While Antonio was busy extracting information from a Death Eater, Albus Dumbledore was walking through a scarcely populated street. Rarely one or two people would cross paths with him in his long walk.
Albus Dumbledore was in an isolated and thinly inhabited settlent in Wizarding Britain. The settlent was far away from the usual population centres of the country.
Most of the residents had already retired to their hos. Since it was not a bustling city, most shops and establishnts had also closed for the night. Only a rare few remained open, and even fewer people were walking through the streets.
The temperature had plumted quite low in the night, and the air was bitterly chilly. Dumbledore was dressed in a thick cloak, and his old body appeared tired and fragile in the darkness in the cold. The cold air was biting his bones. He was not using a heating charm, and every ti a wisp of cold air brushed past him, he shivered from the chill.
A couple of days had passed since the funeral of the two students had been held on Hogwarts grounds. Two students whose deaths had pushed Albus Dumbledore to make the montous and hugely significant decision and declaration to kill Death Eaters.
Dumbledore let out a weary sigh as a small puff of mist escaped his mouth into the cold air. He understood well that what he had declared was significant and equally controversial.
Undoubtedly, a public proclamation that he would commit killings, even if the targets were going to be the Death Eaters, was not sothing entirely in harmony with the law of the land.
It was only because it was he, 'Albus Dumbledore' who had made that declaration and because he had made it after such a tragic attack, that the Ministry had not co knocking on his door to question him. Maybe they had assud that he had spoken in an emotional outburst. And he had spoken in emotion but every word he had spoken was true.
The declaration he had made, the decision he had undertaken, was monuntal. As he had stated, he had long held and deeply rooted opinions, ideas, and an unwavering thought process. He had always been strongly opinionated about forgiveness and second chances.
He would not shy away from admitting, at least to himself if not to the public, that he was a man more inclined towards inaction than action. His instinct had always been to wait and watch and then, if possible, manipulate the situation to extract so benefit. Manipulation had long been his greatest tool, and he was a master at wielding it.
Due to certain events in his life, Dumbledore had beco quite a hesitant man. He had lost much of his conviction and determination to do anything. He wanted to let things flow naturally and give only little nudges to them.
Undoubtedly, he also held strong opinions and ideas and a vision about what the future of Wizarding Britain should look like. How wizarding culture needed to progress. How it needed to shed centuries old rules, regulations, traditions, and dogmas. Just because sothing had been practiced for centuries did not an it needed to be practiced in the present. The world around them had evolved, yet the wizarding world had remained stagnant. It needed to evolve as well.
Now, Dumbledore would not claim that he had taken no action or made no moves to achieve his vision of the greater good. He had managed to introduce many changes, and many outdated customs had been abolished because he had taken the lead.
But whatever he had accomplished, he had done so through manipulation and subtle plotting. As stated, he was a man of inaction and hesitation. He lacked the conviction and courage to make large, decisive moves.
He had an image in Wizarding Britain of soone who opposed pure blood culture and tradition but what he publicly said in debates was nothing compared to the radical ideas he actually held in his mind. He let out very little in the open.
And similarly, he had hoped that he could manipulate Voldemort's rise and movents to further his own goals. To set the wizarding Britain on the path he wanted.
Despite all the power at his fingertips, he still relied on manipulation and plotting. He did not want his wand to do the talking.
But all his beliefs and his carefully crafted thought process had co crashing down.
The mont his eyes had landed on the two corpses of the students, dressed in their Hogwarts uniforms, sothing had snapped inside him. A fundantal shift had occurred within. A few harsh realisations struck him at once. That death eaters did not really deserve second chances.
He understood, with painful clarity, how his hesitation and inaction had caused far more harm than good.
In that mont, he shed all the hesitation that had held him captive for so long. If certain events in his past had shaped him into a man of restraint and caution, this event had reshaped him again. It had restored the conviction and determination he once possessed.
And now, Dumbledore was going to be a man of action. A man who would make his own moves to achieve what he desired. And that included his vision for Wizarding Britain.
After his long walk, Dumbledore finally reached the front door of a house. It was a small house and like every other house on the street, it was wrapped in silence and darkness.
Dumbledore raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door. When there was no response for a few monts, he knocked again. He was about to knock a third ti when he heard the faint sound of a tallic hatch being unbolted.
A head peeked through the small gap in the door, the security chain still holding it in place.
Before the man could even recognise the visitor standing before him, Dumbledore flicked his hand. The Elder Wand appeared instantly in his grasp, and in the next mont, its tip was pressed firmly against the man's throat. A simple spell from this range would be more than enough to slice the man's neck open.
"Dumble… Dumbledore…" the man stamred as recognition dawned on him.
With the Elder Wand at his throat and Albus Dumbledore himself standing in front of him, he could do little else.
"Ah," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "I am feeling a little cold out here. I hope you do not mind making a quick stop in this ho."
Before the man could respond, Dumbledore pushed the wand harder against his neck. With no other choice, the man unhooked the chain, and Dumbledore stepped inside.
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