Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 53 Peeping Through the Mirror
"Professor, this isn't Azkaban, is it?"

Snape asked, rubbing his head.

He had barely recovered from the dizziness and nausea caused by the appearance of his attendants, and his head was still spinning.

Before them stretched an endless, boundless sea, its waves crashing against the rocky shore; behind them lay a vast meadow studded with enormous pebbles.

“No, Severus,” Dumbledore replied calmly, his silvery hair and beard fluttering in the sea breeze. “This is the Yorkshire coast. Azkaban does not allow direct Apparition.”

He raised his hand and pointed towards the sea, then said, "The place we're going to is in the middle of the North Sea."

"Then how do we get there?" Snape asked, squinting at Dumbledore as the sea breeze blew. "Will you teach me to fly?"

"Ha, not yet." Dumbledore smiled and waved his wand. "We'll take a boat there."

As he moved, in the blink of an eye, a strange light screen flashed, and a black wooden sailboat appeared out of thin air, crashing into the sea with a "boom," splashing up a large spray of water.

Dumbledore waved his wand again, and a thick rope, like a nimble python, flew out with a "whoosh" and steadily connected the sailboat to the land.

He walked forward unhurriedly, and only after confirming that the sailboat was securely moored to the shore did he nod in satisfaction.

“Let’s wait here for a while,” Dumbledore said softly. “Alastor will come tomorrow and come with us. He knows Azkaban better, and with him there, our journey will be smoother.”

"Then why are we leaving today?" Snape's brow furrowed in the sea breeze as he raised his voice to ask, "Is Hogwarts too comfortable, and you want to get some fresh air?"

“Oh, Severus, what’s a little trouble?” Dumbledore smiled gently, and with another wave of his wand, a tent popped up in mid-air with two “thuds.”

The tent poles and screws seemed to come alive, automatically moving to their designated spots and settling firmly into the soil.

“Let’s go in.” Dumbledore stepped forward first and reached out to open the tent door.

Snape crouched down and crawled inside, and was greatly surprised by the simplicity of the place.

He had assumed that Dumbledore's tent would be like the one Harry used to visit when he went to the Quidditch World Cup, a hidden world inside—at least a three-room room.

To my surprise, the tent turned out to be just an ordinary tent, completely empty except for a moisture-proof cloth laid on the ground.

“Uh…” Snape hesitated and stepped back. “Professor, this tent doesn’t suit your style. Why don’t you use mine?”

As he spoke, he pulled a luxurious two-story tent from his wallet, chanted a spell, and used magic to command it to automatically set up.

This tent is obviously enchanted; it even has a beautiful little garden in front of it, filled with more than ten kinds of colorful flowers.

“Professor, please come this way.” Snape pulled Dumbledore out of his tent and said with concern, “We can’t let the old man suffer.”

Although Snape knew that the tent had no reliable protective measures, he knew in his heart that as long as Dumbledore was inside, it was the safest place.

After Dumbledore sat down in a comfortable armchair, Snape took a miniature spyglass from his small bag and placed it on the table.

Then, he took out a bottle of wine, some delicate desserts and meats, and matching tableware.

“Professor, here, let me pour you a glass.” Snape, without using magic, picked up the bottle himself and poured a glass of wine for both Dumbledore and himself. He raised his glass, somewhat proudly saying, “A thirty-year-old Burgundy.”

Dumbledore elegantly picked up his glass, gently swirled it, closed his eyes, smelled it, and exclaimed with delight, "Indeed excellent, a fine wine."

“Of course, it cost a fortune.” Snape grinned, tilted his head back, gulped down a large mouthful, and exhaled with a satisfied breath. “So sweet.”

“Yes, Severus, it smells strangely familiar.” Dumbledore slowly swirled his wine glass, not in a hurry to drink, a sly glint in his eyes. “Do you know which house-elf made this wine by stomping on the grapes?”

"Pfft—" Snape spat out a mouthful of wine, his eyes wide with astonishment as he stared at Dumbledore, stammering, "You—you said what, Professor? House-elves—step on them—?"

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied calmly, a smile playing on his lips, “Hogwarts still uses the old medieval method of having house-elves make wine by stomping grapes with their feet.”

"This method may be primitive, but it has its own unique charm. Don't you think?"

"So what we drink on weekdays and at banquets is...?"

Snape stared in disbelief at Dumbledore, hoping to see a negative answer on his face.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

Under Snape's dumbfounded gaze, he finally took a sip of wine: "Are you sure you won't drink anymore, Severus?"

Snape gritted his teeth, looked at Dumbledore with a resentful expression, and said, "I think drinking water is the healthiest option."

Afterwards, they sat by the warm fire and enjoyed some food prepared by house-elves.

The feeling of fullness in his stomach and the warm air made Snape drowsy, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until he could barely keep them open.

His body slowly relaxed, and drowsiness washed over him like a tide.

Suddenly, several deafening cracking sounds came from outside the tent.

Immediately afterwards, a sharp whistling sound echoed throughout the tent, and the miniature viewing mirror on the table spun wildly, emitting a dazzling light.

Snape jolted awake, his eyes snapping open. He scrambled up from his armchair and pulled his wand from his robes.

Just then, some rough and excited voices came from outside, growing closer and closer—"Put down your wands, raise your hands, and come out!"

"Professor, something's happened." Snape, regaining his composure, turned to Dumbledore. "What do you think we should do?"

Noticing Snape's gaze, Dumbledore nodded slightly at him, but still maintained a lazy and unhurried demeanor.

"Severus, go and take care of them."

"I?"

Snape looked surprised and pointed to himself with his index finger, asking the question.

(End of this chapter)