And then he found himself the one summoned.
Which felt, if he was honest, rather backwards.
Nicolas's estate in Dorset had finished construction. It lacked the grandeur of the Paris residence, but the grounds were sprawling, everything in its proper place, and Newt had transplanted no shortage of rare and exotic plants throughout, keeping the air perpetually fresh, with properties said to sharpen the mind and ease the body.
Dumbledore had no attention to spare for admiring his old friend's new home. Something told him today wasn't going to go smoothly.
No one came out to greet him on arrival. The front door stood open. When he stepped into the drawing room, Nicolas showed none of his usual warmth or ease, sitting with a stony expression, sipping his tea in silence.
Dumbledore glanced around the room and noted, with some relief, that Newt, Tina, and Perenelle were nowhere in sight.
Talking one person into something was always easier than talking four.
"Nicolas..."
"Dumbledore."
Nicolas cut him off before he could get any further, setting his teacup down with more force than the moment called for. "Do you honestly think this is appropriate? Tom is a child. And you want to put him face to face with Grindelwald?"
"That man is clearly brewing some scheme, quite possibly one aimed squarely at Tom. And you're just going to walk him right into it?"
"I don't have another option." Dumbledore's smile came out bitter. "Three hundred Aurors' lives, Nicolas. You understand what that number means to those nations."
"Lose that many trained fighters, and even without Grindelwald lifting another finger, every other dark wizard and criminal syndicate out there will lose whatever fear kept them in line and start causing trouble of their own. The magical world will only spiral further into chaos."
"So tell me, what would you have me do?"
Nicolas's expression eased somewhat. He understood the corner Dumbledore had been backed into, even if it didn't sit easily with him to send Tom straight into the middle of it.
"Then... go to Grindelwald first, on your own. See if you can negotiate without bringing Tom at all. You can't simply let him dictate every term."
Dumbledore nodded, sincere. "That's exactly my intention. What I've told you today is only the worst case. If it does come to bringing Tom along, I give you my word I can keep him safe. That much you can trust in me."
Nicolas shook his head slightly and sighed. "I've never once doubted your strength. But strength was never what made Grindelwald truly dangerous."
Dumbledore fell quiet. That was exactly what worried him too. Grindelwald could plant a single seed in someone's mind with nothing more than a sentence, and once that seed took root, there was no telling what might grow from it.
In the end, Nicolas agreed not to interfere with whatever Tom chose for himself. If Tom wanted to go, Nicolas wouldn't stand in his way. And if Tom didn't want to go, then no one would be allowed to drag him there against his will.
Dumbledore accepted those terms.
Back at the school, Dumbledore finally responded to Babajide and the rest of the increasingly frantic Ministers, working out who would represent them at the negotiation.
In the end, the real decision would rest with just the two of them, himself and Grindelwald, but the proper channels still had to be followed. Witnesses needed to be present, if only so that no one could turn around afterward and lay the blame at his feet.
After an entire afternoon spent on it, Babajide, already resigned to resigning, found a new boldness and agreed to attend in person. None of the other Ministers were willing to show their faces there themselves; most opted to attend remotely, or sent the heads of their International Magical Cooperation departments in their place.
Dumbledore didn't much care who came, as long as someone was there to witness it.
That evening, over dinner, he called Tom into his office.
"Tom, how was your weekend?" Dumbledore asked.
Tom nodded, pleased. "Very good. I made real progress with my magic."
"That's certainly worth celebrating." Dumbledore offered a warm smile. "Though weekends are meant for rest and enjoying life, not only for piling on more study."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor. Was there something else you wanted to speak with me about?" Tom asked, though he already knew the answer.
Dumbledore's expression clouded, but he pressed on and explained Grindelwald's condition. "Tom, I won't force this choice on you. Nicolas feels the same. You have a week to think it over, and I intend to try negotiating with Grindelwald myself first."
"No need."
Tom agreed almost before Dumbledore had finished speaking. "If you think about it, Grindelwald's practically one of my best customers. He's spent a fair amount of gold in my shop over the years. I doubt he'd want to do anything to me."
"Besides, you'll be there, won't you, Professor? Surely you're not so useless you couldn't protect me."
Dumbledore's face fell.
Being trusted like that should have warmed his heart, and in a way it did, but did the boy have to phrase his compliments in a way that stung quite this much?
"Tom, thank you for your courage. You really would have made a fine Gryffindor."
Now it was Tom's turn to feel wounded. Someone had once told him he belonged in Ravenclaw, and now old Dumbledore was telling him he should've been a Gryffindor. Why did nobody ever seem to think he belonged in Hufflepuff?
"Professor, since I'm walking straight into the dragon's den with you, don't I get something for my trouble?"
In a sour mood, Tom decided he might as well angle for some compensation. "I don't need anything fancy. Three or four hundred points would do just fine."