Don't Come Looking for Me for the Matches After This

West Midlands, the outskirts of Cokeworth.

The river flowed through its winding channel, and the weeds growing thick along the bank were an eerie color, as if they had been scorched by fire, with hardly any green to be seen.

The heavily polluted river water was like mucus. When it reached a bend, it slowly crawled up the bank, then sluggishly retreated back into the river, stirring up clusters of fine, filthy foam.

A huge chimney towered in the distance, looking like a gloomy tombstone, as if mourning this land.

After nightfall, the place was very quiet. The clearest sound to be heard was the river, like the whimpering of someone on the verge of death.

A filthy, gaunt fox slipped down the riverbank. It went around a sneaker filled with river mud and found food in the weeds: a few pieces of fish and chips smeared with plenty of river sludge.

Before the fox could make its move, it was startled by a sudden soft pop. In panic, it retreated to where it had come from and crouched low, watching the situation with extreme vigilance.

Dumbledore's figure flashed in the fox's eyes. He stepped out of that small patch of distortion and looked toward the chimney in the distance.

"Looks like I remembered correctly..." he murmured. "The range of the anti-Disapparition magic is large enough. Perhaps he has already noticed me..."

He raised his head. Above the steep slope was a long row of old railings, separating the cobblestone path from the river.

Dumbledore followed the cobblestone path around into the street, moving through the dim alleys one after another.

The houses on both sides of the street were built exactly alike, as if what they had originally intended to build here was an enormous maze.

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