The Hidebehind was still struggling.
The stone lion held it down, its jaws locked around the creature’s neck.
Dark red blood seeped from the wound.
As it bled, its struggles weakened.
Black knew it wasn’t going to survive.
He sighed, turned away and offered Hermione his right hand.
She stared at him for several seconds before coming to herself.
Then, her cheeks reddening, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
It was rather a lot to take in.
The creature’s hideous appearance, Black’s effortless Transfiguration—she could barely make sense of what she had just witnessed.
Black, meanwhile, was discovering quite how strong he had become.
Lifting Hermione had taken almost no effort.
She had felt practically weightless.
He squeezed his upper arm, slightly concerned.
He was eleven.
An eleven-year-old covered in bulging muscles might look just a little peculiar.
Fortunately, the muscles seemed to become less conspicuous when he wasn’t exerting himself.
Unless he used his full strength, they remained hidden.
‘Thank you,’ Hermione said at last.
‘You’re welcome.’
She was quiet for a moment.
‘I had no idea you were a wizard too.’
‘A wizard?
What do you mean?’
Black arranged his face into an expression of polite bewilderment.
Hermione proceeded to explain what she knew of the magical world.
‘So this strange ability I’ve had since I was little… it’s magic?’
It seemed simpler to pretend this was the first he had heard of it.
Then something occurred to Hermione.
They had just survived a terrifying encounter together, and they still hadn’t exchanged names.
‘I’m Hermione,’ she said.
‘Hermione Granger.’
Black smiled.
Of course, he already knew.
He pulled the metal tag from beneath his clothes and held it out so she could read the inscription.
‘Black.
Black Grin.
They got my name from this.’
Hermione inspected it curiously.
‘Is Grin short for your full surname?’
‘What?
No.’
She pointed to the tag.
‘But that says “Grindelwald”.’
Black snatched it up for a closer look.
He went still.
The missing letters had somehow returned.
Where the inscription had once ended at Black Grin, it now read:
Black Grindelwald.
Hermione might not yet know the significance of that surname.
Black certainly did.
Surely I’m not related to him?
He thought of the wizard who had abandoned him, the man whose face he hadn’t been able to make out.
But the dates didn’t fit.
Hadn’t Grindelwald already been imprisoned in Nurmengard for decades by then?
‘Don’t you know your own surname?’ Hermione asked.
‘The tag was damaged.
Those letters weren’t there before, so I’ve always thought my name was Black Grin.’
He turned it in his hand.
‘I don’t know how it’s suddenly repaired itself.’
There was little point concealing that much.
He gave her a brief explanation.
‘Perhaps you accidentally used some sort of mending magic?’
Hermione leaned closer to examine the tag, growing excited.
‘I’ve read about a spell that repairs things.
I can still remember the incantation.
I’ve even tried it at home!’
Black was about to answer when a brilliant flash of fire flared nearby.
They both jumped.
Where the flames had been stood an old man with a long white beard.
A beautiful scarlet bird perched on his hand.
Black’s eyes widened.
There was no mistaking that pair.
Dumbledore and Fawkes.
What were they doing here?
And why did the sight of the old man give him such an inexplicable sense of closeness?
‘Oh!
I know who that is!’
Hermione was so excited that her voice trembled.
‘That’s Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts!
The school I was telling you about.
I’ve seen his photograph in a book!’
Dumbledore had noticed the two children as soon as he arrived.
Fawkes’s extraordinary agitation had prompted him to leave Hogwarts with the phoenix, but he had had no idea where they were going.
Had Fawkes brought him here to meet these two? Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
His gaze passed over the churned earth, the dying Hidebehind, the stone lion and the spikes protruding from the ground.
He rarely had cause to fight these days, but he had a great deal of experience to draw upon.
Despite the disorder, a glance was enough to suggest the broad course of the encounter.
He recognised the Hidebehind and knew its habits.
It had almost certainly attacked the children.
Someone had intervened, then.
Using only Transfiguration, apparently: spikes to wound it, followed by a surprise attack from the stone lion.
Simple, but an excellent strategy.
Yet the creature’s injuries were fresh.
Whoever had saved the children could scarcely have left very long ago.
Where was that wizard?
Dumbledore examined the clearing again.
There seemed to be no trace of a third person.
Which suggested that these two had defeated the Hidebehind themselves.
He looked more closely at the spikes and the roughly formed lion.
As a master of Transfiguration, he could readily assess the work.
The caster appeared to have only recently mastered the basics.
The shapes were still somewhat crude.
Then again, opportunities in a fight passed in an instant.
These objects had clearly been Transfigured at speed.
A little roughness was perfectly understandable.
None of it would have been especially remarkable from an adult wizard.
But these children looked about eleven.
If one of them had defeated a Hidebehind through Transfiguration, that was an extraordinary achievement.
Plenty of children their age couldn’t even manage a Wand-Lighting Charm.
Dumbledore soon detected the traces of magic surrounding them.
The boy.
The magical signature about him matched the magic lingering in the lion and the spikes.
Even half expecting the answer, Dumbledore found himself astonished as he looked at that young face.
To have accomplished this already.
And it wasn’t merely the boy’s Transfiguration.
His decisions during the fight were every bit as impressive.
Intelligence and talent were one thing.
The composure to use them while a creature like that was trying to kill him was quite another.
Few children could have kept calm enough to devise a plan.
There was something else, too, though Dumbledore couldn’t account for it.
The longer he looked at the boy, the more he warmed to him.
Perhaps it was simply the pleasure of encountering such a gifted child.
‘Well, this is remarkable.’
A delighted smile spread across his face.
It seemed Hogwarts might be welcoming a young talent for Transfiguration this year.
Minerva would be pleased.
Then Fawkes launched himself from Dumbledore’s hand and flew straight towards Black.