"I'll pack my bags right now. Please wait a moment."
"No, child, there's no rush!" Seeing Jerry rise to pack, Dumbledore waved him back. "I'll come for you tomorrow. I still need to visit the French Ministry of Magic today!"
Jerry's heart sank. Could it be because of Blackwing?
Grindelwald had once told Jerry that Dumbledore knew some of what had happened in France. But Grindelwald had taken a page from his old flame's book: he loved speaking in riddles and refused to say exactly what Dumbledore knew!
"Is it because of what happened recently at the French Ministry of Magic?" Jerry finally asked, testing the waters.
"Yes! I heard the French Ministry of Magic was attacked by dark wizards. Since I was coming to France anyway, Fudge asked me to look into it for him."
Jerry watched him closely, trying to catch something unusual in his voice or expression.
But the old man's expression never changed. He seemed genuinely unaware of it.
"All right..." Jerry murmured helplessly. Trying to outwit two century-old schemers was far too hard!
"What is it, Jerry? Is something else bothering you?"
"No. I just didn't expect British wizards to care so much about what happens in France," Jerry replied lightly, neatly covering his tracks.
"Britain has always paid close attention to France. Especially when it comes to something like this!"
The August night was hot and still. Stars crowded the sky, the moon shone bright and clear, and a breeze carried the faint scent of flowers and greenery.
After Dumbledore left, Jerry went to French Wizarding Street to buy Hermione a gift. Then he returned to his room and wrote Pheobe a farewell letter.
Sure enough, three replies arrived over the course of the afternoon, asking when Jerry would come back to France.