"Drink. Keep drinking..."
"Has he fallen yet?"
"No. He looks completely fine. His face isn't even red."
"Galloping Merlin... is he using a spell?"
"He hasn't touched his wand, and we haven't sensed any magic, have we?"
"...That's terrifying."
Morin set down his empty glass and looked at Professor Flitwick and the other person across from him, speechless.
"I understand the concern," he said calmly. "But do you have to say all of that right in front of me?"
"Heh... all true anyway..." Professor Flitwick muttered, his voice slow and slurred, as if he were talking in his sleep. His raised hand wobbled in the air. "Come on... keep drinking. I can still go."
Morin didn't stop him.
Two seconds later, Flitwick's hand dropped straight down and smacked the corner of the chair. He didn't react at all.
Completely out.
Otherwise, he would have been hopping around, clutching his hand and yelling.
"Sigh." Morin shook his head. "Not a single one can take a hit."
He waved calmly at the pub owner.
"Some more of the other stuff, please."
Around them, the patrons who hadn't joined in all inhaled sharply.
Drinking heavily without getting drunk was frightening.
Mixing drinks and still not getting drunk was horrifying.
At that moment, a shared conclusion formed in their minds.
Never sit at a table with Morin.
The door opened.
Two middle-aged wizards entered.
One had reddish-brown, medium-length hair and deep blue eyes. The other had pure white hair swept back and obsidian-black eyes. Both carried a calm, restrained presence. Both were strikingly handsome, each in their own way.
Under the gaze of the entire pub, they walked over.
The reddish-brown-haired man lifted the unconscious Professor Flitwick aside. The white-haired man moved the other person away, then studied Morin for a moment before sitting down uninvited.
"This is the one I mentioned," the reddish-brown-haired man said. "Are we sure this is the right place to talk?"
"I was thinking my place," Morin replied, shifting empty bottles aside and reaching for more. "But this works too. The Three Broomsticks is perfect."
He smiled faintly.
"No one notices what happens here. No one notices who comes in. And no one notices conversations."
"Subtle magic," the white-haired man said, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he nodded. "I am Grindelwald."
"I am Morin."
Morin turned to the other man.
"Headmaster Dumbledore. This is the first time I've seen you like this."
"In all these years," Dumbledore smiled, "it's also the first time I've seen myself like this."
He paused.
"Mr. Morin. If I may ask-when will this transformation end?"
"When the body reaches its absolute peak," Morin replied. He then looked at Grindelwald. "You've already felt it, haven't you? Hard to refuse."
"What is the price?" Grindelwald asked calmly.
"Don't kill the innocent. Don't kill indiscriminately," Morin said directly. "Headmaster Dumbledore has already explained that."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And... have we met before?"
"...Have we?" Grindelwald frowned.
"Yes." Morin narrowed his eyes. "The more I look at you, the more familiar you seem. Hold on."
A photograph appeared in his hand.
Grindelwald took it.
He froze.
Dumbledore leaned over, looked, then paused.
"That looks just like you, Gellert."
"Nonsense. I recognize my own face," Grindelwald said flatly, flipping the photo back and forth. "What I want to know is when I ever met him."
He raised his hand.
"Your wand."
"Here."
Grindelwald took the Elder Wand and tapped the photograph.
Nothing.
He tried several spells. Revelio among them.
Still nothing.
"...It's real."
"Probably a coincidence," Morin said casually.
He chose not to mention a certain bewildered pirate captain in another world who was currently reapplying his makeup. Nor did he explain that the photo was a selfie taken after forcibly removing that makeup during his first visit.
Johnny Depp had played Jack Sparrow.
Johnny Depp had also played Gellert Grindelwald.
Different faces. Same presence.
Only someone who had experienced it personally would understand how strange it felt.
That was precisely why Morin enjoyed it.
"What I'm more curious about," he said, smoothly changing the topic, "isn't the Elder Wand supposed to have conditions? Only obeying its master, or the one who defeats them?"
"We were evenly matched," Dumbledore said. "The world calls it a legendary duel. In truth... it was Gellert's choice."
"Self-imprisonment?" Morin looked at Grindelwald.
"I realized I had made mistakes," Grindelwald said calmly. "I needed time to think. I could have left whenever I wished-but to what end? Another battle without purpose?"
"And now?" Morin asked.
"Not yet," Grindelwald replied. "But Albus believes he has found a direction. I intend to listen."
The two met each other's gaze.
Grindelwald did not finish the thought.
In truth, it was Dumbledore's words about letting go of the past that had moved him most. A vague reform without details or direction would never have been enough.
"I placed the golem you provided in the cell," Dumbledore continued. "With additional disguises. No one knows Gellert has left. For now, we have an advantage."
"Actually, four of us," Morin corrected. "Harry is still weak, but indispensable."
"Harry?" Grindelwald glanced at Dumbledore. "The Boy Who Lived?"
"Yes."
"We still don't know exactly what happened that night," Dumbledore said. "But one thing is certain. The spell Voldemort attempted backfired. He failed to kill Harry and was reduced to near powerlessness."
"Such a man is compared to me?" Grindelwald frowned. "And commands a following comparable to my own? Albus, did you ever truly pursue him?"
"I was already old," Dumbledore said quietly. "I could defeat him. I could not kill him. And I had to consider what came after."
He sighed.
"Though his ideas were inferior to yours, his talent-especially in the Dark Arts-was undeniable. Combined with the Death Eaters... it was a catastrophe."
"I've heard enough," Grindelwald said coldly. "Pure-blood supremacy. And he isn't even pure-blood himself. A man who abuses power will inevitably be destroyed by it."
"Still," Morin said, sliding two glasses toward them, "Voldemort can be useful. If handled properly, reform will proceed smoothly."
He leaned back.
"No rush. The early stages will only be skirmishes. Mr. Grindelwald can rest. Or do whatever he wishes."
He paused.
"Drink?"
"You have an impressive tolerance," Grindelwald noted, glancing at the pile of bottles.
"I can't really get drunk," Morin said.
"We'll see," Grindelwald raised his glass. "No magic."
"Old people shouldn't drink too much..." Dumbledore stopped himself midway and picked up a bottle. "Saying that with this face feels wrong. Let's go."
...
Midway through.
"What... what professor are you at Hogwarts now?" Grindelwald slurred.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"And you?" he asked Dumbledore.
"Headmaster."
"...Any vacancies?" Grindelwald threw an arm around Dumbledore's shoulders. "Get me one. I want to see the school you've been running."
"I didn't found it," Dumbledore said helplessly. "I merely manage it."
"Charms?" Grindelwald suggested.
"Professor Flitwick already has that," Dumbledore glanced at the unconscious man. "And he's excellent."
If Ravenclaw's Head woke up to find his Charms professor replaced, the scene would be... memorable.
"Then Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"That's taken. Twice," Dumbledore's expression darkened. "You are the first Dark Lord. Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"The one who understands Dark Arts best is the strongest Light wizard," Grindelwald said, drinking again. "The one who understands defense best is naturally a Dark wizard."
"I think that makes sense," Morin nodded.
After all, it had already happened once.
Professor Quirrell.
Worst teacher of the year.
Also Voldemort.
Perhaps Dumbledore had rejected Tom not because he was unqualified-but because he couldn't set an example.
Morin asked.
Dumbledore replied, "I believed he couldn't be a role model. I hoped I was wrong. I wasn't."
"If everything were predictable," Morin said, finishing his bottle, "life would be boring."
He stood.
"That's enough. Mr. Grindelwald shouldn't be exposed yet. We could force reform, the three of us-but the cost would be very different."
"I wouldn't want that," Dumbledore said.
"Neither would I," Morin nodded. "Check, please."
...
"Mmm... eh?"
Professor Flitwick slowly woke up.
His head throbbed. He clutched it instinctively and looked around.
"My... office?"
He noticed a note beneath his elbow.
Left by Morin.
"...Damn it," Flitwick muttered, rubbing his temples. "So he really wasn't lying."
Find 50+ Advance chapters
And for More Fan fiction
👇
👇
[Support link: pat reon.com/RioRaRyu]
--------------------More Bonus Chapters!!!!
Every 300 power stones = 1 Bonus Chapter