They were back.
Grindelwald took a deep breath, feeling the thin magic in the air around her. Compared to ten thousand years ago, the magic of this era was practically a desert. But the legendary power surging within her meant she no longer needed to rely on external magic—she herself was a moving source of magic.
They were back.
Grindelwald took a deep breath, feeling the thin magic in the air around her. Compared to ten thousand years ago, the magic of this era was practically a desert. But the legendary power surging within her meant she no longer needed to rely on external magic—she herself was a moving source of magic.
Dumbledore felt it as well. He raised his head, looking at the sparse stars in the sky, the corner of his lips lifting slightly.
"We're back," he said softly.
Ian carefully put away the Time Machine, then looked at the two old men. His youthful face now bore a trace of exhaustion, but even more, the relief of having fulfilled a mission. "How does it feel?" he asked. "Have you adapted to the legendary power?"
Dumbledore felt the power surging within him and nodded. "It will take time, but... it's already different."
Grindelwald said nothing. She merely raised a hand and lightly snapped her fingers. A cluster of black Fiendfyre danced at her fingertips, purer and deeper than before, as though it contained all the darkness of the universe. She gently clenched her hand, and the flames vanished.
"It'll do," she said.
Ian smiled. Turning toward the tavern, he said, "Come on, let's sit inside. We've been through a whole night—no, ten thousand years—we should get some rest." Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, then followed him.
The tavern door swung open, and the brass bell above it