As night fell, a profound chill descended from the upper atmosphere, causing the temperature both inside and outside the ship to plummet. Snape had to put his robes back on in the middle of the night and quickly made his way to the Herbology Greenhouse at the stern of the ship.
This was a magical space carved out of the sunniest area of the stern, maintained daily by Eileen, and used for planting and student instruction. As he pushed open the greenhouse door, a wave of warm, humid air spilled out, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. Moonlight filtered through the greenhouse's transparent glass roof, casting a soft glow. Snape immediately saw Eileen yawning as she pulled out a pair of earmuffs and gloves. Beside her, Myrtle's translucent form floated in a corner of the greenhouse, watching Eileen's actions with keen interest.
"You're here too, Mandrakes?" Snape closed the door and quickly walked over, asking. His gaze swept over the rows of Mandrake seedlings planted in large pots, greeting Myrtle at the same time. Their dark green leaves swayed gently in the still air, emitting faint but piercing wails.
"Oh, Severus." Eileen looked up, a hint of weariness on her face. "The temperature dropped too fast. We need to add some insulation for them." She pointed to a pile of miniature knitted socks and scarves made of thick wool on a nearby table. "I don't trust anyone else with this; it requires extreme caution."
"Perfect," she said, taking out another pair of earmuffs and handing them to Snape. "Let's do it together. Once we're done, we'll still have time to get some sleep."
Snape nodded, picking up the dragonhide gloves and sound-muffling earmuffs and putting them on. Eileen did the same. Now, ensuring these delicate and dangerous Mandrake seedlings grew safely and quickly was the hope for saving Dobby's petrified life, making it a crucial task.
They carefully approached the wailing seedlings, gently pulling each Mandrake from its pot, wrapping its roots in thick, warm wool socks, and loosely tying smaller scarves around their stems to help them withstand the unexpected cold snap. The two worked together seamlessly, completing the "insulation project" for all the Mandrake seedlings amidst the piercing screams that only Myrtle could hear.
Removing the heavy earmuffs, only the faint rustling of the Mandrakes' leaves as they rubbed together and the low hum of the ventilation system remained in the greenhouse. At this point, Eileen watched Snape take off his gloves, a deep worry clouding her face.
"Severus," she hesitated, then finally spoke, "We... we're both half-bloods. Perhaps going back, registering with the Ministry, and accepting 'management,' might be an option?" Her voice was low. "At least it wouldn't be dangerous—"
Snape's movements paused. He looked at Eileen, his dark eyes showing no reproach, only a hint of apology and understanding. "I'm sorry to make you worry, Mum," he said. "But I can't just look out for myself. Many of the students on this ship trusted me when they boarded. If I were to flee for 'safety' now and abandon them to unknown dangers, what kind of person would I be?"
"Putting one's safety in one's bloodline," Snape shook his head, "or in the 'pity' and 'promises' of Death Eaters and Ministry officials, is always unreliable."
"Besides," he continued, "there are some things I cannot tell you, but from the moment I suggested you take a position at Hogwarts, there has been no room for reconciliation between us and the Death Eaters. On this ship," he offered Eileen a gentle smile, "I am one of the two people they will never let go."
Eileen looked at the undeniable resolve in Snape's eyes and knew further persuasion would be futile. She sighed deeply, tears in her eyes, and reached out to gently smooth Snape's hair, which had been messed up by the earmuffs. "You're a grown man now; just remember to be careful in everything you do."
Snape squeezed Eileen's cold hand, then said, "Let's not talk about such unhappy things."
"Think about it, at least we're together now, with warm beds, delicious food, and many friendly faces." He tried to change the subject, his tone lightening. "Things are pretty good, aren't they?"
Eileen managed a strained smile and nodded. Her gaze turned to Myrtle, who was floating nearby, and she asked, "Myrtle, how have you been doing on the ship, are you getting used to it?"
Myrtle's face shimmered brightly in the moonlight, seeming free of any sorrow or melancholy.
"Oh, it's very nice, truly," she floated closer upon hearing Eileen's concern. "The students on this ship now just call me 'Myrtle' or 'Happy Myrtle,' not 'Moaning Myrtle.'" She spun in a circle delightedly. "They all treat me as a friend, and there's no annoying Peeves here!"
"Except—" Myrtle sighed again, "Alas, this Halloween marks Sir Nicholas, oh, 'Nearly Headless Nick,'s four hundred and eighty-fifth deathday. Every five years, he holds a deathday party, and during that time, he absolutely loves being called 'Sir.' He used to invite me every time, even though—even though it wasn't much fun, it was still a lively place to go. This year, I can't go."
"Is Sir Nicholas's deathday party fun?" Eileen asked curiously.
"Not at all!" Myrtle pouted. "It's cold and damp, the food's rotten, and the music is absolutely dreadful. Those ghosts have terrible taste!" she complained, though there was a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "But, I don't really have anywhere else to go."
"Well, then," Snape smiled gently, "Next Monday evening, we'll have a Halloween feast. Would you like to join us? Since you've been rid of that nickname for so long, why not come and celebrate with the students, like the other ghosts?"
"Oh, splendid!" Myrtle's eyes instantly lit up. "I was wondering if anyone would invite me." She excitedly did a somersault in the air, her translucent body passing through a bubble-pod plant that was going to seed.
As they chatted, the Mandrake seedlings, tightly wrapped in their coverings, gradually hushed their wails, becoming as soft as a baby's murmurs in sleep. "Hush," Eileen then made a shushing gesture. "They're asleep. Let's not disturb their growth. Let's go outside."
The two wizards and the ghost quietly exited the greenhouse, carefully closing the door. They had only walked a short distance along the cold corridor outside when they heard urgent footsteps and heavy breathing coming from one side of the corridor. Professor McGonagall, wrapped in her traveling cloak, was rushing towards them with Hagrid. Hagrid's massive frame seemed particularly urgent, and he was carefully cradling a heavily cloaked human figure in his arms.
"Minerva! Hagrid!" Eileen immediately rushed forward. "What's wrong?"
Professor McGonagall saw Eileen and Snape as if they were saviors, and said urgently, "Eileen, we have a casualty, a severely injured one!"
Hagrid was already heading with the injured person towards the fork leading to the infirmary, trying his best to tread lightly. Snape and Eileen immediately followed.
"Who is it?" Snape watched Hagrid's broad back, a sense of foreboding rising in his chest.
"Alastor," Professor McGonagall's voice was anxious, with a hint of relief. "I finally managed to contact him through a Patronus. He was hidden in a safe house, but he's gravely injured."
"Soon after I got there, he passed out. Frank and Alice—" Her voice hitched. "They—they drew off the pursuers to protect Alastor, and they were captured by the Aurors."
As she spoke, they had already rushed to the infirmary door. Gideon Prewett was dozing off in a chair, but his brother Fabian remained standing guard at the door. Seeing Hagrid rushing in with someone in his arms, Fabian immediately became alert and stepped forward. When he saw the scarred, gruesome face revealed through the gap in Hagrid's cloak by the corridor light, even he, a seasoned veteran, gasped and exclaimed, "Merlin, Alastor!"
Gideon was startled awake by his brother's exclamation and jumped up, rubbing his eyes. By this time, Hagrid had already pushed open the infirmary door with his shoulder, but his large body suddenly stiffened, and his movements became extremely gentle. Looking past Hagrid's back, Snape discovered the reason for his actions: deep inside the infirmary, beside Dumbledore's sickbed, Grindelwald sat quietly in an armchair, his back to the door.
Then, holding his breath, Hagrid gently placed Moody on an empty bed. Walking closer, Snape fully saw Moody's injuries and felt his heart clench. Moody's face was almost beyond recognition. His grizzled hair was matted with blood, and his face was covered in deep, bone-exposing wounds, flesh torn open as if mauled by a wild beast. His mouth was like a crooked, gaping maw, and where his nose should have been, there was only a bloody, pulpy mass. Most chilling were his eyes: on the side opposite Moody's tightly closed eye, there was only a bloody, damaged eye socket, its edges still faintly twitching, making it unbearable to look at.
"Alastor—" Gideon covered his mouth, his face pale.
At the same time, Eileen had rushed to the infirmary's potion cabinet, swiftly taking out various bottles and jars: Essence of Dittany, Skele-Gro, blood-replenishing potion, powerful pain-relieving and calming draughts. She returned to Moody's bedside and began to treat the terrible wounds with dazzling speed. Cleaning, disinfecting, healing, applying salves—her movements with the wand and various potions were simultaneously urgent and calmly methodical.
After Eileen's emergency treatment, most of the lacerations on Moody's face were cleaned and healed, and cooling salves were applied. The large wound where his nose should have been was carefully bandaged with gauze soaked in a special herb-infused regeneration potion. However, the damaged eye socket remained empty.
Eileen stood up, exhausted, looking at the hollow on Moody's face, her eyes filled with apology and helplessness. "The wounds are clean, most of the flesh wounds will heal, and his nose can grow back. But the eye," she shook her head heavily, "I can't do anything. Most of his eyeball was destroyed. I could only completely remove it; otherwise, based on experience, the damaged eyeball would likely cause his other eye to go blind as well."
A heavy atmosphere enveloped the infirmary. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes in despair, while Gideon and Fabian clenched their fists.
"Can someone make an alchemical—"
Snape's words were cut off by a sudden voice.
"The severe inflammatory response caused by trauma to the eyeball, as a highly specialized sensory organ," Grindelwald's tone was flat, as if analyzing an interesting phenomenon, "is essentially a specialized immune rejection and repair process, attempting to clear non-regenerative foreign bodies and necrotic tissue."
Everyone was startled, only then realizing that Grindelwald had silently appeared beside the bed at some point, now looking down at Moody's injuries, especially the cleaned, empty eye socket.
"Mr. Greene," Professor McGonagall looked up at Grindelwald, her eyes instantly alight with intense hope. "Do you have a way? Can you—"
Grindelwald seemed to be stung by the expectation in Professor McGonagall's eyes and looked somewhat awkward. "Those books," he shifted his gaze and pointed to several open books on Dumbledore's sickbed. "I found them in the ship's library corner."
"These Muggle medical books do have some methods for treating eye injuries," he said with a shrug, "but unfortunately, Muggle medicine cannot regrow lost eyes. Magic, too, has its limits in this regard."
The light in Professor McGonagall's eyes dimmed. She sadly turned to look at the unconscious Moody, who was still frowning as if in pain.
"However—" Grindelwald was silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice tinged with uncertainty and distant memories. "Many, many years ago, Albus and I once discussed the possibility of using alchemical constructs to replace partially damaged or missing human organs."
"Theoretically," his gaze fell back on Moody's face, "perhaps we could consider creating an alchemical eye for him. But this is no easy task."
"Really, Mr. Greene?" Professor McGonagall looked up again, asking eagerly. "Whatever you need, just name it, if it can help Alastor."
"I'll consider it," Grindelwald merely nodded slightly, offering no firm commitment, but also no refusal. With that, he turned and returned to Dumbledore's bedside, picking up his book.
Over the next two days, under Eileen's care and the effects of powerful potions, Moody's condition gradually stabilized, and he regained consciousness. Although he had lost an eye, the old Auror's will was like steel, completely unfazed by this immense injury. If Eileen hadn't strongly insisted he remain in bed, he likely would have already ripped off the bandages around his nose. After all, as he put it, "That thing's useless anyway."
During this time, Snape's carefully "edited" *Daily Prophet* and the accompanying interpretive texts gradually circulated throughout the ship. Students gathered in small groups in the dining hall corners, discussing the news.
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