"...So, is this actually trouble you've brought upon yourself?"
"What nonsense is that?! What are you talking about?!"
William jumped up, slapping the table hard, and shouted, "How can you slander someone so recklessly?"
"What slander? But you did say yourself that you wiped out half of the poacher camps in North Africa—and even raided that vault."
Grindelwald immediately said.
William's face turned red, veins bulging on his forehead, he argued, "That doesn't count as a raid, I hardly touched any corpses! Besides, I thought nobody wanted that vault?" He then uttered more puzzling words, like "A gentleman remains steadfast in poverty" and such, making Grindelwald burst into laughter.
"Alright, enough arguing."
Dumbledore took off his glasses, rubbed his brow, it was too noisy. The second event of the Eight-Team Tournament wrapped up rather well, with the four decryption stone tablets in the central tower naturally assigned to the four champions who entered the maze, while the champion from the Magic Institute, who hadn't even left the initial room, was left to run ineffective alongside—
Everyone seemed to have subconsciously forgotten a certain Quidditch star who was knocked out by the river, a result of William's charm effect—he needed to ensure the third event proceeded smoothly, Voldemort was still warily holed up in his lair, and to lure him out, things needed to continue developing—
Also, broadcasting the tournament really raked in money, though it truly accounted for only a small part of the reason (certainly).
Now, it was the evening after the tournament ended, the zero-generation Dark Lord, the first-generation Dark Lord, and the first-generation White Lord were gathered in the Hogwarts Headmaster's Office having a meeting—
To discuss how to deal with the second-generation Dark Lord...
"Ahem."
William nodded and stopped joking, "Now it's completely confirmed, Voldemort and this... wizard from Africa, let's call him Black Ghost, have formed an alliance—although with Voldemort's insane personality and complete lack of integrity, cooperating seems rather baffling—but there's no helping it, that's how madmen are, we can't fathom his thought process."
"His goal..."
"Revival, clearly, that type of possession might cause Voldemort some pain or discomfort, so he urgently craves revival—this likely requires Harry's involvement."
"...Why are you two looking at me? Even though I was once a black wizard, I haven't studied that kind of magic, okay?"
Grindelwald crossed his arms, evidently this former Dark Lord was unaware of any resurrection rituals involving Harry Potter.
"Sigh..."
So, the three former pinnacle combatants of the wizarding world sat there facing each other, momentarily at a loss—Dark Arts is a vast domain, and with Horcruxes around, the choices for Voldemort, who retained his soul, were numerous, after all, he wouldn't die, he was like an indestructible cockroach, occasionally crawling out to bother someone.
No one can guarantee they've mastered all magic in the world, and Dumbledore was no exception.
"Then there's the issue of the mole—regarding why my name ended up in the Goblet of Fire, we've found out, Alastor Moody, at the time, a ghost was hiding within him using a method we previously couldn't detect—of course, now it's no longer a problem, I've studied it and determined making a dedicated Sneakoscope serves as a warning, it can be hung by the entrance of the Great Hall."
William waved his hand, bypassing the topic of Voldemort's revival, "But aside from that, the mole Voldemort planted within the castle clearly hasn't been caught, the headmaster of Durmstrang..."
"Karkaroff? He was indeed a former Death Eater, who turned traitor to save himself by betraying other Death Eaters."
Dumbledore frowned, since they were having a "behind closed doors chat," the elder's demeanor was naturally not as... gentle as in public; his light blue eyes revealed a very clear disdain, evidently, he wasn't fond of this capricious former Death Eater.
"I must say, William, if it's Karkaroff, the likelihood of him betraying Voldemort definitely exceeds that of obedience, unless..."
"Unless, someone is keeping an eye on him."
William caught the implication in Dumbledore's unfinished sentence, confidently nodding, "Not just him—Voldemort is familiar with our tournament rules, aware of our procedures, he even knows that once the champions enter the tower beneath the Black Lake, I can't quickly aid Harry, while also allowing that 'Black Ghost' to block me—"
"Can you truly not assist quickly?"
Suddenly, Grindelwald asked curiously.
"Fake, I can go wherever I want."
William decisively shook his head, he certainly wouldn't leave behind precautions, "But 'I can't provide sufficient protection once the champions enter the tower,' is what I say to others."
"Who did you tell?"
"The range isn't wide, and they've mostly been excluded from suspicion—in the event's conclusion, I took the temporarily made Sneakoscope and waved it around them, there was no reaction."
"Could it be your technique is poor?"
"I want to hit you."
William said expressionlessly.
"Ahem… so, Albus, what do you plan to do?"
Grindelwald coughed twice, awkwardly changing the subject — sometimes it's like this, when you're under someone else's roof, you have to lower your head.
"...Let's see."
Dumbledore shook his head, ultimately not providing a guideline — of course, this didn't affect William much. He certainly couldn't just listen to Dumbledore in everything, and now he was polite in front of him because he was still the headmaster. Once he steps down one day, you'll see —
Alright, just kidding, Dumbledore is actually a good friend.
Just as William tactfully prepared to leave and give the space to the other two, the office door suddenly knocked.
"Dumbledore, that person —"
Snape hurriedly walked in from outside, his black cloak gleaming under the warm light.
...
The Gryffindor Common Room celebration banquet lasted until midnight before it ended awkwardly.
This time, Professor McGonagall uncharacteristically did not come out to stop it. Perhaps he too was happy that Harry got the second place in the second task — yes, second again, Koldovstoretz's Alexander took first place this time, and Cedric's score was not high, which resulted in, although Harry was second both times, if you add up the points from both matches, he became first place —
Thus, the entire Gryffindor fell into euphoria, they gathered together to celebrate until the silver crescent hung on the treetops —
"Hey, Harry, take this, keep it safe —"
Fred, who had drunk himself drunk on butterbeer, squeezed beside Harry — though drinking butterbeer, which tasted almost like cream soda, Harry didn't really believe it could make people drunk. Of course, maybe Fred was pretending, but he indeed achieved his goal after getting himself drunk — Angelina agreed to be his dance partner.
"What is this?"
Harry looked at the small bottle in his hand, somewhat puzzled at the light pink liquid inside.
"Love potion."
Hermione's voice came from the side.
"Yes, you won't find this anywhere else —"
Fred blinked happily, "The effect lasts for 24 hours, regardless of your target — you know what I mean, it doesn't matter who it is. If you're unsure, trust me, this can give you a hand — hey, Harry! I don't want to see our Gryffindor champion go to the ball all alone!"
"...Using love potions is against school rules."
Hermione's voice held obvious annoyance, clearly she didn't like the means Fred was suggesting, "Does Senior William know about this? You took his investment to develop... this kind of thing?" she glared, sitting up from the sofa.
"Hey, keep your voice down, Granger, there's another bottle here!"
Fred exaggeratedly opened his mouth wide, "Don't be so rigid, maybe you should take it," he said, putting the small bottle in Hermione's hand, "you could feed it to — I think you know, this is really high-grade stuff. We purified it for half a month, it could even make an elephant fall in love with you —"
"..."
Harry could swear he saw an emotion named 'moved' on Hermione's face —
"No! I would never do such a thing!"
Hermione said righteously, while putting the bottle into her pocket, she sat back on the sofa, covering her flushed face with a book.
Fred laughed and left, leaving Harry sitting on the sofa, staring at the love potion in his hand, slightly dazed.
"How about I help you give it to Ginny?"
After a while, Hermione seemed to snap out of her daydreaming state, her face back to normal. She looked at Harry, who seemed to be pondering something, and asked.
"Of course — no, don't tease me, Hermione, I was thinking about something else."
Harry sighed, putting the love potion on the table rather helplessly.
"What? Tell me, you seemed preoccupied at the party —"
Hermione knew it was her turn to step in now. She was used to playing the role of a confidante, even needing to get familiar with this business — she hadn't given up on establishing a little elf rights protection front.
"I... saw Voldemort again."
Harry looked around. Not many people were left in the common room now, and most didn't pay attention to him.
"When?"
Hermione subconsciously widened her eyes — is things so serious? Could you wait a bit? I want to get some popcorn.