"Are you going to stand there just like that?"
"..."
We didn't really know what to answer him with. Well... we can't just leave nor let him out... can we?
"Do any of you youngsters know any self-cleaning spells?" He shrugged, watching us, but his blue eyes mostly wandered towards Quincy.
"Like...?" She asked, drawing a blank for a moment.
"No matter... haaah. How did you two get here? It should be virtually impossible." He sighed, sitting back on his cot, watching us with a calm, unperturbed gaze.
"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brows as, not counting the storm, we got here pretty easily.
"This place is guarded by multiple wards placed down by the top mages of their period, including the one who visited me the last time, leaving me here all alone. Two kids stumbling in here? It is not something that should or could happen. Either you were sent here by someone, or I am beginning to hallucinate. The latter should not be possible as I know my own mental state the best."
"Which is?" Quincy asked without thinking, making him look at her, forming a slight smile under his beard.
"Clarity. I achieved a state that I think very few wizards or muggles could imagine. So... who sent you here? Did the muggles finally discover our existence, and some group wants to free me? Tell them I am not interested in whatever they want to do."
"N-no, nothing like that happened..." We replied in tandem, looking at each other and realizing there would be a long discussion ahead of us. "We got here because we were looking for this place from the get-go."
"That is still should be impossible. But I am curious why they would have sent kids... It doesn't make sense."
"If anybody or anything sent us here, it was the Felix Felicis." I blurted out, not knowing how to explain it any better.
"..."
For a moment, there was a dry, cold silence between the three of us, broken by the unexpected, loud laughter of one of the most infamous, dark wizards of modern history. It lasted for way too long, making me uncomfortable, but in the end, Grindelwald reigned it in, coughing, wiping his eyes, shaking his head.
"All that planning and security, beaten by the favorite drug of Quidditch players! Haaaaah... I can't believe it, and I don't think anyone would either! Thank you, children, for allowing me to enjoy something so wonderful after so many years... I think this alone made it worth sitting here alone for the past fifty years. You really came here... to find this place? Using the lucky potion to find it...? Unbelievable. But, yes. That can work. It is so stupid that I can see it foiling the most advanced spells as it is kind of like tugging on the strings of fate."
"You believe in fate?" I asked, feeling a bit strange, but I became even more confused after hearing his answer.
"No. Yes."
"Which is it?" Quincy grunted, shaking her head, trying to stay focused.
"Fate exists, yes, but it is not a binding, omnipotent thing that can't be fought or altered. That is the whole basis of divination."
"Divination is banned." I said calmly, making him raise an eyebrow, tilting his head, and stroking his long beard.
"A lot of things had happened in the past 50 years that I missed. I'd like to hear them all."
"For one," I shrugged, looking at my wife, who couldn't help but chuckle, knowing what I was about to say, "You are no longer the most infamous wizard. That title goes to... I can't say his name."
"That bad?" He asked, leaning forward, not even surprised or angry.
"The name is jinxed." Quincy explained. It was a well-known secret between Death Eaters, so of course, Father told us about it.
"Taboo? Interesting. Smart, I will give him that, but you can speak it freely in here. This place would interfere with the magic signal, so they won't be notified."
"Are you sure?"
"Kids..." He chuckled again, looking into our eyes, and I had never before seen such confidence in anybody. "I built this place. I know it the best. Please... continue. This is fascinating to me."
"Well... his name is Lord Voldemort. Haaah... It is a long story, but I guess we have time!"
That we had and when we began, he never interrupted us, listening silently, memorizing everything, and only asking his multitude of questions when we finished retelling everything we knew of him, his battles, right until the point of our escape and my Father's death. Of course, we didn't tell him everything about ourselves. For example, the ritual, our animagi form, or most of our strengths.
"So now you are on the run... I see. How interesting that fate brought you here... Oh, Albus... you picked up what you said you no longer care about, didn't you? Or why would these kids arrive here?"
"Quincy..." I whispered, leaning over, watching the mumbling old man, "I think he is a bit nuts."
"Yeah... seems like it... I am not surprised."
"As I said," He added, raising his voice, clearly hearing us, "I reached clarity. I am sure old Albus took up what we started, or else I wouldn't be involved in it again."
"What would this have to do with you? I know that Dumbledore stopped you, but what are you on about?" I asked, rubbing my head, trying to figure it out without success. He was speaking as if he knew the old bastard well enough.
"Defeated me?" He repeated, munching on the words. I was afraid he would become angry, but no, he simply nodded, smiling. "Yes... Yes, he did. He was stronger than me, even if I had the Elder Wand supporting me. He was better, and the wand felt it, too, abandoning me. That little toy is fickle like a woman."
"Hmph!" Quincy snorted, which in turn made me chuckle, hugging her closer. "What is an Elder Wand?" She asked, making me also realize the point I missed.
"Good question, Miss..."
"Quincy. He is my husband, Conrad."
"I see. Well, Young Quincy, the question you posed to me is sharp and on point. To answer it, I must first ask you a different one. Do you know of the legend of the Deathly Hallows?"
Of course, we didn't. Seeing our puzzled looks, Grindelwald didn't get angry; he just nodded at us and began retelling the ancient tale we had never heard before.
...
....
......
"Slowly, my dear... slowly!" Said an old but kind voice, soothing the pain Hermione was feeling in her head while sitting up on her bed.
She was in a wizarding hospital back in France, not that far away from Paris.
"Who... who are you?" She asked, surprised to find someone who spoke English so fluently, yet she never met her before.
"My name is Minerva McGonagall, my dear, from the Order."
"Can we hurry up?" Asked a more impatient, grizzly voice, belonging to a man who scared Hermione when she looked at him standing at the entrance to her room. He was short, his face was disfigured thanks to the many injuries, and a magical blue eye was spinning in his left eye socket.
"This is why I insisted to come with you, Alastor!" The woman, named McGonagall, quipped at him sternly, making him groan and murmur something under his breath. "You are uncut for dealing with others."
"Sorry... but... what is happening?" Hermione interjected, feeling left out of the conversation, yet it was they who woke her up all of a sudden.
"We were sent here to follow up on clues as to what happened to you. Can you tell us?"
"Didn't you see it?" Hermione whispered, touching her head, still feeling some pain, the aftermath of Fleur's potion. It never truly went away. It could be eased, but when her focus waned, the pain began creeping back in.
"We did, but we need to hear it from you. Memories can't tell us what you felt that moment, only what you saw."
"I felt fear; is that better?" She answered with a bit of anger rising in her voice, but the woman before her didn't get irate; she just looked at her kindly.
McGonagall continued asking her some weird questions, mostly related to her feelings and thoughts about Fleur. Could she be under the influence of someone else or not? In the end, after half an hour of 'interrogation,' the two left, leaving her alone. When they departed, Hermione no longer had any desire to lay back and sleep. Instead, her mind was occupied by many thoughts.
"What was the snake doing?" She asked the same question in her head, the same one that McGonagall asked her a moment ago. "Could it have a hypnotizing effect? Did I feel anything else when I looked into its eyes? Did I smell something?"
The more she thought about it, the more she remembered the crazed face of Fleur and the now resurfacing memories of the boy named Conrad and his... well... wife, Quincy.
"Could I remember what the air felt like around them?" Hermione whispered the old witch's questions again.
She answered with a no a moment ago, but she lied. She did remember, and they looked and sounded desperate. Troubled. They did warn her, yet they did not hurt her. She was unsure what to think anymore, especially after learning that the boy had the same name as the one who saved her. Anguine... She should have asked what they knew of him!
With that thought, Hermione ignored the pain in her head, jumping out of the hospital bed, rushing out, and catching up to them just right when they were about to disappear in the staircase leading down to the lobby.
"Who was Anguine?" She asked, out of breath, making Moody raise an eyebrow while McGonagall hurried back up, straightening Hermione's posture and fixing her loosened robes.
"He was a hero who fought against the Dark Lord and perished... yet many wizards and witches, just like you, were saved by him." The woman's answer did not explain much, so Hermione subconsciously looked toward Moody, who responded with a simple grunt as if he had to acknowledge an uncomfortable fact.
"He was a good fighter."
"Then why is his son being hunted?"
"Sometimes," McGonagall continued, gently stroking Hermione's head, leading her back towards the hospital room, "even if someone has a parent who is an example to us all, that does not mean their children would be just as upstanding. Hogwarts is sick at the moment... and that sickness has infected many young minds."
"Sickness... that is good, Minerva." Moody added, following them a few steps behind, "And we are the cure then."
This time, the old witch only left after Hermione was back in bed, pretending to be asleep, but the moment their steps were far enough, her eyes opened once again. This didn't make sense. Not to her, at least. It was time that she began searching for answers by herself if the adults refused to give one. She saw Conrad transform, protecting his own and only killing the one individual who was attacking them... Even if she looked up to Fleur, she couldn't ignore the facts that were now swirling within her mind, making her head hurt again.
A pain whose origin lies within the Order of the Phoenix itself...
...
....
......
"Wait!" I raised my two hands, "You want to tell us you had the strongest wand in existence, one that was made by Death itself?"
"Yes." Grindelwald nodded, playing with his long beard, "I had it for quite a long time, in fact. Of course, not as long as Albus, but that comes down to the fact he was better than me and earned its allegiance."
"Should we believe it?" Quincy whispered, but I simply shrugged.
"We found Salazar's place, no? Who says some ancient wizards couldn't have forged some incredible artifacts? I don't buy the 'made by Death' part, but..."
"It could be true." Grindelwald agreed with me, "But it could be ancient works of powerful wielders of magic, yes. Whatever the case is, the three Hallows are real, and the clues are there. I followed those and stole the wand from its previous owner, Mykew Gregorovitch, a renowned wandmaker."
"But you said that the wand needs to be obtained through combat... no?" Quincy argued, making the old wizard smile under his beard.
"Stealing it counts just as much as disarming the wizard. The Elder Wand chooses its master, and it switches sides very quickly. It only acknowledges the strongest, which caused so many of its owners to die a horrible death. They were betrayed by their closest ally, their own wand. If you ever get your hands on it... never trust it."
It was weird to hear it from his mouth, from one of the most infamous dark wizards and previous owner of a supposed legendary weapon. Not that we can get it if it is really in the hands of Dumbledore.
"It was my biggest mistake to rely on it so heavily. It made me weak and vulnerable, and it caused my downfall."
"Wouldn't you want to get it back?" I asked, making him fall silent for a moment before standing up, walking to the bars of his cell, and looking directly into my eyes when answering.
"No. I had time to think. I had nothing else to do but think. The Hallows? Rubbish. The Greater Good? An illusion. I was wrong. WE... were wrong. The more I tried to control everything, the more things slipped through my fingers. I was doomed to fail from the start."
"You say we... it means Albus Dumbledore?" Quincy whispered, licking her lips a little.
"We were young." He nodded, his voice turning deeply nostalgic and happy, "He was the first man with whom I could sit down and freely talk to, knowing he understood me. We could finish each other sentences. We were like long-lost brothers, and he became like a twin brother to me. We had great plans on reshaping the wizarding world with the Hallows!"
"Well... someone did just that." I joked with sarcasm, shaking my head.
"Not as we would have done it." He argued but not with anger but with a chuckle, "Our idea was the Greater Good. Taking control of our society and imposing rules that would ensure our survival! I saw the muggles as a threat, their aggressive nature as the biggest danger to our lives... we were planning on taking over their leaders and controlling them. Everything was about that..."
"Controlling muggles?" We asked, but he shook his head.
"No. About control. It always is about control. But now, I see how wrong we were! Just as the muggles are trying to control nature, we wizards are trying to control magic. It can't be done. Magic is Nature. It is something that can never be controlled... The only way to achieve true success is to open yourself to it and ride its waves. The moment you try to make the waves yourself, you are doomed to fall."
I was trying to understand what he was saying, but honestly... I wasn't getting it. I wasn't even sure he was right in the head. Not to mention, this all was a bit too much. I will need to sit down and talk about it with Quincy to make heads or tails of what we just learned. It felt like when we found Salazar's books, it was a bit too much to read through at once!
"You will get it one day... or not. All is possible." With that, he just leaned back, closing his eyes, simply ignoring us.
"Don't you want to be freed?" Quincy blurted out, forcing the old wizard to answer us, yet his eyes remained shut.
"Only my body is what is imprisoned here, young Quincy. My mind has been free for a very long time."
She wanted to say something else, but it was already dark, and I felt my head beginning to hurt, so I gently nudged her. When we left, Grindelwald never tried to stop us, nor did he look at us... he was lost in his own world, it seemed. Maybe he was mad... I would be...
"Are you going to stand there just like that?"
"..."
We didn't really know what to answer him with. Well... we can't just leave nor let him out... can we?
"Do any of you youngsters know any self-cleaning spells?" He shrugged, watching us, but his blue eyes mostly wandered towards Quincy.
"Like...?" She asked, drawing a blank for a moment.
"No matter... haaah. How did you two get here? It should be virtually impossible." He sighed, sitting back on his cot, watching us with a calm, unperturbed gaze.
"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brows as, not counting the storm, we got here pretty easily.
"This place is guarded by multiple wards placed down by the top mages of their period, including the one who visited me the last time, leaving me here all alone. Two kids stumbling in here? It is not something that should or could happen. Either you were sent here by someone, or I am beginning to hallucinate. The latter should not be possible as I know my own mental state the best."
"Which is?" Quincy asked without thinking, making him look at her, forming a slight smile under his beard.
"Clarity. I achieved a state that I think very few wizards or muggles could imagine. So... who sent you here? Did the muggles finally discover our existence, and some group wants to free me? Tell them I am not interested in whatever they want to do."
"N-no, nothing like that happened..." We replied in tandem, looking at each other and realizing there would be a long discussion ahead of us. "We got here because we were looking for this place from the get-go."
"That is still should be impossible. But I am curious why they would have sent kids... It doesn't make sense."
"If anybody or anything sent us here, it was the Felix Felicis." I blurted out, not knowing how to explain it any better.
"..."
For a moment, there was a dry, cold silence between the three of us, broken by the unexpected, loud laughter of one of the most infamous, dark wizards of modern history. It lasted for way too long, making me uncomfortable, but in the end, Grindelwald reigned it in, coughing, wiping his eyes, shaking his head.
"All that planning and security, beaten by the favorite drug of Quidditch players! Haaaaah... I can't believe it, and I don't think anyone would either! Thank you, children, for allowing me to enjoy something so wonderful after so many years... I think this alone made it worth sitting here alone for the past fifty years. You really came here... to find this place? Using the lucky potion to find it...? Unbelievable. But, yes. That can work. It is so stupid that I can see it foiling the most advanced spells as it is kind of like tugging on the strings of fate."
"You believe in fate?" I asked, feeling a bit strange, but I became even more confused after hearing his answer.
"No. Yes."
"Which is it?" Quincy grunted, shaking her head, trying to stay focused.
"Fate exists, yes, but it is not a binding, omnipotent thing that can't be fought or altered. That is the whole basis of divination."
"Divination is banned." I said calmly, making him raise an eyebrow, tilting his head, and stroking his long beard.
"A lot of things had happened in the past 50 years that I missed. I'd like to hear them all."
"For one," I shrugged, looking at my wife, who couldn't help but chuckle, knowing what I was about to say, "You are no longer the most infamous wizard. That title goes to... I can't say his name."
"That bad?" He asked, leaning forward, not even surprised or angry.
"The name is jinxed." Quincy explained. It was a well-known secret between Death Eaters, so of course, Father told us about it.
"Taboo? Interesting. Smart, I will give him that, but you can speak it freely in here. This place would interfere with the magic signal, so they won't be notified."
"Are you sure?"
"Kids..." He chuckled again, looking into our eyes, and I had never before seen such confidence in anybody. "I built this place. I know it the best. Please... continue. This is fascinating to me."
"Well... his name is Lord Voldemort. Haaah... It is a long story, but I guess we have time!"
That we had and when we began, he never interrupted us, listening silently, memorizing everything, and only asking his multitude of questions when we finished retelling everything we knew of him, his battles, right until the point of our escape and my Father's death. Of course, we didn't tell him everything about ourselves. For example, the ritual, our animagi form, or most of our strengths.
"So now you are on the run... I see. How interesting that fate brought you here... Oh, Albus... you picked up what you said you no longer care about, didn't you? Or why would these kids arrive here?"
"Quincy..." I whispered, leaning over, watching the mumbling old man, "I think he is a bit nuts."
"Yeah... seems like it... I am not surprised."
"As I said," He added, raising his voice, clearly hearing us, "I reached clarity. I am sure old Albus took up what we started, or else I wouldn't be involved in it again."
"What would this have to do with you? I know that Dumbledore stopped you, but what are you on about?" I asked, rubbing my head, trying to figure it out without success. He was speaking as if he knew the old bastard well enough.
"Defeated me?" He repeated, munching on the words. I was afraid he would become angry, but no, he simply nodded, smiling. "Yes... Yes, he did. He was stronger than me, even if I had the Elder Wand supporting me. He was better, and the wand felt it, too, abandoning me. That little toy is fickle like a woman."
"Hmph!" Quincy snorted, which in turn made me chuckle, hugging her closer. "What is an Elder Wand?" She asked, making me also realize the point I missed.
"Good question, Miss..."
"Quincy. He is my husband, Conrad."
"I see. Well, Young Quincy, the question you posed to me is sharp and on point. To answer it, I must first ask you a different one. Do you know of the legend of the Deathly Hallows?"
Of course, we didn't. Seeing our puzzled looks, Grindelwald didn't get angry; he just nodded at us and began retelling the ancient tale we had never heard before.
...
....
......
"Slowly, my dear... slowly!" Said an old but kind voice, soothing the pain Hermione was feeling in her head while sitting up on her bed.
She was in a wizarding hospital back in France, not that far away from Paris.
"Who... who are you?" She asked, surprised to find someone who spoke English so fluently, yet she never met her before.
"My name is Minerva McGonagall, my dear, from the Order."
"Can we hurry up?" Asked a more impatient, grizzly voice, belonging to a man who scared Hermione when she looked at him standing at the entrance to her room. He was short, his face was disfigured thanks to the many injuries, and a magical blue eye was spinning in his left eye socket.
"This is why I insisted to come with you, Alastor!" The woman, named McGonagall, quipped at him sternly, making him groan and murmur something under his breath. "You are uncut for dealing with others."
"Sorry... but... what is happening?" Hermione interjected, feeling left out of the conversation, yet it was they who woke her up all of a sudden.
"We were sent here to follow up on clues as to what happened to you. Can you tell us?"
"Didn't you see it?" Hermione whispered, touching her head, still feeling some pain, the aftermath of Fleur's potion. It never truly went away. It could be eased, but when her focus waned, the pain began creeping back in.
"We did, but we need to hear it from you. Memories can't tell us what you felt that moment, only what you saw."
"I felt fear; is that better?" She answered with a bit of anger rising in her voice, but the woman before her didn't get irate; she just looked at her kindly.
McGonagall continued asking her some weird questions, mostly related to her feelings and thoughts about Fleur. Could she be under the influence of someone else or not? In the end, after half an hour of 'interrogation,' the two left, leaving her alone. When they departed, Hermione no longer had any desire to lay back and sleep. Instead, her mind was occupied by many thoughts.
"What was the snake doing?" She asked the same question in her head, the same one that McGonagall asked her a moment ago. "Could it have a hypnotizing effect? Did I feel anything else when I looked into its eyes? Did I smell something?"
The more she thought about it, the more she remembered the crazed face of Fleur and the now resurfacing memories of the boy named Conrad and his... well... wife, Quincy.
"Could I remember what the air felt like around them?" Hermione whispered the old witch's questions again.
She answered with a no a moment ago, but she lied. She did remember, and they looked and sounded desperate. Troubled. They did warn her, yet they did not hurt her. She was unsure what to think anymore, especially after learning that the boy had the same name as the one who saved her. Anguine... She should have asked what they knew of him!
With that thought, Hermione ignored the pain in her head, jumping out of the hospital bed, rushing out, and catching up to them just right when they were about to disappear in the staircase leading down to the lobby.
"Who was Anguine?" She asked, out of breath, making Moody raise an eyebrow while McGonagall hurried back up, straightening Hermione's posture and fixing her loosened robes.
"He was a hero who fought against the Dark Lord and perished... yet many wizards and witches, just like you, were saved by him." The woman's answer did not explain much, so Hermione subconsciously looked toward Moody, who responded with a simple grunt as if he had to acknowledge an uncomfortable fact.
"He was a good fighter."
"Then why is his son being hunted?"
"Sometimes," McGonagall continued, gently stroking Hermione's head, leading her back towards the hospital room, "even if someone has a parent who is an example to us all, that does not mean their children would be just as upstanding. Hogwarts is sick at the moment... and that sickness has infected many young minds."
"Sickness... that is good, Minerva." Moody added, following them a few steps behind, "And we are the cure then."
This time, the old witch only left after Hermione was back in bed, pretending to be asleep, but the moment their steps were far enough, her eyes opened once again. This didn't make sense. Not to her, at least. It was time that she began searching for answers by herself if the adults refused to give one. She saw Conrad transform, protecting his own and only killing the one individual who was attacking them... Even if she looked up to Fleur, she couldn't ignore the facts that were now swirling within her mind, making her head hurt again.
A pain whose origin lies within the Order of the Phoenix itself...
...
....
......
"Wait!" I raised my two hands, "You want to tell us you had the strongest wand in existence, one that was made by Death itself?"
"Yes." Grindelwald nodded, playing with his long beard, "I had it for quite a long time, in fact. Of course, not as long as Albus, but that comes down to the fact he was better than me and earned its allegiance."
"Should we believe it?" Quincy whispered, but I simply shrugged.
"We found Salazar's place, no? Who says some ancient wizards couldn't have forged some incredible artifacts? I don't buy the 'made by Death' part, but..."
"It could be true." Grindelwald agreed with me, "But it could be ancient works of powerful wielders of magic, yes. Whatever the case is, the three Hallows are real, and the clues are there. I followed those and stole the wand from its previous owner, Mykew Gregorovitch, a renowned wandmaker."
"But you said that the wand needs to be obtained through combat... no?" Quincy argued, making the old wizard smile under his beard.
"Stealing it counts just as much as disarming the wizard. The Elder Wand chooses its master, and it switches sides very quickly. It only acknowledges the strongest, which caused so many of its owners to die a horrible death. They were betrayed by their closest ally, their own wand. If you ever get your hands on it... never trust it."
It was weird to hear it from his mouth, from one of the most infamous dark wizards and previous owner of a supposed legendary weapon. Not that we can get it if it is really in the hands of Dumbledore.
"It was my biggest mistake to rely on it so heavily. It made me weak and vulnerable, and it caused my downfall."
"Wouldn't you want to get it back?" I asked, making him fall silent for a moment before standing up, walking to the bars of his cell, and looking directly into my eyes when answering.
"No. I had time to think. I had nothing else to do but think. The Hallows? Rubbish. The Greater Good? An illusion. I was wrong. WE... were wrong. The more I tried to control everything, the more things slipped through my fingers. I was doomed to fail from the start."
"You say we... it means Albus Dumbledore?" Quincy whispered, licking her lips a little.
"We were young." He nodded, his voice turning deeply nostalgic and happy, "He was the first man with whom I could sit down and freely talk to, knowing he understood me. We could finish each other sentences. We were like long-lost brothers, and he became like a twin brother to me. We had great plans on reshaping the wizarding world with the Hallows!"
"Well... someone did just that." I joked with sarcasm, shaking my head.
"Not as we would have done it." He argued but not with anger but with a chuckle, "Our idea was the Greater Good. Taking control of our society and imposing rules that would ensure our survival! I saw the muggles as a threat, their aggressive nature as the biggest danger to our lives... we were planning on taking over their leaders and controlling them. Everything was about that..."
"Controlling muggles?" We asked, but he shook his head.
"No. About control. It always is about control. But now, I see how wrong we were! Just as the muggles are trying to control nature, we wizards are trying to control magic. It can't be done. Magic is Nature. It is something that can never be controlled... The only way to achieve true success is to open yourself to it and ride its waves. The moment you try to make the waves yourself, you are doomed to fall."
I was trying to understand what he was saying, but honestly... I wasn't getting it. I wasn't even sure he was right in the head. Not to mention, this all was a bit too much. I will need to sit down and talk about it with Quincy to make heads or tails of what we just learned. It felt like when we found Salazar's books, it was a bit too much to read through at once!
"You will get it one day... or not. All is possible." With that, he just leaned back, closing his eyes, simply ignoring us.
"Don't you want to be freed?" Quincy blurted out, forcing the old wizard to answer us, yet his eyes remained shut.
"Only my body is what is imprisoned here, young Quincy. My mind has been free for a very long time."
She wanted to say something else, but it was already dark, and I felt my head beginning to hurt, so I gently nudged her. When we left, Grindelwald never tried to stop us, nor did he look at us... he was lost in his own world, it seemed. Maybe he was mad... I would be...
