The mark, long dormant, finally served its purpose.
Burning hot.
Snape nearly wished he could tear off his entire left arm.
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked with concern.
Snape shook his head. "I'm fine. The Dark Lord has returned—he's calling me."
Dumbledore understood. With a silent wave of his wand, he and the others—Harry, Hermione, Ciri—vanished under an Invisibility Charm. The room itself twisted, transforming into what the Defense Against the Dark Arts office ought to look like.
Snape retrieved the two-way mirror.
A surge of magic linked them.
Voldemort's deathly pale face appeared. "Ah, my dear Severus."
"Great Master," Snape replied, shifting slightly.
He felt deeply uncomfortable, especially knowing Harry was right beside him, forced to show such deference to Voldemort. That seething frustration and disgust surged like a tidal wave inside him.
"You're still at Hogwarts?" Voldemort noted the background, smiling with mild surprise.
Snape replied softly, "That old fool Dumbledore failed to catch me."
"He has suspicions."
"But I've gathered solid evidence. Enough to prove I was in Spinner's End all along."
Voldemort nodded. "Well done, Severus."
"My dear son—how is he?"
Snape answered calmly, "Dead."
Voldemort's expression didn't change. "Dumbledore did it?"
Snape shook his head. "Word from the other professors says it was Longbottom. Alone."
"Alone?" Voldemort paused, voice tinged with something like sentiment, gaze drifting.
He wasn't a man of emotions.
After a fleeting silence, he returned his focus. "Has Potter returned?"
Snape nodded. "Just did. I saw him from a window."
"And he brought a silver-haired girl with him."
Voldemort's tone brightened. "Really? I imagine he's quite angry then."
Snape didn't reply.
Hidden beside him, Harry remained silent, face calm. From his position, he could clearly see the mirror's contents.
Every detail etched into memory.
Voldemort wasn't wearing wizard's robes, but a tight, ornate ceremonial outfit—definitely not his usual style.
The background, though mostly hidden, revealed hints of elegant architecture.
Small decorative trinkets—not of British or nearby origin—suggested Elven craftsmanship.
Harry asked Ciri quietly, "That style—was it Aen Elle?"
Ciri nodded. "And the clothes—Eredin wore similar garments."
Harry's voice was flat. "Looks like we were right. He acted against Eredin."
A wizard—especially a dark one—had countless ways to replace someone.
Polyjuice, the Imperius Curse, or even darker, crueler magic.
"And Voldemort's planning something big," Harry added, recalling what he saw. "He's bringing the Wild Hunt back to this world."
He paused, then uttered a single word:
"The Deathly Hallows."
Snape looked at him. "But don't we have all three?"
"Will he attack Hogwarts again?"
Dumbledore held the Elder Wand, Harry had the Invisibility Cloak, and Sprout safeguarded the Resurrection Stone.
Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore suddenly murmured, "No."
"Tom only knows we have the Resurrection Stone."
He frowned, mumbling thoughtfully, "He has no clue about the cloak—I never found any trace of it until after James died."
"And he doesn't know the Elder Wand is in my possession."
He took a deep breath. "He's probably gone after Gellert. The rumor among wizards is that Gellert was the wand's last true master."
Dumbledore stood, glanced at Harry—then sat back down, turning his gaze to Snape.
He desperately wanted to save Grindelwald.
But all their deductions stemmed from Snape's conversation with Voldemort in the mirror.
"Albus," Snape sneered, "are you really as old and foolish as I said?"
"Voldemort only has one life left."
"We've got Nagini, don't we?"
Dumbledore didn't reply, gripping his wand tighter.
He thought deeply, for a long moment.
"Severus, I can't sacrifice you," he finally said. "I've made too many mistakes in my life. This time, I can't make another."
"I trust him. Gellert won't die so easily."
Austria—Nurmengard.
A massive ship floated from the void above, cloaked in thick clouds and unseasonable, howling blizzards.
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Powerstones?
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