As he stepped out of the kitchen, Grindelwald had put on a black suede wool coat, with a rotating pin fastened to his lapel. He took a pie from the tray, its crust gleaming because it was coated in frosting, and set it on the dining table. The sweet fragrance it gave off made everyone lean slightly toward the plate. A stack of very clean napkins flew over, one coming to rest in front of each person.
"Everyone, allow me to interrupt for a moment. After talking for so long, you must be hungry. Hunger affects the mood, and reason restrains impulse. Please try this minced fish pie I made first." In the sunlight drifting in through the window, Grindelwald's short white hair and neatly trimmed beard glinted faintly, and his voice carried a soothing force. "It's made from the plumpest carp in the Black Lake and eel meat caught today by Muggle fishermen from Plymouth, Devon, minced together. I combined it with salmon and cooked egg, added slices of date... and to accommodate Albus's taste in this blend of sweet and savory, I brushed on an extra layer of frosting to wrap it, and covered the bottom with a thick coating of cream."
Knives, forks, and small plates flew in front of each person. Dumbledore rose with a smile, took hold of a carving knife, and, with a strong sense of being the host, began cutting the fish pie for the guests.
Algy Longbottom gripped his plate. A moment ago, the atmosphere had still been tense, yet now Grindelwald was suddenly entertaining them so warmly, as if everyone really had come for a gathering, and the contrast left him somewhat unable to adjust. To Flint, however, the atmosphere had gone from tense to terrifying. Just now, he had been