The wind and snow still howled outside the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore stood beside the cold threshold, his expression graver than ever.
Jerry, meanwhile, leaned casually against the wall, so relaxed he looked almost lazy.
"Jerry, do you think... what I've done is right?" Dumbledore's voice was low, each word heavy on his heart.
"Hmm... sure, it's fine," Jerry replied absently, with a hint of perfunctory cheer. "The Order of the Phoenix. Quite the lively group..."
Dumbledore said nothing. Through his half-moon spectacles, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Jerry, his gaze heavy as lead.
"All right, all right." At last, Jerry grew uncomfortable under that stare. He raised a hand and scratched his head. "Honestly, I've never understood it. Voldemort? How much of a threat is he? You're not alone. You have Grindelwald."
"And the Death Eaters? They're just a rabble of scheming opportunists. How many of them are truly loyal to that poor wretch Voldemort?"
Jerry suddenly leaned forward, a dangerously enticing smile on his face. "Want me to tell you where every Horcrux is hidden... right now?"
"Jerry!" Dumbledore's voice rose sharply.
"You've been consumed by this rapidly growing power." What Dumbledore had feared most had finally come to pass. "You've lost your way... My boy, you're lost in the fog of your own power!"
"Lost?" Jerry looked as though he had heard the most absurd joke in the world. He straightened abruptly. Every trace of laziness vanished from his eyes, replaced by a burning, almost obsessive resolve.
Jerry spoke as though proclaiming a divine decree:
"My goal is the one beacon that can pierce this world's fog! It's so clear, so bright! I will never lose my way!"
Dumbledore left.
His figure disappeared into the wind and snow, carrying a deep, indescribable disappointment. He knew he