After leaving his seat, Snape walked a few quick steps to stand beside Professor McGonagall. He leaned slightly toward her, speaking in a low voice as the two exchanged a brief and urgent discussion.
"I agree, Severus." Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly, the tension in her furrowed brows easing a little. "It's more appropriate for you to handle this. Compared to us old folks, they need to hear it from someone who was once a student like them."
"Also, Professor McGonagall," Snape lowered his voice even further, "how exactly did the Death Eaters find the Founders' Ark?"
"Most likely Sturgis," said McGonagall. "After falling under the Imperius Curse, he must have sent our location to the outside world."
"Then... could it be related to the Trace?" Snape pressed on. "The underage students aboard, could the Trace on them have somehow..."
"Absolutely impossible, Severus." McGonagall shook her head firmly, her tone resolute. "After the passage of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery Act in 1875, then-Headmistress Eupraxia Mole, Phineas Black's predecessor, foresaw that very risk.
"She gathered a team of the most brilliant wizards of her time and secretly wove an exceptionally powerful isolation enchantment into the core protections of the Founders' Ark, specifically designed to block all forms of Trace detection."
"Moreover," she added, glancing at Snape with the quiet pride of a Hogwarts veteran, "before the official voyage began, Filius and I rechecked those enchantments ourselves. They're still functioning perfectly."
"Of course, Professor Mole decided those measures shouldn't be public knowledge." McGonagall allowed herself a rare smile. "None of it was recorded in Hogwarts: A History. If you'd like, you could call it The Carefully Redacted History of Hogwarts, that might be more accurate."
"I understand, Professor." Snape nodded knowingly and even allowed a faint smile before turning and pacing back to his seat.
Around them, the house-elves had begun carefully clearing away the untouched plates of the sumptuous meal.
When the clatter of cutlery gradually subsided and only a low hum of whispers remained, Snape slowly rose to his feet again.
The simple act of standing, quiet and deliberate, was enough to draw every eye toward him. Aside from the professors and a few non-member students, most of the young faces in the hall belonged to the One Mind Society. They, too, wanted to know what had happened at Hogwarts.
A heavy silence spread. The recent attack, the brutal battle, Grindelwald's soul-searing blue Fiendfyre, and the horrific scream and inky residue from the destroyed diary, all of it hung over their hearts like the black, endless night beyond the portholes.
Snape's gaze swept over the dining hall, past the faces of his friends, and finally came to rest on the Hogwarts survivors watching him intently.
Their faces showed confusion, fear, exhaustion, and the lingering shock that had yet to fade.
"Although the house-elves' cooking remains as reliable as ever," Snape began, clearing his throat and speaking in a calm, even tone, "I suspect most of us aren't eating with much appetite tonight." He paused, meeting the faces below him squarely. "And that is not because of the food. It's because of what we've all just lived through."
Dozens of eyes stared at him, unblinking.
"Tonight," Snape continued, "I won't waste your time with hollow words about courage or empty promises of hope. I'm here to share with you the key facts we currently know."
"I believe many of you have already guessed that something drastic has happened at Hogwarts." His voice grew stronger. "Our departure from the castle, our voyage aboard the Founders' Ark, wasn't some special trip arranged for Muggle-born students, nor was it an educational excursion." He drew a deep breath and spoke the cruel truth plainly. "It is an escape."
A wave of sharp whispers and gasps rippled through the crowd. Even those who had suspected as much were struck by the weight of hearing it confirmed aloud.
"We chose to leave," Snape said, "not because fear destroyed our courage. On the contrary, it was because staying would only lead to meaningless sacrifice. We left to protect you."
He looked around. Some bowed heads lifted, faint sparks of resolve kindling in their eyes.
"Today's events may also have hinted at another truth," Snape said, lowering his tone. "A truth concerning Professor Dumbledore."
At once, the hall erupted. Students cried out in alarm; several Order members shot to their feet in shock. Mundungus's jaw dropped as he hunched his shoulders. Hagrid let out a wounded, animal-like groan and slammed his massive fist against the table, making the wood shake.
Snape didn't intervene. He waited silently for the chaos to subside.
When the noise finally faded, he raised his voice and spoke again.
"Professor Dumbledore has suffered an accident," Snape said firmly, his tone commanding enough to quell the murmurs. "But there is no need for panic. He is injured, yes, but he is alive, and his condition is steadily improving."
A different kind of tension filled the room, worry mixed now with a fragile sense of relief.
"Now, you may all be wondering," Snape went on, his voice shifting to a sharper edge, "what comes next? The Death Eaters found us once; they could find us again.
"And if next time it isn't a small raiding party, but the Dark Lord himself, how will we resist him?"
His eyes turned toward the figure beside him, whose very presence radiated an oppressive power.
"Fortunately," Snape said, turning slightly and raising a hand toward the man beside him, "we are not alone. Professor Dumbledore's old friend, Mr. Grindel, has answered his call and now stands with us."
At Snape's introduction, Grindelwald barely lifted his eyelids, a perfunctory acknowledgment. He ignored the awe and curiosity directed his way.
"Mr. Grindel possesses extraordinary magical strength, equal to that of Professor Dumbledore himself. I believe," Snape said, meeting Grindelwald's eyes briefly before addressing the hall again, "the 'cleansing' you all just witnessed is proof enough of his power."
The dining hall fell utterly silent, heavy with reverence and awe.
"With him among us," Snape continued with calm certainty, "we need not fear the Dark Lord's direct assault. He will safeguard Professor Dumbledore and all of us."
"But," he added after a short pause, his tone turning grave, "I won't pretend that the road ahead will be peaceful or easy.
"From this moment forward, comfort is behind us. Our journey will be filled with danger and uncertainty."
"The Death Eaters are hunting for us. The Ministry of Magic, yes," he emphasized the words with biting sarcasm, "the Ministry itself, may very well become the Dark Lord's accomplice. Some of you," his gaze swept over the older students, "may soon need to raise your wands.
"To defend yourselves. To protect those beside you. To face real challenges far beyond what you've learned in class."
He looked at the youngest students, those still too naive to fully grasp his words.
"For many of you, this will be hard to understand, even harder to bear. That's all right," he said gently. "Your professors, and your older peers, will do everything in their power to protect you.
"But I hope you'll also use this time to learn. Not just from books, but to think, to analyze, to grow wiser in this extraordinary time."
"Starting tomorrow," Snape announced, "the reading corner beside the hall will provide the latest issues of the Daily Prophet. You may read them, but do so critically. Learn what is happening in the outside world, and how the Ministry chooses to portray it."
"At the same time," he added, "we're considering creating our own channel of information, a newspaper, or perhaps a secret broadcast. Any student interested in contributing ideas or effort may contact Professor McGonagall directly."
He looked toward McGonagall, who nodded slightly to the crowd.
Then Snape's tone hardened again. "A word of warning: the Daily Prophet's reports are unlikely to be kind.
"They may slander us, distort the truth, and label us traitors. They may even urge you to 'return to safety', to a castle already under Death Eater control."
He paused, scanning the hall.
"Remember this: we respect free will. For those of you who are of age," Snape's eyes settled on a few seventh-year students, "if you have thought it through and decide to entrust your fate to others' mercy or lies, if you wish to leave the Founders' Ark, we will not stop you. You are free to go."
"However," he continued, shaking his head, "for all underage witches and wizards, forgive us this little bit of 'paternalism.' Your right to choose will be temporarily withheld.
"To minimize unnecessary loss and to protect your lives, only when you are old enough, and strong enough, to bear the consequences of your own decisions will you be allowed to choose your path."
"That is all I have to say."
Once again, silence descended.
A few seconds later, slow, deliberate clapping broke the stillness. Grindelwald raised both hands and applauded lazily.
The applause spread hesitantly, scattered and awkward.
Only the house-elves, clad in their tea towels, reacted with genuine excitement. They clapped their large ears with tearful enthusiasm, cheering softly as they looked at Snape with shining eyes.
Most students, however, fell into low, urgent conversation. The hum of voices quickly filled the hall.
Snape waited a few moments without trying to stop them.
"All right," he finally said, his voice cutting through the chatter. "You may all return to your cabins to rest, or resume your assigned duties. Tomorrow," he raised his tone slightly, "everything continues as normal. Classes will resume as scheduled. Oh, and," he added, "don't forget, our Halloween Feast will still be held here next Monday."
With coordination from Filch, Abbott, and young Barty, the crowd began dispersing in an orderly fashion.
They whispered among themselves, discussing Snape's words, speculating about the mysterious 'Mr. Grindel,' wondering about the future, and some even chatting about the upcoming Halloween celebration.
At that moment, Grindelwald yawned widely, stretching his arms in exaggerated weariness.
"What a thoroughly exhausting day," he drawled, glancing lazily at Snape and Professor McGonagall. "I suppose I could use a bit of rest myself. Minerva, my quarters?"
Professor McGonagall immediately nodded and beckoned a relatively composed-looking house-elf. "Show Mr. Grindel and Madam Rosier to their prepared guest suites."
Grindelwald rose, followed closely by Madam Rosier. Under the elf's guidance, the two turned toward the hatchway and disappeared up the stairway to the upper deck.
"Professor McGonagall," Snape said quietly once the others were far enough away, "I noticed that Moody and the Longbottoms aren't here."
At those words, worry shadowed McGonagall's face.
"They... they never made it to the rendezvous point," she said, sighing, her voice tight with anxiety. "The last report we received said they were holding off the pursuers. After that, all contact was lost."
"I've already tried several emergency communication methods," she added, rubbing her brow. "None have succeeded so far. I'll keep trying. Merlin help them..."
Snape nodded silently.
After a brief moment, McGonagall drew a steadying breath, forcing away some of her heaviness. Her expression softened into something almost like a weary complaint.
"Also, Severus," she said, "about the upcoming Potions classes, could I trouble you to take them over? Eileen tells me your talent in that subject is remarkable. I've been substituting for a while, and frankly, it's wearing me out."
"All right, I'll handle it," Snape replied simply. Seeing her fatigue, he didn't hesitate.
McGonagall let out a sigh of relief and patted his arm lightly. "Thank you, Severus."
Snape said nothing more. Turning, he spotted Lily and Pandora waiting for him by the exit and walked toward them.