Only after Dumbledore had completed the handover did Grindelwald step forward and cross the threshold he had not passed in decades. The night wind brushed his aged face and stirred his silver-white hair.
"A fine night."
He drew a deep breath of cold, free air. Something complicated and impossible to name flickered in his mismatched eyes before they became calm again.
He approached Dumbledore, stopping a single step away.
"Thank you for waiting, Albus."
His voice sounded faint in the night wind.
Dumbledore ignored the pleasantry.
"Let's go."
The two international Aurors immediately moved forward, one on either side, taking up escort positions even though they knew such precautions might mean nothing to Grindelwald.
"Professor Dumbledore," one said, unable to help himself. His tone was grave. "I must remind you one last time of the responsibility you have accepted. I hope you fully understand what you are doing. If anything goes wrong…"
He left the warning unfinished. Its meaning was clear.
Dumbledore glanced at him. In the moonlight, his profile looked cold and stern.
"I understand perfectly."
He said nothing more.
He turned to Grindelwald, who gave a slight nod to show he was ready. Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, making both Aurors visibly twitch, but paid them no attention. With his other hand, he drew his wand.
The Elder Wand.
"Hold on," Dumbledore said quietly.
Grindelwald offered no resistance, even relaxing to make it easier.
A sharp crack split the air.
Both men vanished, leaving only a faint ripple of magic and a swirl of wind.
They had Disapparated, bound for London.
The two international Aurors stood motionless for a long while, staring at the empty rock platform and the silent tower beyond it. The wind howled around them, bitterly cold.
"Mad… This is madness…"
One shook his head, his face filled with worry and lingering fear.
This unprecedented parole was about to upset restrictions and a balance that had held for decades. Meanwhile, London's night awaited the arrival of two legendary old men, and the mysterious Raven who had set everything in motion.
"Dumbledore must have his reasons…"
The other Auror sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.
"Let's hope… he's right."
Just then, the emergency communication badges on their chests began vibrating rapidly and glowing dark red. It signaled an extremely high-priority request for international assistance or an alert from the British Ministry of Magic.
"What's happened?"
Their expressions changed, and they activated the badges at once.
An urgent voice sounded directly in their minds.
"This is British Ministry of Magic Auror Command! Emergency! A Muggle village in northern Yorkshire has suffered a large-scale attack, suspected Death Eater involvement. Muggle casualties confirmed, clear evidence of Dark magic! Requesting nearby International Auror Office personnel to assist with the investigation and containment! Repeat…"
At least Dumbledore and Grindelwald hadn't decided to become Dark Lords together.
News of Voldemort's activities was hardly reassuring, though. Death Eaters again. The second Dark Lord's followers were growing ever bolder in spreading terror and chaos across Britain.
The Aurors exchanged a grave, weary look.
Grindelwald's release was frightening, but people were bleeding now. That danger was just as urgent.
"Inform the British Ministry that we are coming to assist immediately," one said into his badge.
"But… what about Grindelwald?" the other asked hesitantly.
"Dumbledore is with him. And our duty is to deal with the immediate threat."
The first Auror sighed.
"Come on. This… is no longer in our hands."
They took one last look at the place where Dumbledore and Grindelwald had vanished, then at the prison tower, silent once more. Both raised their wands.
Two sharp cracks rang out, and they disappeared into the cold night, bound for another scene of bloodshed and Dark magic.
At the same time, the air twisted in a quiet, deserted London alley, and Dumbledore and Grindelwald appeared.
The city's night air met them, damp and smoky, carrying all the familiar smells of London. Distant traffic mingled with the city's low hum. Beyond the alley, streetlights cast yellow pools of light across the wet paving stones.
Grindelwald steadied himself and took another deep breath. This time, a genuine smile spread across his face, though it looked slightly strange on his aged features. He glanced around, his mismatched eyes bright with curiosity, nostalgia, and a hunter's sharp attention.
"London…"
He said the name softly, as though savoring it.
"It has been… a long time."
Dumbledore surveyed their surroundings, making sure their arrival had attracted no notice. He had used a powerful Muggle-Repelling Charm along with concealment spells.
Then he turned to Grindelwald.
"Where now? That bridge you spoke of?"
Grindelwald's gaze became intent again. He shook his head.
"No, Albus. Going straight to the bridge might draw too much attention, and he may not be there at the moment."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, as though sensing something.
"First, we need to… establish the bait's current location."
"The bait?"
Dumbledore frowned.
"Jorkins. That minor Ministry employee."
A calculating smile touched Grindelwald's lips.
"The Raven saved him and left some sort of… connection on him. Through Jorkins, we may be able to approach more naturally, or at least determine the general area in which the Raven is active."
This had certainly not been Grindelwald's original plan.
Unfortunately, the old headmaster did not know that.
Dumbledore considered it in silence, then offered no objection. It was more efficient than waiting blindly at a possible location.
"Do you know where he is?"
"My little birds still bring me the occasional scrap of information."
Grindelwald did not answer directly, but he clearly knew something. He raised a hand and made a tiny motion in the air with his fingertips. A ripple of magic, so faint it was almost imperceptible, spread outward, as though he had activated a tracking spell placed earlier.
"Follow me."
He led the way out of the alley. Age had slowed his steps, but they carried a distinct rhythm and purpose. Dumbledore followed close behind, and the two soon joined the flow of people on London's streets, looking like nothing more than a pair of elderly wizards heading toward their destination.
The night deepened, and the city's lights spread around them like stars.
Elsewhere, the Death Eater who had fled seemed destined to help bring the two generations of Dark Lords together.
At the other end of London, darkness was gathering in a different form, somewhere in the southeast, to be more precise.
Deep within a forgotten industrial ruin, powerful magic had expanded, altered, and connected a maze of underground pipes and abandoned factory basements, creating a vast, hidden lair.
The air was foul with mildew, the sharp residue of potions, and a faint, unsettling trace of Dark magic. Blasphemous symbols covered the crumbling walls. Materials of uncertain origin and sealed containers holding dangerous objects were piled in the corners. Black-robed, masked figures occasionally slipped through the shadows like strange fish moving through the deep sea.
This was an important Death Eater base in London, a place where some of their core members gathered, received instructions, or indulged in "private entertainment."
That evening, the magical barrier at the entrance rippled, and a figure stumbled through, nearly falling flat on his face. His black robes were torn and disheveled, covered in dust and grime. His normally pale face had lost every trace of color, and terror was written all over it.
It was the Death Eater Ian had frightened with a single glance in the Muggle neighborhood, then terrified further with a display of his abilities.
"The master! I need to see the master!"
He scrambled into the relatively spacious main hall, drawing the attention of several companions who had been cleaning their wands or talking quietly.
"Rowle?"
A Death Eater in a silver mask recognized him. His hoarse voice held surprise and a hint of irritation.
"What happened to you? Did you fail? Where's that little Ministry vermin, Jorkins?"
Rowle had no attention to spare for the question. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils still widened with fear. He scanned the hall frantically, his voice rising into a strained, frightened pitch.
"The master… I must see the master! Now! Something's happened… Something serious!"
The urgency in his voice and his disheveled state made the others stop what they were doing. They watched him with curiosity and unease.
Failure was hardly unusual. Returning so shaken and demanding an immediate audience with the Dark Lord was another matter.
"The master is attending to important business."
The speaker was a tall, grim-looking Death Eater, one of those currently in charge of the base.
"He is not to be disturbed by every fool who comes through the door. Tell us what happened first. Did you capture Jorkins? Or walk into an Auror ambush?"
"No… It wasn't Aurors!"
Rowle shook his head violently, as though trying to rid himself of the memory of those calm, bottomless eyes.
"It was… something else! A… a monster! A terrifying wizard! He… he…"
He struggled to explain, but fear had robbed him of words. All he could do was repeat that the man was terrifying, powerful, unbelievable.
Apparently, his English vocabulary wasn't up to the job.
"A monster? A wizard?"
The tall Death Eater gave a contemptuous laugh.
"If he frightened you this badly, was it Dumbledore himself? Or has the Ministry secretly developed some new weapon?"
Neither possibility seemed likely. A few muffled snickers sounded around them. Clearly, they thought Rowle was making excuses for his failure, or had simply lost his nerve.
"No! It wasn't Dumbledore! I swear! He was… more…"
Rowle was almost in tears. Then he remembered something and seized on it like a lifeline. He tore open the front of his robes, exposing his pale chest, and pointed just above his heart.
"Look! Look at this! The master's Dark Mark hasn't reacted! But in my soul… I can feel… something else! Something he left behind!"
The others took him a little more seriously and moved closer to inspect it. The Dark Mark lay dormant on his skin. It had neither burned nor stirred in response to a powerful enemy or a threat to his life.
Yet the terror gripping Rowle seemed genuine, as though it had reached deep into his soul.
"What exactly did you encounter?"
The tall Death Eater's tone grew more serious.
"Explain yourself properly."
Rowle tried to steady his breathing. In a halting, muddled account, he described what had happened that afternoon: how he had followed Jorkins into a Muggle neighborhood, and how, just as he was about to capture him, an ordinary-looking young wizard with black hair had intervened.
The stranger had effortlessly neutralized the effects of the fighting and protected the Muggles. A single glance had almost frozen Rowle's magic, leaving him unable to Disapparate. When he tried to flee, the man had locked down the surrounding space with ease, then left a cold "mark" on his soul and a warning.
It sounded like something from a television show.
But it had happened.
"He said that if he caught us acting without restraint in front of Muggles again, he would come and 'pay the master a visit' himself! The nerve of him!"
Rowle practically screamed the last words, trembling all over.
The hall fell briefly silent. The Death Eaters exchanged looks. His account sounded absurd, but the fear running through him was impossible to dismiss.
Still, who in Britain's wizarding world, apart from Dumbledore, dared speak so casually of paying their master a visit?
"An unknown, powerful wizard, operating in Muggle London and interfering in our affairs…"
The tall Death Eater tapped his fingers against the cold stone wall.
"That is a new development. But even so, it does not warrant disturbing the master immediately. His current hunt is of the utmost importance…"
"No! You don't understand!"
Rowle cut him off and grabbed his arm with surprising strength.
"He isn't just powerful! He… he feels different! Different from the master, different from Dumbledore! More… ancient? Colder? I can't explain it!"
His grip tightened.
"But I know he wasn't merely threatening us when he spoke of visiting the master! He can do it! We must warn the master! Now!"
The man was certainly loyal.
The desperation in his eyes finally made the tall Death Eater reconsider. If Rowle had not gone completely mad or exaggerated everything, this unknown wizard's sudden appearance might indeed deserve attention.
Especially now, while the master was carrying out that crucial operation to obtain the prophecy.
Any unexpected variable could interfere.
(End Of This Chapter)
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