Snow was falling at Hogwarts, while the Muggle street where Brian lived lay beneath gloomy skies. There were no sparkling points of magical light here, nor snowballs that chased passersby on their own. Instead, last night's rain had frozen into a thin crust of ice along the roadside, and thick condensation covered the shop windows. It would not easily disperse before getting a glimpse of the sun.
The small newsstand on the corner had not opened today. A "Merry Christmas" sign hung on its outer iron gate, surrounded by twinkling colored lights. The rain had blurred the lettering and the little Christmas tree the owner had drawn by hand.
Several old posters of Christmas puddings and mince pies were pasted on the other side of the glass. Brian and Dumbledore-or part of him-successfully arrived here by teleportation. Yes, part of him.
Brian's head was buzzing, not only because of the violent turbulence during the teleportation, but also because of the sight before him. His left hand was empty. To avoid accidents, the Horcrux did not need to be present; it only needed to establish the destination. It would remain at Hogwarts after the teleportation ended. That much he had known beforehand.
But Albus Dumbledore, who should have appeared at his right hand, was now nothing but a head and a right hand. Dumbledore's head was about to fall out of the air, forcing Brian to tuck his right hand under his arm and catch his head with his free hand. Warm, and still alive? Or had it simply not had time to grow completely cold?
Had Dumbledore just abruptly gone to his death? After a buzz in his head, that unbelievable guess surfaced, leaving Brian dazed. Fortunately, he soon saw Dumbledore's head blink at him. Although the wink was neither