The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 533, Section 542: Believers in Deep Space 7

Waiting for Dumbledore to complete the handover.

Grindelwald then slowly stepped across the threshold he had not crossed for decades. The night breeze caressed his aged face and ruffled his silver hair.

"A nice night view."

He took a deep breath of the cold, free air outside, a complex and indescribable glint flashing in his heterochromatic eyes before returning to calm.

He walked up to Dumbledore, the two of them only a step apart.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Albus," Grindelwald said, his voice sounding somewhat ethereal in the night breeze.

Dumbledore didn't respond to his greeting, but simply said, "Let's go."

Two international Aurors immediately stepped forward, one on the left and one on the right, forming a subtle protective stance, even though they knew this posture might be meaningless to Grindelwald.

"Professor Dumbledore," one of the Aurors couldn't help but speak again, his tone serious, "I must remind you one last time of the responsibility you bear... I hope you fully understand what you are doing. In the event of any unforeseen circumstances—..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was obvious.

Dumbledore turned and glanced at him; in the moonlight, his profile appeared somewhat hard. "I know perfectly well."

The old man only said these three words and then said no more.

He looked at Grindelwald, who nodded slightly to indicate that he was ready.

Dumbledore put a hand on Grindelwald's shoulder, a gesture that made the two Aurors' eyelids twitch, but Dumbledore ignored it.

He simply gripped his wand with his other hand.

The Elder Wand.

"Hurry up," Dumbledore whispered.

Grindelwald did not resist; in fact, he cooperated by relaxing his body.

The next moment, the air exploded with a loud bang as if it had been violently compressed!

"Snapped!"

The two figures vanished from their spot in an instant, leaving only a slight magical fluctuation and a swirling current of air. Apparition, destination—London, England.

The two International Aurors stood motionless, staring at the empty rocky platform and the silent tower in the distance, remaining motionless for a long time. The night wind howled, carrying a biting chill.

"Crazy...really crazy..." an Auror murmured, shaking his head, his face filled with worry and lingering fear.

An unprecedented and special "parole".

Decades of taboos and balance are about to be broken. And the London night is silently awaiting the arrival of two legendary old men, and the mysterious "Raven" who has stirred everything up.

"Dumbledore must have his reasons..." another Auror tried to convince himself, but his tone was also full of uncertainty. "Hopefully... he's right."

Just then, the emergency communication badges on their chests vibrated rapidly and emitted a dark red light—this indicated a high-priority international request for assistance or an alert from the British Ministry of Magic.

"What's going on?" The two men's expressions changed.

Activate the badge immediately.

An anxious voice immediately entered their minds: "This is the Auror Command of the British Ministry of Magic! Emergency! A large-scale attack has occurred on a Muggle village in northern Yorkshire, suspected to be the work of Death Eaters. There are Muggle casualties, and there are obvious signs of Dark Magic! Requesting nearby Auror Office support for investigation and containment! Repeat..."

Fortunately, it wasn't Dumbledore who led Grindelwald to become the Dark Lord.

However, the news about Voldemort wasn't much better. More Death Eaters! The forces of the second Dark Lord, Voldemort, were becoming increasingly rampant in Britain, creating terror and chaos.

"Why."

The two Aurors exchanged a glance, both seeing the solemnity and a hint of helplessness in each other's eyes.

While Grindelwald's parole is certainly alarming, the current situation presents an equally pressing crisis where countless people are bleeding.

"Report to the British Ministry of Magic that we will proceed to provide assistance immediately," one of them said, pointing to the badge.

"But... what about Grindelwald..." the other person hesitated.

“With Dumbledore here… and our duty is to deal with the immediate threat.” The Auror who spoke first sighed. “Let’s go. This place… is no longer within our jurisdiction.”

They glanced once more in the direction where Dumbledore and Grindelwald had disappeared, and at the now-silent prison tower, then without further hesitation, they waved their wands.

"Slap! Slap!"

Two loud explosions followed, and they disappeared into the cold night, heading towards another battlefield filled with bloodshed and darkness.

Meanwhile, after overcoming the spatial barrier, in a quiet, deserted alley in London, the air distorted, and the figures of Dumbledore and Grindelwald appeared.

The air, characteristic of a London night, thick with moisture, smog, and the city's atmosphere, hit me, while the faint sounds of traffic and the city's hum drifted from afar. Outside the alley, streetlights cast a dim, yellowish glow, dappling the damp cobblestones.

Grindelwald steadied himself, took another deep breath, and this time, a genuine smile appeared on his face, though it seemed somewhat strange on his aged features. He looked around, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with curiosity, nostalgia, and a hunter's sharpness in the dim light.

"London..." he murmured, as if savoring the name, "It's been... a long time."

Dumbledore, meanwhile, vigilantly observed his surroundings to ensure their presence went unnoticed—he used powerful Muggle warding charms and concealment magic.

Then, the headmaster of Hogwarts looked at Grindelwald and asked in a low voice, "Now, where do we go? To that bridge with 'swaying shadows'?" Grindelwald looked away and turned to Dumbledore, his gaze becoming deep and focused again. He shook his head.

"No, Albus. Going directly to the bridge might be too conspicuous, and it might not even be where 'he' is right now." He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if sensing something.

"We need to... confirm the latest location of the 'bait' first."

"Bait?"

Dumbledore frowned.

"Jorgins, that lowly clerk at the Ministry of Magic." Grindelwald's lips curled into a calculating smile. "The Raven saved him and left some kind of... connection with him. Through him, we might be able to get closer, or at least, determine the Raven's approximate area of ​​activity." This was definitely not Grindelwald's original plan.

pity.

The old principal didn't know.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then offered no objection. This was indeed more efficient than blindly waiting in possible locations.

Do you know where he is?

"My 'little birds' can still occasionally send back some scattered messages." Grindelwald did not answer directly, but he was clearly aware of the situation. He raised his hand, his fingertips moving extremely slightly in the air, and a faint, almost imperceptible fluctuation of magical energy spread out.

It was as if some pre-set tracking magic was being activated.

"Come with me."

With that, he took the lead and walked out of the alley. His steps, though slightly slowed by his age, carried a peculiar rhythm and purpose. Dumbledore followed closely behind, and the two quickly blended into the crowds of the London night streets, like two ordinary elderly wizards heading in a specific direction.

As night deepened, the city lights spread out like stars.

On the other side...

The Death Eaters who escaped seemed destined to bring about a meeting between two generations of Dark Lords. On the other side of London, darkness was gathering and surging in another form.

The approximate exact location is southeast London.

at this time.

Deep within a forgotten industrial ruin, a complex network of underground pipe systems and the basements of abandoned factory buildings are cleverly expanded, transformed, and connected by powerful magic.

It has already formed a huge and hidden nest.

The air here was foul, thick with the smells of mildew, the pungent odor of residual potions, and a faint, unsettling lingering aura of dark magic. The walls of the surrounding ruined buildings were smeared with blasphemous symbols, and piles of magical materials of unknown origin and sealed dangerous items lay in the corners. Occasionally, figures in black robes and masks moved silently through the shadows, like strange fish swimming in the deep sea. This was an important stronghold for the Death Eaters in London, a place where some of their core members gathered, received orders, or engaged in "private entertainment."

As dusk fell, the magical barrier at the entrance to the stronghold distorted, and a figure stumbled in, almost falling. His black robes were disheveled and tattered, covered in dust and grime, and his once pale face was now bloodless, etched with shock and a deep-seated fear. This was the man.

It was that Death Eater who was scared off by Ian's single glance in the Muggle neighborhood and whose methods left him terrified.

"Master! I need to find my master!" He scrambled into the relatively spacious main hall, immediately attracting the attention of several of his companions who were wiping their wands or whispering among themselves.

"Roll?" A Death Eater wearing a silver mask and with a hoarse voice recognized him, his tone tinged with surprise and a hint of displeasure. "What's wrong with you? Did the mission fail? Where's that little bug from the Ministry of Magic named Joggins?"

The Death Eater known as Rol had no time to answer his colleague's questions. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils slightly dilated from lingering fear, and his gaze swept frantically across the hall. His voice was shrill and distorted with agitation and terror: "Master... I need to see the master! Immediately! There's... something very important! Something extremely important!"

His unusual state and the urgency in his words caused the Death Eaters in the hall to stop what they were doing and focus their attention on him, their eyes behind their masks filled with surprise and curiosity. Failure was not uncommon, but such a distraught state, demanding an immediate audience with the Dark Lord, was rare. "Master is 'handling' important matters," another tall, somber Death Eater spoke coldly. He was one of the temporary leaders here. "Not just any Tom, Dick, or Harry can disturb us at will. Tell me, what happened? Has Jorgins been captured? Or have we encountered an Auror ambush?"

"No...not an Auror!" Rol shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off those calm yet abyss-like eyes from his mind. "It's...it's something else! A...a monster! A terrible wizard!! He...he..."

He was incoherent, trying to describe it, but the immense fear left him speechless, and he could only repeatedly emphasize "horrible," "powerful," and "unbelievable."

It can only be said that the English vocabulary is indeed limited.

"A monster? A wizard?" The tall Death Eater scoffed, clearly unconvinced. "To scare you back like this, did Dumbledore personally intervene? Or has the Ministry of Magic secretly developed some new weapon?"

This was clearly impossible. Several suppressed snickers rang out from the surroundings, clearly believing that Luo Er was making excuses for his failure, or even that he was scared out of his wits.

"No! Not Dumbledore! I swear! More...more than that..." Raoul was on the verge of tears when he suddenly remembered something. He ripped open his shirt like a lifeline, revealing pale skin, and pointed to a spot above his heart. "Look! Look! The Dark Mark Master left isn't reacting! But in my soul...I can feel...something else...something he left behind!"

Upon hearing this, several Death Eaters became slightly more serious and approached to examine it. The Dark Mark was indeed quietly imprinted there, without burning or becoming visible despite encountering a powerful enemy or facing a life-threatening situation.

But the shock and fear that Rol's soul seemed not entirely fake.

"What exactly happened to you?" The tall Death Eater's voice became more serious. "Explain yourself clearly."

Raoul struggled to catch his breath, recounting the afternoon's events in broken, incoherent sentences: how he tracked Jorkins to the Muggle neighborhood, how a seemingly ordinary young, dark-haired wizard suddenly intervened just as he was about to succeed, how he effortlessly defused all the aftermath of the battle and protected the Muggles. He described how the wizard had almost frozen his magic with a single glance, rendering him unable to Apparate, how he had easily imprisoned space when Raoul tried to escape, and how he had left a cold "mark" and a threatening word in Raoul's soul… It sounded like a story from television. But it was true.

"He said that if he sees us behaving so brazenly in front of Muggles again, he will personally come to 'pay a visit' to his master! How audacious!" Roll almost screamed as he said this.

My whole body is shaking.

A brief silence fell over the hall. The other Death Eaters exchanged glances; although Rol's description sounded absurd, the fear that came from the depths of his soul was undeniable.

but.

In today's British magical world, who, apart from Dumbledore, would dare to speak so presumptuously as "paying respects to the master"?

"An unknown, powerful wizard? Operating in Muggle London? And meddling in our affairs?" The tall Death Eater mused, his fingers tapping the cold stone wall. "That's a new development. But even so, it's not worth alerting the Master immediately. The 'hunt' the Master is currently undertaking is of paramount importance..." "No! You don't understand!" Raoul interrupted him excitedly, grabbing the tall Death Eater's arm with astonishing strength. "He's not just powerful! He... he gives me a feeling... different! Different from the Master, different from Dumbledore! More... more ancient? Colder? I can't explain it!"

"But I can sense that his 'visit' is not just talk! He has the ability! We must warn our master! Immediately!" This guy is indeed extremely loyal.

The madness and despair in his eyes finally made the towering Death Eater waver. If Rol hadn't completely lost his mind or exaggerated, then this suddenly appearing unknown powerhouse might indeed warrant attention, especially during the sensitive period when his master was carrying out that crucial "prophecy" capture operation. Any unexpected variable could cause disruption.