Now this is where it really kicks off, this is where it gets interesting.
Disclaimer: HP isn't mine.
Chapter VI – Emergence
The British Prime Minister of Muggles had kindly arranged for the Royal Navy to take Albus and Paddock to northern France. Poland had recently been attacked and Britain was now at war. Horacio Wilson had assured the Prime Minister the wizarding world had already set up measures to aid in the crisis, and Albus' mission was that measure. Paddock was hung over the side of the great battleship peering into the English Channel as wave upon wave clattered into the grey hull. Albus stood absentmindedly out on deck at the very front of the ship as land grew larger and clearer with turn every of the ships great propellers.
"5 minutes to shore Ambassador Dumbledore," the captain's first mate said to Albus. "Thank you, Derek." The lanky sailor retreated to the bridge to prepare for the hastily approaching dock in the distance. "3 minutes to port, I repeat, 3 minutes to port," the captain's voice rang over the tannoy. "Albus," Paddock said as he approached his old adversary. "Yes, Wiglaf," Albus replied, slightly tauntingly. "Alright, Albus; I know we have had our differences in the past. I was in Slytherin, you were in Gryffindor; it was natural." Albus chuckled happily, remembering the time he hexed Paddock with a spell he had invented himself, making Paddock lose his hair to be replaced by stinging nettles. "Yes, I recall we had many lively duels," Albus said, "and I apologise about Pamela. That was most childish of me." "Certainly," Paddock replied, irritably, "and I too apologise for how I reacted. Still, your classroom became useable again, didn't it?" "Yes," Albus replied as irritated as Paddock was. They stared at each other for a few moments; an awkward anger lingered between them. "It seems we've docked, Mr Paddock," Albus said, mockingly. "Seems so, Mr Dumbledore," Paddock replied with the same tone.
Albus and Paddock made their way to the exit taking different routes. "So, what exactly is your mission, Ambassadors?" Captain Defoe asked them as the two secret sorcerer's rejoined each other to walk side by side off the ship. "Unfortunately, Captain," Albus replied, "our mission is of the utmost confidentiality." "I understand, Ambassadors," the Captain continued, his great black bushy moustache emphasising his smile, "all that cloak and dagger stuff and what not." "Yes, it is", Paddock said, quite rudely. Paddock walked ahead of Albus making sure he looked at him harshly as he did so. "What's wrong with that one then?" the Captain asked. "He's having a hard time at the moment," Albus replied, "you know how it is," Albus mimed a drinking motion and the Captain chuckled and nodded. "Right you are, Ambassador Dumbledore. Will you need HMS Dog Star's services in the future?" "Perhaps, Captain; it depends on how long the mission takes I suppose." Captain Defoe bid Albus farewell and the wizard made his way to the prearranged transport the Paris. He entered the car; Paddock was already there, staring out the window at a crane.
"Funny isn't it, Albus," Paddock said, dreamily. "What is, Wiglaf?" Albus asked, fitting his seatbelt across his torso into the simple lock. "Funny that the muggles have to use these great machines for lifting great weights," Paddock continued, "when we could merely lift them with our small thin wands of wood." "I suppose," Albus replied, "but it is not they're fault is it. They were not bred as we were. They do not possess magic, and it is not they're fault." "I know," Paddock said, turning to look at his feet, "I know."
They drove to the famous city of Paris, down cobbled roads, the colours all peach and pink and yellow. "Interesting place this," Albus mumbled to himself. They arrived at a seemingly random back alley. "So," Paddock said, getting out of his car while his unfavourable partner did the same, "where is it." Albus ran his hand down a wall, all the while sniffing the air, paying no attention to Paddock's voice. "Ah," Albus said, jovially, "here it is." Albus took out a narrow box from the right pocket of his magenta robes. He opened it to reveal a quill, a roll of dozens of blank parchment and a small bottle of ink. He went to the driver of the car and said, "Thank you. Your job is done." The driver looked at him strangely and then drove off onto the main road towards the tower the city is most famous for. "Wiglaf," Albus said, "would you mind if I borrowed your back for a moment?" Paddock turned around reluctantly, rolling his eyes as he turned his back into a table. Albus removed a piece of parchment from the roll and used Paddock's back as he had intended. He scribbled down a short note, making sure he poked hard when dotting the full stop. Paddock let out breathy sound of pain and said, "A little rough, don't you think?" and he rubbed his upper back. Albus walked back to the patch of wall he had singled out moments before. He rolled the piece of parchment up into a thin cylinder and slotted it through a crack in the wall. Paddock stared at the crack and at Albus as though he had been put under a confundus charm and then, the wall split open, like flesh being sliced by knife.
A tall, square faced wizard with short, jet black hair and greyish skin stood emotionlessly in the gash that had just been made. "Welcome gentlemen," the wizard said, indifferently with a heavy French accent. "Make your way down the steps. I show you to Minister for Magic." The two wizards followed the intimidating Frenchman's suggestion and made there way down the steps that he had promised were there. The wall organically sealed itself behind them all and torches along the wall burst into flame, shocking Paddock, making him stumble down an extra step than he wanted. "Careful, Wiglaf," Albus said, "You don't want too many stumbles in your life." Paddock scowled and Albus was filled with an alien smugness that he did not feel when confronting any other person. The stone steps ended at a vacant white door. "If you allow me, gentlemen," the French wizard said, as he opened the door to reveal a massive golden Atrium, teaming with life. Paddock stood there in awe at the gigantic hall filled with people. The British Ministry was a mere tea party compared to the bacchanal they had just entered, but Albus was unfazed by the madness. He merely continued to smile the smug smile he rarely wore. "Zis vay gentlemen," the French wizard said, leading them through the bustling crowd toward a wide wall of golden lifts. The wait was greatly annoying. The large crowd of people made the wait unfortunately sweaty and irritating. Many lifts came and went but they were either too crowded or they were going down not up.
After waiting far longer than necessary, a decent lift finally arrived. The lift was of course as cramped as the atrium it feeds but at least that would be cured soon enough; most of the people in the lift got out at the floor above. Two floors more and the three wizards in question exited the lift into a bright square room. A ghostly faced witch sat at a desk next to a dull, sharp cornered door. "Ah," the woman said, excitedly, "good to meet you most honoured delegates. Please, please go in, the Minister for Magic is vaiting for you." "Albus nodded at the woman as he passed her, side by side with Paddock, through the door to French Minister for Magic's office.
A short fat man in a pinstriped business robe and tie, resembling a muggle suit, stood behind a grand desk in a large round room. He had a strong arrogance and swagger about his appearance; a little moustache sitting smugly below his nose and what little hair he had on his head formed a crude, greasy comb over. "Velcome, velcome," the French Minister said. The two visiting wizards took there seats opposite the fat Frenchman. The Minster then sighed, "It is sad zat ve meet on such a sad note, gentlemen. I am Benoit Graisseux, but I do not zink I need any introduction. Tell me your names, gentlemen." "Wiglaf Paddock, Minister," Paddock said, holding out a hand which the Minister vigorously shook. "And I am Albus Dumbledore. I am very pleased to make your aqauintance, Minister. What developments have there been in France." "Well, gentlemen," Graisseux continued, "the most, how you say, common sight for the murders have been in Normandy; five murders there and two right under our noses in Paris." Albus was quite surprised by the news. He had been left in the dark about any murders in other countries. Paddock, on the other hand, new about the French murders, and took strong pleasure knowing something Albus didn't and the look of surprise on Albus' face when he heard the news increased his depraved delight. "I was not aware of any murders outside of Britain, Minister," Albus said, suppressing his surprise after the initial shock. "No?" The Minister answered, sullenly, "I would have thought you had read a full report before coming here." Albus turned his eyes to Paddock who wore a snide smirk on his snide face. "You have read ze report, yes?" the Minister asked Paddock. "Yes, Minister," Paddock replied, pompously, "I thought Albus would have read it too. I have many thoughts about the murders." "I like you very much, Mr Paddock," the Minister said, "You remind me of myself. But zere is no need for your ideas at zis time. We have caught the murderer." Both Albus and Paddock were now shocked. "You have caught Fleicher?" Albus asked, this time failing to hide shock from his voice. "Fleicher?" the Minister said, "who is zis Fleicher?" Albus and Paddock looked at each other bewilderedly. "Who do you have in custody, Minister?" Paddock asked. "A terrifying dark wizard," the Minister said, "his name is Grindelwald."
Good? Tell me.