"Dumbledore said I could seek your help! So here I am," Victor Wick chuckled.
Snape sneered, "You need my help for such a simple task? Utterly incompetent, just as I expected. I've always said Dumbledore would be better off hiring a troll; at least then he could have scrounged up some extra funding for the school."
Victor rubbed his ear. "Do you rinse with poison every morning, Potion Master? Your words are vile. No wonder people don't like you. I'm not asking you to do the job for me; I just want you to provide some potions. After all, providing supplies is a form of help. Besides, when have I ever taken anything from you for free?"
Snape's face turned livid the moment he heard the words "no wonder people don't like you."
In truth, Victor was right. Snape was not a likable man, and he knew it.
But... those words triggered a painful memory.
"No wonder people don't like you" translated in his mind to "No wonder Lily didn't love you!"
"Get out! Get out of my house this instant!" Snape's voice trembled with rage.
Victor found the reaction bizarre, but even the most patient man has his limits.
They were colleagues, and he was only following the headmaster's orders to seek help. Nine out of ten words this bastard spoke since he walked in were barbed; who could stand that?
So, Victor stood up abruptly! "Fine! I'm leaving!"
Victor was physically imposing, and while Snape's hand had already drifted toward his wand, he was momentarily taken aback by the volume of the response.
If you're going to leave, then leave. Why shout so loud? I thought you were about to attack me!
"Why are you reaching for your wand? You think I'd attack you? Hah! Let me tell you, Victor Wick's wand will never be pointed at one of his own!" Victor declared, marching toward the door. "And if you won't help, fine. Are you the only Potion Master in the world? I'm telling you, I could jump off that riverbank right now, drown in the muck, and be buried in trash before I'd take another drop of your potions!"
SLAM!
The poor wooden door was slammed shut by Victor once again.
Outside, Victor grumbled to himself, "If you don't want to help, just say so. Why does he have to be so nasty every single time?"
Just as he picked up his suitcase to leave...
Creeeak!
The door behind him swung open.
Victor turned to see a dark-faced Snape glaring intensely at him.
"What, you want to fight?"
Snape didn't answer. He tossed a bag at Victor, who caught it instinctively.
SLAM!
The door shut again.
Victor opened the bag to look.
It was stuffed with various bottles and jars—all top-quality Invigoration Drafts.
A faint smile played on Victor's face.
'The man is such a hypocrite...'
He pulled out a bottle of Invigoration Draft, popped the cork, took a large swig, and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Ah... so good! It's actually orange flavored! The man might have a poisonous tongue and a prickly personality, but his brewing is certainly top-notch."
CRASH!
A shattering sound came from inside the house.
It sounded like Snape had smashed something in his living room.
Victor quickly tucked away the bag and hurried out of Spinner's End.
"Quit while you're ahead... quit while you're ahead..."
...
Nurmengard.
Grindelwald sat on the steps outside his cell, a noticeable bruise on his face.
Dumbledore sat beside him, his brow furrowed.
"You really can't say?"
"No. You know how prophecies work... the less you know and the less you interfere, the better the chance of changing things. That madman thought he knew enough and tried to meddle, and look how he ended up," Grindelwald said languidly. "Only through subtle intervention and observing the flow of events can we find a chance for change."
"What if I don't care about the process and only want to know the outcome?"
"I can't tell you that either. If you knew the result, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from interfering... and then everything would go wrong."
"Fine... then I'll ask you only one thing."
"Ask."
"Will your so-called 'subtle intervention' cause any harm to Victor?"
"No... he is the one who will break the stalemate. I won't harm him. I only need him to act according to his own will to have a chance. That's all I can tell you."
Hearing this, Dumbledore stood up and headed for the stairs.
"Leaving already? Won't you stay a while longer? It's been decades since we last saw each other," Grindelwald called out.
"It would be better if we didn't see each other again," Dumbledore replied without looking back.
Grindelwald watched his retreating figure, looking somewhat forlorn.
"What a heartless man..."
...
Victor rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron, stashed his luggage, and changed into Muggle attire before stepping back into the Muggle world.
Looking at the busy traffic, he felt a sense of disorientation, as if he were in another life.
Victor took a deep breath of the familiar air, laced with car exhaust, and snapped his fingers.
VROOM!
In the distance, a two-door coupe roared over and screeched to a halt in front of him.
It was a brand-new 1991 Bentley Continental R, and its owner was Victor Wick.
As for how he had the money for such a luxury car... well, he had used some methods that were slightly questionable by wizarding standards, though perfectly legal in the Muggle world, to acquire more than his fair share of stock in some major corporations.
Suddenly, the shadowy figure in the driver's seat transformed into black Ancient Runes and dissipated.
Victor adjusted his tailor-made suit, opened the car door, and slid inside.
VROOM!
With the roar of the engine, the Bentley sped off toward Privet Drive.
...
Number Four, Privet Drive.
Little Harry was watching in despair as his Uncle Vernon nailed boards over every crack in the house.
For the past few days, someone had been trying to deliver letters to Harry through those gaps.
Miraculously, no one ever saw a mailman, yet the letters kept flowing in through the cracks.
However, whenever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia saw these letters, their faces turned pale.
They did everything they could to prevent Harry from receiving them. Now, Uncle Vernon was actually sealing up the house just to keep the letters out.
To Harry, it was completely nonsensical.
To this day, he still didn't know what the letters contained or who the sender was.
Suddenly, an explosive roar of an engine came from outside.
Uncle Vernon looked out the window in confusion, and his gaze was instantly fixed.
Pulling into Privet Drive was a gleaming new two-door luxury car. The prominent Bentley emblem on the hood flashed in the sunlight, stinging his eyes.