Sparks flew, dazzling and chaotic.
Invisible magic rippled through the air in shimmering circles.
Slow it down like a replay.
Leon swatted away Grindelwald's outstretched arm.
The spell ricocheted off the stadium's roof, bounced back to the ground, and shot straight into the West Ham United goalkeeper.
The keeper, mid-dive for a save, suddenly had the clear, innocent eyes of a baby.
The ball slammed into his arms, and he calmly walked it into his own goal.
A flicker of surprise passed through Grindelwald's mismatched eyes.
Leon flipped open the locket around his neck with one hand, yanking out a colorful, unidentifiable mess of something and gripping it tightly.
"Kreacher! Grab my waist!" he shouted, while his other hand pulled the bewildered boy sitting next to him.
As the goalkeeper's blunder cost the team the lead, the fans erupted into a deafening roar of fury that shook the stadium.
Leon squeezed the fluffy thing in his hand awake. "Tom! Apparate!"
Tom the parrot, roused from a deep sleep by the pain, squawked in confusion but obeyed, Apparating them toward the lower stands.
"Ow! That hurts! Hurts like hell! Leon's bullying Tom! Bully! Bully!" the colorful, ruffled parrot screeched, dragging Leon, who was dragging the stranger boy, with Kreacher the house-elf clinging to his waist.
This bizarre chain of beings vanished in an instant, reappearing a few meters away, crashing into the crowd.
Like a bowling ball tossed into a set of pins, they sent people sprawling in every direction.
Tom's experimental "Ball-Port Bird" function wasn't fully developed—Leon had to pinch him to make him jump a few meters forward.
Each pinch made Tom squawk louder, cursing Leon's cruelty, only to dutifully Apparate again, land, crash into more people, and spark new waves of shocked gasps.
From a distance, it looked like a stone skipping across water.
A chaotic blob flickered forward in jerky bursts, accompanied by rhythmic squawks.
The background music? The fans' ear-splitting curses. The setting? The scoreboard flipping from 1–0 to 1–1. Behind them? A stunned Dark Lord. In hand? A mouthy parrot driver who wouldn't shut up.
In this absurd escape, Leon lurched toward freedom, one glitchy hop at a time.
…
Sometimes, when you're at peak exasperation, you can't help but laugh.
As they fled, Tom's Apparition range grew shorter and shorter.
Leon made a snap decision to ditch the extra weight, releasing the stranger boy into some random section of the stands.
In the heat of the moment, Leon had thought Grindelwald was about to kill someone and grabbed the boy to save him.
Turns out, it was just an Obliviate spell.
Now, Grindelwald would only be after Leon—not some Muggle kid who hadn't been hit with the memory charm.
Besides, at this point, a single Obliviate wouldn't fix this mess.
The escape started abruptly and ended even faster.
Even when Tom's meager magic ran dry, they still hadn't escaped Grindelwald's Anti-Apparition jinx.
Leon clambered out of the crowd, stuffing the exhausted Tom back into the locket while still running, Kreacher dangling from his waist.
"Kreacher! The second you feel the Anti-Apparition jinx lift, Apparate us out! Got it?"
"Got it, Master Leon!" Kreacher shouted back, his wrinkled face scrunching up. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Master Leon, are you sure you're going the right way? That's not the exit. The sign says it's the players' tunnel. I don't think we can get out from the stands…"
Too late.
After the recent Hillsborough disaster, security had been beefed up at matches, with tighter crowd control.
This section of the stands was already a chaotic mess.
Leon, unable to find the right exit, got nabbed by a security guard rushing to restore order.
"Hey, kid! Stop running! Where's your guardian?"
The guard, a hulking man at least two meters tall, grabbed Leon by the collar and started dragging him back the way he came.
Leon laughed.
A mix of frustrated and incredulous laughter.
All this for a chase scene? Was this supposed to be a comedy?!
He was supposed to be the protagonist!
Not a slapstick comedian!
Channeling his anger into action, Leon kicked at the guard's knee and drove an elbow into his midsection.
"Argh—!!!"
The guard crumpled, clutching his stomach, his high-pitched wail drowning out even the crowd's noise.
Free at last, Leon didn't look back, sprinting in a new direction.
"Master Leon! Wrong way again! You're heading back!" Kreacher yelled, no longer hesitating to point it out.
Leon skidded to a stop, panting heavily, and switched directions again.
"Wrong! There's a barrier that way!"
"No, no!…"
"…"
"How about… Kreacher carries Master Leon instead?" Kreacher suggested timidly.
Leon ignored the offer. His stomach growled loudly.
He swiped a full hamburger from a passerby and plopped down on the ground.
Munching away, he contemplated the meaning of life.
Conclusion? Life had no meaning.
So why bother running?
Just to pad the word count?
…
Fine, even the greatest people have their flaws.
It wasn't like he was completely directionally challenged—just a bit less efficient at escaping.
Switching to Kreacher carrying him now was too late anyway.
With Kreacher's scrawny limbs, used to doing everything with magic and zero exercise, he'd probably collapse under Leon's weight. His escape efficiency might be even worse.
Should've kept that random boy—could've used him as a pack mule.
Oh well, due to unforeseen circumstances, this escape attempt was officially over.
Giving up quickly was just smart damage control.
Leon efficiently made peace with himself, finished the burger, and grabbed a full cup of cola, slurping it down.
Burp.
After a syrupy belch, he finally spotted Grindelwald strolling toward him, calm as ever.
Leon wasn't scared. He already had a plan.
"Honestly, it's been a long time—a long time—since anyone's surprised me like you have," Grindelwald said, his voice laced with complex emotions as he approached.
"Leon Green, I must say, you're truly unique."
"Oh? Unique?" Leon stood, hands on hips, tilting his chin up with a cheeky grin. "So, like what you see?"
"?"
For some reason, Grindelwald felt oddly outmatched.
This kid, barely taller than his waist, had just turned the tables with one strange comment, his aura suddenly towering eight meters high.
How was this fair? Nearly a century apart in age, and Grindelwald couldn't even follow the kid's words or tactics anymore?
Leon was the one who'd failed to escape twice, yet here he was, acting so smug, so unreasonably confident!
It was enough to make Grindelwald doubt himself.
"Uh… like it?" he ventured.
"Good, glad you're impressed. I'm pretty pleased with your performance, too. Not bad for a century-old legend—quality guaranteed," Leon said, nodding approvingly. He reached to pat Grindelwald's shoulder but found it too high.
After debating between chest, stomach, or thigh, Leon boldly went for the thigh, wrapping his arms around it.
With heartfelt emotion, he declared, "I, Leon Green, have wandered half my life, yearning for a true mentor. If you'll have me, sir, I'd be honored to call you Father!"