Grindelwald remained silent for a long moment. Dana sat on the ground, careful not to disturb him.
"Can you see the future as well?" she asked quietly.
"No," Grindelwald replied. "I can glimpse significant moments from the past… and I can envision a world without me. But since I have returned, the future I once knew no longer applies. Still, I understand what a society truly serving the majority's interests would look like—I've always believed that the majority's interests outweigh all else."
Dana laughed unexpectedly. "Mr. Grindelwald, do you think I overestimate my enemies? With the power and strength I now wield, destroying them is as effortless as flipping my hand. But I feel it is insufficient."
She paused, gathering her thoughts. "A few months ago, I killed one of my enemies. Yet afterward, I regretted it—considering what he did to my mother, killing him felt almost merciful."
Dana's gaze was cold. "I want my enemies to savor pain, suspended between life and death. And conveniently, my revolutionary plan allows that. Rest assured, it won't undermine the revolution's foundation; my comrades won't be dragged down with me."
Grindelwald nodded, then strode to a wooden window and pushed it open. A gentle, warm breeze drifted into the room. He narrowed his eyes, a small smile forming. "It's been so long since I've felt the sun," he murmured. Tears pricked his eyes, which he casually wiped with a dirty sleeve before stretching. "Do you think Al would still recognize me now, after all this?"
This was the final match before the school year began. Owning their own team and stadium had given Dana unprecedented freedom. To engage the audience and assure them their tickets were worthwhile, Dana had arranged an opening performance: he hired unemployed professionals to execute aerial stunts. The crowd was thoroughly entertained.
As expected, the home team finished the match in seconds—another routine victory for the Chudley Cannons. Sensing the audience's enthusiasm, Dana extended the match by a minute. While the other players headed to the locker rooms, Dana took to the skies, soaring around the stadium.
Later, walking alone through the players' tunnel with his broom in hand, two figures burst out from a nearby storage room.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two green beams shot toward Dana—but the Killing Curses missed. He vanished from sight.
The two assassins exchanged puzzled glances. An ant crawled behind them unnoticed. Then:
"Stupefy!"
Two simultaneous Stunning Spells knocked them to the ground.
Dana didn't return to the locker room. Instead, in the hushed corridor, he opened a Spandim Gate and transported himself and the stunned pair to a dungeon beneath the Hebrides Castle.
When the assassins regained consciousness, they found themselves chained in a dim underground cell. Across from them sat the towering figure of Count Dak de Dentis, one of the most prominent wizards in Britain.
Normally, the sight of such a figure would inspire awe. In this dank prison, thoughts of flattery vanished.
"Tell me," the Count growled, "who sent you to kill Dana Emrys?"
The two glanced at each other, uncertain.
Annoyed, the Count snarled, "Cruciatus Curse!"
A piercing scream punctuated the dungeon as both men writhed in agony. After several excruciating moments, the Count finally withdrew the spell.
"Speak," he commanded. "Who targeted a twelve‑year‑old wizard?"
One assassin, drenched in sweat, stammered weakly: "It was Donna Avery!"
The other hissed, "Hipila, you—"
"It wasn't worth risking my life for that." Hipila shook his head.
Aki snorted. "Miss Avery took care of us! If not for her, we'd still be scavenging trash in Knockturn Alley!"
Dana raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" Aki's body slumped and bled out on the stone floor while the iron chains creaked.
Dana turned to Hipila. He trembled, knowing his life hung by a thread. "Tell me," Dana demanded. "Why did Donna Avery want me dead?"
"The daughter of Avery… she offended a talented Seeker not long ago," Hipila confessed, voice quivering. "Their grudge was deep. Recently, this young wizard—Dana Emrys—has been gaining fame and prestige. Count, you bought the Chudley Cannons… Miss Avery feared Emrys would jeopardize your relationship with the Avery family. She ordered us to act."
The Count paused, stunned. He clearly hadn't considered this. Donna Avery acted swiftly—decisive and ruthless.
The Count looked at the assassin. "Do you choose death… or life?"
Hipila nodded frantically. "I want to live—please!"
The Count smirked. "Living is fine. Saves me a spell."
He raised his wand. A flash revealed a blade slicing through the air. Aki's head separated from his body, flying into the Count's hand with a metallic thud. Then the dungeon door vanished—the entrance sealed shut by magic. An archway appeared; the Count stepped through it. As he vanished, Hipila's desperate screams echoed in the void:
"Lord Count! Please let me go!"
But only his echoes remained:
"Let me go… me go… me… ah…"
Dana left Hipila alive—but how long that would last depended on one thing: the fat on his bones.
Hipila stared at his companion's lifeless corpse. In that moment, he thought, I'd rather have been killed by the Killing Curse.
Moments later, the Count appeared at 12 Grimmauld Place.
"Coming, coming!" cried Wang Wenhui, descending the stairs.
"My boss is here," he said eagerly. "My sister organized last month's finances—the properties earned twelve thousand Galleons! That should cover everything for the Fire Serpent Party!"
The Count frowned. "Why do you focus on such trivial matters? That's not why I came."
Wang Wenhui sheepishly replied, "Right… boss. Just tell me what to do!"
"Find some men," the Count said, coldly planning his next move, "disguise them as Chudley Cannons fans. Make them rough up Gilderoy Lockhart—and then they'll deliver a message to Donna Avery: Stop plotting against Dana Emrys… or next time, it won't be just a beating."
"Understood!" Wang Wenhui scurried off to begin arranging the plan.
Dana watched. Donna Avery—don't court death carelessly. If I lose control, I might just kill you—and then all this… the feast I've prepared for you… would be wasted.
But a little humiliation? A beating for her husband and a debt collected? That… that I can enjoy.
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