Three weeks passed.
The first few days had been awkward. Saying "Let me check my phone." when asked what time it was. Reaching into an empty pocket when he wanted to google something. Even one time telling a younger kid to "just text me later." and getting a blank stare in return.
The lack of internet still felt like missing a limb, but he'd gotten used to it, like the dull ache of hunger you learn to ignore.
Ashgrove was...livable.
The building was old, but clean. The food was simple but warm. And the other kids, well, most kept their distance.
He wasn't bullied. He wasn't exactly liked either.
Some kids were scared. Others whispered that he was weird. The youngest ones followed him around like ducklings.
He didn't mind.
Miss Anne had taken a strange liking to him. She said he had a calm head, helped with the other children, and "talked like a social worker twice his age." Which was both flattering and vaguely insulting.
Still, it meant she trusted him.
She once caught him "talking to himself" in the hallway, staring at a blank wall.
She hadn't said anything. Just raised an eyebrow.
He'd laughed it off and changed the subject, because explaining Grindelwald wasn't going to be easy.
Grindelwald stood near the window, arms behind his back, looking at the sky "You've adapted faster than I expected." he said calmly "I thought you'd be sobbing in a corner for at least a week."
Dylan sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a battered copy of Narnia "Disappointed?"
"Constantly." Grindelwald said with a faint smirk "But I'm used to it by now."
Dylan turned a page. "You could always leave."
"I told you. I can't."
"Then maybe stop acting like I'm the problem."
Grindelwald walked slowly across the room
"I died three weeks ago." he said "I woke up in a child's orphanage. Bound to some...odd little brat who isn't even a wizard. Forgive me if I find the situation frustrating."
Dylan closed the book "Odd little brat?" he said "You sound like a disappointed father."
Grindelwald smiled "Please. I would never have children."
"Yeah." Dylan muttered. "Not with that personality."
Grindelwald gave a soft chuckle and turned back toward the window "Still. You're more tolerable than I expected. That's not praise, in case you're wondering."
"Didn't think it was." Then Dylan paused "...So? have you learned anything? About why you're stuck with me?"
"No."
"Helpful." Dylan stood up, stretched his arms, and walked toward the door.
"I'm heading to the kitchen. You want anything?"
Grindelwald didn't move "I don't eat. I'm dead."
"Right. Poor you." Dylan said with a grin.
Downstairs, the dining room smelled like potatoes and boiled cabbage. Kids were setting the table. Dylan helped with the water jug. One of the older boys gave him a scowl in passing. Another just nodded.
Miss Anne handed him a tray "Thanks again for sorting out the shouting match earlier. You've got a way with them."
Dylan smiled faintly "I listen. That's all."
"Well, it's appreciated."
He placed the tray down and turned to see a girl with a red ribbon tugging on his shirt.
"Will you read again tonight?" she asked.
"Sure." he said "After dishes."
She ran off, beaming.
He watched her go.
Behind him, Grindelwald's stood still and silent, arms folded, looking at her running toward other kids.
Later at night, the common room was quiet except for the fire and Dylan's voice.
He sat in the old armchair, book resting on his lap. The kids were gathered around him, half-drowsy, leaning into pillows or each other. The flames crackled in the chimney nearby.
"...and with a roar that shook the mountain, Smaug opened his jaws wide, and let loose a river of fire, bright, blinding, and hot as the heart of the sun..."
As he read the words, Dylan felt a faint tingling in his chest. Strange, a kind of static buzz under his ribs.
Then, whoosh.
The fireplace suddenly flared. The flames surged upward in a sharp burst, white-hot at the core. Shadows jumped across the walls, and heat washed briefly over the room like a breath.
Gasps and squeals.
Then, just as quickly, the fire settled back. Like nothing had happened.
Madame Annabeth, standing near the door since the start, stepped forward, her face pale.
"Everyone, out. Now." Her voice was firm, edged with fear.
The kids scrambled up, murmuring nervously.
Dylan blinked, caught off guard, and stood quickly.
"Please, everyone, to the hallway." Madame Annabeth urged, watching the fireplace carefully.
The children hurried out, glancing back at the fireplace, wide-eyed.
Dylan lingered, staring at the dying flames 'What was that? Did I really do that?'
"Guess Smaug's in a mood tonight." he muttered, forcing a smile.
Madame Annabeth didn't answer. She just nodded once and left the room.
Behind them, standing in the far corner, Grindelwald's expression had changed.
His arms were folded. His eyes narrowed "interesting." He murmured.
Later Dylan was brushing his teeth when he noticed the reflection of Grindelwald in the mirror, standing near the door.
"The fire." he said "It reacted to your voice."
He spat into the sink, wiped his mouth, and turned to face him.
"It's just coincidence."
"Was it?"
Dylan paused "...It was just a story."
"It was you."
There was a short silence.
"I felt something. In my chest. Barely anything." Dylan admitted.
Grindelwald's eyes stayed on him "That's your magic responding. Even if you don't understand it yet."
Dylan shook his head, a little frustrated "Doesn't mean I'm a wizard. Could've been a coincidence."
Grindelwald's smirk was faint "Coincidence rarely fuels flames, boy. Your power listens to you, whether you know it or not."
"Sleep. You'll need it."
"For what?"
And then he was gone.