"?"
"No, wait, no, I—I mean to say—"
Even though Hermione had always prided herself on being "bold and audacious," her face flushed instantly when those words involuntarily slipped out of her mouth. The girl jumped up like a startled brown rabbit, causing Crookshanks, who had just curled up in her arms for a nap, to fall to the ground. Offended, he decided to fake a minor illness.
William was also somewhat stunned by this unexpected "straight punch." He squinted slightly, starting to ponder... One seven makes seven, two sevens are forty-eight, Women's Day on March eighth...
It wasn't until the girl blushingly said good night and darted back to her room that William returned to normal. He finally let out a slow sigh, "Damn, underage..."
Fourth year, fifteen years old, because she just had her birthday in September, no matter how roughly you calculate the extra years she lived using the Time Turner, she's barely seventeen. This age would definitely attract a certain big hand named River Crab—"But I'm technically underage too—"
William suddenly self-amusingly muttered, an old soul who had lived close to thirty years in two lifetimes chose to act young.
And, even if he didn't attract the River Crab, he had other matters to concern himself with tonight—
William leaned against the sofa, pulling the angrily ginger-colored big cat into his arms, and stroked its soft fur. The boy sighed.
Wondering if that guy will...
...
"You're here, why... who are you?"
The crescent moon hung silently in mid-air, the dim moonlight couldn't even illuminate the lake surface. The dull yellow kerosene lamp quietly hung from the mast's waist. The figure in black robes stood under the light, but from his stance, it was evident the nervous emotion emanating from him—finally, a sound from behind made him turn around, but immediately, looking at the small stature emerging in the darkness, he stared blankly with wide eyes.
"I am Dobby!"
The house-elf in a well-fitting black suit proudly squeaked out.
"Dob—no, no, that's not right, where did you come from?"
Karkaroff instinctively looked behind Dobby, but there was nothing but darkness, empty.
"Dobby climbed up from over there—"
Dobby stretched out his long arm, pointing to the rope net behind him, honestly saying.
"What rope... wait, are you a Hogwarts Little Elf?"
It took a moment for Karkaroff to realize, finally, after a pause, the man stabilized his mind and stared at Dobby's bulb-like eyes, his brows slightly furrowing, and asked.
"No, Dobby serves another master—"
Dobby shook his head, his enormous ears slightly swaying. Upon saying that, it shrank itself, "Master invites you." Next moment, Dobby was about to reach out to grab the man in front.
"Wait! Tell me first, who is your master?!"
Karkaroff took a deep breath, regaining his wizardly dignity, and sternly demanded.
"Dobby can't say, sir, but you should come with me; master says he'll only wait ten minutes for you."
Dobby continued stretching out his hand but didn't reach forward this time, only kept his hand extended. "Master says only he can save you, and only he is willing to save you—of course, that requires you to have any desire to survive, sir." Dobby tried to speak roughy, but the naturally sharp voice of an elf made those words sound somewhat awkward.
Karkaroff stared, his beard slightly trembling. Instinctively, he glanced around again, and after a while, finally took a deep breath and extended his hand, placing it on Dobby's palm.
"Snap—"
After a sound like a belt slapping the air, the figure of a man and an elf disappeared from the spot, leaving only the dim yellow kerosene lamp gently swaying with the evening breeze.
Next moment, a pair of scarlet eyes emerged from the darkness—
...
This is Hogwarts Castle...
Karkaroff frowned, his gaze swiftly scanning the surroundings, the dim, narrow passageway, gray-blue old stone bricks—he had wandered around the castle trying to find that person in recent days, but reality often falls short of expectations, today he finally couldn't hold back, so this Little Elf's master was—
"Please follow me, sir."
Dobby held a torch, the blue bellflower flame gently flickering as he walked.
Where are we headed?
Though Karkaroff wanted to loudly demand, he held back. House-elves would never disclose what their master wanted to keep secret, even to death; this was a recognized fact in the Wizarding World—though that was just an excuse, he simply didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of a house-elf.
They advanced along the passageway, soon, after passing approximately the thirty-ninth torch on the wall, a black wood door appeared in front of them. Dobby lightly knocked on the door, and after receiving a low response, he pulled open the door, then stepped aside, gesturing for Karkaroff to enter—
"Of course I know, move aside!"
Karkaroff took a deep breath, casting a disdainful glance at Dobby, and reached out to take the torch the latter handed over. Then he hesitantly walked into the room.
Avoiding the screen used to block the view, Karkaroff immediately scanned the surroundings— a very standard secret chamber, dark, narrow, with a damp atmosphere pervading the air. "Just hang the torch on the wall; although darkness adds to the villain's aura, I still prefer to see some light—" a hoarse voice came from the darkness within the room.
Upon hearing this, Karkaroff obediently hung the torch on the slot in the wall. In the faint blue firelight, he looked towards the center of the room.
A figure not much different in stature from him, clad in a black robe, sat behind a table. There was a chair opposite the table—his seat, Karkaroff could be sure.
So, Karkaroff sat down, took a deep breath, and looked towards the silhouette— but, it was evident he would be disappointed, a pitch-black mist coiled beneath the man's hood. Karkaroff could sense a gaze sweeping over him repeatedly, yet he couldn't see the other's eyes.
This unilateral scrutiny made Karkaroff feel a discomfort instinctively, but he dared not show it. He could only pant heavily and silently stare at the other—
"Didn't expect to meet like this."
Finally, the hoarse voice sounded again, and only then did Karkaroff release the breath he was holding in, nervously licking his dry lips, "I didn't expect this either, Richard first…"
"How can you be sure I'm him?"
Karkaroff hadn't yet uttered the prepared flattery when he was rudely interrupted by the other, and there seemed to be a playful tone in the hoarse voice.
"You..."
Karkaroff hesitated, seeming somewhat dazed. Only then did he instinctively look at the pair of hands resting on the table—a pair of hands full of wrinkles—Not that person?! Karkaroff instinctively stood up, his eyes bulging slightly, mouth open yet seemingly forgetting what to say.
"Our first meeting… No, perhaps you have a bit of an impression of me?"
The mist on the man's face dispersed, revealing a pale and aged face. He smiled, his face full of wrinkles slightly spreading, "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Percival Graves, the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts. Of course, you being Norwegian—would be more familiar with another of my names—"
"What, what?"
Karkaroff felt suffocated, staring at those dual-colored pupils of blue and white, his mouth agape.
(According to the original setting, both eyes seem blue, but I feel Depp's heterochromia looks cooler. Probably an initial bias, still prefer this version; Mikkelsen's face always makes me feel Grindelwald would devour people… Pity Depp was going through a divorce lawsuit back then... So why exactly did his wife defecate on the bed and blame a not-yet-fully-grown teacup dog???)
(This part doesn't cost money, don't say I'm just filling space.)
"...Grindelwald?"
Karkaroff said with a trembling voice, not knowing why he suddenly thought of this name, but sometimes memories are wholly irrational.
"Ah, I'm delighted, there are still young people who recognize me."
Grindelwald smiled, as if genuinely pleased, but Karkaroff distinctly saw not a trace of humor in his eyes.
Why would this person appear here? Isn't this Hogwarts? Dumbledore's territory? Yet he could appear right under Dumbledore's nose... Karkaroff's mind began spinning wildly, his eyes widening, feeling he might have uncovered a blind spot, perhaps Dumbledore indeed—
"Yes, Albus released me from Nimangard—"
Seeming to notice Karkaroff's thoughts, Grindelwald suddenly said.
"Why, why? What he did violates the International Wizarding Statute—"
Karkaroff stammered, breathing the damp air heavily, as though he might suffer oxygen toxicity the next moment.
"That's something you shouldn't ask me; I can't see through those blue eyes of Albus—oh, just put it here, Dobby."
"Yes, sir."
Dobby placed the tray he held on the table, and with a wave of his fingers, magic guided three cups of tea to the edges in front of the two people. Then, he withdrew the tray and left.
Karkaroff stared wide-eyed at the two cups of tea before him, "Why..."
"Since the tea is ready, as a basic courtesy, doesn't the guest plan to show up?"
Just as Karkaroff was confused, he suddenly heard Grindelwald say.
"Wait, what guest? I clearly..."
"You've been discovered, truly perceptive—Mr. Grindelwald."
A third hoarse voice suddenly echoed in the dark room, Karkaroff's eyes widened, as he distinctly heard the sound coming from himself. The man instinctively wanted to shout, but the next moment, he felt his limbs seemed to depart from his control. Then, he saw what seemed to be a mirror appearing behind Grindelwald—
He watched in the mirror as a second face slowly grew from his neck…