Then Snape examined the remaining miscellaneous items, such as a Golden Snitch, the Black family crest ring, Chocolate Frog cards, and various sweets.
After confirming they posed no danger, he returned everything to Regulus except for the mirror.
With the security check temporarily concluded, Snape produced two well-maintained Comet-series broomsticks.
"Here, take this," he said, handing one to Regulus, who still seemed dazed from the recent events.
Regulus instinctively grasped the broom handle, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath his fingers.
He looked down at the familiar object, and for a brief moment, his eyes went distant.
The next instant, a strange change took place.
When he instinctively swung a leg over the broom, the timid, hesitant, and uncertain air about him vanished completely.
In its place came a straightened back, a slightly lifted chin, and a renewed light of focus and confidence in his blue eyes.
In that moment, he was no longer the shivering boy from Grimmauld Place hiding behind the curtains, he was again the proud Slytherin Seeker soaring across the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts.
"Hold onto me, Kreacher," Regulus said, his tone suddenly steadier.
At the command, Kreacher looked at the hovering broom, then quickly clambered up onto the back seat, his thin arms wrapping tightly around Regulus's waist.
"Follow me," Snape said simply, and with a powerful kick, his broom lifted smoothly into the air.
Regulus drew a deep breath, suppressed his unease, and pushed off the ground hard, shooting upward after him.
Two broomsticks surged into the evening sky, cutting through wisps of cloud tinted with sunset gold.
The high-altitude wind whipped their hair and robes. Regulus narrowed his eyes, feeling a rare sense of freedom and release as the tension in his chest loosened.
As they broke through the cloud cover and reached the glowing sea of clouds above, the sky burst into colors of purple and amber. The sinking sun poured its last light across the horizon.
Below them roiled an ocean of clouds. Above them burned the sky.
Snape slowed slightly, glanced back to make sure they were keeping up, then turned his broom a few degrees toward their destination.
"Keep close!" his voice called out faintly through the rush of wind.
They accelerated once more.
After about twenty minutes of flight, a massive silhouette emerged through the clouds ahead.
As they drew nearer, its outline grew clear, a grand magical ship floating silently at the seam between earth and sky.
This was their destination: the final refuge of the exiled Hogwarts staff and students. The wind stirred the great flag bearing the Hogwarts crest, and the enchanted sails billowed with a deep, sonorous hum.
Snape slowed his broom, aligning himself beside Regulus, and together they crossed the invisible barrier.
The tail of the broom brushed lightly against the ship's railing as they landed steadily on the wide deck of The Founders' Ark.
Regulus dismounted with practiced ease, quickly steadying Kreacher, who had almost tumbled off.
"Welcome home," Snape said evenly, taking back the broom.
The simple words made both Regulus and Kreacher pause for a heartbeat, startled.
"Home? Could this become home?" The thought welled in Regulus's chest, a mix of warmth and unease, but before he could dwell on it, a lively, familiar voice rang out:
"Severus, you're back! Was the journey, wait!"
The small figure of Professor Flitwick came hurrying toward them. When his eyes landed on the young man standing beside Snape, he let out a high-pitched exclamation.
"Merlin's baggy trousers! Regulus Black? Oh, it really is you! My boy, it's wonderful to see you!"
He started forward, arms opening for an embrace, but then hesitated, the joy on his face giving way to wary caution. His eyes narrowed as he studied Regulus's pale, youthful features.
"But... my boy, you-"
"Professor Flitwick," Snape interjected smoothly, taking a small step forward. "Regulus has just escaped the Death Eaters' grasp. He has chosen to stand with us, on the side of what's right.
"Even if, at present, we seem to be the weaker side."
Flitwick continued to watch Regulus skeptically.
Snape understood his concern. Without further explanation, he seized Regulus's wrist and rolled up his sleeve.
Regulus flinched instinctively but forced himself to stay still, allowing Snape to expose his arm.
A pale patch of skin met the light.
Flitwick leaned in, his small eyes narrowing. He examined the area closely, brushing it gently with his fingers. Gradually, his furrowed brow relaxed.
"Beautiful spellwork," he said at last, lifting his gaze to Snape, admiration in his eyes.
"Regulus, my boy, welcome home," Flitwick said kindly. His tone softened. "Come with me, I'll take you to see Professor McGonagall. We'll need to go over a few things." He gestured for Regulus to follow.
"You too, Severus," he added, glancing at Snape. "You brought him back, after all."
In the warmly lit captain's cabin, Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, hands clasped, her expression stern. Snape leaned silently against the wall by the door, while Flitwick perched on an armchair nearby, watching anxiously.
With Kreacher's occasional additions, Regulus haltingly recounted his months of living hell.
He had been forced to witness Death Eaters "hunting" Muggles for sport, visions that burned in his memory like a nightmare.
Worse still, his cousin Bellatrix had, during one of their "celebrations," screamed for him to join in torturing an elderly Muggle man they'd captured.
He couldn't do it. He'd recoiled in fear and refused.
What he received in return was Bellatrix's furious scorn, her shrieking insults about being "a weak disgrace to the House of Black," and a Cruciatus Curse that matched those words.
Crushed by fear and the collapse of his beliefs, his other cousin, Narcissa, had offered him a lifeline: to go to the exiled Hogwarts, the true Hogwarts.
"I... I couldn't take it anymore. The screams... their eyes..." Regulus's voice was hoarse, his fists clenched tightly on his knees. He closed his eyes, trembling.
Professor McGonagall stood, circled the desk, and stopped before him. Her usual severity softened into quiet concern.
She hesitated briefly, then laid a gentle hand on his tense shoulder.
"Don't be afraid, child. Don't dwell on those horrors anymore," she said softly. "You're safe here. No one will hurt you, and no one will ever force you to do something against your will.
"You did well, Regulus. Choosing the right path takes tremendous courage."
Even as she spoke, her eyes lifted past him to meet Snape's, a silent question in her look.
Snape gave a firm nod.
"Professor," he said quietly, "Narcissa can be considered one of our collaborators. As you know, my trip was to meet with her."
"Regulus," he asked once the boy had calmed slightly, stepping to the desk, "Hogwarts, the castle itself, how is it now?"
At that, both McGonagall and Flitwick turned their attention back to Regulus.
He wiped his eyes, exhaled shakily.
"Still... functioning, I suppose," he said uncertainly. "Classes are still being held. Since you took away all the Mudbl-"
He froze as Snape's cold eyes locked on him.
A shiver ran through him, realization dawning.
"Sorry! I mean, the Muggle-born students!" he corrected quickly. "Yes, without them, the remaining students, mostly pure-bloods and half-bloods, aren't treated too harshly."
"Well... not entirely unscathed," he added, licking his lips. "We've been reorganized. Now pure-bloods live together, in the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers, and dine at the same table."
"The half-blood students are placed in the Hufflepuff dormitories. As for the Slytherin dungeons, they've been sealed off. They said it's to protect 'valuable artifacts.'"
"And now, there's only one House left..." Regulus glanced nervously at McGonagall, his voice dropping. "Slytherin.
"All the other House emblems have been removed. Classes have changed too. Defense Against the Dark Arts, no, it's called 'Practical Magical Application' now, is taught by various Death Eaters in rotation. The content is... terrifying."
"Hmph." Snape snorted softly. "Could be worse. At least it proves we were right to act when we did.
"If the Muggle-borns had stayed behind, they'd probably be hiding in the kitchen with the house-elves by now, if they still had soup to share."
Professor McGonagall nodded gravely. "You're right."
"Good," she said, ringing a small bell on her desk. "Go rest now, Regulus."
Moments later, a neatly dressed house-elf appeared at the door.
"Professor McGonagall?" the elf said with a bow, then turned to Snape and bowed again. Snape acknowledged her with a nod.
"Meeper," McGonagall said, pointing toward Regulus and Kreacher, "take Mr. Black and his house-elf to the vacant cabin C-7. Make sure they understand the ship's rules and living areas."
"And," she added, glancing at Kreacher, "this is Kreacher, Mr. Black's elf. Tell Hobbie in the kitchen that Kreacher is skilled in French onion soup, stews, and pies. He can help there."
"Yes, Professor," Meeper said brightly. She turned to the two Blacks and gestured politely. "Honored sirs, this way, please."
Regulus nodded gratefully to the professors and followed her out. Kreacher trailed close, still clutching the hem of his master's robe.
Once the door closed behind them, McGonagall turned to Snape. "I'll have the elves keep an eye on Regulus's condition. That boy..." she frowned, "your precautions were timely, Severus. But remain watchful."
"I understand," Snape said. "The safety of everyone comes first."
Time passed swiftly.
In the days that followed, "Mr. Green" took over Professor Flitwick's Defense Against the Dark Arts lectures, much to Flitwick's relief, he had been juggling too many roles already.
However, Grindelwald's very first lesson did not go entirely smoothly.
While demonstrating a rather flamboyant moving-cast technique, he seemed to misjudge the ship's flooring, stumbled, and nearly fell.
Though he recovered instantly, the former Dark wizard was clearly vexed by his "momentary lapse."
He suspiciously inspected the floor, then scanned each student's face before abruptly declaring the class dismissed.
After reinstating Professor Flitwick as substitute for another week, Grindelwald disappeared into the ship's depths to work on something in secret.
When he returned to class a week later, he exuded confidence, and a peculiar eagerness to show off his "improvements."
No one knew what he had been preparing, but the students quickly realized his lessons had become far more... intense.
By late November, the exiles' long-planned secret radio station finally went live.
Hogwarts Watchtower began broadcasting across the British Isles, its magical signals piercing the clouds.
Its programs denounced the atrocities of the Death Eater regime, exposing their systematic persecution and slaughter of Muggles and all non–pure-bloods.
The hosts' voices, filled with sorrow and fury, reported one horrifying event after another, proof that under the new regime, the killing of Muggles had evolved from secret executions into an almost open, grotesque form of "entertainment."
Thanks to the efforts of Dirk Cresswell, former member of the Slug Club, a Muggle-born wizard, and a core member of the One Mind Society, the Watchtower began broadcasting in Gobbledegook, Giant tongue, and even Trollish.
Although Cresswell privately complained to Snape that "broadcasting to trolls is a complete waste of time and magic," saying, "Trolls weigh a ton but have a brain the size of a bogie, they don't understand a word of it!"
Snape had merely replied calmly, "If we don't occupy the field of public voice, the enemy will. Even reaching a single giant is worth it."
He knew full well that Cresswell's reluctance stemmed less from strategy and more from the embarrassment of speaking "gruhh-gruhh" Trollish in front of others.
Still, results mattered more than comfort.
And unexpectedly, despite the Death Eaters' tight control over Gringotts, the Watchtower staff soon noticed they had Goblin listeners among their audience.
It seemed that even the goblins of Gringotts, disgruntled by Ministry interference, were quietly tuning in, watching the storm unfold in their own way.