"Wow, it's really lively—"
Watching the Fire Dragon crash through the wall and enter the arena, Gellert Grindelwald contentedly stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth—except his somewhat empty mouth still couldn't manage to chew, so he had to let the popcorn soften with saliva and slowly swallow it.
But he still seemed very happy.
Because the one who wasn't happy right now wasn't him.
"...Something's not quite right."
Dumbledore had already stood up from his seat, his gaze fixed intently on the figure that appeared in the center of the arena. His blue pupils were filled with confusion—as if the figure seemed familiar, but every time he looked carefully, that sense of familiarity slowly faded away.
Until it completely vanished.
"Then why don't you sit down and have a taste? I had them add triple caramel on purpose—"
Grindelwald nonchalantly offered the popcorn bucket towards Dumbledore—proving his point true, the triple caramel had turned the popcorn into a dark brown mass. "This Muggle snack actually tastes quite good."
"..."
For once, Dumbledore refused the sweet treat almost at his lips, saying nothing and just staring at Grindelwald.
"Hey, you promised me you'd stay with me in Austria until school starts and satisfy my reasonable requests—"
Seeing Dumbledore's lack of reaction, the bald old man suddenly blurted out, his abruptly raised voice attracting quite a few glances.
"...Alright, just stop shouting."
Having seen this trick before, Dumbledore quickly surrendered and obediently sat back down—watching the circus performance and eating popcorn. He really couldn't find anything unreasonable in these activities, except for the circus's location and identity—
Dumbledore was certain this group had a bunch of Ministry of Magic's banned creatures, and he even planned to notify the Ministry right after the performance to raid the place.
But now...
Hiss...a flash of inspiration crossed his mind, wait, looking at the increasingly familiar Fire Dragon, Dumbledore seemed to suddenly know the identity of that figure.
...It's a small world.
So, is this the turf of that group of poachers?
...
Oh ho, I've been recognized.
Seemingly standing motionless, but actually layering all sorts of hidden identity buffs on himself, William's actions paused slightly. He only had to sense that sharp gaze from his peripheral vision to understand that the skepticism in Dumbledore's eyes had turned to realization; his heavily patched disguise had fallen off.
Tch...
It's such a ** small world.
How could it be that I always run into these two even when having a meal, or a drink, or even coming for a heist?
Realizing his cover was blown, William couldn't help but sigh. He originally intended to just take out all visible poachers here and then capture their boss to see if he could get information about quick Animagus transformation. But it seemed this overly rough plan needed refining—
Hmm...
"Stupefy!"
Just as William contemplated how to gently send these people to their demise without ruining his image in Dumbledore's eyes—lest the old man refuse to hire him as Professor later—a scarlet charm suddenly rushed at his face. In the next instant, the dozen or so figures riding Abraxans in the central arena started to move.
The almost five-meter-tall Winged Horse suddenly opened its wings, its light blue feathers instantly shrouding the sky.
Then, countless charms, accompanied by shouts from the wizards atop the Winged Horses, flew towards William. But before William could react, the colossal creature lying behind him suddenly moved—
"Roar—"
Crimson Dragon Flame surged upward, scattering the once neat formation of Abraxans. The light blue feathers caught fire, and the pained shrieks of the Winged Horses echoed as they fell, burning like angels judged for betraying heaven.
Norbert unfurled its jet-black wings, enveloping William's figure within, its orange-yellow eyes looking threateningly around, and beside it, nearly twenty figures cloaked in black appeared out of nowhere.
"Capture it—"
Seeing their obstructive Winged Horses fail, Tarik, who had been closely monitoring the battle below, shouted loudly. As his words fell, the surrounding shadows moved, sequence after sequence of charms smashing toward the Fire Dragon, but before they could touch those black wings, they were blocked halfway by a deep purple light shield.
"A bit exaggerated."
Watching the Iron Armor Spell that protected both the man and the dragon, Grindelwald nodded in consent. "Though there's an element of theatrics, that Iron Armor Spell is indeed beautiful...why are you looking at me? I'm about to be a teacher; can't I practice critiquing beforehand?"
"...Of course you can."
Dumbledore sighed somewhat helplessly but couldn't resist saying in the end, "Actually, you're a Muggle Studies Class professor; you don't need to comment on these."
"Tch."
"Tch..."
William, sheltered by Norbert's wings, similarly couldn't help but click his tongue. Knowing Dumbledore was watching made him a bit self-conscious about starting a fight. A chained Killing Curse was too sensational, while other spells were too slow for clearing out minor enemies. Mandrake...
If he dared bring out a Mandrake now, he'd be in the Wizengamot tomorrow...
So, is there a simple, effective, and convenient spell?
Yes, there is, buddy, there is—
It was as if William suddenly remembered something, his charm hand slightly lifted, and then, pitch-black clouds suddenly spread over the entire arena's sky. At the sight of those clouds, almost everyone's ears were filled with a muffled thunder.
"Atmospheric Charm?"
"Boom—"
The next moment, everyone's face instantly turned pale, as blinding Thunder poured out of the clouds, engulfing all the wizards within the arena. The raging electric light stimulated everyone's pupils, and all spectators felt a prickling sensation as if their hair stood on end—
Except for Grindelwald.
Because he had put on the sunglasses he bought while shopping earlier.
"Damn, this isn't a performance..."
The old man finally realized, albeit belatedly, as he felt the life energies in the stage's center dwindling—he instinctively turned to look at Dumbledore, his tone laced with slight hesitation, "...Shall we ring up the Ministry of Magic?"
(To a reader) Did you receive flowers on Valentine's Day? No? (hands over a handful of green onions)