Dumbledore arrived in a hurry.
Seven years.
After seven long years, he finally saw Garfield again.
At first glance, Garfield felt that Dumbledore had aged noticeably.
His temples were streaked with gray, and the effortless elegance of his younger days had been replaced by the restrained authority of someone long accustomed to standing above others.
More mature.
Also… much older.
Scamander Manor was lively as ever. Not only people filled the house, but also a menagerie of strange, temperamental magical creatures.
What surprised Garfield most was the presence of a litter of unicorns.
These horned troublemakers only liked girls. Garfield curled his paw and beckoned at them.
Not even a glance.
○`Д′○
Annoying.
Just you wait. One day I'll pluck the hair from your tails and turn you into a group of bald horses.
Aside from the unicorns, there were familiar faces as well, his old friend Niffler, and his entire family.
Niffler usually stayed in Newt's pocket unless he was home. He knew very well that Scamander Manor was not a place for him to showcase his 'remarkable talents.'
The moment they met…
Niffler sprang out of Newt's pocket and waved enthusiastically. "Boss! Boss!"
Garfield lifted his head from Queenie's arms and smiled warmly.
"Yo. How've you been all these years?"
Niffler puffed out his chest proudly and pointed toward a corner of the manor. "I've reproduced for four generations already."
"I'm a grandfather now."
Sniff.
Click.
A bolt from the blue.
Crack.
As a single orange cat who hadn't even started eating meat yet, Garfield instantly felt an insurmountable mountain and an unfathomable abyss open before him.
The mountain was called the Himalayas.
The abyss was the Mariana Trench. Garfield froze mid-wave.
Completely petrified.
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, his eyes twinkling with knowing amusement, and stepped forward to greet Garfield, Queenie, and Tina.
Understanding that serious matters awaited, Newt excused himself with his wife, child, and sister-in-law after exchanging brief greetings.
The room gradually emptied.
Only the true participants of this meeting remained.
Albus Dumbledore.
And Garfield Pendragon.
"Long time no see, Garfield." Dumbledore said gently.
Garfield nodded. "Yes. It has been a long time. You've matured a great deal, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore smiled wryly and brushed the gray at his temples. "Matured… or simply no longer young."
Garfield glanced at him thoughtfully. "Be honest, how old are you now?"
Dumbledore paused, then recalled calmly. "I was born in 1881."
"It was now 1934… Over fifty years old."
Garfield studied him again and couldn't help but marvel.
So this is the wizarding world. Powerful magic really does come with a long lifespan.
Even at fifty, Dumbledore looked no older than someone in his early thirties, though his hair had already begun to gray.
Seven years ago, Garfield felt Dumbledore had only crossed into adulthood.
"Honestly." Garfield said, "You don't look older than thirty-five. It seems magic truly affects lifespan."
Dumbledore nodded.
"That's correct. Powerful wizards, unless killed by accident, tend to live very long lives. Death usually arrives quietly only after a certain age."
At the mention of death, Garfield's expression stiffened for a fraction of a second.
A vivid image of a certain overheated woman flashed through his mind.
Dumbledore noticed the subtle change immediately.
"Garfield," He asked gently, "You seem… uncomfortable when death is mentioned. Have you discovered something?"
"Or understood something?"
Garfield sighed and scratched his head. "You don't need to know. It wouldn't do you any good."
Dumbledore frowned slightly.
"Are you in trouble?" His curiosity was obvious.
Garfield spread his front paws helplessly.
"Actually," he said calmly, "You already know about this matter. The one in charge of Death, your Death has… changed their mind."
"…Oh." This time, it was Dumbledore who scratched his head.
He rubbed hard enough that a few strands of silver hair fell loose, then let out a long breath.
"Garfield." Dumbledore said slowly, "You really shouldn't tell ordinary wizards things like this."
"Our hearts are not strong enough for that kind of stimulation."
Garfield shrugged. "I can't help it. Compared to them, my entire existence isn't worth a single finger."
"Look on the bright side, Old Bee, at least when you die, you can say hello properly. I'll even put in a good word for you. Two beautiful Death ladies to escort you personally."
Dumbledore flushed instantly."…You know I don't like jokes like that."
"Oh." Garfield froze for a moment, then suddenly understood.
Right.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald… that kind of role.
"Sorry, Old Bee," Garfield said sincerely. "That one's on me."
Dumbledore shook his head, his expression softening. "It's fine. Most people wouldn't have noticed."
Garfield reached out and patted his arm.
"You know." He said quietly, "This road can still be turned back. McGonagall has been waiting for you for a very long time."
"…Can we not talk about that?" Dumbledore turned his face away.
"Alright." Garfield replied easily. "Then let's talk business."
He looked directly at Dumbledore. "How do you plan to deal with Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore sighed deeply.
"There's nothing inherently wrong with his new organizational ideology. He claims to be saving Europe's suffering masses, and to be fair, many are suffering."
"But I know him too well. Grindelwald will never give up searching for the Elder Wand… or the Resurrection Stone."
"I know." Garfield said calmly. "He came to see me two days ago. I told him clearly, I don't care about those things."
Dumbledore stiffened.
That was not what he wanted to hear.
He had come hoping Garfield would restrain Grindelwald, curb his excesses, maybe even force him to abandon some of his more dangerous fantasies.
"Garfield." Dumbledore said urgently, "For the sake of peace in the European wizarding world, you can't simply ignore this."
Garfield shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to save the working class."
"Look at Europe economic collapse, factories shut down, millions unemployed. Families can't even afford food. Do you want honest people to be forced into crime just to survive?"
He continued evenly. "Compared to that, revolution is a relatively mild exit."
"That still doesn't justify letting Grindelwald continue unchecked," Dumbledore argued. "If this goes on, a tragic war will come."
Garfield raised a paw and pointed toward the European continent.
"It's not going to come." He said quietly. "The prelude has already begun."
"What you should be doing now, Dumbledore, isn't stopping the war."
"It's preparing for it."
"…!" Dumbledore shot to his feet, shock written across his face.
"That's… that's impossible."
"Everything has cause and effect," Garfield said calmly. "Since the end of the First World War, a new one has been gestating beneath the surface."
"What's happening now is merely the detonation of long-buried contradictions."
He met Dumbledore's eyes. "The world order is about to be rewritten."
Dumbledore stood there in silence.
A man who had devoted his life to preventing war… now being told it was inevitable.
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