The sea breeze carried a warm, salty dampness as it swept past Douglas's coat.
He had left Newt Scamander's little estate.
Douglas was in a very good mood.
He had successfully handed Nagini, that hot potato-or rather, that highly valuable research subject-over to the world's foremost Magizoologist.
He could practically foresee the tenacity with which Newt, that outstanding representative of Hufflepuff, would plunge headfirst into the microscopic world of DNA and ribosomes.
That would be far more efficient than Douglas conducting the research himself.
Meanwhile, under the guidance of Snape, his specially assigned researcher, the Dark Lord Voldemort was also burying himself in Douglas's half-true, half-false notes, trying to find the key to godhood within the system.
Two of the most powerful minds: one studying science, the other studying mysticism.
Douglas had played the role of an academic broker to perfection, steering both of those foremost intellectual forces onto the tracks he had laid out.
As for himself, he could step away from all that demanding research to do something more important-or rather... more interesting.
He drew his wand and gave it a gentle wave.
Space twisted like a flushing toilet and swallowed him.
The next second, he stood in an unremarkable alley in Dorset County, dozens of miles away.
There was no trace of magic here, only the everyday scent of the Muggle world: the faint sour rot of rubbish bins.
The alley was narrow, its red-brick walls covered in graffiti on both sides.
The sunlight at around five in the afternoon was sliced into strips by the tall buildings, falling lazily across the uneven stone paving.
At the end of the alley stood a small shop.
It was a Chinese restaurant.
Its sign was not neon, but a hand-lettered wooden board bearing the words "Fawley Family Feast" in