"Why are we even here, Vivian?" I hiss. "He has a bloody castle in Austria – and we're sitting on a tree trunk around a fire in the midst of forest moss."

"And freeze, unless we don't also drink and dance around the bonfire," she sighs, nodding as she glares into the crowd. "I don't get it either. But the Aurors are probably looking out for him in Nurmengard, he's at peace here."

"We were able to find him," I retort, "but not the Aurors of the nations? Surely their professional ethos should spur them on to more success …"

Queenie gives me a wan look. "Don't insult my sister – Tina's a really good Auror."

I take a deep breath and just shake my head. "I'm not questioning your sister's abilities, only the effectiveness of her guild in general. You two really need to come clean – you're projecting everything onto –"

"I know," she moans, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "I just miss her … And in defense of the Aurors in general – everyone here – except you – is connected by fire. You are not. He finds us and we find him. An impossibility for outsiders. But those who join him … He demands loyalty and obedience, but in return he also gives us the opportunity to come and go as we please."

"To me, it sounds all rather like a lazy archaeology group on an excursion to look for relics than a revolution in the making …"

"If he hears you say that, you're dead," Vivian quietly interjects, but keeps on smiling so that no one around us could ever guess what we're talking about. "That's you two. And me with you. So shut up!"

"I'm about to walk up to him," I mutter, "and tell him that I didn't come here to be in the midst of ordinary carousels night after night. Queenie, how can you be sure that he's even still interested in me –"

"He is!" she claims. "But it's important that he approaches you. Otherwise, he'll get the impression that you want something from him – and even though that's the case, he mustn't realize it. So be a good boy, sway along to the Albanian music and –"

"Spare me your tips for cheerful celebrations, will you?"

"You Brits don't even know the meaning of both these words …"

"Come again?" Vivian chuckles. "You really think so?"

I raise my eyebrows, too. "Didn't you ever have fun in London?"

"Not as much as in New York," Queenie says with a wink. "If we survive this, I'll show you the city. You'd better bring your adorable Ravenclaw –"

"Don't talk about her!" I grumble. "Not here. Never again, but certainly not here."

"Everyone's drunk and he's lecturing about politics at the end of the clearing," she whispers back. "We're completely undisturbed. That tragedy of yours has been on my mind for a while now, and we were interrupted by a poison bite the other day, so –"

"Why the hell," I groaned, "is that on your mind?"

"I'm also in favor of us continuing this conversation," Vivian weighs in. "After all, it's been pretty interesting so far …"

"Nothing about it is interesting!" I protest, but Queenie can't be stopped.

"In the past, I would've stayed away from you, loathing how cold you can be. Really, Tom. That's the truth." She shrugs. "But while love drove me into the arms of ruin, it had lured you right out of there. You're lucky you found her. Or … that she found you."

"We're not having this conversation."

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but this girl –"

"Leave it, Queenie!"

"I can't! You think you don't love her, you're convinced you can't love at all, because of your mother and all that, but –"

"Goldstein, don't you dare –"

"But you love her!" She nods in excitement. "You really do. I saw it, I felt it, the first time we shook hands! I know exactly what love is, and believe me – you felt it."

"That's impossible. Hence you're wrong."

Vivian purses her lips. "Didn't you claim the other day that very little is impossible in magic?"

"Yes, see – it's impossible in theory," Queenie adds. "But Tom, you're living proof that the practice is different! She touched you. She reached you with love and woke you up, spiritually, so to speak!"

"You'll find out soon enough anyway," Vivian informs, "because if it's true, and you love her, you'll put yourself through unspeakable agony trying to split your –"

"Stop talking!"

"You really are a difficult case of youthful hubris and bitterness!"

"We have other things to worry about, look," I whisper and point discreetly at Edwin, who is slowly approaching us with his cane.

The moment seems to have arrived. Something tells me that he wants to lay the cards on the table …

"I wish to get some firewood," he calls to me from a few metres away, confirming my suspicions. "Help me, boy!"

I pull out my wand and hold it up demonstratively. "Sir, you could use this."

"Don't be ridiculous, Tom," he grunts as he comes to a halt in front of us. "I don't really care about firewood."

Queenie and Vivian instantly freeze, I just look up at him. Of course he recognised me.
He recognised me from the very start …

"You know each other?" Queenie stares at us as though she's already resigned to her certain death.

"Indeed," Edwin confirms quietly enough to ease her worries. But he nods at me. "Move, young man, I want explanations …"

I barely noticeably shake my head. "This is hardly a suitable place and time to –"

"Now. Get up!"

I take a deep breath and finally do as I'm told. After all, what choice do I have?

Like the stern father I never had, he walks ahead, putting on a smiley face – as do I – as we pass cheerful Acolytes and people dancing around the fire. Until finally, after glancing over our shoulders to make sure Grindelwald's distracted enough, we head deeper into the forest, where we soon indeed are undisturbed and unobserved.

"Tom Riddle, by all that I hold sacred – what are you doing here?" Edwin gets straight to the point after we seek cover by a small, babbling stream that should at least swallow our words in complete darkness.

"Wait," he says before I can even answer him, "let me be more specific right away. What are you doing here on Polyjuice Potion as a Maxim who's supposed to have been attending the Koldovstoretz?" He is furious when he adds, "Do you have the slightest idea how complicated it was to stop him from pestering you with questions about Russia, its folklore and the language? Without me, you would've been killed within a day! All of you!"

I'd been waiting for the big bang and was always tense because I was expecting someone to speak Russian to me. But Edwin obviously knew how to prevent that from happening.
If that's not fate …

"What did you tell him?" I ask.

"I answered all his questions myself," he says, "and in such boring detailed manner that he couldn't possibly have any further interest!"

"You know Russian?"

"You've played dumb long enough – I'll ask the questions now," he decides.

"Sure, back to business as usual then." I can't help but give him a dirty look. "You already had a lot of questions around Christmas. But do not forget, Edwin – I might as well ask you what you're doing here." He gives me an annoyed glance, but I just keep talking. "We've both been wined and dined by Polly and hosted by William, two Muggles, two No–Majs, two people she cares deeply about – who are in danger if he gets any more powerful."

"So what do you think I'm doing here? Huh?" He swallows his displeasure in silence. "I'm keeping an eye on him, Tom! I've known him for many years, but like you, I've never jumped through any fire –"

"What? I thought everyone –"

"No, him and I, we've had a rather similar acquaintance as you two," he wearily explains, "anyway, I've been by his side on and off for years, but not to help him. Not at all. You, on the other hand –"

"I help myself," I anticipate his words. "And by doing so, I'm probably helping the real Greater Good eventually."

"Are you trying to save the world now?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "You were ruled by much darker demons at Christmas."

"It's nice that you're finally admitting that to yourself – when you were talking about redemption and avoiding self-fulfilling prophecies, while I was coming clean and made no secret of what I am."

"What would that coming clean have looked like?"

"I've never denied that I cannot be saved. You, on the other hand, all of you, with your frenetic idealism, simply refused to acknowledge –"

"All of us? You also mean her?" He squints his eyes before giving me a wry smile. "Trouble in paradise? Did the little raven confuse the thunderbird that fell in love with it?"

I let out an annoyed groan and just shake my head. "Edwin, guess what – we've found them, my family. And as it turns out, I can't fall in love."

He just rolls his eyes in irritation. "What a ton of nonsense. A blind man could see that you were hopelessly infatuated with her. You even scowled at Yorick whenever he got close to her! The weeks since Christmas must have lowered your intellect to his level –"

"Save the syllogisms – the last few weeks of my life have been pure hell," I hiss. "And you can take my word for it – I've been there before."

"You save the orphan joker! I've visited the place where you grew up exactly four days ago."

I shake my head in utter disbelief. "You did what? Why?"

"Why?" He won't stop staring at me. "Because you turned up here and made me question everything I thought I knew about you."

I cross my arms over my chest. "So, Edwin – did you have a pleasant trip to the rookery near Soho?"

"Run-down, I'll admit that, and almost too sterile," he says, waving it off, "but I had a really nice chat with Mrs Cole. That lovely lady had lots of interesting things to say about you …"

"That lovely lady," I repeat, "had a massive drinking problem back then and literally bathed me in bleach my entire childhood because of her irrational fear of germs –"

"Well, Tom, she did seem like she was very concerned about you – didn't she even organise piano lessons for you?"

"Occupational therapy," I correct.

"Anyway, her enjoyment of gin doesn't discredit her experiences with you. She said that you were very … strange … as a child."

"Strange? Didn't she say sinister?"

"No, you're right. That was the very word she used. She did mention, however, how balanced you seemed during your last visit with Harper. But she also mentioned a rabbit, for example –"

"To hell with that bloody rabbit, that story is haunting me more persistently than a vengeful spirit," I groan. "That sure needs to be engraved on my tombstone – Tom Marvolo Riddle – 1934: Murder of a rabbit!"

"She didn't accuse you of that," he says, quite contently at that. "But when she described just how that little animal died –"

"You were jumping to conclusions, chapeau!"

He pauses for a moment. Then he just says it. "I like you, Tom. But I truly have my difficulties with animal cruelty!"

"It wasn't about the animal. Just about torturing its owner." Acidly, I add, "Almost as bad, isn't it?"

"You're lashing out and you've pushed them all away just so you didn't have anyone to lose. And I understand that, Tom. You've been completely on your own. Everyone mistrusted you from birth because you never cried or yelled as an infant, you were odd – you were treated like a murderer before you could even think about rabbits. That kind of fate leaves its mark … And your survival instinct reliably told you to test all boundaries and reactions, just to prove to yourself that the world sees you the way it wants to see you anyway. That it will continue to let you down. To distrust you …"

I dully look at him. "Edwin, I honour your supposed empathy, but may I remind you who is dancing around the fire barely an inch away from us while we –"

"What happened in that cave on the coast?" His look is scrutinising. "With Amy and that Dennis boy? She said they didn't speak for weeks afterwards. According to Mrs Cole, they've never been quite right in the head ever since …"

I chuckle, almost stunned, and say, "You really tried to find every skeleton in the closet, and all corpses in the cellar."

"William may never get to those," he urges, "but I want them explained. It's what you never had – but in my family, we look out for each other. Harper loves you. But who the hell are you? I want to hear it."

"You want me to start a speech of defense for myself?"

He gravely nods. "Indeed. Get it off your chest. What did you do to the children back then?"