As soon as the question was raised, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the others who had been speaking in low voices all held their breath at once.
The faint clinking of knives and forks along the staff table ceased. Everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their gazes upon Grindelwald, eyes bright with unconcealed expectation.
To return to Hogwarts, to end their wandering, that was their deepest longing at this moment.
Grindelwald set down his napkin unhurriedly, picked up the crystal goblet of deep red wine before him, and gently swirled it, letting the liquid cling to the sides in a beautiful arc.
Under the flickering candlelight, amid several tense and watchful stares, he finally raised his head and met Snape's gaze.
"Severus," Grindelwald said evenly after taking a sip of wine, "those who try to grasp both the heavens and the earth often end up losing both. The most important thing in life is to know contentment."
A trace of disappointment crossed Snape's face, but he quickly accepted it. After all, expecting a man who had sat in a tower for decades to step out and immediately defeat the Dark Lord who now dominated the world, that would indeed be too much to ask of the old wizard.
"Oh, I see." Snape asked with polite concern, "Then, did you meet Voldemort in person? Between the two of you, who came out on top?"
"An interesting question." Grindelwald set down his goblet and looked at Snape with faint amusement. "It seems you've grown quite comfortable saying the name 'Voldemort.' Very good, Severus. With that kind of courage, I'd say you're ready to face him yourself."
Snape understood at once. Clearly, Grindelwald's mission had not been a complete victory, he might even have suffered a minor setback. Still, the fact that he had returned safely, even if later than expected, was already the best possible outcome.
Whatever his motives, Grindelwald's intervention had bought them precious time and opportunity, and most importantly, ensured the safety of the Founders' Ark.
"Courage is precious, Mr. Grindel," Snape said with a slight bow and a faint smile. "But when faced with the fangs of a serpent, a more strategic approach is sometimes wiser."
He set down his utensils and stood. Clearing his throat, Snape tapped his wand lightly against his own throat. "Sonorus!"
His voice immediately amplified, echoing through the entire dining hall, overpowering the soft murmurs and clatter of cutlery.
"Students, professors, friends, happy Halloween Eve!" He looked around; the hall fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.
"On this special night," he paused, then turned toward Grindelwald, "let us raise our glasses together, to Mr. Grindel!"
His gaze swept the room. Nymphadora Tonks nestled between Ted and Andromeda; her hair had regained its vivid violet color, though her small face was still pale. Nearby, Rhiannon Polk sat beside her aunt, Madam Kate; farther down, the Longbottoms sat among members of the Order of the Phoenix, weary yet visibly relieved.
"Especially to our new friends who joined us today," Snape continued, "Mr. Grindel's actions ensured their safe arrival and gave us a chance to bring them here."
Glasses were raised across the hall. The Tonkses and Madam Kate, clearly moved, immediately stood with heartfelt gratitude.
Many students, though still bewildered, saw the solemn faces of their elders and followed suit, lifting their goblets of chilled pumpkin juice.
The raised arms were uneven, a little sparse, especially compared to those few standing adults.
"To Mr. Grindel!" Snape declared.
"To Mr. Grindel!" came the uneven chorus in response.
Grindelwald, however, remained seated, barely lifting his eyelids. He raised his goblet slightly and took a shallow sip.
The toast ended. The Tonkses and others sat again.
But Snape did not let the gathering relax just yet. Setting down his goblet, he stood tall and continued in his magically amplified voice:
"Today, under Mr. Grindel's cover, we went to Azkaban." He paused, satisfied to see astonishment bloom across many young faces.
"We rescued several people," Snape said, gesturing toward the new arrivals. "Many of you have already noticed the unfamiliar faces sitting among us tonight. These are survivors of Azkaban."
"They were the 'masterpieces' of the Ministry's Muggle-born Registration Commission." His tone dripped with irony. "For centuries, Azkaban has been a fortress meant to contain the most wicked of Dark Wizards and the vilest of criminals.
"But what we saw upon arriving there was a mockery of its very purpose. Those cells no longer held criminals, they held the innocent."
"Their so-called crime?" Snape's voice hardened. "Simply being born to non-magical families while possessing magic. Yes, Muggle-borns. Just like most of you sitting here tonight."
"If any of you wish to know the details," Snape went on, turning toward Rhiannon and her aunt, "perhaps you might ask Miss Rhiannon's aunt, Madam Kate. She has only just escaped that nightmare. Because she trusted the Ministry and obeyed their decree, she went to register herself."
"And for her compliance, her reward was to be branded a thief, accused of stealing magic from pure-blood wizards. That was their version of 'safety.'"
A murmur rippled through the hall. Some of the students who knew Rhiannon looked at her with wide eyes, shocked and sympathetic, their gazes drifting toward Madam Kate.
Kate pressed her lips together, clasping Rhiannon's hand tightly. She met their eyes and nodded gravely, silently confirming every word Snape had said.
"There were others," Snape continued, his voice now turning toward the Tonkses. Andromeda sat close to her daughter, Ted's hand gripping hers tightly. "The Tonks family was imprisoned for the 'crime' of tainting pure blood."
"Mrs. Andromeda Tonks, born of the ancient and noble House of Black, but that lineage brought her no fortune. Because she chose her true love and married Ted Tonks, a fine man, though Muggle-born, she and her family were condemned."
"They were taken to Azkaban. Husband, wife, and even their daughter Nymphadora, barely four years old, were deemed fit to 'enjoy' the company of Dementors."
At that, little Tonks wriggled free from her mother's arm and clambered onto her chair.
"That's right!" she cried, waving her small fists, voice high and indignant. "They were mean! Really mean! They locked me and Mum and Dad in a dark, cold place with horrible monsters!"
Andromeda gently stroked her daughter's back, drawing her down again, eyes still shadowed with lingering fear.
The hall fell silent once more. Snape waited a few seconds, ensuring all eyes returned to him.
"The reason we succeeded today," he said, "the reason we could bring these innocent people back from hell, it was because of Mr. Grindel." He gestured toward Grindelwald again. "He faced alone the one whose name most dare not speak, Voldemort."
The moment that name was uttered, the hall erupted in sharp gasps and fearful murmurs. Many upper-year students and adult wizards flinched, their faces pale with instinctive dread.
Snape was unsurprised. Maintaining his upright stance, he slowly swept his gaze across the room. His eyes lingered on those who looked most terrified.
Under his steady stare, the panic gradually ebbed, leaving only tense, uneven breathing.
"Here aboard the Founders' Ark," he said, tapping the deck with his wand, "no one need fear that Death Eaters can track you merely by hearing you speak the Dark Lord's name. Nor should anyone fear spies among us reporting you for uttering it.
"And if anyone is foolish enough to try," Snape shrugged lightly, "we'll gladly hand them back to their master. I'm sure," he said clearly, repeating the name, "Voldemort will welcome such loyalty, perhaps with a special cell overlooking his beloved Dementors, so his servant can fully enjoy the comforts of their company."
A few nervous, dry laughs broke the silence.
"We should say Voldemort's name," Snape continued firmly. "All this nonsense about 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', utter rubbish. Aboard the Founders' Ark, if we're still too frightened to even speak our enemy's name, everything will fall apart.
"He is no 'Mysterious One.' He is no 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' Fearing to utter his name? That's an insult, to Hogwarts, and to Professor Dumbledore's memory. There's no reason to be afraid. So, who will start?"
A brief silence. Then, a clear, defiant voice broke it.
"Voldemort!" Lily stood, her face set with hatred, shouting the name.
"Voldemort!" Pandora, Abbott, and young Barty followed, voices rising.
"Voldemort!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, climbing atop his chair to be seen by the students.
Like a fuse igniting a chain, the younger students joined in, timidly at first, but their voices swelled together into a trembling wave.
Yet many older students and adult wizards remained hesitant, lips pressed tight, eyes conflicted. Even now, speaking the name required immense courage to overcome years of ingrained fear.
Snape's gaze swept across those still silent faces and finally stopped at the staff table.
"It seems we still have some stubborn cases," he said lightly, turning toward Professor McGonagall with mock teasing. "Professor, shall we... perhaps toss those too timid to say the Dark Lord's name off the ship? It might cure their cowardice."
"Severus," Professor McGonagall shot him a fierce glare, "if I choose not to speak Voldemort's name, do you plan to throw me off this ship as well?"
The hall froze. Even the younger students who had been shouting seconds before fell silent, wide-eyed.
Before Snape could reply, a high, gleeful, slightly mocking voice drifted from above, where the crystal chandeliers hung.
"Professor!" Moaning Myrtle giggled. "But you did say his name! You just said 'Voldemort', I heard you!"
"Miss Warren!" McGonagall snapped, glaring upward. Myrtle stuck out her tongue and ducked back into the chandelier, though she kept peeking down with amusement.
"All right, all right," Snape cut in smoothly, clearing his throat again, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "It seems our brave Head of Gryffindor House has just set a fine example for us."
"In any case," he raised his crystal goblet once more, "one thing is beyond doubt. Let us again raise our glasses, to the wizard who dared challenge the Dark Lord alone, to the man who bought us safety and time, Mr. Grindel! Cheers!"
"To Mr. Grindel!"
"Thank you, Mr. Grindel!"
This time, the response was unanimous, no hesitation, no delay. The hall rang with sincere voices.
Students and adults alike stood, raising their glasses high, gazes filled with gratitude as they looked toward Grindelwald at the center table, and the tall, unflinching figure of Severus Snape beside him.
Grindelwald remained seated. Seemingly indifferent to the roaring hall, he calmly picked up his knife and fork, cutting a small piece of perfectly roasted pork and tasting it with quiet elegance.
Yet those close enough, like Snape, might have noticed a faint, nearly imperceptible glimmer of satisfaction flicker beneath his lowered lashes.
Though his expression stayed as composed as ever and his lips did not curve, the hard, cold edge about him seemed to soften, just slightly.
The banquet finally drew to a close amid this complex atmosphere. Students filed out in order under their professors' guidance, and house-elves began efficiently clearing the tables.
Those rescued from Azkaban, Madam Kate, the Tonkses, and the Longbottoms, remained naturally in the hall. Their eyes all fell upon Grindelwald, who was wiping the corner of his mouth. They knew too well the danger he had faced on this mission.
Little Tonks was the most impatient. She wriggled free from her mother's hand and ran toward Grindelwald with eager steps. But in her haste, she failed to watch where she was going and caught her tiny foot on a chair leg.
"Ah!" she yelped.
The chair tipped sideways. Little Tonks lost her balance and fell flat on her back with a solid thump.
"It's that chair's fault!" she cried, rubbing her sore bottom, puffing out her cheeks in indignation. "It tripped me again, this is the second time!"