By the window of the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore's eyes gleamed thoughtfully behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Building his reputation?"
Muttering to himself, Dumbledore reached out to summon Fawkes, intending to send him to fetch the young fellow.
An old friend had just sent him some Da Hong Pao tea from the East today, but he happened to have no idea how to brew it.
Hmm, some things had to be settled eventually. Between the sweet-toothed camp and the bitter-loving camp, did one side have to die?
Dumbledore excelled at patient persuasion, so...
Fawkes flew onto his shoulder. Dumbledore was just about to speak when a silver button inside his robes began to grow hot.
Dumbledore's aged face darkened.
"Gellert!"
Yes, that "frail, sickly invalid" Grindelwald was summoning him again.
He had only just finished cleaning up that old fellow's mess and placating more than a dozen Ministries of Magic.
He had barely returned to Hogwarts and was just getting ready to sort out school affairs.
Had Grindelwald used some sort of magic to monitor him, knowing the moment he had time to spare?
Dumbledore sighed, rubbed his brow, and went over to a full-length mirror. He changed into a magnificent moon-white robe and tidied his thick white beard.
Only after turning himself into a sprightly old gentleman did he approach a cabinet in satisfaction, open it, and take out some "health supplements" that his old friends had also sent him.
Apparently, these supplements replenished calcium and strengthened the body, although he had no idea what calcium was...
Sometimes, that was how things worked. People only valued you when they needed you.
Those old friends worried that, at his advanced age, he might no longer be able to keep Grindelwald in check or protect the wizarding world, so they sent him every