During this period, students were periodically taken to relatively safe beaches along the mainland's coast, tranquil lakesides, or secluded mountain forests for brief respites, outings, or picnics.
Walking on solid ground, breathing the fresh forest air, and feeling the sunlight filtering through the leaves—these simple yet tangible experiences greatly alleviated the anxiety and confinement brought by their prolonged exile. The once-oppressive atmosphere aboard the Founders' Ark began to give way to a growing sense of optimism.
The students' skin tanned under the sun, and their laughter grew more frequent, though the starry sky above and the sea of clouds below still reminded them of their fugitive state.
Meanwhile, under Gellert Grindelwald's battle-hardened and highly distinctive Defense Against the Dark Arts training, the students' combat skills improved visibly.
Classes were no longer dull lectures or rigid defensive spell drills but dynamic sessions filled with confrontations, environmental tactics, and precise counterattacks.
Grindelwald's teaching emphasized preemptive strikes and "one-hit kills" to neutralize an opponent's ability to fight, which caused Professor McGonagall some concern.
After quietly observing one of his lessons, Professor McGonagall couldn't help but vent her frustrations to Snape.
"Severus," she said, "I must say, Mr. Grindelwald's teaching is remarkably effective. But don't you think what he's teaching goes beyond the scope of Defense Against the Dark Arts? It feels more like… preparation for active offense."
"Professor, offense is the best defense," Snape replied languidly. "If those dark wizards lose the ability or will to cast spells before we act, we won't get hurt. Wouldn't you agree?"
In truth, Snape was rather pleased with this approach, especially since Grindelwald had agreed to give him private training.
Faced with this logic, Professor McGonagall could only sigh helplessly, offering no rebuttal. Though she didn't entirely approve of Grindelwald's methods, she knew that in these extraordinary times, the students' safety outweighed certain ideological differences.
During their third private lesson, when Grindelwald indicated he had little left to teach Snape in terms of combat techniques and suggested concluding their sessions, Snape posed a question that had lingered in his mind for some time.
"Mr. Grindelwald, let's put techniques aside for now. I'd like to ask—how do you manage to fly freely in the air without a broom or any external aid, relying solely on yourself?"
"Do you play Quidditch, Severus?" Grindelwald asked, eyeing him curiously.
"No interest," Snape replied, shaking his head impassively. "I'm not fond of chasing little balls around on a broom."
"Ha," Grindelwald chuckled lightly. "I agree. Quidditch is rather dull." He shifted gears. "Have you read Quidditch Through the Ages?"
Snape gave a slight nod. He had dabbled in all sorts of magical knowledge and was familiar with the book. But he couldn't see what a Quidditch manual had to do with unaided flight.
"There's a key point in that book, though most people overlook it," Grindelwald said calmly. "You might recall Whisp mentioning that, to date, no wizard has invented a spell allowing them to fly in human form without any tools.
"While levitating objects or oneself is commonplace, true, autonomous flight is an entirely different matter."
"But when you brought us to the Founders' Ark," Snape said, looking up at Grindelwald, "weren't you flying in human form?" He vividly remembered Grindelwald soaring through the clouds with him and Madam Rosier.
"Not quite, Severus," Grindelwald said, shaking his head with a faint expression that seemed to say, You didn't observe closely enough. "What you saw was only what you assumed."
Without warning, his body slowly lifted off the deck, hovering inside the ship's cabin.
Snape's pupils contracted sharply. He noticed a striking change in Grindelwald's lower half: his feet, beneath the hem of his robe, were no longer solid. They had transformed into wisps of indistinct, swirling, grayish-white smoke with blurred edges.
The smoke didn't dissipate but coiled and condensed like a living thing, supporting Grindelwald's suspended form.
His upper body retained its clear human shape, but below the robe's hem was a hazy, flowing mist.
"See?" Grindelwald's voice remained steady, as if he were demonstrating a trivial parlor trick. "You only thought I was flying in complete human form."
He descended slowly, the smoky lower half coalescing back into elegantly shod feet.
"Professor, I want to learn this!" Snape said, a spark of realization in his eyes. "Please teach me!"
"It requires an exceptionally advanced mastery of human transfiguration and meticulous control over your own magic," Grindelwald said, settling gracefully into an armchair. "You temporarily transform part of your body into a form better suited to interact with air currents and magical energy, while maintaining the stability of your core form and absolute focus of your mind."
"If you wish to learn," he continued, his gaze lingering on Snape for a few seconds as if weighing something, "it's not impossible." He nodded slowly. "Since you've shown me due respect, I'll make an exception and teach you.
"Consider it… compensation for previously destroying the method to restore your little snake to human form, and a small reward for your tireless work brewing potions for Albus these past weeks."
Under Grindelwald's exacting guidance, Snape embarked on a grueling learning process.
His goal was to master safely transforming part of his body into a smoke-like, semi-tangible state that, according to Grindelwald, could better sense and manipulate the surrounding magical and air currents to achieve flight.
The challenge lay in maintaining a mental connection with the transformed part under the spell's influence, treating the smoky portion as an integral part of himself and controlling it with strong willpower and continuous spellwork, as naturally as moving his own limbs, rather than letting it dissipate or drift away.
After some thought, Snape decided to follow Grindelwald's example and start by transforming his feet.
For his first attempt, he focused all his concentration, pointed his wand at his feet, and recited the complex incantation.
After considerable effort, he felt the sensation in his feet grow faint and airy…
Looking down, he saw the edges of his feet becoming hazy, as if shrouded in a thin layer of gray mist.
But the initial attempt brought an overwhelming sense of imbalance. He could no longer feel the solid support of the ground. His "unstable" feet seemed to have a mind of their own, drifting slightly to one side beyond his control.
"Ugh!" Snape grunted, his body lurching forward as he lost balance. He hurriedly pointed his wand at the ground, barely catching himself.
Grindelwald appeared at his side, flicking his wand. The drifting wisps of smoke were pulled back as if by invisible threads, swiftly reforming into Snape's feet.
"Control," Grindelwald said slowly, "is the absolute core. You must constantly sense them, treat them as part of your body. Your will must be as precise as when you move your fingers."
"And," he added with a hint of amusement, "this is why I chose to transform my feet rather than, say… your head. Otherwise, it might be your thoughts drifting away."
Snape narrowed his eyes, shooting Grindelwald a glare. Thankfully, he'd instinctively chosen the same body part as his teacher. With Grindelwald as a failsafe, he didn't need to worry too much.
Shaking his head, he refocused and continued practicing.
The days of practice were monotonous and arduous. Snape tried again and again, progressing through repeated imbalances, drifts, and moments of partial loss of control.
Finally, he could reliably transform his feet into a controllable smoky form, anchoring them firmly to his will without letting them drift.
During one exhausting session, he stared intently at his feet—now two wisps of pale gray mist—pouring all his willpower into them.
After over a minute, when he emerged from his focused state and glanced at the wooden floor's grain, he realized his body had moved forward… by about two centimeters.
A success, albeit a minuscule one.
This tiny progress left Snape somewhat dissatisfied—it was still a far cry from true flight.
But Grindelwald, watching from the side, let a flicker of astonishment cross his eyes.
"Impressive, Severus," he said, his tone carrying a rare note of approval. "I thought it would take you longer to reach this point. Your talent and willpower are greater than I expected—no wonder that old man Albus is so fond of you.
"Remember, this method of unaided flight is an extraordinarily difficult and dangerous magic. Even if I revealed its principles to the world, few could master it.
"Take it slowly, don't rush. That's enough for today's lesson."
By mid-December, a biting chill began to sweep through the skies.
One day, Snape was summoned to the captain's cabin by Professor McGonagall. Her expression was graver than usual.
"Severus, we have an emergency," she said bluntly. "Through secret channels in the Ministry, we've learned that a surge in Muggle attacks has provoked an intense response from Muggle authorities, who've taken unprecedented emergency measures.
"Just recently, a Death Eater on a 'purge' mission was killed by a Muggle police officer using some sort of metal wand.
"Though the other Death Eaters at the scene retaliated, slaughtering the Muggle officers present, the incident has sparked outrage and a thirst for revenge among the Death Eaters."
"Worse still," she continued, taking a deep breath, "at the suggestion of Dolores Jane Umbridge, now head of the newly formed Muggle Management Office—a department created to control and manage Muggle affairs—
"The Ministry has decided to impose so-called 'special protection' measures on the Muggle Prime Minister."
"Special protection?" Snape said sardonically. "The Imperius Curse, I presume?"
"I suspect as much," McGonagall confirmed. "Until now, Voldemort's new regime largely ignored the Muggle government, but this new Muggle Management Office has clearly shifted their strategy.
"They intend to control the Muggle government's leader to more efficiently dominate Muggle society as a whole." Her voice trembled with anger. "By using Legilimency on several captured Muggle officials, they've pinpointed the Prime Minister's secret hiding place.
"These arrogant, reckless, pure-blood fools don't stop to consider why, for centuries, wizarding societies worldwide have chosen secrecy over direct confrontation with Muggles!"
"Severus," McGonagall said, taking a deep breath and fixing him with a piercing gaze, "we must stop them. We cannot let them succeed, or it could spell another disaster for the wizarding world.
"I've thought long and hard, and you're the ideal candidate for this mission. You understand the Muggle world and can move through it discreetly. Your magical prowess is sufficient to handle potential conflicts.
"And your adaptability and decisiveness are exactly what we need. We need you to infiltrate the Prime Minister's location and transfer him safely to an Order of the Phoenix safehouse."
As Snape opened his mouth to respond, McGonagall cut him off.
"Don't answer yet," she said. "You can refuse. I feel… uneasy always asking a student to take on these tasks." She shook her head before adding, "We have an alternative—young Kingsley Shacklebolt. He has some knowledge of Muggle society."
"Why not?" Snape said slowly, once she'd finished. "I'm rather interested in this mission. The location? I assume it's not Number 10 Downing Street?"
"No, the Muggles aren't as foolish as they think," McGonagall replied. "Number 10 is now staffed only by administrative officials. The Prime Minister was moved to a secret location long ago." She handed him a slip of paper with a London address. "This is where the Prime Minister is hiding."
"And this," she said, pulling a piece of parchment from a drawer and handing it to Snape, "is the location of the safehouse. It's one of Albus's old backup safe points—very secure, with powerful magical protections."
Snape quickly scanned the parchment, memorizing the address before handing it back. McGonagall tucked it away.
"Be careful, Severus," she said finally. "Your safety is just as important."
"I understand," Snape replied. "I'll prepare and set out shortly."