magic sacrifice

"That's Ben... it was placed on the estate a long time ago... I—"

Grindelwald and Dumbledore exchanged glances.

"Enough." The former said abruptly, snapping his fingers straight away, and a respectful house-elf with big eyes popped up in front of him, and responded with a high-pitched voice ("Willing to serve you!").

"Lead him to the guest room." Grindelwald ordered briefly.

The gilded bookcase was lying crookedly on the desk, Dumbledore flipped through a few pages, and quickly shifted his attention.He took off the half-moon glasses a long time ago and put them by his hand. A small silver sculpture of a falcon flapped its wings around it, which was extremely delicate.

"Not wearing it?" Grindelwald asked.

"The reading has dropped too much." Dumbledore unaccustomedly pinched the bridge of his nose that had recovered to its original state, with the light of wisdom of a centenarian lurking in his blue eyes, with slight annoyance, "What clue did you find? "

"The notebook in his memory has the same aura as that boy's."

Dumbledore dropped his hand.

The silver eagle got off the platform, spun around in mid-air, and landed on his shoulder with its icy claws.Grindelwald flicked it away with a slender finger, looked away, and knocked on the table nonchalantly.

Two cups of black tea appeared steaming with curling heat.

"Sit," he said, "we all have enough time for stories."

"I guess you've heard of Horcruxes." Dumbledore absently circled an arc with his ten fingers, and then stroked the exquisite rim, "As you guessed, a student of mine used to do whatever it takes to pursue immortality. He succeeded, and at the same time split his soul into several pieces."

"Unbelievable. How many slices?"

It was as if they were just debating how many lemon slices to add.

"Seven," said Dumbledore curtly, "assuming I'm not mistaken. That's what he had planned."

The blond former Demon Dynasty leaned back on the chair, directing the silver spoon to stir the mellow black tea, raising his eyebrows lazily.

"Regardless of the astonishing figure. You say—originally?"

"Harry was an accident." Dumbledore rubbed his eyebrows and sighed, his auburn hair curled up on his shoulders.

"It is also one of the preparation demon kings."

"That notebook—"

"One of them, without a doubt. And a good explanation of why Astraea went mad and let Demeter throw us out, mutilated souls, she took it, miracle .How many are left?"

"The Hufflepuff Cup hidden in Gringotts, the Resurrection Stone, and the snake he kept."

"Excellent taste."

"Indeed far better than you."

******

Viola Grindelwald is an excellent Grindelwald.

She's beautiful, strong, reasonably smart, and most importantly has one of the best qualities most people lack, self-knowledge.

And now, a future head of an English family of pure-bloods stood before her, and if she was cunning enough and loved the fight, she should show it.

"Mr. Malfoy." She nodded at the house elf who brought the boy, and said almost coldly, "I hope you are not so dissatisfied with the hospitality at Grindelwald Manor."

Draco's face was extremely pale, his sanity was on the verge of collapsing, and his lips were trembling. "How long do I—have to stay here?"

It depends on what those two mean.

The author has something to say:

sleepy sleepy sleepy

This time it will be less and see you the day after tomorrow (.?_?)/~~~

GG’s phrase “excellent taste” is ironic, and so is AD