I've been dreaming of home more and more as of late. At first I thought they were normal dreams, except I've never dreamt so much about the same few things ever before. I keep seeing Paris -- the graves of Père Lachaise especially. Paris, and the school, and the roof of St. Paul's Cathedral, and yet I could not say why.

And now whenever I try to walk anywhere, my feet carry me towards the dream docks. I can't Apparate to anywhere except here.

There is a nagging in my skull that I am needed elsewhere. I can only guess as to why. But I don't think I can put it off any longer, no matter how much I have tried to drag my feet.

I aim to come back. I don't wish to stay at the docks forever. But if I don't return, please stay safe, all of you. And have a happy Christmas if I do not see you then.

Message sent to Gellert Grindelwald via Patronus:

( And as soon as this is working, I'll make him take me home )


((OOC: Dumbledore is off to the dream docks to canon update himself through the events of Crimes of Grindelwald, and will be back next week, just in time for Christmas.))

[Action A. Various Cities]
[aka, the post where Uai embarrasses himself.

When he heard that there was trouble, Uai decided to make use of himself. Also, it never hurts to show off. Except when you're a useless idiot, like Uai is. Then it can really hurt. You may spot him in the various cities with one of the gold and silver stones in hand, having approached one of the snow monsters. In a very flashy display of magic, Uai summons a sword and goes to slash at it with a magic attack-- and does literally no damage.

Then gets thrown back by a well aimed snow punch. And probably buried in snowballs, if he's really unlucky.

This process is likely to repeat itself, with Uai not understanding why his magic isn't  working. And getting repeatedly pelted with snowballs. Help him. Watch him. Sell tickets to the show. It's all free game.]

[Action B . Fayren]
[After being thoroughly beaten many times over, Uai is sitting in a tree outside of Fayren with a thick textbook and bitty notebook Obsessively reading it, with an annoyed frown on his face. He's waiting for another snow monster to appear, so that he can take a shot at it and regain some of his broken pride.]

Am I really just weak? It has to be my theory. My formulas are just off somewhere. [He scribbles in his notebook, then looks up when he sees someone approaching. Excited at first, then frowning when he sees they aren't a snow monster.] ... I'm gonna guess that shooting you isn't an option?