Ted and Andromeda had just begun to move forward to help when little Tonks had already scrambled up from the floor, hands and feet working together.
She patted the dust off her robe and, as though nothing had happened, ran toward Grindelwald.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Grind!" she said as she stopped in front of him, tilting her small face up to look at him. "Thank you for saving us!"
Then, as if feeling that words alone weren't enough, Tonks seemed eager to show something more. She took a deep breath, her little face flushing slightly red.
Her nose began to change shape. First, it stretched forward like soft clay, the tip bulging and swelling until it resembled a bird's beak. In the next instant, it snapped back, becoming short and round again, with a rosy tip like a tiny budding mushroom.
"Isn't this fun, sir?" Tonks looked up at Grindelwald expectantly, trying hard to control her morphing nose.
For the first time, a flicker of genuine interest appeared in Grindelwald's eyes as he studied the little girl's freely changing features with keen curiosity.
"A Metamorphmagus..." he murmured softly. "Quite remarkable, little one." Then he lifted his gaze toward Ted and Andromeda, who had followed after her. "Such a naturally gifted ability for human transfiguration is truly rare, exceedingly rare." He paused briefly, then said in a tone that left no room for refusal, "Let her learn magic under me."
Ted was clearly surprised by Grindelwald's words. He instinctively turned to his wife for her opinion. Andromeda's face showed hesitation, Nymphadora was still so young, far from the proper age to begin formal magical study, but this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity...
While Andromeda was still weighing the decision, Snape had already walked over to Tonks. Reaching out, he lightly patted the little girl's head twice as she stood there grinning foolishly at Grindelwald's praise.
"What are you standing around for?" he said. "Don't just stand there like a silly little slug. Go on, call your teacher."
Nymphadora instantly understood. She turned her head, her small face blooming with a bright smile, and called out to Grindelwald with enthusiasm, "Teacher!"
"Very good." Grindelwald seemed quite pleased with the title and nodded with restrained satisfaction.
Under the eyes of everyone nearby, Grindelwald slowly reached into the pocket of his robe and took out an object, a necklace.
The fine chain of mithril glimmered with a gentle sheen beneath the light. The pendant, however, was not a common design: it was a deep violet gemstone cut into a many-faceted polyhedron. Though not large, it carried a quiet depth, glimmering with mysterious light as though a galaxy swirled within it.
Madam Rosier, standing just behind him, immediately understood.
She stepped forward, received the necklace from Grindelwald's palm, and knelt slightly, carefully looping it around little Tonks's neck. The violet gem rested upon the girl's robe, its hue matching her vivid hair in charming harmony.
Once she had finished, Madam Rosier rose quickly and stepped aside. Grindelwald had already placed his napkin down, rose smoothly to his feet, and walked straight toward the dining hall doors. Madam Rosier gave little Tonks a final smile before hurrying after him.
After Grindelwald left the hall, Snape turned to Ted and Andromeda.
"Congratulations," he said.
The couple blinked in confusion, unsure what he meant.
"To have such a teacher is undoubtedly Nymphadora's good fortune." Snape lowered his eyes to look at the little girl. "Mr. Grind possesses a mastery of magic and a breadth of vision beyond what ordinary wizards can ever reach."
Ted's face held both gratitude and confusion, and just a trace of awe.
"Mr. Snape, we're truly thankful. It's just that..." he hesitated. "Who exactly is Mr. Grind? How could he possibly... possibly..." He paused again before whispering, "stand against Voldemort?"
"Mr. Tonks," Snape shook his head slightly, "sometimes, we need not know too much. So long as you're willing to trust me." His tone shifted, taking on a more mysterious edge.
"I may be a few years younger than you, but when it comes to choosing this profound and perilous art, I've walked farther than most ever will.
"Put simply, forget the complicated terms, just remember this: for you three, today's outcome is already the best fate could have offered. If you'd chosen to stay out of everything entirely, you might well have lost even more family in the future."
Andromeda leaned gently against her husband, her gaze turning from the door Grindelwald had exited.
"This is already more than enough, Mr. Snape. Thank you," she said softly, before Ted could speak. "This is the second time you've saved us."
Snape inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
"You're welcome," he said, then turned toward Ted. "Ted, once you've settled in, find Alastor Moody. He'll assign you some work suited to your skills. The ship needs people, especially adult wizards with real combat experience like yours."
"All right, I understand," Ted said with a solemn nod.
The following noon, after finishing his substitute Potions lesson, Snape returned to his quarters deep within the ship.
The wooden cabin was neat and bright. Closing the door behind him to block the sounds of the corridor, he drew from the inner pocket of his robe the letter sent by Narcissa Malfoy.
As the faint breeze brushed against the windowpane, he walked to the small desk by the window and ran his fingertips over the wax seal.
With a gentle press, he broke it open and unfolded the parchment.
The letter was brief, written in Narcissa's familiar, elegant hand, though touched by a trace of anxiety.
She had written only a time and a place, along with the note: "There is something extremely important that must be discussed face to face."
Snape's gaze lingered on the words and address for a few seconds: The Lamb and Flag Pub, 33 Rose Street, London, England.
As far as he knew, it was a Muggle establishment. Clearly, Narcissa had chosen it deliberately to avoid magical surveillance.
At last, he made his decision. It should be safe enough to go.
Though he could not completely rule out the possibility of a trap, the Malfoys had already lost Tom Riddle's diary. As long as he made them understand that he was not the only one who knew that secret, Narcissa's reason would prevent her from doing anything reckless.
With a flick of his wand, blue fire flared and consumed the letter in an instant.
After that, Snape left his cabin, took a meal, and walked along the passageway toward the deck.
The filtered afternoon sunlight poured through the protective dome, warm upon the wooden planks.
Hagrid, towering and broad, stood with his back against the railing, letting the wind ruffle his beard. His massive frame cast a long shadow in the sunlight.
His boarhound, Fang, was bounding joyfully across the deck, chasing imaginary prey; and higher up, upon a pile of coiled ropes, Mrs. Norris lay curled into a ball, dozing lazily, her tail tip twitching from time to time in contentment.
Watching this tranquil scene, Snape felt a rare lightness in his chest. He drew a small dried fish from his pocket, walked to the windward side, and waved it slightly.
The rich smell of fish drifted quickly with the breeze.
Fang skidded to a halt mid-run, nostrils flaring wildly as he searched for the source.
The moment he spotted the fish in Snape's hand, drool spilled uncontrollably from his mouth, dripping audibly onto the deck.
His moist brown eyes shone with yearning as he whined softly, circling Snape's feet with both caution and impatience.
The enticing aroma reached the upper deck as well.
Mrs. Norris's nose twitched; her small ears flicked, and her yellow eyes opened half-lidded in faint annoyance. She let out a curt "mrrrow," stretched languidly to show her sharp claws, and scraped them twice against the rope before looking down.
Seeing what Snape held, she leapt gracefully to the deck, padding toward him with deliberate poise.
But when she noticed Fang staring hungrily at her treat, the little cat arched her back and hissed, a low growl rumbling in her throat.
"Whiiine..." Fang flinched, startled by the small creature's ferocity. He whimpered pitifully, backing away a few steps, though his eyes stayed fixed on the fish and his drool dripped even faster.
Snape tossed the dried fish gently toward Mrs. Norris.
The cat sprang lightly, catching it neatly in her mouth, and, with a flick of her pink tongue, began savoring her meal with calm elegance.
Fang's tail drooped, and he let out an even louder, wounded whine, gazing longingly but not daring to approach the protective feline.
"All right, Fang." Snape took out another small fish and held it out to him. "The idea is for you to make friends."
At once, Fang forgot his earlier misery and gulped down the treat in one joyful bite. His tail wagged like a propeller, and he even hopped in place a few times from excitement.
"Sit!" Snape commanded.
Fang immediately plopped down, hind legs together, front paws planted firmly, tail sweeping the deck while his eager eyes stayed locked on Snape, hoping for more.
Snape pulled out a third dried fish, but didn't hand it over immediately. Instead, he held it just above Fang's head. The big dog craned his neck upward, tail blurring with motion.
"This is Fang," Snape told Mrs. Norris. "He might look fierce, but he's really just clumsy and timid." He patted Fang's shaggy head. "And this is Mrs. Norris. Your master, Hagrid, hopes you'll be friends."
Mrs. Norris studied the much larger creature before her, a dog several times her size, tongue lolling and drool dripping in strings, then looked back at Snape.
In the end, her trust in Snape and her desire for the fish outweighed her caution. Step by step, she crept closer, her golden eyes fixed on Fang's every move.
Seeing the little cat approach, Fang quivered with excitement and almost jumped.
"Sit still!" Snape pressed a firm hand atop his head. Fang whimpered softly but obeyed, the tip of his tail twitching in restraint.
Finally, Mrs. Norris came close enough. With a deft leap, she landed atop Fang's furry head. Balancing herself, she extended a paw, snatched the dried fish from Snape's fingers, and began eating.
Perched proudly on the dog's head, she finished the treat, then, as though nothing had happened, began grooming her whiskers and face with meticulous care.
Fang stayed frozen for several seconds, throat rumbling faintly.
Then he couldn't hold back any longer. Forgetting the command, he sprang up, racing across the deck with the small cat clinging to his head.
"Meowrrr!" Mrs. Norris screeched, claws flashing out to grip his fur tightly so she wouldn't fall.
Her small form bounced with each of Fang's joyful strides.
Hearing the commotion, Hagrid turned, eyes misting with emotion.
"Severus!" he said, walking toward him, voice thick. "You've done it, unbelievable! Look at 'em! They're friends! What a beautiful friendship..." He blew his nose loudly.
Fang finally slowed and stopped in front of him, panting heavily.
Mrs. Norris relaxed her claws and jumped down, still shaken, then, without sparing Fang a glance, padded back toward her resting spot.
Fang's head bore a few shallow scratches, but his thick hide made him oblivious. He continued wagging his tail in pure delight.
A few days later, Snape found Professor McGonagall and told her about the Horcruxes and the diary, instructing her on how to spread the information discreetly.
After finishing his explanation, he bade farewell to Fang and Mrs. Norris, who by now were playing companionably on the deck, and departed from the Founders' Ark.
In a secluded corner of London, Snape carefully disguised himself.
Through human Transfiguration, he thickened his cheeks and jaw with a little excess flesh, transforming into an utterly ordinary, slightly stout middle-aged man.
Dressed in a cheap Muggle overcoat, he finally arrived at 33 Rose Street, The Lamb and Flag Pub.
It was a typical Tudor-style building, with its black-and-white timber frame slightly leaning and the overhanging upper stories nearly meeting in the middle.
At the door stood a painted sign depicting a cheerful white lamb, proudly advertising their "signature spirit, The Captain's Remains," along with bold lettering that proclaimed: "London's Oldest Pub, Established 1623."
As the wooden door swung shut behind him, the bustle of the street vanished. For a moment, there was only stillness, then the unique blend of scents within the pub, accompanied by the soft hum of old jazz music, filled Snape's senses.
The light was dim, candles flickered, and the air was warm and heavy.
Snape's eyes swept swiftly over the room.
In a corner half-shrouded by the shadow of an oak beam, at a small table for two, he spotted his target: a beautiful blonde woman sitting alone, sipping the amber liquid from a transparent glass.