Chapter 320: The Burning Room

When Gellert Grindelwald spoke, Wentworth couldn't help but mutter inwardly, Blimey, no wonder he was the first Dark Lord. But before Wentworth could say anything in response, a familiar voice rang out from behind the door—Albus Dumbledore's:

"Gellert, I heard what you just said! That's not what we agreed upon at the beginning!"

Grindelwald let out a cold chuckle. Slowly stepping out of his room, he replied:

"What a joke, Albus. Have you only just met me? I promised you that my student would help deal with Voldemort—rest assured, I won't go back on my word. But how I do it… that's not yours to dictate."

Sensing tension brewing between Grindelwald and Dumbledore, Wentworth wisely chose to stay put inside the room, refraining from getting involved.

Are you kidding me? If those two started dueling, even a stray curse could be the end of him!

At that moment, the sounds of their argument reached him again from outside:

"I'm taking him with me now—he's my student!" Dumbledore declared.

Grindelwald sneered in response. "Dumbledore, he's my grandson. Matters of the Grindelwald family are no business of an outsider like you!"

No sooner had Grindelwald spoken than the sound of an explosion shattered the air, followed by Dumbledore's furious voice:

"An outsider? Gellert—so that's what I've always been to you?"

Hearing this, Wentworth's ears perked up. He couldn't help but feel he was eavesdropping on something monumental. A burning curiosity ignited in his chest—an inner flame as fierce as the magical fire now flaring in the room.

Just as he was inching toward the door to sneak a better listen to the escalating drama outside, the clash of spells erupted beyond the walls. Dumbledore's voice cut through again:

"Your control over your spells isn't what it used to be, Gellert!"

To which Grindelwald shot back mockingly, "And here I thought you'd grown stronger over the years. Seems I was mistaken."

Their verbal sparring only intensified the magical duel raging outside. Even inside the room, the flames—Fiendfyre by the looks of it—suddenly blazed higher.

Wentworth clicked his tongue nervously. As he debated whether to sneak a peek at this legendary showdown between titans of the wizarding world, he made a shocking discovery—he couldn't leave!

The sudden surge of blue fire had sealed the small room, cutting off the exit completely.

And perhaps Dumbledore was right—Grindelwald's age had affected his precision. What had likely begun as a controlled source of magical light was now a rapidly growing inferno, threatening to consume the room entirely.

Panic set in.

Wentworth strained his ears but heard no more from outside. It was as if the two wizards had taken their battle elsewhere.

Now truly desperate, he shouted:

"Headmaster! Grandfather! Could you two please hold off on killing each other for a moment? The room's on fire! Maybe—just maybe—you could put it out first?!"

"Grandfather, this is the room you've lived in for decades—don't you feel even a little sentimental watching it burn down?!"

"Headmaster, I'm still in here! If you go back from this summer trip without your student, won't that be bad for Hogwarts' recruitment numbers?!"

Outside, Dumbledore and Grindelwald now stood side by side, not far from the flaming room. Dumbledore chuckled, clearly enjoying the outburst. Grindelwald, on the other hand, had a dark scowl on his face. Finally, he waved his hand irritably.

Instantly, the eerie blue flames inside the room flared again, causing Wentworth—who had edged toward the door—to leap back in fright.

He could only watch in horror as the flames crept inward, closing in from all sides, beginning to converge at the center.

Terrified, Wentworth nearly jumped out of his skin. He clenched his jaw, plucked a hair from his head, and used a levitation charm to float it across the top of the flames.

But the moment the strand of hair passed above the fire, a spark of blue flame shot up and incinerated it into ash.

"What in Merlin's name is this magic?!"

He couldn't help but shout.

Outside, Dumbledore, watching the burning room with mild concern, turned to Grindelwald and remarked:

"Gellert, don't you think this is a bit much? It's their first meeting—you might've considered a warmer welcome."

Grindelwald scoffed. "If he can't even handle this, he has no business returning to Hogwarts. He might as well find a quiet corner of the Muggle world to retire in."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Still, did you really have to test him with that spell right off the bat? You do remember this was the one that nearly destroyed Paris back in the day, don't you?"

Grindelwald remained unmoved. "I've deliberately toned down the power. This is no more than a tenth of what it was then. Don't worry—if it really becomes too much for him, we have plenty of time to pull him out. Worst case, a few minor burns."

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "You're a ruthless grandfather, Gellert."

Grindelwald curled his lip disdainfully. "Albus, I've long been dissatisfied with the mollycoddling atmosphere at Hogwarts. Remember this: indulging a child only harms them in the end."

Albus Dumbledore: "...???"

While the two old wizards chatted idly outside, inside the room, Wentworth was breaking out in a cold sweat as the fire drew closer and closer.

With no sign of rescue, he had no choice but to try saving himself.

But no matter what spells he cast, nothing could quench the magical flames.

He even tried Aguamenti—despite knowing full well that ordinary water was useless against cursed fire. Predictably, the result was disastrous: the flames spread even faster, fed by the moisture.

Finally, as the last remaining piece of furniture—a wooden bed—was consumed, and the flames left him with barely ten square feet to stand on, Wentworth exhaled deeply.

Then, clenching his jaw, he made a decision.

It was time to gamble.

-------

Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to my Patreon ——— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]