Ilvermorny, USA
A Secret Location
In the air, golden lines continuously emerged, weaving and intertwining like an intricate web of fate. They pulsed with a mysterious energy, forming patterns beyond human comprehension.
On the ground, a massive green plant stood, its roots tangled in a complex network—yet none of them extended deep into the earth. Instead, the only thing touching the soil was a large, spherical green fruit, its smooth surface reflecting the dim light around it.
Above, the golden lines continued to flicker and shift, occasionally drifting down into the green fruit like strands of destiny being woven into its very core.
Then, suddenly—
A powerful surge of golden energy poured into the fruit as if responding to an unknown stimulus. The once-calm surface of the fruit trembled violently.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of splitting echoed through the space as visible cracks began forming across the fruit's surface, spreading outward like a spiderweb.
Boom!
With an explosive burst, a cloud of light green gas erupted from the ruptured fruit. A figure emerged from the mist, stepping forward with deliberate ease.
Draped in a black robe, the man exuded an air of absolute confidence. His piercing gaze swept over his surroundings before his lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Just as I expected..."
A deep satisfaction welled up in Grindelwald's heart. He could feel it—the power of destiny had expanded within him by nearly half. This was more than he had ever anticipated.
His smile widened, his expression brimming with intrigue. It was as if he had stumbled upon something far more fascinating than he had initially predicted.
Snap!
With a casual flick of his fingers, a pale golden flame ignited in midair, flickering gently with an almost ethereal glow.
Grindelwald focused his energy, channeling the power of destiny into the flame while simultaneously weaving magic into it, simulating Lockhart's aura. The flame remained steady, its glow unwavering.
That was strange.
Grindelwald's brows furrowed slightly. This reaction wasn't what he had expected—unless his assumption had been incorrect.
He hesitated for a brief moment before trying again, this time simulating the auras of others—Harry Potter, Ian, Remy, Vera, and Wanda.
The pale golden flame reacted smoothly to the first few names, burning steadily, neither too fierce nor too dim.
However—
When he infused the flame with Wanda's aura—
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The flame surged violently, expanding as though it had been struck by an immense force.
At the same moment, Grindelwald felt something vast and unfathomable descend upon Ilvermorny—a consciousness so immense that it pressed upon the very fabric of reality itself.
Across the school, professors and students alike felt an eerie pressure settle over them. Their chests grew heavy, their breathing unsteady, yet no one could identify the source of the sensation.
Grindelwald, however, knew.
Lowering his head slightly, he displayed a respectful bow, acknowledging the presence of the grand consciousness that had turned its attention toward him.
Then, raising his wand, he guided the power of destiny within him, crafting intricate golden runes that he steadily cast into the blazing fire.
The fire reacted immediately, growing wilder, brighter—until, suddenly, it stopped.
Moments passed in silence.
Then, as abruptly as it had come, the immense consciousness seemed to withdraw, satisfied with whatever it had discovered.
The pale golden flame of destiny dimmed back to its original state, as if nothing had happened.
Yet, Grindelwald knew better.
An immense surge of power flowed into him, rewards materializing from an unknown source. He could feel the sheer abundance of destiny's power at his fingertips.
His grin widened.
And then—
It turned into full-blown laughter.
He had just pulled off the biggest lie in history.
United States, Magical Congress
Inside the grand parliamentary conference room, discussions buzzed among the gathered officials. At the head of the long table, Dumbledore sat quietly, draped in the deep red robes of the Wizengamot. His expression was composed, unreadable.
At the main seat, Deputy Speaker Chenos rose to his feet, his voice filled with fervor as he addressed the assembly.
"We have received confirmation!" he declared, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. "Grindelwald is dead in England!"
A wave of murmurs rippled across the room. Chenos, emboldened by the moment, continued, his excitement barely contained.
"The old Dark Lord attempted to strike at both Hogwarts and Kamar-Taj." He shook his head dramatically. "But in the end, he lost everything. His grand plan collapsed, and he perished in his own folly."
He exhaled sharply, his exhilaration evident. If he had a wand in hand, he might have set off celebratory fireworks right then and there.
Across the room,a Goblin Elder blinked in surprise. "Are you certain, Speaker Chenos?" he asked hesitantly.
"Without a doubt," Chenos affirmed with absolute confidence.
With a flick of his wand, he conjured shimmering images into the air.
The floating scenes displayed the fateful battle—Voldemort and Grindelwald, side by side, clashing against Lockhart.
"The reports from Kamar-Taj and the British Ministry of Magic confirm this," Chenos continued. "And Headmaster Dumbledore himself has vouched for it."
At the mention of his name, all eyes turned toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore cleared his throat softly and rose from his seat. His tone was measured as he spoke.
"Yes, I have personally confirmed this with Headmaster Lockhart of Kamar-Taj. Grindelwald is indeed dead."
The room erupted into cheers.
Among the goblin delegates, Elder Nas and his fellow wizards exchanged triumphant grins. The long-feared dark lord Grindelwald was finally gone.
But then—
Dumbledore raised a hand.
"However," he said, his voice cutting through the revelry, "we must not be so quick to celebrate."
The chamber fell silent.
Frowning, many of the wizards and goblins exchanged confused glances.
"Grindelwald was no ordinary wizard," Dumbledore continued. "His magical knowledge and abilities far surpassed what most of us can comprehend. His death may not be as final as we hope."
A cold unease settled over the room.
"Resurrection rituals exist," Dumbledore explained gravely. "For a wizard of Grindelwald's caliber, death does not necessarily mean the end. It is entirely possible that even now, he has already set plans in motion for his return."
Chenos's expression faltered.
The joyous atmosphere had all but evaporated.
Yes, wizards of their caliber had means beyond conventional understanding. To ordinary magic users, death was an end. To Grindelwald? It could be little more than a temporary inconvenience.
"But even if he does return," Chenos interjected quickly, regaining some of his bravado, "he will be weakened. That much is certain."
Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. All magic comes with a price. While I cannot say what resources Grindelwald may require upon his resurrection, history tells us that wizards who return from death often experience a period of weakness."
Chenos seized upon the point. "Then that is our advantage!" He clenched his fist in determination. "If Grindelwald has truly fallen, we must act swiftly. We can reclaim Ilvermorny, reestablish the Magical Congress, and purge his followers before he regains his strength!"
His voice rang with conviction.
"This is a turning point for the wizarding world of America!"
Chenos took a deep breath and issued the command that would decide the future.
"Summon all forces. Hunt down Grindelwald. Crush the Saints. Wipe out any and all resistance!"
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