[HP: I became Snape]-Chapter 183: Dawn's Light

The next morning, when the first bleary-eyed student pushed open the dining hall door, he could scarcely believe his eyes.

He rubbed them furiously, letting out a shout loud enough to wake the entire ship:

“Professor Dumbledore?!”

“It’s really you! That’s wonderful!”

Albus Dumbledore had returned.

At the staff table, that familiar tall figure sat at the center.

He wore his dazzling purple robe adorned with stars, his long silver hair and beard neatly combed, and the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles twinkled with kind, warm light.

The news spread like wildfire.

Every person who entered the dining hall afterward—whether student, professor, or even the house-elves weaving through with massive silver trays—displayed incredulous delight upon seeing Dumbledore, followed by bursts of enthusiastic cheers and greetings.

Dumbledore, smiling, waved amicably to each one, calling them by name and inquiring about their recent affairs.

Because of Dumbledore’s return, Severus Snape naturally rejoined his friends at the student table.

The seat he usually occupied at the staff table was yielded to the headmaster. What drew some curious glances, however, was that “Professor Green,” still sporting his short brown hair, remained calmly seated in the headmaster’s usual spot, right beside Dumbledore.

Though some found it odd that this strict Defense Against the Dark Arts professor occupied the headmaster’s place, and that Dumbledore himself wasn’t seated at the very center, the headmaster seemed entirely unperturbed. The excitement of his return overshadowed everything else, and no one dwelled on this small anomaly amidst the overwhelming joy of the reunion.

Snape sat with Pandora, Lily, Patrick Abbott, and other friends, enjoying a sumptuous breakfast while buzzing with talk of the headmaster’s return.

A house-elf carrying a tureen of pumpkin soup, overcome with excitement, accidentally spilled a bit onto the tablecloth in front of them.

As the elf tearfully apologized, nearly banging its head on the table leg, and Pandora and Lily repeatedly assured it, “It’s really fine,” Dumbledore gently lifted his goblet and tapped it twice with a silver spoon.

The clear, ringing sound drew everyone’s attention, and the dining hall gradually fell silent.

Dumbledore’s speech was, as always, brief.

He stood, his gaze sweeping over every expectant face, and said with a smile:

“Good morning, everyone. It’s been a while. I’m back. How is everyone doing?”

At first, the students responded in a chaotic, overlapping chorus:

“Not bad, Professor!” “Quite well, sir!”

But soon, more urgent voices rose from the crowd:

“Professor! When can we return to Hogwarts?”

The question sparked a wave of agreement.

“Yes, Professor, we miss the castle and the grounds!”

“I miss the fire in the common room!”

“I miss the courtyard behind the library!”

“And the Black Lake! I wonder how the Giant Squid is doing?”

“Exactly! I can’t wait to saddle up Sir Cadogan’s pony,” one student called out in a mock-knightly tone, “and charge into a real, heroic battle!”

The quip prompted a round of good-natured laughter.

The room grew lively but soon quieted again.

All eyes turned to Dumbledore, brimming with hope.

Life on the ship, though relatively safe and well-supplied, was confined, far from the vast freedom of Hogwarts Castle, the shimmering depths of the Black Lake, or the majestic grandeur of the surrounding mountains.

Over time, even the once-annoying quirks, like the trick staircases, had become endearing in memory.

Professor Dumbledore looked at the young faces before him. Though he had no intention of involving students directly in dangerous actions, he couldn’t bear to dampen their enthusiasm and hope.

He gave a gentle smile and said in a tone full of promise, “I understand how you feel. Returning to Hogwarts is our shared goal. I believe that day is not far off.

“In the meantime, I hope you’ll continue to work hard and practice… well, those practical combat skills Mr. Green has been teaching you. Be prepared, for I believe the moment of our return will come soon.”

“Yes!”

“Brilliant!”

Though no exact date was given, Dumbledore’s words ignited hope and motivation. The dining hall erupted in cheers once more. Breakfast concluded in an atmosphere brimming with determination and optimism.

Since Professor Dumbledore’s return, the Founder’s Ark had been buzzing with renewed morale and fervor. The only person less than thrilled, perhaps, was the caretaker, Argus Filch.

The students’ enthusiasm for practicing charms and dueling had reached unprecedented heights. Corridors, empty cabins, and even the deck occasionally flashed with the light of a spell.

This inevitably caused some “minor issues” for the ship’s environment: scorch marks on the walls, slippery oil patches conjured accidentally on the floor, or debris from the occasional explosion…

These greatly increased Filch’s workload, leaving the order-obsessed caretaker thoroughly exasperated.

On the eve of the Easter feast, when a kind-hearted student passing by saw Filch fretting over a stubborn stain in a corner with a rag and bucket and offered to use Scourgify to help, Filch jumped as if his tail had been stepped on, brandishing his filthy rag furiously.

“Get lost! I don’t need it! I can clean just fine without your fancy tricks! Traditional methods! Understand? Traditional!” he muttered, bending back down to scrub the floor, his voice thick with nostalgia and resentment. “Hmph… back in the day… I had a whip… and shackles… and detention…”

Snape, passing by and witnessing the scene, paused briefly. He watched Filch’s hunched figure, grumbling as he battled magical stains with physical effort, and a flicker of sympathy crossed his mind. In a world where everyone wielded wands, being a Squib must indeed be an unspoken pain and torment.

He didn’t linger, though, merely shaking his head as he continued toward his destination—the ship’s greenhouse.

Lately, the Mandrakes in the greenhouse had grown moody and silent, a sign they were nearing the end of their childhood phase and entering their turbulent adolescence.

Snape needed to check if the unsightly pimples on their faces had healed, preparing them for repotting. If this step went smoothly, it wouldn’t be long before they could be harvested, boiled over a fire, and used to revive the house-elf Dobby.

The greenhouse was already decorated with Easter-themed magical ornaments—colored eggs and rabbit shapes.

Through the glass, Snape saw Eileen Prince, Pandora, and Lily inside. They wore thick earmuffs and were carefully operating a well-maintained old gramophone, playing a record.

Some Mandrakes had already been uprooted and placed beside their pots. With their wrinkled, pimple-marked faces, they swayed to the music, grimacing and twisting in varied expressions.

Even through the door, Snape’s ears picked up an indistinct buzzing—likely the Mandrakes’ cries, muffled by a Muffliato charm.

Wisely, he didn’t push open the door. Instead, he tapped on the glass.

Lily noticed him first. She gestured, pointing to her ears and then down at a small stool by the door.

Following her gesture, Snape spotted several spare pairs of earmuffs on the stool. He grabbed a pair, put them on, and slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind him.

After walking a short distance into the greenhouse, the omnipresent buzzing was replaced by a filtered silence.

Snape joined Eileen and the others, inspecting the Mandrakes’ condition and carefully uprooting those whose pimples had mostly faded, ready for repotting, to join their companions in the “silent” dance.

After a while, the singing Mandrakes seemed to tire, their expressions weary, their leafy tops drooping. Snape and the others attempted to transplant them into larger pots.

However, these rebellious little creatures were fiercely uncooperative. They clung tightly to the edges of their old pots, refusing to let go, and a few even tried to bite the hands reaching for them.

After several failed attempts, the group gave up and reburied the grumpy plants in their familiar pots.

Once finished, they removed their earmuffs, and the sounds of the world rushed back.

Eileen, cheerfully arranging the pots back on the shelves, sighed in relief. “Almost there. When they’re ready to move to new pots on their own, we’ll know they’re fully mature and ready for potion-making.”

“In that case,” Pandora turned to Snape, her eyes sparkling, “we’ll soon be able to bring poor Dobby back!”

Afterward, the group headed to the dining hall for the Easter feast.

The feast was filled with laughter, abundant food, and a warm, joyful atmosphere.

When it ended, Snape and his friends strolled to the deck, enjoying the post-dinner calm.

The night was beautiful, the weather growing clearer and warmer. A gentle breeze swept away the last traces of the day’s heat.

They leaned against the railing, gazing at the starry night sky and the inky sea below, chatting idly.

But this tranquility was interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who approached with barely concealed excitement, her steps lighter than usual.

“Severus,” she called, “come with me to the captain’s cabin. Professor Dumbledore needs to see you.”

Surprised but compliant, Snape bid farewell to his friends and followed the visibly elated McGonagall into the ship.

In the captain’s cabin, he found Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, still disguised as Professor Green.

After brief greetings, Dumbledore got straight to the point, explaining why Snape had been summoned.

“Severus, Minerva has received some very intriguing information from her contact at the Ministry,” the headmaster said, his tone equally cheerful. “This information strongly suggests that Tom may have hidden one of his Horcruxes in the Department of Mysteries.”

Snape’s heart stirred. This was a significant lead, explaining McGonagall’s excitement.

“What exactly is the information?” he asked cautiously.

“Recently,” Dumbledore explained, “the Ministry, claiming an ‘accident’ necessitated absolute employee safety, replaced nearly all the Department of Mysteries staff with their most loyal Death Eaters. It’s now heavily guarded by them day and night.”

Grindelwald, who had been listening silently, let out a derisive chuckle. “That reminds me of the night we broke into the Ministry. That ill-mannered Voldemort, upon discovering his follower—what was his name? Oh, yes, Lucius Malfoy—was still alive, immediately killed him.”

“I thought it was just his cruelty and paranoia,” he added with a mocking glint in his eye, “but now it seems he was more worried that poor Lucius might let slip some secrets.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Whatever his motives, this information, combined with prior signs, makes the Department of Mysteries worth investigating.”

“When do we act?” Snape pressed.

“Not yet,” Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. “Even if a Horcrux is hidden in the Ministry, we still don’t know the location of one other Horcrux.

“Rushing into the heavily guarded Ministry now could alert our enemies. The Department of Mysteries must be our final target.”

At this, Snape cleared his throat and turned to McGonagall with a question that had been on his mind.

“Professor McGonagall, if I may, could you share the source of this information? You’ve consistently obtained valuable intelligence from within the Ministry. I’d like to assess its reliability.

“After all, if we’re to infiltrate the Ministry’s core, we must rule out the possibility of this being a trap to lure us in.”

McGonagall hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore. After a moment, she seemed to steel herself and said, “I can assure you, the source is absolutely reliable.”

“Why are you so certain?” Snape pressed, wanting to eliminate any uncertainty.

McGonagall glanced around before lowering her voice. “It came from Elphinstone Urquart.”

Seeing the lingering doubt in Snape’s eyes, she added, “He’s… a senior official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and… a trusted old friend.” Her cheeks flushed slightly, but her tone was firm.

Snape opened his mouth to ask more about this “Urquart” to gauge the risk, but Dumbledore gently interjected.

“Severus, Minerva’s judgment is trustworthy. Besides, as I said, we’re not heading to the Ministry just yet, so there’s no need to dwell on this.”

Hearing Dumbledore reiterate the delay, Snape fell silent. Then, he made a decision. Slowly, he reached into his black robes and pulled out an object.

It was a crudely crafted gold ring, its setting empty where a black gemstone should have been. The ring itself was dull, marred by a scorched mark running through it.

“Professor, Marvolo Gaunt’s ring,” Snape said, handing the cracked ring to Dumbledore with a grave reminder. “The gemstone has already been dealt with.

“So, there’s no need for anyone to wear it.”