Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 148 Dumbledore's Favorite Student

Given the inherent dangers of conventional magical travel and the impracticality of Apparition over extremely long distances, Snape opted for a safer option: long-distance travel, a method often overlooked by wizards.

After a soft, visible sound, Snape appeared before the familiar, peeling paint door in Spider's End, Kirkworth.

The house looked even more dilapidated than it had a year ago; thick dust covered the windows, weeds grew rampant in the cracks of the steps in front of the door, and a stifling smell filled the air. It was now just an empty shell, a neglected ruin.

He didn't go inside, but quickly changed into an inconspicuous set of Muggle clothes in a secluded corner behind the house, carefully hiding his wand in his sleeve and the Elder Wand close to his body on the innermost side.

Half an hour later, he arrived at the small airport that symbolized the former glory of the once-prosperous industrial city of Cockworth.

The waiting area was small and old, with only a few passengers whose faces showed undisguised weariness; a rusty fence enclosed a small area of ​​gray cement floor, where a few weathered propeller planes or small jet planes sat listlessly.

He bought a ticket for the next available budget flight to Berlin. There are no direct flights to Austria, and Berlin was the closest transit point he could find.

After spending a night on the cold metal seats at Berlin Airport, the plane finally landed under the gray skyline of Vienna.

Upon arrival, he went straight to the train station without a moment's delay and boarded a train bound for the southwestern mountainous region.

The view outside the window gradually changed from the hustle and bustle of the city to the tranquility of the countryside, and then to increasingly steep mountains covered with forests and rocks. The outline of the Alps appeared in the distance, carrying a cold and solemn beauty.

The train came to a stop, panting, at a small station called St. Wolfgang, in the evening of the following day. The afterglow of the setting sun painted the snow-capped mountain peaks with a faint golden hue.

After paying a considerable sum, Snape found a dilapidated taxi willing to take passengers up the mountain.

The driver was an old man with cheeks as red as a dried apple. He spoke broken English with a heavy accent, but his enthusiasm for describing the scenery along the way remained undiminished: "Look! The snow line! Eagle's Nest! Magnificent! God's masterpiece!"

Snape only gave a vague response, his gaze fixed on the increasingly rugged and desolate scenery outside the window, his mind already wandering to the legendary tower.

"Persuading Grindelwald is destined to be a difficult task," he pondered repeatedly in the bumpy back seat of the car. "This old man has experienced the pinnacle of power, the disillusionment of his ideals, and decades of self-imposed imprisonment. Conventional requests, threats, or even the temptation of benefits would probably be meaningless to him."

"What I need is a way to penetrate the icy shell, a way to touch something deep within Grindelwald that may not have been completely extinguished... something."

The car finally stopped at a remote fork in the mountain road. The driver pointed to a narrow path covered in ice and snow, almost invisible, and said in English mixed with German words, "Up there, the castle, danger! You can't drive! Be careful!"

Snape paid the fare, thanked the taxi, and watched it sway and disappear into the twilight along the mountain road.

A cold wind carrying ice shards rushed towards my face.

He drew his wand, whispered the Warmth Charm and the Waterproof Charm, and then steadily climbed up the almost forgotten path.

The wind and snow intensified, revealing the harshness of the Alps in its entirety.

After he crossed a steep ridge, a secluded valley appeared before him. Above the valley stood a black castle that seemed to have grown out of the rugged rocks.

Above the entrance to Nurmengard, the motto that once sent shivers down the spines of the entire magical world is inscribed on a massive stone: "Für das grere Wohl (For the greater good)."

The castle itself is built of huge, cold black stones, with towers that resemble claws piercing the gray sky. Its sharp, oppressive shape is filled with a suffocating sense of oppression.

Even though it has been abandoned for many years and eroded by wind and snow, it still resembles a lurking black beast, exuding a chilling aura.

The castle gates were wide open. The massive iron gates, long since rusted and warped, hung askew on their hinges, creaking painfully in the howling wind.

Inside the door, there was an endless, deathly silence.

Snape stepped inside.

Thick layers of dust covered every inch of the floor and walls, and huge spider webs floated among the dilapidated vaults and columns.

The once magnificent decorations have long since crumbled, leaving only some indistinct symbols and remnants of broken statues characteristic of the Grindelwald era.

There was no dementor's chill, no guards' footsteps, no sign of any living creature. Only the howling mountain wind swept through the empty corridors and halls, making strange, whimpering noises, occasionally punctuated by the crisp sound of gravel falling from above.

This extreme desolation and silence was more chilling than any menacing guard; Snape felt as if he had stepped into a vast, cold tomb.

His gaze swept over the few broken symbols of the Deathly Hallows, then went straight through the hall and stopped in the shadow of the tallest and most isolated tower.

Looking up, the top of the tower blends into the somber, leaden-gray sky.

Taking a deep breath, Snape pulled a small crystal vial from his pocket. The vial contained a sky-blue liquid.

After tilting his head back and drinking it all, Dumbledore's wise yet slightly weary face replaced Snape's youthful appearance.

Donning a magnificent purple robe adorned with star patterns, Snape used his wand to emit a steady glow, illuminating the path ahead as he followed the spiraling stone steps toward the highest spire.

Along the way, he passed one closed or empty iron gate after another, finding no movement, no trace of other prisoners. It was as if the entire enormous prison existed solely for that one person.

Finally, he stood in front of the only cell at the top of the tower.

A heavy iron gate came into view. As recorded in history, there were no complicated magical chains or flashing protective runes on the gate, only a rusty iron lock hanging there coldly.

This door is less about locking away the people inside, and more about a boundary that the people inside choose for themselves.

Snape stood at the cell door, peering inside by the light of his wand: the small, cold, and shabby stone room contained only a hard bed; near the door, on the floor, lay a rough wooden plate with a few pieces of dry, hard black bread and a small bowl of murky water.

An extremely thin figure sat on the edge of a hard bed with his back to the door.

He wore a tattered prison uniform, its original color almost unrecognizable, and his body was hunched over. His once perhaps brilliant silver-white hair was now sparse and dry, disheveled like tangled weeds.

He faced the only narrow window in the cell, motionless, like a frozen statue, gazing intently at the endless, gray sky and towering peaks outside.

The howling wind and snow were the only background noise.

Snape took a deep breath, breaking the silence. He spoke clearly in the gentle voice that Polyjuice Potion had given him, the voice of Albus Dumbledore:

"I am coming."

The sound of the howling wind seemed to freeze for a moment.

The withered figure turned around stiffly and extremely slowly. A weathered, gaunt face with high cheekbones was revealed.

In his sunken eye sockets, Gellert Grindelwald's left eye still retained a faint trace of grayish-blue, while his right eye was almost completely grayish-white.

In an instant, something long frozen in those eyes seemed to be forcibly pried open with a crack.

Grindelwald stared greedily and motionlessly at Dumbledore's face, as if trying to etch every detail into his eyes.

After a long while, a hoarse, aged voice finally rang out with difficulty, carrying a trace of lingering daze.

"So...this is what he's like now..." His voice held an unreadable tone, neither a sigh nor anything else. "He's gotten old..."

Snape maintained Dumbledore's posture, looking at the frail old man before him, a far cry from the legendary, powerful dark wizard, and slowly spoke, his voice carrying a compassionate imitation of Dumbledore:
“Gellert, if you do this... Ms. Rozier would be very upset if she saw it.”

A flash of anger crossed Grindelwald's grey eyes, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by a deeper indifference and disdain.

He didn't answer at all, not even bothering to lift his eyelids, but simply continued to stare intently at "Dumbledore" with his lifeless eyes.

Silence enveloped the small cell once again, with the sound of wind and snow pounding against the small window being the only sound.

Time ticked by, and finally, Grindelwald spoke again, his voice cold and direct:
"who are you?"

Snape never thought his disguise could fool Grindelwald; after all, how could he possibly deceive the person with whom he shared the deepest bond?
“Mr. Grindelwald,” he said, “I have come on Professor Dumbledore’s orders to seek your help. Professor Dumbledore is facing an unprecedented crisis…”

"Ah……"

Grindelwald interrupted Snape with a short, mocking laugh.

The last vestige of gray-blue in his cloudy eyes seemed to flicker slightly, filled with disdain and weariness. Clearly, he had no interest in the so-called "crisis" and didn't believe the man before him who wore Dumbledore's face.

Snape no longer hesitated.

He slowly raised his hand and reached into the inside pocket of his robe. When he withdrew his hand, it no longer held the wand he had used for illumination.

It was a magic wand with unique joints.

The instant the wand was revealed, a terrifying light suddenly burst forth in Grindelwald's eyes.

He sprang to his feet from the hard bed like a startled lion. His movements were so swift that they seemed unlike those of a frail old man.

He stared intently at the wand, his body trembling slightly uncontrollably, his chapped lips opening and closing silently, as if he were witnessing the most incredible thing.

"The Elder Wand...how could it be here?! In the hands of this imposter?! Where is Albus...could it be...could it be that Albus is already..."

However, the next second, when his gaze shifted from the Rod of Fate to Snape's flawless "Dumbledore" face, the intense emotional turmoil he had just experienced receded like a tide.

"No...no...Since the other party can disguise themselves as Albus so perfectly, it can only be the effect of the compound decoction...In that case, Albus must still be alive..."

Grindelwald sat back down on the hard bed, his movements returning to their previous sluggishness.

But his eyes became even sharper, fixed intently on Snape's face.

At the same time, his strange eyes began to change—the last trace of gray-blue in his left pupil, as if soaked in ink, quickly faded away, eventually becoming the same as his right eye, presenting an eerie, deep, pure gray-white that seemed to devour light.

An indescribable, cold, and powerful pressure enveloped the entire cell.

Grindelwald's lips moved slightly, and he spoke in a voice that seemed to come from the abyss, with a strange rhythm:
I couldn't see where you came from... nor could I see where you go.

Snape felt a chill run down his spine: Grindelwald seemed to have activated his prophetic abilities, attempting to glimpse his past and future. But he appeared to have failed.

"Then, where is Albus Dumbledore?" Grindelwald's voice carried the weariness of a prophet who had glimpsed fate, and a hint of barely perceptible confusion. "And who are you, really?"

Snape pulled a small vial from his pocket, tilted his head back, and drank the antidote to Polyjuice Potion.

With a slight twisting and writhing of bones and flesh, the kind face that belonged to Albus Dumbledore quickly faded, revealing Severus Snape's true face—young, pale, with a hooked nose and deep black eyes.

He met Grindelwald's eerie gray-white eyes and calmly replied:

"I, Severus Snape, Dumbledore's favorite student, have come here seeking the help of someone who cares about him most."

Grindelwald's gaze lingered on Snape's young and serious face for a moment, but then slowly moved down, refocusing on the elder wand in Snape's hand.

His voice was low and carried a complex emotion that was difficult to articulate as he asked a question that Snape had not expected:

"So, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?"

“I really couldn’t say.” Snape answered honestly, his usual slightly sarcastic expression on his face.

This answer seemed to amuse Grindelwald. His wrinkled face twitched upwards very slowly, forming a strange expression that could hardly be called a smile.

“Ha ha,” he chuckled softly, a low, hoarse sound like that of an old bellows, “He told you everything?”

"Perhaps." Snape met his gaze, not answering directly, but simply shrugging slightly, speaking ambiguously.

The strange smile on Grindelwald's face disappeared.

His eyes lingered on Snape's face for a long time, looking beyond his shoulder as if through the cold stone wall to the raging blizzard outside, and into the distance.

After a long silence, Grindelwald spoke again, asking seriously:
"Has the situation become that critical?"

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　　It's the last day of June. Will I get an extra chapter next month if I reach 1,000 monthly votes?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)