Hogwarts i am snape

The moment Grindelwald's words faded, almost as if in response, the rusty iron door of the prison cell screeched open with an ear-splitting "Eek!" and slammed inward.

A fierce mountain wind, carrying shards of ice and snow, immediately rushed into the narrow cell, causing the temperature to plummet.

Snape shivered from the sudden cold, his purple starry robes flapping wildly. He gripped the Elder Wand tightly, pointing it at Grindelwald.

However, what he saw wasn't the expected attacking stance, but rather a half-smile on Grindelwald's wrinkled face.

This expression felt like a bucket of cold water poured over Snape, instantly clearing his head. He quickly switched the Elder Wand to his left hand, while his right hand delved into his robes, pulling out a small pouch.

He opened the pouch and took out two photographs.

In the first photo, bathed in the summer sunlight of Ottery St Catchpole village, Lily's fiery red hair danced in the gentle breeze in a neat little garden. She was chatting animatedly with Snape beside her.

In the second photo, inside the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, Pandora's light silver hair was casually tied up, with a few strands falling across her focused profile. She was meticulously adjusting a complex, multicoloured smoke-emitting alchemical device. Snape stood beside her, carefully observing the instrument's reactions, holding an open, thick notebook.

"Mr. Grindelwald, look at this," Snape held the photos up to Grindelwald's eyes. "These are two girls I care about." He paused, then added, "They're currently with the exiled 'Hogwarts,' facing constant danger."

Grindelwald's gaze lingered on the two photos for a moment, his expression largely unchanged, though the half-smile deepened.

"Interesting preferences, Severus," he lifted his grey eyes to Snape, asking a seemingly unrelated question, "Didn't you take a photo with your favourite teacher? Shouldn't a promising student like you have a keepsake with a mentor who values you?"

"Why would I take a photo with a man?" Snape frowned slightly, a hint of confusion in his voice. But he paused, seemingly recalling something. "However, I did see a picture of Professor Dumbledore when he was young, in his office."

"Oh?" Grindelwald's eyebrows subtly twitched.

"It was a photo of him with a blonde boy. They were probably about my age," Snape subtly observed Grindelwald's reaction, describing slowly. "In bright sunlight, the two boys had their arms around each other.

"Professor Dumbledore back then had hair down to his elbows, and a faint, unformed little beard on his chin. And the boy next to him, with his arm linked through Dumbledore's, laughing unrestrainedly, had golden hair that fell to his shoulders, giving off a feeling of almost wild joy."

Grindelwald's face showed no emotional fluctuations, but a flicker of extremely complex light passed through the depths of his eyes. Snape's description seemed to have struck a chord with long-buried memories. He had thought that photograph had been forgotten by the other man in the depths of time.

His low voice came, "No matter how you saw that picture—don't lie, child."

Though he said this, Snape seemed to detect an indefinable loosening in his expression, even a hint of subtle pleasure.

"Alright, tell me, how much has the outside world changed?" Grindelwald waved his hand. "Who has pushed the almighty Dumbledore to the point of needing my help?"

Snape took a deep breath and began to recount the rise of the Dark Lord and his followers, who called themselves "Death Eaters," Dumbledore's actions, and the fall of Hogwarts.

In his narration, he habitually used the moniker "You-Know-Who."

"You-Know-Who?" Grindelwald let out a sarcastic laugh, interrupting him. "You call him 'You-Know-Who'? Don't even dare to speak his name?" His eyes were filled with contempt for such cowardice.

"Apologies, it's a habit," Snape admitted frankly. He looked directly at Grindelwald. "His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. However, now he calls himself Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Grindelwald savoured the syllables, his face openly showing disgust. "What a strange and pretentious name? Flight from death? Hah, vulgar ambition. This is why I dislike French."

"Hah," Snape thought, "and you hate Paris too."

Having completed his silent commentary, he continued, "Now, we're drifting through the sky with Muggle-born students and some faculty, seeking a possible turning point.

"Professor Dumbledore told me, before he lost consciousness, that in this era, Gellert Grindelwald is the only one powerful enough to understand, and perhaps even contend with, Voldemort. He trusts you.

"So, I came—I implore you, leave Nurmengard, come to Britain, and help us, help Hogwarts, help Professor Dumbledore."

"Why should I help you?" Grindelwald asked in a low voice, amidst the continuous howling of the mountain wind.

"What do you need us to do for you to be willing to help?" Snape asked.

Grindelwald's gaze slowly dropped, falling upon the wand tightly clutched in Snape's hand.

Snape unhesitatingly extended the Elder Wand forward, through the cold bars: "Here. If you need it, take it."

Grindelwald slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook his head: "No, not that one."

Snape tentatively asked, "So, do you wish to revive your old cause or ideals?"

Grindelwald shook his head again, this time with clear impatience:

"Put away your guesses and tests, boy. My past ideals don't need explaining to you now, nor do they need to be restarted."

Snape pondered for a moment, then said, "Sir, if you are willing to help, Professor Dumbledore will be very, very grateful when he wakes up. You know, the teachers and students of Hogwarts, the place he has protected his entire life—that's everything he cares about most."

This sentence seemed to touch a subtle nerve.

A fleeting look of displeasure crossed Grindelwald's eyes. Of course he knew what Albus cared about, and having this young man express it in the form of "gratitude" made him feel an unexplainable awkwardness. But he didn't show much, only his tone became colder and harder:

"Gratitude? Hah—I'm not interested in some old Headmaster's cheap gratitude. However, since you keep comparing that Riddle to me, why don't you tell me in detail what 'great' ideas this Riddle, who has Dumbledore so flustered, actually espouses?"

Snape began to describe Voldemort's pure-blood supremacy theory, his persecution of Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, and his methods of instilling terror.

Grindelwald listened, the hint of amusement and mockery on his face gradually vanishing.

First, an expression of disbelief appeared on his face, quickly replaced by a nearly insulting rage.

"Pure-blood supremacy? Persecuting Muggle-borns?" His voice rose slightly, laced with undisguised contempt and fury. "Short-sighted, narrow-minded, utterly lacking in vision, low-grade prejudice! How dare he be compared to me?! Your generation of wizards, your insight truly is—worse with each passing year!

"Does this barbaric, unaesthetic, and strategically blind primitive violence even deserve to be called an 'ideal'?

"Tell me, besides using a bit of dark magic to scare people and toy with you cowards who are too afraid to even speak his name, has this Mr. Riddle achieved any truly noteworthy 'accomplishments' that require a bit of wisdom and power?"

"Well," Snape mused for a while, then said, "He successfully created multiple Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" Grindelwald rose from the hard cot, this time not because of the Elder Wand, but from pure shock and disgust. "Is he mad? Tearing his soul to pieces for so-called immortality? Turning himself into a half-human, half-ghost monster?

"And you all are utterly flustered by such a foolish, insane character, even turning Hogwarts into a floating pleasure cruise?"

"I refuse!" He shook his head repeatedly, as if he had been touched by something dirty, his tone full of disdain. "I refuse to have my name associated with such a soul-damaged, low-taste, madness-obsessed individual who only plays with cheap fear! He is unworthy!"

Grindelwald straightened his body. Though still gaunt, a long-unseen aura of authority subtly emanated from him.

"I can offer help." After a few seconds of stalemate, Grindelwald slowly reined in his imposing aura. He stretched his stiff joints from prolonged sitting and said with disdain, "To 'contain' and even confront, hah, You-Know-Who."

"However, my help is not free charity, nor is it out of pity for Albus Dumbledore."

"I simply cannot stand by and watch any longer," his gaze swept over Snape, "This generation's so-called Dark Wizard leader is utterly disgraceful.

"My name overshadowed by such a character? This is an insult to my life's work. I choose to help you, merely to correct this mistaken historical assessment."

"Yes, yes, exactly," Snape immediately agreed, echoing his words with utmost sincerity. "I completely agree, how can little Tom Riddle compare to you?

"Mr. Gellert Grindelwald is the only wizard truly worthy of standing alongside Professor Albus Dumbledore, both in the past and now."

Grindelwald seemed pleased by Snape's "tact." He snorted faintly and commanded:

"Take me to your wandering ark in the sky, and take me to see Albus Dumbledore's current state. Also," he extended his hand, "give me a wand."

Snape instinctively reached out again with the Elder Wand in his hand.

"Not that one!" Grindelwald flatly refused, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Oh, right." Snape realized his misunderstanding and quickly took an inconspicuous cloth bag from his pouch, producing a clinking sound of wood.

Opening the bag, it was cluttered with eleven wands of varying lengths and materials. They were clearly second-hand, some with fine scratches on their shafts—these were the wands Snape had previously bought from Borgin and Burkes.

"Where did you get so many old wands?" Grindelwald looked at the wands with distaste. "Severus, does Dumbledore know about this little hobby of yours?"

"Don't misunderstand, Mr. Grindelwald." Snape's face remained impassive as he replied earnestly, "These were all acquired through legitimate commercial channels, not by murder or theft. At least, not by my hand."

Grindelwald didn't press further, seemingly uninterested in delving into Snape's explanation.

His long fingers swept over the wands without hesitation, finally stopping on one that looked very simple, deep brown all over, with natural curves and faint, irregular纹理 on its shaft.

"This one," he said indifferently.

Snape didn't ask why, simply quickly put the remaining wands away.

Grindelwald held the old wand, casually weighing it, feeling its balance. He suddenly looked up at Snape, his eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny and amusement:

"Aren't you worried that now I have a wand—"

"What's there to worry about, Mr. Grindelwald?" Snape met his gaze, stating a fact calmly. "It's 1977 now."

Grindelwald stared at Snape for a few seconds, then let out a low chuckle. He said nothing more, but raised the newly acquired wand and elegantly gave it a gentle wave.

A soft yet powerful magical ripple instantly swept through the gloomy cell. Dust, grime, and the accumulated decay of years were swept away.

Grindelwald's withered body seemed to be infused with a trace of vitality. Though still gaunt, his back straightened a little. His dry silver hair became smooth, and the wrinkles on his face seemed to have been smoothed out by the magic, faintly revealing his former contours.

A well-tailored, retro-style dark grey high-necked wizard's robe replaced his prison uniform. Beneath it was a high-quality white silk shirt, and over that, a black cloak embroidered with mysterious runes in silver thread.

Grindelwald's attire had a strange resonance with the robes Snape was wearing at that moment.

Then, his wand pointed at Snape, and he tapped it lightly again.

A gentle force swept over Snape. The extravagant purple robes he wore to impersonate Dumbledore instantly vanished, replaced by a simple, unadorned black wizard's robe.

Grindelwald glanced at Snape in his plain black robes, and seemed to nod with some satisfaction.

"Follow me."

With his words, he took the lead, stepping out of the cell into the dark, empty, dusty corridor.

His pace was not fast, even a bit halting from long confinement, but there was a calm confidence in his stride, like someone reclaiming their territory.

Snape followed closely. Watching the silhouette walking ahead in the dim light, he couldn't help but ask:

"Mr. Grindelwald, are we just walking out like this? Won't the local Ministry of Magic discover us?"

Grindelwald didn't turn his head, his voice carrying a faint hint of sarcasm: "Discover? Let them discover. Severus Snape, since you dared to come to Nurmengard alone to find me, didn't you prepare to face any consequences?"

Snape was silent for a moment, following Grindelwald down the winding stone stairs and through the silent antechamber. The various Ministries of Magic and even the International Confederation of Wizards wouldn't offer any help in their efforts against Voldemort. So, why care about their current reactions?

As they neared the wide-open main door, he spoke again: "Mr. Grindelwald, perhaps you could change your appearance before going out? That might reduce unnecessary trouble, especially during this special time, and also avoid causing Professor Dumbledore additional problems."

This sentence finally made Grindelwald pause slightly.

He still didn't turn around, nor did he speak.

But just as they were about to step out of Nurmengard's main door, Snape saw distinct changes in Grindelwald's silhouette:

His shoulders seemed a bit broader, and his height was slightly adjusted. His striking silver-white hair rapidly shortened and changed colour under the influence of magic, becoming a common dark brown short cut.

Though it was only his back, Snape knew that Grindelwald must have also changed his facial features with human Transfiguration.

Finally, the two stepped out of Nurmengard Castle's main gate. The biting cold wind and falling snow of the Alps immediately enveloped them.

Grindelwald didn't stop, walking straight ahead into the vast, snow-shrouded mountains.

Snape followed a few steps behind him. As they were about to leave the castle grounds, he couldn't resist stopping and looking back one last time at Nurmengard, perched precariously on the treacherous peak like a black tombstone.

In the wind and snow, the grand motto above the castle entrance appeared blurred and distant, like a faded summer.

The snow crunched underfoot as Snape watched Grindelwald's figure moving through the blizzard. He suddenly asked:

"Mr. Grindelwald, have you been corresponding with Professor Dumbledore all these years?"

"Corresponding? Hah, do I look like I have the means to send letters here?" The self-mocking voice drifted back from the figure ahead in the snow.

Snape hurried to catch up, saying softly:

"Oh, so you haven't. Well, that's perfect. When we arrive, you can tell him everything you want to say, everything you want to talk about, in person..."

---Support me by leaving a comment, voting, and visiting myPatr-eon at ilham20

Check out another story about Hogwarts in my profile original works