Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 156 Night Owl

That night, the chill of the high altitude quietly descended, and the temperature inside and outside the cabin plummeted.

Snape had to put his robes back on in the middle of the night and hurry toward the herb greenhouse at the stern of the ship.

This is a magical space created using the sunniest area at the stern of the ship. It is maintained by Eileen and used for planting and student teaching.

Pushing open the greenhouse door, a warm, humid breeze rushed out from the cracks, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside.

Moonlight streamed through the greenhouse's transparent glass roof, casting a soft glow. Snape immediately spotted Eileen yawning as she took out a pair of earmuffs and gloves.

Beside her, Myrtle's translucent figure floated in a corner of the greenhouse, watching her movements with great interest.

“You’ve come too, Mandrake?” Snape asked as he strode over, closing the door behind him. His gaze swept over the rows of mandrake seedlings planted in huge flowerpots, while he greeted Myrtle.

The dark green leaves swayed gently in the windless environment, emitting faint but piercing whistling sounds.

“Oh, Severus.” Eileen looked up, a hint of weariness on her face. “It’s getting colder too fast. We need to add some extra warmth to them.” She pointed to a pile of mini socks and scarves made of thick wool knitting on the table next to her. “I don’t trust anyone else with this job; it requires extreme care.”

“Perfect,” she said, taking out another earmuff and handing it to Snape. “Let’s do it together. We can still go back to sleep for a while after we’re done.”

Snape nodded, picked up the dragon-skin gloves and earmuffs, and put them on. Erin did the same.

Now, ensuring the safe and rapid growth of these delicate and dangerous mandrake seedlings is of paramount importance as it is the hope for saving Dobby's life, which has been petrified.

They carefully approached the whimpering seedlings, gently pulling the mandrakes from their pots, wrapping their roots in thick, warm woolen socks, and loosely tying smaller scarves around their stems to help them withstand the unexpected cold snap.

The two worked in perfect harmony, completing the "warming project" for all the mandrake seedlings amidst the piercing screams that only Myrtle could hear.

After removing the heavy earmuffs, the only sounds in the greenhouse were the soft rustling of mandrake leaves rubbing comfortably against each other and the low hum of the ventilation system.

At that moment, Eileen watched Snape take off his gloves, a deep worry appearing on her face.

“Severus,” she hesitated, but finally spoke, “we…we’re both half-blood wizards. Perhaps going back, registering with the Ministry of Magic, and accepting their ‘management’ is an option?” Her voice was low. “At least there wouldn’t be any danger…”

Snape paused. He looked at Eileen, his dark eyes filled not with blame, but with a hint of apology and understanding.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Mom,” he said, “but I can’t just think of myself. Many of the students on board came with us because they trusted me. What would it mean if I ran away now for the sake of so-called ‘safety,’ leaving them in unknown dangers?”

"It's never reliable to place your safety on your bloodline," Snape shook his head, "or on the 'mercy' and 'promises' of the Death Eaters and the Ministry of Magic."

“Besides,” he continued, “there are things I can’t tell you, but ever since 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 gave Eileen a gentle smile, “I am one of the two people they will least let go of.”

Seeing the unwavering resolve in Snape's eyes, Eileen knew that further persuasion would be futile.

She sighed deeply, tears welling in her eyes, and gently smoothed Snape's hair, which was ruffled by the earmuffs: "You're all grown up now, remember to always be careful..."

Snape squeezed Eileen's cold hand and then said, "Let's not talk about such unpleasant things."

“Think about it, at least we’re together now, with warm beds, delicious food, and lots of friendly friends.” He tried to change the subject, his tone becoming lighter. “Things are pretty good, aren’t they?”

Eileen forced a smile and nodded. Her gaze shifted to Myrtle, who was floating to the side, and she asked, "Myrtle, how have you been on the ship these past few days? Are you settling in?"

Myrtle's face shone brightly in the moonlight, seemingly without a trace of sorrow or melancholy.

“Oh, that’s great, really.” Hearing Eileen’s concern, she floated a little closer. “The students on this ship now only call me ‘Myrtle’ or ‘Happy Myrtle,’ not ‘Crying Myrtle.’” She happily twirled around. “They all treat me like a friend, and there aren’t any annoying Peeves here!”

“But…” Myrtle sighed again, “Alas, this year’s Halloween is the 485th anniversary of the death of Sir Nicholas, oh, the ‘Almost Headless Nick’.”

“Every five years, he would hold a memorial service for his death, during which time he loved it when people called him Sir.”

“He used to invite me every time, although… although it wasn’t really that interesting, it was still a lively place. I can’t go this year.”

"Was Sir Nicholas's death anniversary party fun?" Eileen asked curiously.

“It’s no fun at all!” Myrtle pouted. “It’s cold and damp, the food is rotten, the music is awful, and those ghosts have terrible taste!” she complained, but there was a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “But I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s perfect,” Snape said with a gentle smile. “We’re having a Halloween dinner next Monday night. Would you like to come?”
"Now that you've gotten rid of that nickname you've had for so long, come and join the students' banquet like the other ghosts."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Myrtle's eyes lit up instantly. "I was just wondering if anyone would invite me." She excitedly did a somersault in the air, her translucent body passing through a bubble pod that was forming seeds.

As they chatted, the whimpering of the mandrake seedlings, which were wrapped tightly in the greenhouse, gradually subsided, becoming like the babbling of a sleeping baby.

"Shh..." Eileen then made a shushing gesture. "They're asleep. Let's not disturb them as they grow. Let's go outside."

The two people and the ghost tiptoed out of the greenhouse and carefully closed the door.

They had only walked a short distance back along the cold corridor when they heard hurried footsteps and heavy breathing coming from one side of the corridor.

Professor McGonagall, wearing her travel cloak, was seen running briskly alongside Hagrid.

Hagrid's massive body appeared unusually anxious, and he was carefully holding a humanoid figure wrapped tightly in a thick cloak in his arms.

"Minerva! Hagrid!" Eileen rushed over immediately. "What happened?"

Professor McGonagall saw Irene and Snape as if they were her saviors, and said urgently, "Irene, there are wounded, seriously wounded!"

Hagrid, carrying the wounded, strode toward the fork in the road leading to the medical room, trying to walk as quietly as possible.

Snape and Irene immediately followed. "Who is this?" Snape stared intently at Hagrid's broad back, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

“Alastor,” Professor McGonagall’s voice was filled with anxiety and a hint of relief, “I finally made contact with him through the Patronus. He’s hiding in a safe house, but he’s badly injured.”

“I rushed over and he passed out. Frank and Alice…” Her voice choked. “They… were captured by the Aurors while trying to draw away the pursuers to protect Alastor.”

As they spoke, they had already rushed to the door of the medical room.

Gideon Prewitt was dozing in a chair, but his brother Fabian remained standing guard at the door.

Seeing Hagrid charging towards them carrying someone, Fabian immediately went to meet him warily.

When he finally saw the battered and gruesome face peeking out from the gap in Hagrid's cloak under the corridor light, even this seasoned warrior couldn't help but gasp and exclaim in shock, "Merlin, Alastor!"

Gideon was startled awake by his brother's exclamation and jumped up, rubbing his eyes.

Hagrid had already forcefully pushed open the medical room door with his shoulder, but his massive body froze instantly, 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 bed, Grindelwald was sitting quietly in an armchair, his back to the door.

Then, Hagrid held his breath and gently placed Moody on an empty hospital bed.

As Snape walked forward, he finally got a clear look at Moody's injuries and his heart tightened.

Moody's face was almost disfigured. His long, gray hair was tangled with blood, and his face was covered with deep, bone-revealing wounds, his skin torn and bleeding, as if he had been ripped apart by a wild beast.

His mouth looked like a crooked, gaping gash, and the prominent bridge of his nose was gone, leaving only a bloody, mangled shape.

What's most chilling is his eyes. On the other side of Moody's tightly closed eye, there's only a bloody, broken eye socket, with the tissue at the edges still twitching slightly, making it unbearable to look at.

“Alastor…” Gideon covered his mouth, his face pale.

Meanwhile, Eileen had already rushed to the potion cabinet in the medical room, swiftly taking out various bottles and jars: White Essence, Bone-Regenerating Elixir, Hemostatic Agent, Powerful Analgesic and Sedative Potions...

She returned to Moody's bedside and began treating the horrific wounds with dazzling speed.

Cleaning, disinfecting, healing, applying medicine... her movements as she waved her wand and used various potions were both urgent and methodical.

After Eileen's emergency treatment, most of the lacerations on Moody's face were cleaned and healed, and a cooling ointment was applied.

She carefully wrapped the large wound on his nose with gauze soaked in a special herbal juice for promoting tissue regeneration. However, the damaged eye socket remained empty.

Eileen sat up wearily, looking at the emptiness in Moody's face, her eyes filled with apology and helplessness.

“The wounds are cleaned up, and most of the skin and flesh will heal, and the skin behind the nose can grow back. But the eyes,” she shook her head heavily, “I can’t do anything about it. Most of his eyeballs are destroyed, and I have to clean them out completely. Otherwise, based on experience, the damaged eyeballs could eventually cause him to lose sight in his other eye as well.”

A heavy atmosphere hung in the medical room. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes in resignation, while Gideon and Fabian clenched their fists.

"Someone can perform alchemy—"

Before Snape could finish speaking, he was interrupted by a sudden voice.

“The eyeball, as a highly specialized sensory organ, experiences a severe inflammatory response to trauma,” Grindelwald said calmly, as if analyzing an interesting phenomenon, “which is essentially a special immune rejection and repair process that attempts to remove non-regenerative foreign objects and necrotic tissue.”

Everyone was startled, only then realizing that Grindelwald had silently stood beside the hospital bed, examining Moody's injuries, especially the cleaned-up eye socket.

“Mr. Grindelwald,” Professor McGonagall looked up at Grindelwald, her eyes instantly igniting with intense hope, “Do you have a way? Can you…”

Grindelwald seemed slightly embarrassed by the expectation in Professor McGonagall's eyes.

“Those books,” he looked away and pointed to several open books on Dumbledore’s bed, “we found them in the ship’s book corner.”

“There are indeed some treatments for eye injuries in these Muggle medical books,” he shrugged, “but unfortunately, Muggle medicine can’t make a lost eye grow back. Magic… has its limits in that respect as well.”

Professor McGonagall's eyes dimmed. She turned sadly to look at Moody, who was still unconscious and frowning, as if he were in pain.

“However…” Grindelwald paused for a moment before speaking again, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty and distant memories, “Many, many years ago, Albus and I discussed the possibility of using alchemical artifacts to replace some damaged or missing human organs.”

“Theoretically,” his gaze fell on Moody’s face again, “we might consider making him an alchemical eye. But that’s no easy task.”

"Is it really possible, Mr. Green?" Professor McGonagall looked up again and asked eagerly. "Just let me know if you need anything that can help Alastor."

“I’ll think about it.” Grindelwald nodded slightly, offering neither a definite promise nor a refusal. He left those words behind, turned, and returned to Dumbledore’s bedside, picking up his book.

Over the next two days, with Eileen's care and the effects of potent potions, Moody's injuries gradually stabilized, and he awoke.

Despite losing an eye, the old Auror's will was as strong as steel, and he paid no heed to this enormous wound. If Eileen hadn't insisted that he stay in bed, he probably would have already torn off the gauze wrapped around his nose. After all, as he put it, "that thing is useless."

During this time, Snape's meticulously "edited" Daily Prophet and its guiding interpretations gradually spread throughout the ship's cabin.

Students gathered in twos and threes in a corner of the restaurant, discussing the news.

　Thank you to xiaoping_ea for the donation.

　　Thanks to Pig Can Fly, Maggot Who Cuts Double Eyelids, and Golden Shovel_dA for the monthly tickets.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)