The wind off the Thames River carried damp mist, whipping up Dumbledore's long silver-white beard.
Back then, he had been a dashing gentleman in his prime. Now, he was an old man unsteady on his feet.
No wonder Tom had been willing to make an enemy of the Magical World in pursuit of immortality.
A lock of crescent-shaped white hair was blown flat against his cheekbone. He casually brushed it aside, but his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the sapphire atop his wand, the rhythm slow, as though blaming himself for losing Cypher and leading Tom astray.
Though frail with age, he was tall, so despite seeming to walk slowly, he was actually moving at a fair pace.
As he walked along the stone path, the hem of his dark Wizard Robe swept over the gravel, producing soft rustling sounds. Behind him, Professor McGonagall lightly lifted the corner of her deep green robe. Her small, catlike steps were hurried yet steady, and the owl feather on her hat trembled gently with each movement.
Their flamboyant attire drew no attention from anyone around them. Clearly, this was the effect of a Muggle-Repelling Charm.
"Albus, this place is far more prosperous than it was when we were young." Professor McGonagall lowered her voice slightly, but her gaze swept over the ships on the river as though drawn by a magnet. The white smoke belched by those steel creations made her frown instinctively, and her fingers quietly tightened around her robe hem until her knuckles turned pale.
Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead, he suddenly stopped and lightly tapped the ground with the tip of his wand. Everyone nearby unconsciously avoided the area.
Watching the stream of Muggles flowing across the distant bridge, the warmth in his eyes seemed washed away by the mist and