Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 162 Reunion of the Old and the New

The red-haired man groggily raised his head, mumbled sleepily, and subconsciously reached out to grope on the table, grabbing a pair of glasses placed on it and putting them on.

“Hmm…” He blinked, trying to shake off his sleepiness and make out the tall figure standing in front of the stage. His voice was filled with impatience at being disturbed from his sleep. “Sir? Who…who are you? What brings you here at this hour?” He clearly mistook Grindelwald for a wizard with urgent business in the middle of the night.

Grindelwald did not answer the question. He simply looked at the other man with his gray eyes and calmly asked, "Are you a Death Eater?"

“Death Eaters?!” Arthur Weasley seemed to have been burned by the word, his face instantly filled with disgust and an insulted rage, almost blurting out, “No, of course not! How could I be such a filthy, vile villain?”

After shouting those words, he suddenly realized where he was. He shuddered, the color drained from his face, and fear instantly overwhelmed his sleepiness.

Mr. Weasley looked around nervously, like a startled rabbit, as if afraid that something in the darkness was watching everything.

Only after confirming that there were only the two of them in the empty hall did he let out a long, trembling breath and pat his chest with lingering fear.

He looked at Grindelwald again, his eyes filled with surprise and wariness. His voice was much lower, and he asked in a questioning tone, "Who are you, sir? Why do you ask that?"

As he spoke, Mr. Weasley's hand casually slid down, stealthily reaching for the wand tucked at his waist.

The moment his fingers touched the wand handle, a glimmer of light flashed.

Without any warning, Mr. Weasley felt a lightness at his waist as his wand flew out of his hand, tracing an arc in the air before landing lightly in Grindelwald's outstretched hand.

Grindelwald didn't even glance at the wand; he simply tossed it onto the security checkpoint table with a soft "tap."

Mr. Weasley's face turned pale instantly. His left hand remained clenched, but his face was filled with terror.

“Then,” Grindelwald looked down at him, his voice still flat, “where can I find a Death Eater?”

“Sir,” Mr. Weasley swallowed hard, forcing back the question that was about to come out of his mouth. He hesitated for several seconds before stammering, “What do you want with them?”

Grindelwald's gaze didn't move, but the coldness in it seemed to deepen. Mr. Weasley shuddered and immediately changed his words: "Uh... there's one down here..."

“Bring him up.” Grindelwald’s gaze fell on Mr. Weasley’s hand, which was still furtively glancing at his wand lying on the table.

Mr. Weasley stiffened for a moment, then sighed resignedly. He had no intention of fighting the mysterious wizard who kept using the Silent Charm; after all, his family was waiting for him to return, not to mention his wife was carrying a new life.

He slowly raised his hand to indicate that he meant no harm, then stood up and walked to a dusty shelf in the corner behind the security checkpoint.

He stretched out his finger and gently tapped a small, unassuming brass bell.

"Ding!"

A crisp bell rang out across the empty hall.

Immediately afterwards, a barn owl with ruffled feathers fluttered out from an inconspicuous, cobweb-covered ventilation duct high up on the wall.

With a struggling field mouse in its mouth, it landed steadily on the shelf, ignoring the two adults present, and swallowed the mouse with remarkable efficiency.

Then, as if no one else was around, it stuck out its rear end and, with a "plop," left a small pile of fresh, warm feces on the clean floor.

"Oh, damn it!" Mr. Weasley instinctively reached for his waist, only to find nothing there, realizing that his wand was not with him.

He turned his head and gave Grindelwald an awkward yet helpless smile: "Sorry, sir. These little things always make a mess..."

Grindelwald didn't even seem to lift his eyelids; he simply waved his wand casually, and an invisible breeze swept by, instantly making the filth on the ground disappear without a trace.

Mr. Weasley sighed with relief, then complained, "Ugh, the mess we're making between floors with owls is unbelievable. There's poop everywhere—on the desks, in the hallways..."

He complained as he cautiously reached out his hand. The well-fed owl glanced at him and obediently hopped onto his arm.

Mr. Weasley led the owl back to the security checkpoint, opened a drawer, and rummaged through it to find a small piece of parchment and a quill pen with bald bristles.

He glanced at Grindelwald, and seeing that the other man didn't respond, he dipped his brush in the half-dry ink from the ink bottle and scribbled on the paper:

"August Lukewood, a gentleman in the hall needs to see you. Please come up to the hall as soon as possible."

After writing it down, Mr. Weasley picked up the note and showed it to Grindelwald. Seeing Grindelwald nod slightly, he quickly rolled up the note and tied it to the owl's leg with a short piece of rope.

He took the owl and walked to a row of elevator doors not far from the security checkpoint, then pressed one of the buttons labeled "down".

A series of metallic scraping and chain-churning sounds rang out, and a lift appeared with a clang. With a series of tinkling sounds, the golden gate slid open gently.

Mr. Weasley carried the owl into the elevator and pressed the button for it to go to "Ninth Floor - Department of Mysteries".

“Go, little fellow, and give this to August Lukewood of the Department of Mysteries,” he whispered to the owl.

The owl hooted once, flapped its wings, flew into the elevator, and landed on a wooden perch specially set up for messenger birds.

The gate slammed shut, and the elevator made a dull thud as it began to descend.

Mr. Weasley watched the elevator disappear from sight, then slowly strolled back to the security checkpoint and cautiously glanced at Grindelwald.

"Are Death Eaters already openly serving in the British Ministry of Magic?" Grindelwald asked in a calm tone.

Mr. Weasley wore a complex expression. He carefully chose his words, and although he already sensed that the mysterious and powerful wizard before him was not Voldemort's man, he dared not reveal any true stance or risk uttering words that could be interpreted as "rebellion."

“Ever since that gentleman…” he lowered his voice, “…defeated Professor Albus Dumbledore, the situation has completely changed.” He carefully chose his words, “The Death Eaters no longer need to hide their identities.”

“They have people in many places within the department. As for Lukewood, I genuinely didn’t know he was someone before; there were absolutely no signs of it…”

Time ticked by, and Mr. Weasley would occasionally steal glances at the elevator entrance and Grindelwald's expressionless face.

Finally, the sound of clanging and chains rattling came from the elevator again. Mr. Weasley's heart leaped into his throat.

The gate slid open, and a short, stout man with thinning, greasy hair stepped out. He was clutching the note Mr. Weasley had written, his face showing impatience and displeasure at being interrupted. “Arthur!” Lukewood frowned and complained, “What’s the rush that you called me up here? I’m busy…”

Before he could finish speaking, a beam of red light shot from the tip of Grindelwald's wand and struck him in the chest.

"Ugh—" Lukewood only managed to let out a short groan before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed backward like a lump of mud.

However, before his body had fully touched the ground, Grindelwald's wand flicked it lightly again.

A tremendous force violently seized Lukewood's body, pulling him up through the air by his wizard's robes and dragging him toward the security checkpoint.

His robes ripped under the immense strain, almost torn apart. The next second, Lukwood's obese body slammed heavily onto the floor at Grindelwald's feet, motionless like a dead fish.

Mr. Weasley jumped up from his chair in fright, his neck instinctively shrinking back, his voice trembling: "He...he is..." He pointed at Lukewood on the ground, but dared not look directly at Grindelwald.

Grindelwald didn't bother with Mr. Weasley's nonsense. He strode over to the limp Lukewood, nudged Lukewood's left arm with his toe, and then flicked his wand with the tip.

A dark red mark composed of a skull and a python was exposed in the dim light.

Despite being mentally prepared, Mr. Weasley still couldn't help but gasp and take a half-step back in horror when he saw the symbol that represented terror and death.

Grindelwald glanced at the mark and asked casually, "What time is it now, Arthur?"

"Hmm?" Mr. Weasley was still immersed in the fear brought by the Dark Mark. He paused for a moment before hurriedly looking at his watch. "Four...four thirty, sir."

Grindelwald nodded slightly, as if talking to himself, "Then we'll have to wait a while." His gaze fell on the ever-changing symbols on the ceiling, as if he were pondering something.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Mr. Weasley carefully moved to Lukewood's side, bent down, and laboriously pulled the note he had written from Lukewood's unconsciously clenched hand. He crumpled the note into a ball as if it were a hot potato and quickly stuffed it into his robe pocket.

Having done all this, he mustered his courage and pleaded in his voice, "Sir... may I leave now? My shift is almost over, I promise I won't say anything..."

Grindelwald gave Mr. Weasley a scrutinizing look and slowly shook his head: "Don't rush."

Mr. Weasley's heart sank to the bottom, and he could only stand stiffly behind the security checkpoint. Before he could even stand still, he felt the hardwood chair behind him move, then float up and land next to Grindelwald.

Grindelwald sat down with an air of nonchalance, crossing his legs as if waiting for a good show to begin.

Time had never seemed to pass so slowly, and Mr. Weasley felt as if he were being crushed by the immense pressure. Cold sweat soaked through his robes on his back, and large beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

Finally, Grindelwald seemed to feel the time was right. He slowly stood up and walked to the side of the unconscious Lukewood.

Under Mr. Weasley's horrified gaze, Grindelwald bent down, expressionlessly grabbed Lukewood's limp right hand, and then firmly pressed his right fingers onto the dark-colored pattern on the inside of his left arm.

"No—" Mr. Weasley cried out uncontrollably, his whole body trembling violently. He had already foreseen the impending apocalypse, his body went limp, and he could barely stand.

Just as he screamed, Grindelwald released his grip, straightened up, and calmly said to the terrified Mr. Weasley, as if he had just done something insignificant, "You can go now."

These words were like a pardon. Almost instinctively and driven by a strong will to survive, Mr. Weasley scrambled toward the security checkpoint, grabbed his wand, and stumbled toward the nearest gilded fireplace.

He suddenly grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the bucket, sprinkled it into the fireplace, and shouted with his last breath, "The Burrow!"

A burst of bright green flames rose from the fireplace, instantly engulfing Mr. Weasley's figure.

Grindelwald straightened the slightly wrinkled hem of his robes from sitting down, then sat back in his chair, waiting patiently. He did indeed feel a touch of curiosity about the approaching Voldemort, though this curiosity was mixed with a strong sense of contempt.

The wait was not long.

In the hall, a golden fireplace suddenly burst into flames, casting an eerie green glow on the surrounding dark wood planks.

A tall, slender figure, wrapped in a billowing black hooded robe, slowly emerged from the blazing green flames.

Beneath the shadow of the hood was a pale, haggard face, as terrifying as a snake.

The newcomer stared with a pair of narrow, red eyes, and below his eyebrows, there were only two thin slits for breathing.

Those long, narrow, scarlet pupils immediately locked onto Grindelwald, who was sitting next to the security checkpoint.

"You're Voldemort?" Grindelwald rose gracefully, a slight, polite smile playing on his lips. "Good evening. I've heard some things about you..."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Grindelwald's response was a blinding beam of green light.

Voldemort had no intention of engaging in any verbal exchange with him. An indescribable rage and chilling killing intent instantly engulfed the entire hall.

Grindelwald's eyes flashed with disdain as he faced the Killing Curse. Without moving a step, he flicked his wrist, and the wooden chair behind him transformed into a shield with wood grain, appearing before him.

The green light slammed into the shield wall, bursting out with blinding light. The shield turned into countless flying fragments, which then formed thin vines that grew towards Voldemort, covering him like a cocoon woven from branches.

"Tsk," Grindelwald's voice betrayed his displeasure at being interrupted, "You junior, don't you have any manners at all? Not even basic etiquette..."

A furious, piercing roar erupted from the shrinking vine cocoon, instantly drowning out Grindelwald's words and making the dome of the hall vibrate.

The next moment, the wooden cocoon that had been binding Voldemort was no longer a constraint, and every vine turned charred and carbonized, transforming into a large, black snake.

It immediately released Voldemort, turned to face Grindelwald, and hissed angrily.

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(End of this chapter)