The infirmary door opened again, and Grindelwald emerged. The complex emotions on his face had vanished, replaced by the familiar disguise resembling a middle-aged Dumbledore, with short, dark brown hair and a detached expression. Madam Rosier silently returned to stand behind him, as if she had never left.
At the door, Gideon and Fabian Prewett immediately straightened up, watching Grindelwald with a hint of wariness. Professor McGonagall quickly stepped forward, her gaze darting between Grindelwald and the closed infirmary door.
"Mr. Greene," Professor McGonagall used an alias to address Grindelwald, her voice weary but filled with hope, "Thank you for offering your assistance. We'll arrange suitable cabins for you and Madam Rosier. Also—" She hesitated, then asked the question foremost on her mind, "Regarding Albus's condition, do you... do you have any suggestions?"
"Your handling of the situation is quite satisfactory," Grindelwald said with a faint smile, tidying the cuff of his wizarding robes. "My suggestion is to wait patiently and observe. Let him rest for a while longer."
This wasn't the answer Professor McGonagall most longed for, but her shoulders still relaxed slightly. "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Greene."
Grindelwald nodded slightly, then turned to Snape, who was standing not far away. "Gather everyone. Where's convenient?"
"The dining hall; it's spacious enough," Snape replied, looking at Professor McGonagall. She nodded in agreement.
"Very well, the dining hall then." Grindelwald strode off as if he were the master of the ship. After two steps, he seemed to remember the Prewett brothers at the door. Without turning his head, he lightly waved his wand, and an invisible spell settled upon them: "You two, stay here, don't move an inch. Ensure his safety. You don't need to attend the meeting in the dining hall." Fabian and Gideon exchanged glances, offered no objections, and replied, "No problem."
The group walked back along the corridor, where the faint smell of gunpowder and blood still lingered in the air. This scent abruptly grew stronger as they rounded a corner. Pandora was emerging from a cabin ahead. Her silver hair was casually tied back, with a few strands falling beside her cheeks. Her robes were stained with some dirt and strange green liquid, and she carried a rather sturdy wicker basket in her hand. The basket held several bright red, tightly furled Biting Cabbages, seemingly dormant.
"Severus!" Seeing the approaching group, especially Snape, a look of great surprise appeared on Pandora's face. "Oh, good, you're back!"
"Pandora," Snape's gaze cautiously swept over her from head to toe, then rested on the basket in her hands. "You weren't hurt, were you?"
"No, not at all," Pandora shook her head, her silver hair swaying.
"Did you use them this time?" Snape asked. He had clearly seen the Biting Cabbages in the basket; their colors were a vivid green and red.
"Yes," Pandora lifted the heavy basket forward, and the cabbages inside quivered slightly. "See, they've all turned this color." Her movement caused Professor McGonagall to instinctively take a small step back, then immediately realizing her lapse, she quickly moved back to her original position, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Sev," Pandora said, a hint of lingering fear and confusion in her light eyes, "I have to tell you, they seem to be a bit more dangerous than we initially anticipated."
Snape nodded in agreement, looking at the dazzling red on the cabbages. "But they were effective, weren't they?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall interjected softly. "The Death Eaters were bitten quite terribly." She looked at the oddly colored plants, hesitated, and then couldn't help but suggest, "Perhaps we should destroy them? These things are too dangerous; what if they get out of control—"
"Destroy them? Haha!" Before Professor McGonagall could finish, Grindelwald let out a low laugh. He stepped forward, a look of appreciation on his face, and plucked the reddest, thickest-leaved Biting Cabbage from Pandora's basket. The plant twisted in his hand, emitting a faint squeak, as if trying to unfurl its leaves, but it was suppressed and unable to move.
"Such a marvelous creation," Grindelwald toyed with the dangerous plant as if admiring a work of art, looking at Professor McGonagall with displeasure. "You actually thought of destroying them? How could you?" He casually tossed the cabbage back into the basket and said to Snape, "Keep them. From now on, things will be done my way here."
"Mr. Greene," Professor McGonagall said, clearly displeased, "You can't be so forceful here, Professor Dumbledore—"
"I think I can," Grindelwald interjected, "Besides, I've always been this forceful."
"Professor," Snape looked at Professor McGonagall, "I don't think it matters, does it? Since Mr. Greene is willing to step up and take responsibility, why shouldn't we agree?"
Professor McGonagall nodded reluctantly. Snape then took the basket from Pandora. It was heavy, and the cabbages inside emitted a faint smell of blood and the earthy scent peculiar to plants. He looked at Pandora and asked, "Nothing left behind in the cabin?"
"No," Pandora replied definitively, "That was the last of it."
"Good," Snape said, "Come with us to the dining hall."
Snape and Professor McGonagall prepared to continue walking. Pandora instinctively started to follow Snape's steps. However, Grindelwald stopped. His gaze was fixed on Pandora, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Wait," Grindelwald's voice held a hint of confusion. "You give me a familiar feeling." His eyes, whose true color was masked by magic, stared intently at Pandora.
Pandora stopped, a touch of bewilderment on her face. "Me?"
Snape immediately stepped protectively to her side, shielding her behind him. "Mr. Greene, what makes you say that?" he asked.
Grindelwald didn't answer Snape, merely continued to scrutinize Pandora. In that moment of stalemate, a vibrant green snake silently emerged from Pandora's collar. Nagini, sensing the tension and sharp gaze, immediately raised her head and let out a threatening hiss towards Grindelwald, her tongue flicking rapidly.
Grindelwald's gaze immediately caught the little snake. He watched Nagini for a good ten seconds, the confusion on his face gradually fading, replaced by a look of sudden realization and an indescribably complex expression. His lips twitched, and he shook his head.
"Ah, so it's you," he murmured, as if to himself or to the little snake. Grindelwald seemed to lose interest in further inquiry. He averted his gaze and waved his hand. "It's nothing, let's go." With that, he paid them no more mind and continued towards the dining hall.
Snape breathed a sigh of relief, soothingly stroked Nagini's small head, and bent down to whisper a few words in Parseltongue. Pandora also gently patted the snake coiled inside her robes. The little snake slowly calmed down and retreated back into the depths of Pandora's robes.
At this moment, the dining hall was bustling, the atmosphere heavy. Most of the students were gathered there, their hushed whispers filled with the unease of having survived a brush with death. When Snape and the others appeared at the doorway, all eyes turned to them. And when they clearly saw the basket of brightly colored Biting Cabbages in Snape's hand, gasps of shock immediately rippled through the room.
Snape instantly realized the startling impression these few small cabbages had made on everyone. Under everyone's gaze, he lightly tapped the basket twice with his wand, intending to erase their traces, but the dazzling red on the cabbage leaves remained strikingly visible. Helplessly, he was forced to put this basket of dangerous plants into his small bag. Only then did the tension in the dining hall ease.
"This way, Mr. Greene," Professor McGonagall led Grindelwald to the teachers' table in the dining hall. Grindelwald unceremoniously sat down in a central chair that was clearly the head seat. Madam Rosier, like the most loyal guardian, stood expressionlessly in the shadows behind him, her hands elegantly clasped in front of her.
His gaze swept over the now noisy dining hall, Grindelwald's eyes skimming over every face at every wooden table, seemingly assessing something. Then, he turned his head to Professor McGonagall, who had just sat down, and asked, "Is everyone here?"
"Most of the students and teachers are here," Professor McGonagall replied, then added, "There are also a few senior students and professors on deck on alert duty, as well as some personnel stationed at key positions."
"Have them all withdrawn." Grindelwald snorted softly, leaning back into his chair with a natural arrogance. "With me here, this ship doesn't need extra sentinels baking in the sun. Call them all to the dining hall. I have important instructions that everyone should hear."
Professor McGonagall hesitated slightly. But seeing Grindelwald's gaze, she didn't insist. She waved her wand, and several shimmering silver tabby cat Patronuses flew from her wand tip, lightly and swiftly passing through the dining hall doors to relay the summoning order.
The noise in the dining hall grew louder. Students whispered to each other, guessing what this mysterious and powerful stranger intended to do next.
Soon, footsteps sounded at the dining hall entrance. Professor Flitwick's diminutive figure was the first to nimbly hop in, followed by three or four senior students. Next came several dusty members of the Order of the Phoenix, among whom the scruffy, shifty-eyed figure was particularly noticeable. It was Mundungus Fletcher.
As soon as Mundungus entered the dining hall, his small eyes darted around. When he saw Snape sitting at the main table, he immediately waved his arms exaggeratedly: "Hey, Severus! Earlier on deck, Minerva said you'd gone out on a special mission, you're back so soon? How did things go?"
"Yes, Dung, I'm back," Snape looked at him and asked, "But just now on deck, why didn't I see you?"
"Me?" Mundungus chuckled dryly, shamelessly patting his oil-stained robes, and said loudly in a tone that suggested he was "very responsible," "I was in the kitchen just now, Severus, the big kitchen on the lowest level."
"That's the real fortress. I didn't leave for a step!" He rubbed his hands together, confidently puffed out his chest, and said with a cunning seriousness, "You know, in a place like this, food is the most important strategic material, much more real than those fancy guard posts. I have to guard them, against the truly clever fellows!"
This "profound theory" earned him a sharp glare from Professor McGonagall. Mundungus immediately reined himself in a bit. He gave Professor McGonagall an exaggerated, cheeky salute: "Of course, of course, Professor, just doing my duty!" Then he quickly slipped into a seat in the back row, leaning back and rocking his chair, looking perfectly at ease.
Grindelwald's gaze swept over the dining hall again, and he repeatedly confirmed with Professor McGonagall: "Are all of our people here, or not?"
Professor McGonagall looked around the bustling dining hall, about to nod— "Wait," Snape suddenly spoke. He slightly turned his face to Professor McGonagall and Grindelwald. "There are still some house-elves not here. Should they be called over as well, Mr. Greene?"
Professor McGonagall also looked at Grindelwald. Grindelwald waved his hand indifferently: "Whatever, you decide. But since it's for everyone to hear, it's fine to call them."
"Understood," Professor McGonagall immediately nodded, then turned her gaze to Mundungus, who was rocking his chair in the back row. "Mr. Fletcher!"
"Huh? Here!" Mundungus, who was trying to balance his chair by leaning back, was startled and almost fell.
"Kindly go outside and gather all the house-elves on the ship here. Mr. Greene wishes to see everyone," Professor McGonagall's tone brooked no refusal. "Immediately."
"What? Me again?" Mundungus looked unwilling. "What's the point of seeing those little elves—"
But under Professor McGonagall's stern gaze, he mumbled unheard complaints, grudgingly pulled himself back from his tilted chair, and, under the gaze of all the students, slowly shuffled out of the dining hall.
After a not-so-short period, Mundungus returned, leading a group of nervous house-elves whose large ears twitched incessantly. He plopped back down in his original seat, resuming his perilous chair-balancing act. The elves cautiously huddled against the wall.
Grindelwald slowly stood up. All the small murmurs in the dining hall instantly ceased, so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping. All eyes were fixed on this man; every face, young or old, was etched with confusion, anticipation, or tension.
Grindelwald walked to the center of the dining hall, surveying each face, his own devoid of expression.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his steady voice resonated through the hall, clearly reaching every ear, "you are experiencing a dark era. Fear, betrayal, and death are constant companions. And trust," he paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "is the most luxurious and dangerous thing in this era."
Before his words faded, Grindelwald's wand, held in his hand, pointed forward without warning.
A cold, pure flame, like liquid sapphire, suddenly erupted from his wand tip. This flame possessed a soul-chilling beauty, like a living tsunami, swirling once in place at Grindelwald's command, instantly sweeping through the entire dining hall.
"No—!"
"What is he doing?!"
Gasps and screams erupted in an instant. The wizards' faces changed dramatically, and they immediately drew their wands, preparing to counter or defend. But everything happened too quickly; they were too close to Grindelwald.
The cold blue Fiendfyre passed through everyone's bodies in an instant. Yet, it didn't burn physical objects; instead, like a phantom ghost, it passed through every person, every table and chair, and even the walls. The flames wildly overflowed from doors, windows, floor cracks, and ceiling corners, rushing with astonishing speed to every corner of the Founder's Ship.
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