuous that way..."
Before he could finish, the figure ahead stopped and turned around. In the snow, Snape saw Grindelwald's transfigured appearance for the first time: short, dark brown hair, a defined jawline, and bright eyes. He bore a striking resemblance to Professor Dumbledore in his youth, as Snape remembered him.
Ignoring Snape's surprised gaze, Grindelwald advanced directly, grabbing his arm. Snape didn't even have time to protest before a powerful, almost violent pulling sensation, far exceeding normal Apparition, instantly enveloped him. The world spun, and the surrounding snowy mountains shattered into fragments.
When Snape finally managed to regain his vision from the intense dizziness and nausea, his feet were already on damp concrete. Before him was a completely unfamiliar place. Dim, flickering streetlights illuminated a narrow, grimy underground entrance. It looked like a long-abandoned subway tunnel. The entrance was blocked by a rusty iron gate, with a blurry, nearly detached nameplate hanging on it.
"Where are we?" Snape suppressed his discomfort, cautiously looking around, and asked in a low voice.
Grindelwald had already let go. He was examining the iron gate with a mixture of disgust and a "just as I expected" expression. His voice was low, carrying a hint of cold mockery:
"Eckhart. The German Ministry of Magic claimed it was abandoned decades ago. Hah, those in power are always so hypocritical. They'd never shut down such a useful disposal site."
Grindelwald didn't explain further. He walked directly to the iron gate, and with a casual flick of his wand, the seemingly sturdy lock silently sprang open.
Pushing open the heavy iron gate, a stronger smell of decay assailed them. Grindelwald led the way down the grimy steps, giving his wand a subtle twitch. Snape felt a cool magical ripple pass over his body. Looking down, he saw his own body becoming transparent at an astonishing speed, perfectly blending with the surroundings. He could barely perceive the process of discoloration, as if he himself were part of the air. This was the most powerful and perfect Disillusionment Charm Snape had ever witnessed in his life.
"Keep up," Grindelwald's voice whispered in his ear. At the same time, Snape felt an incredibly thin, almost imperceptible thread connecting to his wrist, silently guiding his direction. Although he couldn't see Grindelwald ahead, this thread was his guide.
"I need to find someone down there," Grindelwald's voice came again before Snape could ask. "I'm taking her out of here."
Snape didn't need to ask for more. The stairs descended. At their end was a mold-covered, bricked-up wall.
Grindelwald didn't pause his steps. He pulled the invisible thread, leading Snape directly through the wall, as if it were merely a phantom. Beyond the wall was a relatively open but equally eerie space, resembling a repurposed abandoned subway transfer hall serving as a prison entrance. Several guards in German Auror uniforms, their expressions blank, were dozing around a smoking, dilapidated brazier, completely oblivious to the two invisible intruders.
On a rickety wooden counter behind the guards, Snape saw a transparent glass jar. Inside, dozens of plump, eerily greyish-white grubs writhed, crawling slowly and emitting a faint glow.
"Murtlap young," Snape immediately recognized them. They were one of the few things that could keep a Manticore relatively calm. He was wondering if he needed to find a way to take some Murtlap young for later use when he noticed that a few grubs seemed to be missing from the jar, and the thread pulling him led directly to a sturdier iron grate door deeper in the hall.
Grindelwald once again led Snape through the iron grate as if it weren't there. They entered the actual dungeon area. The air immediately became fouler and colder.
Then, Grindelwald became visible, and the sensation of the thread simultaneously disappeared. Snape felt the effect of the Disillusionment Charm rapidly fade from him, and he reappeared in the darkness.
In Grindelwald's hand, a Murtlap young, like the ones in the jar, had appeared at some point. He gently squeezed it with his fingertips and silently uttered a short incantation. The wriggling grub's body suddenly contracted, then expanded, its shell cracking open. A soft glow, like the wings of a pixie, emanated from its tail, eventually transforming into a butterfly-like creature that continuously emitted a gentle bioluminescence. Like a living miniature lantern, it illuminated a few feet around them.
By this faint light, Snape was able to see the place clearly. A narrow walkway clung to the edge of a sheer black rock face. Below was a cold, deep abyss, and on either side were countless low-ceilinged stone cells. There were stifled movements in the darkness, and occasionally faint cries or groans. A few weakly glowing blue-green insects circled alone in the gloom. As they passed some cell doors, withered, pale fingers suddenly reached out, clawing uselessly at the air:
"Who? Who's out there? Please... let me out..."
Grindelwald's expression remained unchanged. Holding the glowing butterfly-insect, his gaze swept over the cell doors along the walkway. As time passed, the "butterfly's" light at its tail began to dim noticeably, and its flickering became unstable. Grindelwald unhesitatingly pulled out another plump grub. With a skilled twist of his fingers, the old light-butterfly instantly disintegrated into ash, and the new grub again underwent the strange chrysalis process in his fingers, emitting a steady, bright glow.
They continued through the prison, descending floor after floor. Finally, at the end of a fork in the path leading to an even darker corner, Grindelwald stopped, illuminated by the glowing butterfly-insect.
This was a smaller, more isolated stone cell than any they had seen along the way. The door was small and low, looking as if it had been crudely carved out of a single rock. Grindelwald stepped forward. Without any complex unlocking movements, he simply placed his palm on the cold, rough stone door. The ancient magical ward runes on the stone surface glowed faintly for a moment, then subsided, and the door silently slid inward.
A faint, soft glow penetrated inside. The stone cell was bare. A slender figure sat curled on the stone bed, her back to the door. Even in this environment, she maintained an almost rigidly upright posture. The slight sound of the door opening startled her. The figure slowly turned around.
The faint light outlined her features. Years of never seeing daylight had left deep marks on her. Her skin was so pale it was almost transparent, even with a sickly yellowish tinge. Her cheekbones protruded, and her eye sockets were deeply sunken. Her once full body was now so emaciated it looked as if it could snap at any moment. Her prison uniform was tattered and worn. The ravages of time and the harsh environment seemed to have left her utterly ravaged.
However, the moment she slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes, despite being withered by suffering, the delicate contours of her features were still faintly discernible. Time had eroded her fullness but could not erase the astonishing, finely sculpted grace of her face.
The soft light seemed to sting her. She instinctively squinted, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her gaze lingered on Snape, who stood at the doorway, for a moment, then slid past, finally settling on Grindelwald's magically disguised, equally unfamiliar yet subtly imposing face. She simply watched him in silence, as if looking at a stone.
"It's me," Grindelwald's deep, hoarse voice broke the silence.
Those two simple words made Vinda Rosier's eyes, which had just adapted to the light after long darkness, and were numb with bewilderment, suddenly focus. Immense confusion, disbelief, and then uncontrollable joy, one layer after another, surged through the icy numbness on her face. Tears flowed without warning, washing down her grimy cheeks. Ms. Rosier's skeletal body trembled violently. She used all her strength to prop herself against the cold stone bed, rising with great difficulty and extreme slowness.
She shuffled a small step forward, her bony arm lifting laboriously, a scarred hand hesitantly extending. Her fingertips curled slightly, as if she wanted to touch Grindelwald's face, but she stopped just inches away from that unfamiliar face. Her fingers curled slightly in the air, then she tremblingly withdrew her hand, letting it hang by her side.
Grindelwald silently watched her tear-filled eyes. Something deep within his dark gaze seemed to settle rapidly, then returned to calm.
"Let's go," Grindelwald's voice betrayed no emotion. Without comfort or explanation, he turned and walked out of the cell, as if taking her with him was simply a matter of course, requiring no further words.
Ms. Rosier's body reacted almost instinctively. She didn't bother wiping away her tears. Like a devout follower trailing her deity, her steps were shaky yet resolute as she followed him. She lagged precisely half a step behind him, her gaze still firmly fixed on his upright back.
When they reappeared, they were on an unknown street, the warm air carrying city dust assailing them. The clamor of human voices, the flowing car lights, the hurried passersby—all of this was starkly different from where they had just left. Grindelwald strode forward, moving through the crowd.
Ms. Rosier immediately followed closely and silently behind him, never straying. Her eyes were downcast, most of the time fixated on the hem of Grindelwald's cloak, occasionally taking a quick glance at the bustling traffic and unfamiliar crowds around her, then quickly retracting her gaze, as if all this prosperity and noise were mere background static to her.
Grindelwald paused briefly at a newsstand, picking up a copy of the day's newspaper. Snape then dropped a coin onto the counter.
"Vinda," Grindelwald began, looking at the newspaper, "Now, you can go wherever you wish. Anywhere – Rome, Monaco, Oslo – any corner. From this moment on, you are free." He closed the newspaper, turning his gaze to the emaciated woman beside him.
Ms. Rosier's steps didn't falter, and she showed no reaction. She remained silent, still clinging closely to his side, her eyelids lowered, as if the word "freedom" was meant for someone else.
Grindelwald didn't seem surprised. He shook his head, said nothing more, and took longer strides, turning into a narrow, secluded alleyway.
"Vinda," he stopped and turned around, looking directly at her, "Why don't you leave? Everything from the past is over. Completely over." He spread his hands. "You can have a new beginning, a brand new one."
Ms. Rosier looked up. The light in the alley was softer, making her face, abnormally pale from long-term lack of light, seem less stark. She looked at Grindelwald, the man for whom she had sacrificed her youth, her freedom, indeed everything. She slowly shook her head, her chapped lips parting gently: "It's never changed. (Let's say, deeply committed.)"
Only the distant, faint city hum echoed in the alley. Grindelwald remained silent. After a long moment, an incredibly soft, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips. Then, the complex emotions in his eyes completely vanished.
He looked at Snape beside him and extended his arm. Snape understood, stepping forward a few paces.
"Then," Grindelwald simultaneously grasped both their arms, "Let's go together."
When the plane finally landed in London, Snape immediately pulled out the Hogwarts emblem from his pocket. He held it in his palm, closed his eyes, and concentrated, feeling for it. The emblem transformed into a miniature compass, clearly pointing him towards the Founders' Ark. It was slowly moving somewhere over the Scottish Highlands.
"Ready?" Snape murmured.
Grindelwald nodded impassively. Ms. Vinda silently followed beside him, seemingly indifferent to everything around them.
Snape simultaneously grasped Grindelwald's and Ms. Vinda's wrists. This time, their Apparition landed them not in a city, but on moss-covered, shrub-filled mountain rocks. They stood on a hillside with an open view, steep slopes below them.
The drizzle had stopped, and a gentle breeze drifted through the valley, but the sky remained overcast, with grey clouds clinging to the distant mountain ranges. Snape looked up towards the thick clouds above; their destination was somewhere beyond that cloud layer.
He immediately pulled out his "Nimbus 1001" from his bag. However, his hand paused. An awkward expression appeared on his face: "I only brought one broom—"
"Put it away," Grindelwald glanced at the expensive broom with an expression that seemed to regard it as a child's toy. He calmly raised a finger, pointing to the thick cloud layer above them.
"Is it up there?" he asked.
"Yes," Snape put away his broom, a possible guess forming in his mind.
Grindelwald received confirmation and wasted no more words. He stepped forward, swiftly grabbing Snape's upper arm, while his other hand very naturally re-gripped Ms. Rosier's wrist.
"Hold tight."
Snape couldn't make any defensive preparations. A massive and brutal tug suddenly seized him, as if he were being violently dragged and slammed into the void by a speeding Thestral or Hungarian Horntail.
"I—!"
His startled cry was choked back by the fierce wind rushing into his nose and mouth. His vision blurred under the immense acceleration, and his ears were filled with the hiss of airflow. Snape felt like a rag doll being carried by Grindelwald, violently swaying in the air.
In a scramble, he finally managed to erect a spherical shield in front of him. While it couldn't completely block the immense pulling force, it at least protected his nose and mouth from the gale, allowing him to breathe and see properly. He turned his head and looked to his side. The sight before him almost made him swear; this old scoundrel was clearly doing this on purpose. But considering his current "hostage" situation thousands of feet in the air, he wisely swallowed his curses.
Grindelwald was beside him, holding him like a chick in one hand, and leading Ms. Rosier with the other. However, unlike Snape's dishevelled state, Grindelwald himself was "flying" with elegant grace in the wind, his cloak billowing behind him, his dark brown hair perfectly still. His face was devoid of expression, his eyes calmly fixed forward, as if he were merely strolling in his own garden.
Ms. Rosier's posture was equally composed; the gale seemed to bypass her, her grey, dry hair merely fluttering gently. She had her eyes slightly closed, a serene tranquility on her face, as if she were gently suspended by an invisible force field.
After flying for an unknown duration, the thick, oppressive, seemingly endless grey cloud layer ahead parted as if by a giant hand, and the view suddenly cleared. In the dazzling light and amidst lingering wisps of cloud, the silhouette of a massive oak-colored sailing ship appeared above the clouds.
However, as Snape's gaze focused, the sight before him made his heart plummet. The Founders' Ark was clearly in dire straits. It was drifting slowly, its hull visibly riddled with shocking damage and scorch marks. The sails, which should have been billowing and shimmering with magical light, now appeared limp and deflated. One of the main sails even had a gaping tear, its edges charred and twisted. A cloud of dust was rising from the deck, twisting and dispersing upwards, seemingly the lingering embers of a recently extinguished fire.
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