Don't Look for Me in the Later Matches

West Midlands, outskirts of Cokeworth.

The river flowed along its winding course. The weeds growing thick along the banks were strangely coloured, as though scorched by fire, with scarcely any green in sight.

The heavily polluted water was like slime. Whenever it reached a bend, it slowly crawled up the bank, then sluggishly receded into the river, churning up clusters of tiny, filthy bubbles.

A huge chimney towered in the distance, resembling a grim tombstone, as though mourning this land.

After nightfall, the place was silent. The clearest sound was the river's whimpering, like that of a dying man.

A filthy, scrawny fox slipped down the riverbank. It skirted around a trainer filled with river mud and found food amid the weeds: several pieces of fish and chips smeared with mud.

Before the fox could make a move, a sudden soft sound startled it. It hurried back to where it had been, crouching low and watching its surroundings with utmost caution.

Dumbledore's figure appeared in the fox's eyes. He stepped out of that small patch of distortion and looked towards the distant chimney.

"Looks like I remembered correctly..." he murmured. "The range of the Anti-Apparition Magic is large enough. Perhaps he has already noticed me..."

He raised his head. Atop the steep slope stood a long row of dilapidated railings, separating the cobbled path from the river.

Dumbledore followed the cobbled path around a corner and continued through the dim alleys.

The houses on either side of the street had been built exactly alike, as though what they had originally intended to construct here was an enormous maze.

The best landmarks were probably the battered streetlamps along the way. Some struggled to give off light, some flickered constantly, and others had already broken down, capable only of emitting a faint