Leon instantly knew the stranger talking to the red-haired boy couldn't possibly be Grindelwald—wrong height, for starters.
But he was deep in character now, trembling all over, voice quivering:
"Merlin's beard, it's got to be a dark wizard coming to nab me! I…"
He swiveled his head, eyeing the four Weasleys with a pitiful pout:
"I've got to get out of here! Otherwise, I'll drag you all into this mess, and that dark wizard will haul you off too!"
With that, he stood up, making a beeline for the kitchen's front door.
Oh, no way was that happening.
The entire Weasley clan—pure Gryffindor stock through and through—couldn't stand for it. Their sense of justice kicked into overdrive!
"No way, you're not going out there!"
Ginny rushed forward, grabbing Leon's hand to stop him in his tracks.
Fred and George leapt up in unison.
"Quick, get upstairs!"
"Hide in Ginny's room!"
"Pretend you're Ginny's twin!"
"Blimey, that's a brilliant idea!"
"Whose clever brain came up with that one?"
"Oh, wait—it was me!"
Even in such a tense moment, the Weasley brothers couldn't resist a bit of improv comedy.
Ginny burst out laughing, yanking Leon's hand and tearing out of the kitchen with a clatter of footsteps.
They dashed through a narrow hallway and up a twisty, spiraling staircase.
Into Ginny's room on the second floor they went.
As soon as they were inside, Ginny plopped Leon onto her small bed. She dove into her wardrobe, rummaging around and muttering to herself:
"Quick, ditch that skirt—you don't look anything like my twin right now. I've got this dress Mum made that's a bit too big for me; it should fit you perfectly. Don't worry, it's clean…"
"Aha, found it!"
Ginny's voice lit up as she pulled out a slightly faded blue dress and shoved it into Leon's hands. "Put this on, quick!"
Leon looked into Ginny's warm brown eyes, brimming with genuine, heartfelt concern.
He managed a weak, awkward smile.
In his rush earlier, Leon had overlooked a certain piece of equipment.
And now, things were getting awkward.
What now? Was his "redheaded little witch" disguise about to come crashing down so soon?
Leon chose the coward's way out—shameful, but effective.
Oh, my head's spinning.
Mana bar depleted, battery low, shutting down in 10 seconds.
Leon's eyes fluttered shut, his legs gave a little kick, and he passed out peacefully.
…
Moments earlier, at the ruins of the Lovegood house:
Poor Grindelwald, having just cleaned up the Leonring Fiendfyre and modified the memories of the Lovegood mother and daughter, was exhausted and starving.
But the thought of why he was in such a mess fueled him with enough frustration to feel full again.
After finishing the job and preparing to leave with Leon's abandoned house-elf, he caught sight of… something. A muddy, snot-covered creature, crawling through the shadows.
"Waaaah… my little master finally escaped danger! Kreacher's so happy! Waaaah… My little master, only a few years old, holding their own against the Dark Lord! Kreacher's so proud! Sob sob sob…"
Kreacher was sprawled in a mud puddle, bawling his eyes out.
"Merlin bless us, the noble House of Black has a worthy heir again! Waaaah…
"When Kreacher goes to see Mistress and shares this news, she'll be over the moon! Waaaah…
"Mistress won't have to worry anymore about that wretched son tarnishing the family's honor! Kreacher can die without regrets! Sob sob sob…"
This performance was seven parts theatrics, three parts genuine emotion, and one part pure improvisation.
Kreacher's execution of "make yourself so filthy no one wants to touch you" was nothing short of genius.
And it worked like a charm.
Grindelwald, thoroughly disgusted, dodged two globs of mud Kreacher flung his way and refused to take another step closer.
Merlin's beard, what a mess.
He'd scoured every inch of that elf's memories.
Before meeting Leon, Kreacher had been the textbook definition of a proper, rule-abiding house-elf for a noble wizarding family. He fit every stereotype perfectly.
But after just a few years with Leon, this was what he'd become?
Forget it. The mere thought of Leon gave Grindelwald a splitting headache.
Ten days with that kid, and he felt like he'd shaved a decade off his life.
"Tell Leon if he wants to keep working on that wand, he can find me in California."
With that, Grindelwald didn't look back, Disapparating with a pop.
After a few rounds of this cat-and-mouse game, he'd finally gotten it.
Leon was a born rebel.
"Defiant" was putting it lightly.
Rebellion was practically in his blood.
The more you told him to do something, the less likely he was to do it.
The more you tried to control him, the faster he slipped away.
Grindelwald had to admit, he'd gone about this all wrong from the start.
If he'd approached Leon as an equal, seeking cooperation from the get-go, things might not have been this difficult.
He'd been too impatient…
But no matter. As long as the wand's transformation wasn't complete, Leon would come looking for him eventually.
Grindelwald knew it all too well.
The allure of shedding reliance on external tools, of wielding power entirely from within—how irresistible that was to someone who craved strength.
He wasn't sure if Leon thirsted for power.
But he was certain Leon needed it.
Because they were cut from the same cloth.
…
Late at night, at the Burrow:
An eventful day had finally come to an end.
The bustling Weasleys, along with the temporarily staying Lovegoods, had all drifted off into sweet slumber.
Upstairs, in Ginny's room:
Leon's eyes fluttered open.
He tried to sit up but found he couldn't move.
After a stunned second, he carefully glanced around.
In the dim moonlight, he could just make out a redhead—Ginny—and a blonde head, probably, maybe, possibly Luna Lovegood?
Leon let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Not only had he not been kicked out, but he'd been welcomed right in.
His "young witch" persona was still holding strong.
He wiggled his right hand slightly, and his body floated up like a helium balloon.
He drifted slowly, then gently descended.
The moment his feet touched the floor, a sharp, pulsing pain shot through the back of his head.
His whole body felt weak, and even standing was a struggle.
Probably because he hadn't eaten in two meals.
Or maybe it was the aftereffects of overusing his magic.
Leon hadn't expected that, even after sleeping so long, his mana bar was still barely recovered.
A single levitation spell, just enough to lift his own weight, had drained him dry again.
Clearly, he'd pushed himself too far this time.
He'd have to get Kreacher to whip up something hearty later to replenish his strength.
After catching his breath and regaining a bit of energy, Leon tiptoed out of the room.
He moved carefully, trying to keep the creaky staircase from squeaking too loudly.
As he passed the living room, he held his breath entirely.
With space tight, the Weasley twins were actually crashed out on the floor there.
Finally, Leon made it out of the Burrow without incident.
He slipped into the backyard, ducked into the rickety broom shed, and cast a Muffliato charm for good measure.
Then he released Tom the parrot from the locket.
"SQUAWK! I was suffocating in there! Suffocating! Leon's abusing Tom! Bully behavior! Bully behavior!"
"Oh, hush. It's just a few days without a breather. I've got a job for you. Do it, and I'll have Kreacher make you a chocolate pie when you're back."
Leon was too tired to argue and got straight to the point.
"Take this letter to Hogwarts, to Professor Sybill Trelawney."
He tied a crumpled scrap of paper to Tom's claw.
Tom's beady eyes went blank for a moment before he started hopping around like a deranged monarch.
"SQUAWK! Tom's never delivered a letter! Tom can't fly that far! SQUAWK! Tom wants chocolate pie!"
Leon, annoyed, flicked Tom's feathered head.
"Use your brain, you daft bird! There are wizard families all over this area. Grab an owl, scare it, boss it around, and make it carry you to deliver the letter!"
Then, remembering something, he added:
"And don't pick the owl from this house. Theirs is ancient—might keel over mid-flight and blame you for it!"
"But, you know, if you do want to risk it, I won't stop you," Leon said, stroking Tom's head with a smirk.
"Just don't go blabbing about your master if you stir up trouble!"
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