Hogwarts i am snape

Given the usual dangers of magical travel and the impracticality of long-distance Apparition, Snape, to be on the safe side, chose a method of long-distance travel that wizards often overlooked.

With a soft pop of disapparition, Snape appeared before the familiar, peeling door of Spinner's End in Cokeworth. The house looked even more dilapidated than a year ago; thick dust coated the windows, weeds sprouted from the cracks in the doorstep, and a musty smell hung in the air. It was now just a shell, a forgotten ruin.

He didn't go inside, but quickly changed into inconspicuous Muggle clothing in a hidden spot behind the house, carefully tucking his wand into his sleeve, with the Elder Wand placed snugly against his skin.

Half an hour later, he arrived at the small airport, a relic of Cokeworth's faded industrial glory. The waiting room was cramped and old, with the few passengers displaying undisguised weariness. A rusty fence enclosed a small patch of gray concrete, where a few weathered propeller planes or small jets sat dejectedly.

He bought a ticket for the next cheap flight to Berlin. There were no direct flights to Austria from here, so Berlin was the closest connecting point he could find. After an overnight stay on a cold metal seat at Berlin Airport, the plane finally descended under Vienna's hazy skyline.

Upon arrival, without a moment's delay, he headed straight for the train station and boarded a train bound for the southwestern mountains. The scenery outside the window gradually shifted from urban hustle and bustle to rural tranquility, then to increasingly steep, forest and rock-covered mountains. The silhouette of the Alps emerged in the distance, possessing a cold and majestic beauty.

It was already late the next evening when the train wheezed to a stop at a small station called "St. Wolfgang." The last rays of the setting sun cast a faint golden hue on the snow-capped peaks.

After paying a substantial sum, Snape found a dilapidated taxi willing to drive him up the mountain. The driver was an old man with cheeks as red as dried apples, speaking broken English with a thick accent, yet he enthusiastically pointed out the sights along the way: "Look! Snow line! Eagle's Nest! Magnificent! God's masterpiece!"

Snape merely mumbled vague responses, his gaze fixed on the increasingly treacherous and desolate scenery outside the window, his mind already drifting to the rumored high tower.

"Convincing Grindelwald is bound 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-imprisonment. Ordinary pleas, threats, or even the allure of profit would probably be meaningless to him."

"What I need is a way to penetrate his icy exterior, a way to touch something deep within Grindelwald that might not be entirely extinguished."

The car finally stopped at a desolate mountain road fork. The driver pointed to a small path, almost invisible under the snow and ice, and said in English interspersed with German words: "Up there, castle, dangerous! Can't drive anymore! You, be careful!"

Snape paid him, thanked him, and watched the taxi wobble away down the mountain road into the twilight. A biting wind, laden with ice shards, blasted him in the face. He pulled out his own wand, quietly cast warming and waterproofing charms, and steadily began to climb the almost forgotten path.

The wind and snow intensified, revealing the harshness of the Alps in full force. When he rounded a steep ridge, a hidden mountain hollow appeared before him. Above the hollow, a black castle, seemingly grown from the craggy rocks, stood imposingly. Above the entrance to Nurmengard, huge stone blocks bore the motto that once sent shivers down the spine of the entire wizarding world: "For the Greater Good."

The castle itself was built of massive, cold black stones, its towers like sharp claws reaching into the dim sky, their design pointed and oppressive, filled with a suffocating sense of grandeur. Even after years of abandonment and erosion by wind and snow, it still resembled a dormant black beast, exuding an unsettling aura.

The castle's great gate hung open. The massive iron doors were long rusted and warped, hanging askew on their hinges, creaking with a grating sound in the fierce wind. Inside, there was an infinite silence.

Snape stepped through. Thick layers of dust covered every inch of the floor and walls, and giant cobwebs hung from the decaying arches and columns. Once magnificent decorations had long since peeled away, leaving only blurred, characteristic symbols from Grindelwald's era and the remnants of broken statues. There was no chilling presence of Dementors, no footsteps of guards, no signs of any living thing. Only the howling mountain wind moved through the empty corridors and halls, making strange, wailing sounds, occasionally punctuated by the crisp crack of falling debris from above.

This extreme desolation and silence were more unnerving than any fierce guard. Snape felt as though he had stepped into a colossal, cold tomb. His gaze swept over a few broken Deathly Hallows symbols before he proceeded directly through the great hall, stopping in the shadow of the tallest, most isolated tower. Looking up, the tower's peak merged with the low, leaden sky.

Taking a deep breath, Snape pulled a small crystal vial from his robe. A sky-blue liquid swirled within the bottle. After drinking it, Dumbledore's wise yet slightly weary face replaced Snape's youthful features.

Donning a magnificent purple robe, inlaid with star patterns, Snape lit a steady glow with his own wand, illuminating the path ahead, and ascended the winding stone steps towards the highest spire. Along the way, he passed by closed or empty iron-barred doors, finding no movement, no other prisoner's presence. It was as if the entire massive prison existed only for that one person.

Finally, he stood before the sole cell door at the top of the tower. A heavy, barred iron door appeared before him. As historical records described, there were no complex magical chains on the door, no shimmering protective enchantments, only a rusty iron lock hanging coldly there. This door, rather than being meant to hold someone in, seemed more like a boundary the person inside had chosen for themselves.

Snape stood at the cell door, looking inside by the light of his wand: in the small, cold, simple stone room, the only furniture was a hard cot; on the floor near the door lay a crude wooden tray containing a few dry, hard pieces of black bread and a small bowl of cloudy water. A remarkably emaciated figure sat with his back to the door, on the edge of the cot. He wore a tattered, almost unrecognizable prison uniform, and his body was hunched. What was once perhaps brilliant silver-white hair was now sparse and dry, like wild grass. He faced the cell's only narrow window, motionless, like a frozen statue, gazing blankly at the endless, gray sky and perilous peaks outside. The howling wind and snow were the only background noise.

Snape took a deep breath, breaking the silence. In the gentle voice of Albus Dumbledore, bestowed upon him by the Polyjuice Potion, he clearly spoke:

"I've come."

The howling of the cold wind seemed to freeze for a moment. The withered figure, with stiff movements, very slowly turned around. A weathered, gaunt face with prominent cheekbones was revealed. In the deep-set eyes, Gellert Grindelwald's left eye still retained a faint trace of grayish-blue, while his right eye was almost completely dull gray. In that instant, something long frozen in those eyes seemed to be forcibly pried open just a crack.

Grindelwald stared at "Dumbledore's" face greedily, motionlessly, as if to carve every detail into his memory. After a long while, a hoarse, ancient voice finally spoke with difficulty, carrying a hint of lingering bewilderment.

"So this is what he looks like now..."

His voice showed no clear emotion, neither感慨 nor anything else, "He's grown old too..."

Snape maintained Dumbledore's posture, looking at the frail old man before him, who was a stark contrast to the formidable Dark Wizard of legend. He spoke slowly, his voice mimicking Dumbledore's pity:

"Gellert, if Ms. Rosier were to see you like this, I fear she would be saddened."

A flicker of anger instantly crossed Grindelwald's dull eyes, but it quickly vanished, replaced by an even deeper indifference and disdain. He didn't answer, didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, simply continued to stare at "Dumbledore" with those lifeless eyes.

Silence once again enveloped the small cell, with the sound of wind and snow hitting the small window being the only sound. Time passed, minute by minute, until finally, Grindelwald spoke again, his voice cold and direct:

"Who are you?"

Snape had never expected his disguise to fool Grindelwald. After all, how could he deceive someone with whom he shared the deepest emotions?

"Mr. Grindelwald," he said, "I have come at Professor Dumbledore's request, seeking your help. Professor Dumbledore is facing an unprecedented crisis—"

"Ah—"

Grindelwald let out a short, mocking scoff, cutting Snape off. The last vestige of grayish-blue in his murky eyes seemed to ripple slightly, filled with disdain and weariness. Clearly, he had no interest in the so-called "crisis" and utterly disbelieved the person before him wearing Dumbledore's face.

Snape hesitated no longer. He slowly raised his hand, reaching into an inside pocket of his robe. When his hand emerged again, it no longer held the wand he had used for illumination. It was a wand with distinctive knots.

The moment the wand was revealed, a terrifying light erupted in Grindelwald's eyes. He sprang up from the hard cot like a startled lion. His movements were so swift, completely unlike those of a frail old man. He stared intently at the wand, his body trembling uncontrollably, his cracked lips silently opening and closing, as if he had seen the most incredible thing.

"The Elder Wand! How can it be here?! In the hands of this impostor?! Where is Albus? Could it be... could Albus already be—"

However, in the very next second, as his gaze shifted from the Elder Wand to Snape's flawless "Dumbledore" face, the intense emotional surge from before receded like a tide.

"No... no, that's not right. If this person can perfectly disguise themselves as Albus, it can only be the effect of Polyjuice Potion... In that case, Albus must still be alive—"

Grindelwald sat back down on the hard cot, his movements returning to their previous slowness. But his eyes became even sharper, fixed on Snape's face. At the same time, his strange eyes began to change—the last trace of grayish-blue in his left pupil rapidly faded, as if stained with ink, finally becoming like his right eye, a bizarre, deep, pure gray-white that seemed to devour light.

An indescribable, cold, and powerful pressure enveloped the entire cell. Grindelwald's lips moved, and he spoke in a voice that seemed to come from an abyss, with a strange cadence:

"I didn't see where you came from... and I couldn't see where you go..."

Snape's heart was instantly chilled: Grindelwald seemed to have activated his Seer ability, attempting to glimpse his past and future. But, he seemed to have failed.

"So, where is Albus Dumbledore?" Grindelwald's voice carried the weariness of a Seer after probing fate and a hint of imperceptible confusion. "Who are you, precisely?"

Snape pulled a small vial from his pocket and tilted his head back, drinking the antidote to the Polyjuice Potion. With a slight twisting and wriggling of bones and flesh, the benevolent face of Albus Dumbledore swiftly receded, revealing Severus Snape's true face: young, pale, with a hooked nose and deep black eyes.

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

"I, Severus Snape, Dumbledore's most beloved student, have come specifically to seek help from the one who cares for him most."

Grindelwald's gaze lingered on Snape's young, serious face for a moment, then slowly dropped, refocusing on the Elder Wand in Snape's hand. His voice was low, laced with an unidentifiable complex emotion, as he asked a question that surprised Snape:

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

"I really couldn't say," Snape replied honestly, his usual, slightly mocking expression appearing on his face.

This answer seemed to amuse Grindelwald. The corners of his wrinkled mouth stretched upwards very slowly, forming a peculiar expression that could barely be called a smile.

"Haha," he let out a low, hoarse chuckle, like the sound of a worn-out bellows. "He told you everything?"

"Perhaps," Snape met his gaze, not answering directly, just shrugging slightly and speaking ambiguously.

The strange amusement on Grindelwald's face vanished. His eyes stared at Snape's face for a long time, then past his shoulder, as if seeing the raging blizzard outside through the cold stone walls, seeing further still.

After a long silence, Grindelwald finally spoke again, asking seriously:

"Has the situation become that critical?"