"Madman!"
Grigoriovich instinctively muttered after spreading open the latest newspaper and seeing the front-page headline.
Someone else had died.
Every few days lately, Grigoriovich would see news of yet another murder in the headlines.
All signs pointed to one person.
The infamous Voldemort.
The Ministries of Magic of every country had collectively turned blind, not daring to provoke that notorious fiend.
After all, even Dumbledore had been taken down.
After the massacres occurred one after another, Grigoriovich could not help feeling immensely grateful that he had agreed to Dumbledore's request and chosen to believe that young Master of Prophecy's seemingly ridiculous warning.
"My life now isn't bad either."
Grigoriovich picked up the wand he had just finished from the table. After carefully polishing it with a clean cloth, he cautiously placed it in a long box.
Though he did not feel as free as before, he could still do what he enjoyed.
Grigoriovich knew very well why The Dark Lord was looking for him. He also knew that if he fell into The Dark Lord's hands, he would certainly die.
Losing a little freedom was nothing, especially when a house-elf took care of his daily needs.
"Mr. Grigoriovich, Mr. Anderson will come to visit you at ten o'clock," the house-elf reported.
"What a rare occasion. He actually has time to visit an old man like me." Grigoriovich placed the wand box into the wooden cabinet beside him, which held the wands he had made while hiding in the sanctuary.
Just as he shut the cabinet door, emerald-green flames suddenly burst up in the fireplace, and a figure stepped out of them.
The young wizard lightly patted his cloak, shaking off the dust, then swept a finger at the ashes on the floor, sending a breeze to whirl them back into