Brolin's voice was filled with sorrow and disappointment. Abigail bit her lip, saying nothing, her eyes turning red.
She didn't think she'd forgotten; she'd just… found some breathing room while spending time with the children…
But her Patronus had indeed changed, something even she couldn't explain.
Byrd averted his gaze slightly, looking at the liquor bottles on the shelf reflecting the light.
There was naturally a reason for a wizard with a proper education and legitimate identity to join their anti-wizard Organization—
Either they grew up in the Organization, their parents and family members all part of it, and their loyalty to the Organization surpassed that for their teachers and classmates at magic school.
Or, like Abigail, they were filled with hatred for the wizard community, even secretly wishing for themselves and the world to be destroyed together.
After a moment of silence, Brolin sighed, softening his tone.
"Sera, you're tired. Go back and rest for a while," he said. "You don't need to go back to that school either."
"My mission isn't over yet!" Abigail suddenly looked up, saying unwillingly, "I'm willing to prove myself with action!"
"I remember you said in your letter that Wade Gray had given you the Magic Golem?" Brolin asked.
"…Yes."
"Then your mission is over," Brolin said.
The faint smile on his face had completely vanished, replaced by subtle doubt and suspicion in his eyes.
A chill ran through Abigail. She clenched her fists and lowered her gaze, saying, "I understand."
…
Watching his companion leave in a daze, Byrd finally spoke. "Sera just saved the students on the train. Her prestige is at its peak, and the students trust her immensely… Her leaving now is very detrimental to our mission."
Brolin let out a long sigh.
The bartender with graying hair next to them spoke up, wiping a glass. "It's better for the mission to fail than to risk a companion betraying us."
"Abigail knows too many secrets. If she betrays us, the damage to the Organization would be incalculable."
"And there aren't many wizards in the Organization like her, who have mastered most of the magical system and have excellent grades. Even if she's not sent out on missions anymore and stays at the base to teach the children, it's much better than having her loyalty compromised."
"I understand," Byrd nodded.
"How's the child you're working with?" Brolin asked. "The mission doesn't seem to be progressing very smoothly?"
"No," Byrd said shamefacedly. "Wade Gray is elusive even at school, very difficult to get close to. Carlyle was also sorted into a different house, so they rarely have opportunities to interact."
"It seems I picked the wrong person," Brolin shook his head gently. "I thought that child's charisma would make it easier to build a relationship and exert influence. But I forgot that if you're facing a snow mountain, a mere torch can't ignite it."
"I've heard that even Ravenclaw students find it hard to talk to that Gray."
Byrd frowned. "He has very few friends, and he's pulled all his friends into a small club dedicated to studying and research."
"No games, no dating, no parties, no matches, and he doesn't even often appear in his Common Room—when there are no classes, even his best friends don't know where he is."
Byrd looked incredulous, unable to comprehend why such a teenager could exist. What was the point of living like that?
He hadn't been idle these past six months. Byrd opened a snack shop in Hogsmeade, and many students frequented it every Hogsmeade Weekend. Even without actively asking, he heard a lot of gossip about the school.
After listening for a long time, he forgave Carlyle's slow progress—if it were him, he wouldn't know how to approach someone who was simply untraceable.
"For Wade Gray to surpass most adult wizards and achieve so much in just two or three years, it would be impossible without a heart willing to endure loneliness and solitude," Brolin said with an appreciative tone. "Hasn't our Organization grown to what it is today by relying on such a spirit? From another perspective, such pure scholars are actually easier to utilize."
Pure scholars, you say?
Byrd recalled some rumors he'd heard—like turning cockroaches into cockroach-cows, scaring classmates into wetting their pants—and felt that this "scholar" wasn't quite so pure.
But he still bowed and said, "Yes, you're right."
"As for the mission, don't worry too much—you'll have new assistance," Brolin said.
Byrd hesitated, then asked, "Is it… the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Sera was returning, so naturally, a new professor would take over the position.
At Hogwarts, only the professor for this subject frequently changed, making it the easiest place to install their people.
Brolin shook his head. "We can't always revolve around the same position… You go back and wait patiently."
"Yes."
…
Considering that the presence of parents would make the children restrained, Ferdinand had a residence in Westminster cleaned in advance for this holiday. Wade, Harry, and Michael moved in on the third day of the break.
This time, each of them had their own bedroom, and they didn't have to wake up at a specific time for breakfast. On the second day after moving in, Michael slept until noon.
Westminster, located in central London, was much livelier than the remote town House Gray had previously resided in. In the mornings, when there were fewer people, the trio went to see movies, and in the evenings, they listened to operas.
The area was also close to King's Cross Station, and strangely dressed wizards could occasionally be seen walking the streets. Ministry of Magic employees also frequently came and went in this area.
There was also an amusement park in a nearby park, brightly lit and bustling with people even at night.
They tried out all the rides. As the roller coaster plunged down, Harry and Michael's screams made Wade wonder if their Magical Power was about to explode.
The park was also preparing for the upcoming Christmas market. Some vendors had already started selling from their carts, and others, with bags slung over their shoulders or small goods tucked into their pockets, began selling throughout the streets.
Of course, video games were the most popular. The joy of leveling up, clearing stages, and accumulating points was captivating even for adults, let alone two thirteen-year-old boys who had never encountered them before.
After dinner, Michael sat in front of the game console and waved at Wade, saying, "This game can be played by two people. You don't have to always stay with us. If you have something to do, go do it!"
Harry was surprised. "Wade, don't you like these games? Or do you want to play something else?"
He looked at the pile of game boxes in the corner, hoping to find a more appealing one—though, to Harry, every game seemed fascinating.
Wade waved his hand. "It's not about the type of game. I just prefer to study magic."
"Oh..." Harry didn't quite understand but still said, "Well... then go study, I guess..."
Watching Wade leave in good spirits, as if he were going on a date, Harry paused for a moment, then turned to Michael and asked:
"Michael, have you finished your homework?"
"Are you kidding? The holiday just started. Of course, I haven't finished."
Michael pressed the power button, quickly turned back, sat cross-legged beside Harry, and picked up the game controller.
"Should we... be writing our essays too?" Harry shifted uncomfortably, a little anxious.
"Don't even compare yourself to Wade!" Michael said nonchalantly. "I've noticed for a long time—if you always try to keep up with Wade, you'll work yourself to death! Don't worry, homework always gets done. The holiday is so short, if you don't have a good time, how can you face yourself?"
"Hmm... you have a point."
Harry settled down, feeling relieved, and made up his mind—
Just one more game... I'll play games tonight, but I definitely have to start my homework tomorrow morning...
...
A black fortress stood on the island. The sea wind swept the waves, angrily crashing against the black reefs.
A layer of ice had formed around the small island. The waves constantly broke them apart, pulling them into the sea, only to push them back a moment later.
The ice chunks and rocks collided, making a clattering sound, as if some monster was chewing and swallowing food.
The narrow cell was now as cold as a giant ice block, with thick frost covering the walls and floor. The ragged old man was covered only by a thin blanket, yet he held several newspapers in his hands.
Not far ahead, a huge mirror leaned against the wall. The mirror didn't reflect the old man's image but rather a scene of a group of people searching on an almost leveled island.
"The British Ministry of Magic rescued dozens of children abducted by a Muggle Organization? The Hogwarts train was attacked by Ministry Dementors? And Muggles have even developed weapons to restrict wizards?"
The old man asked mockingly, his voice hoarse.
"That's what the news says." The man in the black cloak, hanging outside the cell, replied respectfully. "Our people didn't find anything useful when they arrived on the island... but it's said that Dumbledore once directly encountered that weapon."
"And the result?" The old man asked with interest.
"As you can see... the island has become a ruin," the man said. "The owner of that island also committed suicide before the Aurors arrived."
"Hahahahaha..."
Grindelwald in the cell burst into laughter, even coughing a few times from laughing so hard.
"Poor Dumbledore... I guess the British Ministry of Magic didn't take his so-called 'weapon' seriously at all."
"Yes," the man said. "Fudge is busy preparing for the Quidditch World Cup in six months. He believes this matter is over, and that the 'weapon' is just Dumbledore's alarmist talk."
Grindelwald couldn't help but laugh again. "I really want to see Dumbledore's expression then—watching the fools he chose constantly exceed his expectations, Dumbledore's expression must be quite something."
The person outside the window remained silent. He knew it was best not to speak at this moment, otherwise, whether he agreed or disagreed, he might anger the old man inside.
Only after the laughter subsided did the man speak. "As you once predicted, Muggle development is becoming increasingly rapid, and the threat to the Wizarding World is growing... Sir, we need you to lead us again."
"Lead?" Grindelwald curved his lips. "Do you think I'm still the same Grindelwald I once was? Look at me, boy. Any child who hasn't even graduated can defeat me now. You want me to lead you?"
"The Wizarding World still fears you, sir. We are still waiting for you."
The man's voice became slightly agitated. "The signs of danger have begun to appear, but wizards remain indifferent!"
"This world is slow, foolish, bloated, and lazy! Only when the crisis of death falls upon them will they know to struggle, but by then, it will be too late!"
"Sir, what the Wizarding World needs now is not an invincible warrior, but a wise man! Someone who can see through the future and guide the way! Your Magical Power may not be what it once was, but your wisdom will not fade with time!"
"Please lead us once more, Mr. Grindelwald—for the greater good! For the survival of the Wizarding World! To establish our ideal nation! We need you, we beg you! Sir..."
The man's face turned red with excitement, his body trembling. He desperately clutched the small window of the cell, pleading loudly, as if he wanted to tear his heart out.
After a long moment, he only heard the person inside say, "Stop shouting... it's too loud!"
His fervent expression suddenly froze, his face abruptly turning pale. His strong body swayed in the cold wind, as if he might fall from the high tower at any moment.
Then, he heard Grindelwald say—
"Give me your Wand."
...
Bournemouth, suburbs, hospital.
The wheels of the trolley creaked. Hearing the sound, a small figure quickly hid behind a nearby door, leaving only one calm eye to observe the movements outside.
Two men dressed as orderlies pushed the trolley down the corridor. They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn't notice anything else.
Mabel, hidden behind the door, breathed a sigh of relief. She took out the apple she had just stolen from the ward, opened her mouth wide, and ate it in a few bites.
"Crunch, crunch..."
Faint sounds drifted over, and a caretaker couldn't help but look back.
"What's wrong?" another blond man asked him.
"I think I heard rats..."
The blond man listened carefully too, then frowned and said, "Where? You must have misheard."
"No, I really heard it..." the first man insisted, trying to pull the blond man back to check.
"Alright, don't make trouble! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go back and rest!" The blond man swallowed nervously, a lingering fear in his heart. He looked at the gloomy sky outside and said fearfully, "If we're late going back and accidentally run into a Dementor, we're done for..."
"Yeah..." The first man shivered, his voice trembling as he said, "What if we get caught... will Dementors give a kiss to escapees like us?"
"Possibly, I remember someone suggesting that in the newspaper before... The Ministry of Magic must be crazy to send out over a hundred Dementors!"
"Those monsters might be nearby... Haven't you noticed? It hasn't been sunny lately!"
"Of course I've noticed! How about... how about we escape from here? Escape this city..."
"Are you kidding me! Have you forgotten that even the Hogwarts Express has been checked by those guys? What if we run into them halfway?"
These two were Lockhart and Garr Trocar, who had escaped from Azkaban and been on the run ever since.
After threatening each other for a bit, they continued to work, looking miserable and sighing.
Not far behind them, a black mist swiftly and silently darted onto the roof, then slowly drifted along, following the two men.
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