A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 51 - The Lair of the Mountain King

In the Hall of the Mountain King - Edvard Grieg 

"Was this always here? I have walked here every day for the past ten years, and I don't remember ever seeing this place." A man spoke, as he stood outside a house he was seeing for the first time on his beloved street. He lived just a couple of houses down, and today, as he went out for some potion ingredients was stopped short in his tracks, seeing the house appear in front of him.

A few others stopped next to him to look at the three-story building that was definitely not fitting in. It looked bigger, darker and with exquisite details that separated it from the other boring houses along the street. What was going on there? Even in Merlin's world, buildings like these didn't just appear out of nowhere.

"Looks like there is someone inside." A woman pointed out, as a shadow slipped past a window on the third floor.

"We should go, it could be unsafe." The man ushered her further along the street, but even then their eyes stayed glued to the mysterious building that showed up in front of them uninvited.

These conversations went on and on, as people stopped to make sure they were in the right place and weren't dreaming. The street now looked complete, but as if the puzzle piece used to complete it was taken from a different box. It stood out, and the outlook was far from harmonious.

"Professor?" A young woman spoke, her curly hair getting into her eyes as she watched the people gossip as they walked past, "I think we have a problem."

"What is it?" The old man raised his head from the newspaper he was scanning for more information about the band of hooligans he was trying to neutralise.

"People are looking at the house." She spoke, her hand moving the curtain just a little bit to take a peek outside.

"You know they can't see it, they are looking through it. Don't worry yourself with that." He dismissed her, as always more invested in his doings than in what was happening around him.

"No, you don't understand. They are looking at the house. Even pointing fingers, I don't think we are invisible anymore." She spoke, her voice steady, but the hint of worry was seeping through, and that was what tipped Dumbledore off. She was usually collected and level-headed, but this was not like her to worry about nothing.

He stood up, his movements hurrying as he left the newspaper behind, coming up to the window and moving the curtain aside. Before, that movement wouldn't have had any effect; no one would still be able to see him, but now, as he came into view, a couple of people eyeing the house switched their focus on him. He wasn't unknown in the world; he was one of the most respectable Professors and wizards of his time, and he saw it then. The recognition in people's eyes. They were seeing him.

He slammed the curtain shut, the dread filling him. The thoughts flew around in his head, clouding his judgment, letting his fear take over. His hands trembled as he took a couple of steps away from the window. The secret was out, the charm was broken. It meant only one thing as he turned around to face the woman who now watched him with worry. Did he look that terrified? He probably did, and for good reason.

"Does it mean she's dead? Completely gone?" The woman asked him, her brows furrowed.

"Yes. Yes, it does." Dumbledore almost stuttered but caught himself "And she revealed the secret she kept while she did."

"Are we in danger?" The woman glanced back outside, seeing the people moving on. At least they weren't a problem anymore.

"I don't think so yet, no. I think if they are as smart as they consider themselves, we are in the safest position possible." Dumbledore spoke, his hands hidden in his pockets.