The next issue of the Daily Prophet carried a follow-up report on the reappearance of the Dark Mark above Hogwarts.
The article used fierce rhetoric to condemn the barbaric actions of the forces of the Dark Lord, strongly denouncing the Death Eaters' deeds and expressing the Ministry of Magic's profound shock and firm resolve.
It concluded by stating that the Ministry had convened an emergency council to discuss countermeasures and would soon take decisive, powerful action, and so on.
"What does it say?" Professor Flitwick asked.
Snape slid the newspaper toward him.
Professor Flitwick immediately stood on tiptoe, scanning the lines eagerly. His brow soon furrowed in confusion. "They say the Ministry will take measures, what measures?"
Professor McGonagall gave a sharp, restrained snort. She stepped forward and pulled from the very bottom of the stack of papers she had brought back a copy whose pages were still new and faintly scented with fresh ink, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.
She spread it open across the table.
When the other two saw the large headline and the prominent photo, Professor Flitwick gasped audibly.
Occupying the center of the front page was a large, carefully retouched photograph. The background was the familiar silhouette of Hogwarts Castle.
The man in the photograph had long, pale-blond hair combed perfectly into place. His face was handsome and pallid, wearing a flawless, reassuring smile. He blinked toward the camera with deliberate, genteel grace.
Above the photograph, in bold, black magical type, a headline burned into their vision:
"Ministry of Magic Seeks Educational Reform – Abraxas Septimus Malfoy Appointed as New Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Professor Flitwick nearly scrambled up onto the chair beside the table to get a clearer look at the newspaper.
With trembling hands, he grasped it and began reading aloud, his voice rising to a shrill pitch:
"At a provisional motion held last night, the Ministry of Magic passed the epoch-making Hogwarts Emergency Management Act and related amendments, ensuring the continued, orderly operation of the ancient institution under extraordinary circumstances, and safeguarding the welfare of its students and of the entire wizarding community.
"The Daily Prophet has learned that for some time, the wizarding world has expressed growing concern over Hogwarts' educational direction, administrative model, student composition, and security guarantees. After listening to the deep concerns voiced by parents across Britain, the Ministry responded swiftly and decisively to this anxious public sentiment."
"In light of this pressing situation, and to restore order, ensure safety, and rekindle the glory that Hogwarts rightfully deserves, the Ministry's Special Committee of Senior Officials has, after due nomination and approval, formally appointed Mr. Malfoy as the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Mr. Malfoy is a highly respected veteran of the wizarding world, a successful philanthropist, and a man of profound understanding in both magical theory and educational philosophy."
"When interviewed by reporters, he displayed characteristic modesty: 'To be frank, I personally had no intention of assuming this position,' he said with a gentle smile and a look of earnest sincerity. 'It runs contrary to my wish for a peaceful life.
"'However, as a teacher employed by the school, upon learning of its difficulties and the anxieties of its students and staff, I felt a weighty sense of duty, a duty to the children's future, and to the very foundations of our magical society.'
"Mr. Malfoy also admitted that the challenges before him are immense: 'Hogwarts is in dire need of reconstruction, and no one man can achieve it alone. In particular, the crucial position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, given my limited time and energy, must regrettably be reassigned.
"'The school is now open for applications from across the British wizarding world. All exceptional wizards and witches devoted to educational reform are welcome to apply, to help purify the campus and restore elite magical education.' "
Professor Flitwick could read no further. His whole body trembled.
"Bloody nonsense! Malfoy? Headmaster? What does he know about Hogwarts, about education?" His voice rose so sharply it almost broke. "Albus is still alive! How, how dare they?!" He snapped his head toward Professor McGonagall. "They've destroyed centuries of principle and tradition! This is usurpation! It's, "
"Of course they dare." Snape cut him off coldly. "This article itself is the declaration." His tone was matter-of-fact. "The Ministry has already fallen in essence. The long struggle between school authority and ministerial power is, for now, over."
The cabin fell silent. Only the low rumble of thunder outside filled the air.
Professor Flitwick slowly set the paper back down and slid from the chair into a cushioned armchair. His small frame seemed to shrink, his face greyed with exhaustion.
"What should we do now?" he murmured after a long silence, his voice hollow with confusion.
"We continue forward," Snape said evenly. "We protect the students. We seek allies. And we wait for the right moment."
"Given the Dark Lord's overwhelming personal power," he continued, his gaze shifting between McGonagall's taut lips and Flitwick's vacant stare, "we must find a counterbalance, professors.
"We must find someone capable of standing against him. This ship", he pointed downward, "no matter how ancient and strong its magic, is still just a floating island. Once he, or his most loyal followers, discover the Founders' Ark, this vessel, and everyone on it, "
He did not finish, but the meaning was clear. Without Dumbledore's protection, even the most talented witches and wizards aboard a flying fortress were but lambs before the slaughter when faced with absolute power.
Professor McGonagall leaned tiredly against the desk, exhaling a long, weary sigh. Her eyes grew complicated as she regarded the young man before her, one she suddenly found almost unfamiliar.
"Severus," she said, "give it a few more years, and with your talent, I believe you might one day reach that level in some measure. But as things stand in today's world?" She shook her head gravely. "Aside from the slumbering Albus, there is no other wizard in all Europe with power enough to confront the Dark Lord directly.
"Even Albus's old friend, Nicolas Flamel..." She shook her head again, her voice dry. "His greatness lies in alchemy, in immortality, not in battle. Time has long since blunted his edge. He is far too old."
"Wait!" Professor Flitwick suddenly sprang upright in his chair, eyes wide. "You, you don't mean him, do you? You weren't serious before?!"
He remembered, days ago, when all had seemed hopeless, Snape had stood beside Dumbledore's unconscious form and mentioned, almost in passing, a name that had once made all of Europe tremble, forcing even the International Confederation of Wizards to unite against him.
"Why not him, Professor?" Snape met his gaze. "I truly can't think of another living wizard who meets the requirement."
"Absolutely not!" McGonagall straightened sharply, all weariness replaced by fierce alarm. "Gellert Grindelwald is another immense threat, no less than the Dark Lord himself!"
"The doctrines he preaches would drive the wizarding world into ruin. Asking him for help?" Her tone bordered on outrage. "That would be offering up our souls to a demon in exchange for survival, or leaping from one inferno straight into another, fiercer, and utterly uncontrollable one! If he were freed, the consequences could be even more catastrophic than Voldemort's return!"
"Minerva's right. It's madness," Flitwick agreed with a fervent nod. "Grindelwald's ideology is far too dangerous. We cannot risk unleashing another dark wizard, Severus. It's simply out of the question."
Snape listened to their objections quietly, his expression unreadable.
When their protests finally tapered off, he spoke in a calm, steady tone:
"Fear clouds your judgment, Professors. Let me ask you a simple question: do you truly believe that Nurmengard's icy tower can contain Gellert Grindelwald?"
Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on.
"Or do you perhaps think that the Dementors of Azkaban, their instincts alone, could ever hold our own Professor Dumbledore, if he were imprisoned there?"
McGonagall opened her mouth, but no sound came.
"The answer is obvious, isn't it?" Snape spread his hands slightly. "Both possess the strength and intellect to leave their cells whenever they wish. The only difference is their willingness, and how much time they're willing to waste doing so." He leaned forward, hands braced on the desk. "And you seem to have confused one key distinction:
"We should not equate Grindelwald, a man with a defined political vision and a structured philosophy for reshaping the world, with the Dark Lord, whose rule depends purely on deception and slaughter. Their goals, methods, and beliefs are entirely different."
He turned to McGonagall. "Tell me, Professor, have you ever heard of any magical safeguards placed upon Nurmengard apart from the stone walls and iron bars themselves? Any anti-escape enchantments, like the Dementors of Azkaban? Or a magical contract binding him in place?"
McGonagall's brows knit tighter as she struggled to recall. Her eyes flickered with uncertainty; a complex emotion glimmered beneath them.
"There doesn't seem to be any special record of such measures," Flitwick said after a pause, shaking his head. "Which... does seem rather strange, but still, "
"Allow me to refresh your memory," Snape interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial register. "According to A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and particularly Significant Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, all credible sources,
"Apart from the cold, unyielding stone and iron, the cell atop Nurmengard's highest tower, the one that holds Gellert Grindelwald, has no additional magical restraints whatsoever."
"Yes, Professors. Nothing, except despair itself." His voice deepened. "And in the appendix of the latest edition of Significant Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, there's an obscure entry:
"Twenty years into Grindelwald's imprisonment, a witch named Vinda Rosier, one of his most devoted and powerful followers, escaped from the French Ministry's high-security prison through sheer strength and determination."
"You actually study those historical footnotes that closely?" Flitwick exclaimed in astonishment.
Snape rolled his eyes slightly and continued:
"Her goal was singular. After escaping, Madam Rosier endured countless hardships, evaded pursuit, and crossed national borders until she reached the foothills of the Austrian Alps. There, she climbed to the towering fortress of Nurmengard and ascended to the topmost cell. With nothing more than a simple unlocking charm, she opened the iron door."
He paused, scanning the professors' intent faces.
"And then?" Flitwick prompted, unable to contain his curiosity.
"What did she see?" Snape's tone slowed. "Inside that narrow, freezing cell, there was nothing but a small, hard cot.
"On that cot sat a man, much older and thinner than Gellert Grindelwald in his prime.
"There was no joyful reunion, no impassioned greeting from a leader. It was as if imprisonment had drained away every trace of vitality, leaving only bone and exhaustion.
"Madam Rosier rushed inside, radiant with hope. She called to him, told him of the outside world, of followers still waiting for his return, of freedom that was now within reach.
"But the man merely lifted his eyelids."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, imitating that hollow stare. "With eyes that had once blazed with fervor but now lay as still as dead water, he looked at her in silence.
"There was no lamp in the room, only moonlight streaming through the window. And under that pale glow, a faint, detached smile appeared on Grindelwald's face. He said: 'Leave, Vinda. I will not go.'
"Records say that the powerful witch who had once been willing to die for him seemed at that instant to lose all strength. She did not plead, nor argue, nor even question.
"She simply sank slowly, silently, to the frozen floor, without tears, without screams, only emptiness.
"She sat there, listening to the wind howling outside the tower.
"No one knows how long she stayed, minutes, hours, perhaps longer.
"When the French and German Aurors finally arrived, responding to the alarm, they found her sitting there motionless. She rose calmly, brushed the dust from her robes, looked once more at the man on the bed, motionless, statue-like, and allowed herself to be led away.
"And Grindelwald... never moved from that narrow cot."