Chapter 323: The Norwegian Ridgeback

Rosier, Abernathy, and the others were overjoyed to once again hear news of Gellert Grindelwald. As Kirk officially graduated from Hogwarts and prepared to report to the British Ministry of Magic, Wentworth, meanwhile, stood in an empty room, utterly bewildered.

"So... I'm sleeping here tonight, Grandfather?"

Wentworth pointed to the dark stone floor beneath him, his face blank with confusion.

Grindelwald didn't reply. Instead, with a simple flick of his finger, one side of the room's stone wall exploded outward, sending chunks of rubble tumbling down.

As Wentworth watched in stunned silence, Grindelwald casually moved a few of the larger stones aside. Then, with a series of precise gestures, he tapped each stone one by one, and—before Wentworth's wide eyes—the jagged pieces transformed into a bed, a sofa, a desk, and various pieces of furniture.

When he finally snapped out of it, Wentworth could only mutter in awe, "Grandfather, your Transfiguration is way more practical than Professor McGonagall's!"

Just as he said goodnight and began to step into the room, Grindelwald grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back.

Grindelwald pointed to the other side of the corridor, toward a much larger room. "Your room is over there. This one's mine."

Before Wentworth could react, Grindelwald turned on his heel, stepped inside, and with a brisk "click," shut the door behind him.

The whole sequence was so fluid and deliberate that Wentworth just stood there, staring blankly at the closed door—until Grindelwald's voice came muffled through the wood.

"As a wizard, Transfiguration is the most basic branch of magic. If you can't even manage that, you deserve to sleep on the floor."

Just as Wentworth was about to lift a middle finger in the direction of the closed door, it suddenly swung open again.

Caught red-handed, Wentworth froze, his hand awkwardly raised mid-gesture, meeting the deadpan gaze of Grindelwald.

With a sharp "pop!", Wentworth felt the world lurch—and the next thing he knew, he had been magically hurled backward, crashing into the far wall of the larger room.

"You'll sleep here," came Grindelwald's voice from the hallway. "If you're capable, sleep in the bed. If not, the floor it is. Just a heads-up: it gets cold at night."

With that, he slammed his door shut again.

Groaning, Wentworth staggered to his feet. He took in his surroundings—three bare walls and…

Wait a minute—three?

Wentworth's eyes widened as he turned and saw that the outer wall had a gaping hole blown straight through it. Chilled wind whistled in, and he stood there in growing dismay.

By the time night fell and Wentworth had finally, painstakingly patched the wall back up, he was completely spent. He collapsed into a corner, planning to rest just for a moment—and promptly fell asleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a deafening crash jolted him awake.

Blearily opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was that very same wall—now smashed in again, with a hole even bigger than before.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

His frustration boiling over, Wentworth leapt up, yanked his wand from inside his robes, and scanned his surroundings.

But before he could rise fully or even draw his wand completely, a low whooshing noise sliced through the air.

WHACK!

Out of the shadows, a thick, scaly tail lashed toward him, catching him squarely in the side and hurling him across the room like a rag doll. He slammed into the wall once again.

Groaning, he struggled to his feet, mentally tallying: "How many times is that today? How many times have I been whipped into a wall?"

Before he could finish the count, a shadow loomed over him.

He looked up—and froze.

Towering above him stood a massive Norwegian Ridgeback, wings partially unfurled, a long tail curling behind it, and thick ropes of drool hanging from its jaws. The dragon stared down at him with unmistakable hostility.

Wentworth recoiled in shock—then paused as something clicked.

He had delivered a Norwegian Ridgeback to Gellert Grindelwald. He had found it at Hagrid's, hadn't he?

Tentatively, he called out, "Norbert? Is that you, Norbert?!"

To his surprise, the dragon's eyes flickered—an expression passed over them that almost seemed… wounded. Like a child who'd been terribly wronged.

Then, without warning, it turned. With a loud whoosh, its tail swept around toward Wentworth again.

This time, he was ready. He dodged, barely avoiding the full brunt of the blow—but the tip of the tail still grazed his cheek. He felt a sudden heat and stickiness on his face and realized: it had broken the skin.

"Norbert! Don't you remember me? I held you when you were little!"

He cried out as he finally managed to draw his wand.

At that moment, a familiar voice called from outside the room:

"Don't bother. His name is Nibelungen now."

Gellert Grindelwald stepped inside.

The furious dragon immediately recoiled at the sound of his voice. Within seconds, the once-menacing beast was trembling.

As Grindelwald approached, Nibelungen lowered his head meekly, letting Grindelwald run a hand along his scaled snout.

Relieved, Wentworth lowered his wand and walked over. He stared at the enormous dragon, now calm and docile before Grindelwald.

With a flick of his hand, Grindelwald touched Wentworth's cheek.

"Heal like new."

A cool sensation spread across Wentworth's face, and when he touched it again, the wound was gone.

He opened his mouth to thank him, but Grindelwald cut him off with a sneer.

"Pathetic. Can't even handle a pet."

Wentworth: "…"

-------

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