The headquarters of the fallen sorcerers in Tarot Town buzzed with activity. A summoning message had been received, prompting sorcerers to emerge from their quarters and converge upon the central hall with urgent steps. This was David's second full-scale gathering since the invasion of Dusk Castle, suggesting that something significant was about to unfold.
Many fallen sorcerers approached with furrowed brows, anxiety evident in their expressions. Was their temporary headquarters under threat once more? However, their concerns diminished considerably when they spotted Chief David conversing cheerfully not far away. Judging by their leader's demeanor, this gathering likely heralded good news rather than disaster.
The young sorcerer opposite their acting leader had become somewhat familiar to them recently. After all, the movement had grown substantially. David had personally recruited numerous sorcerers and had successfully gathered almost all who had defected from the London Temple—a formidable force deserving recognition.
"David, what's gotten you so excited this time?" one of the senior sorcerers inquired, noting the chief's unusual enthusiasm.
David's eyes glinted with mischief. "A fortuitous development, to be sure, but we'll discuss it momentarily. For now, discretion is paramount." He turned to a woman with chestnut hair and intense eyes. "By the way, Laura, how progresses your research? What stage has the second step reached?"
Laura sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm hardly your equal, David. Even with the blood sacrifice ceremony, capturing the concept remains exceedingly difficult."
"Don't be discouraged," David replied with unexpected gentleness. "Practice makes perfect—magical mastery is a path, not a destination. Take your time..."
From the periphery, a figure observed this exchange with calculated interest—Grindelwald, disguised via Polyjuice Potion, his true appearance hidden behind another's face. His lips curved into the hint of a smile as he watched David interact with his followers.
"Strange," Grindelwald murmured to the sorcerer concealed within the Time Stone of the Eye of Agamotto hanging around his neck, "you've had considerable contact with David recently. What assessment have you formed of him?"
It was undeniable that geniuses always received preferential treatment. Strange's magical aptitude was exceptional—even Grindelwald recognized him as possessing rare talent. Additionally, Strange's daily proximity, occasional thoughtful questions, and respectful demeanor had prompted Grindelwald to offer guidance to this late-blooming sorcerer.
"David is fundamentally malevolent," Strange replied from his magical hiding place, carefully measuring his words. "As expected of a fallen sorcerer, his methods are extraordinarily cruel—he operates without any moral framework."
Strange paused briefly, gauging Grindelwald's reaction. In truth, he harbored considerable apprehension toward his self-appointed "teacher." This fear was justified—Grindelwald routinely used Strange's identity to indoctrinate the sorcerers who had defected from the London Temple, fostering a disturbing unity of purpose among them.
Worse still, Grindelwald occasionally compelled Strange to address these sorcerers, promoting concepts of "freedom" and declaring that Earth belonged to its magic users. The dark wizard advocated expelling the followers of deities, insisting that the world rightfully belonged to Earth's sorcerers. Under Grindelwald's methods, Strange had witnessed the growing fanaticism in the eyes of these once-honorable practitioners.
The Godfather of magical pyramid schemes! Strange thought bitterly.
What troubled Strange most profoundly was that Grindelwald conducted all these machinations while wearing Strange's face. The Supreme Sorcerer despaired at the prospect of clearing his reputation. How could Lockhart have possibly associated with such a manipulative sorcerer?
At this moment, Strange's heart overflowed with resentment toward Lockhart, though he dared harbor no such feelings toward Grindelwald himself. Strange had quickly learned obedience after witnessing Grindelwald's capabilities. The arrogance typical of magical prodigies had swiftly evaporated, replaced by cautious respect.
When Grindelwald remained silent, Strange continued his assessment: "David exhibits paranoid tendencies and an affinity for unnecessary risks. This is evident in his dealings with the dark gods and his alliance with Mephisto."
"What else?" Grindelwald prompted, an unsettling amusement dancing in his eyes.
Strange considered carefully, trying to align his evaluation with perspectives Grindelwald might favor. During previous conversations, Grindelwald often analyzed situations from the perspective of a ruler or the leader of a significant faction—suggesting he had once commanded substantial forces.
"I don't believe he possesses the qualities of a competent leader," Strange offered.
This assessment earned a slight nod from Grindelwald. "I find it reassuring that you perceive this." His voice lowered, adopting a more instructional tone. "Character, morality, ethical considerations—these are largely irrelevant to someone of his nature. He is, after all, a fallen sorcerer; one cannot expect him to maintain righteous principles."
Grindelwald's fingers formed a steeple beneath his chin. "For someone like David, evaluation should center on whether he possesses the necessary qualities to lead a faction: vision, decisiveness, strategic thinking. Character analysis should originate from these aspects—such evaluation has genuine meaning and value."
"The assessment of an individual must consider context, position, and timing," Grindelwald continued. "David may possess considerable magical prowess and influence over his fellow sorcerers, yet he remains unsuitable as a leader. Perhaps he lacks relevant experience, or perhaps traces of selfish, small-minded thinking persist, rendering him reluctant to delegate authority or distribute resources..."
Grindelwald gestured toward Strange, his movements carrying implicit warning. Beyond Strange's status as a magical prodigy, Grindelwald harbored specific intentions in mentoring him. The opportunity to cultivate such promising talent was too valuable to squander.
Strange nodded reflexively, absorbing these insights. He had gained considerable knowledge from Grindelwald—magical theory, certainly, but more crucially, lessons in leadership and interpersonal dynamics. Gradually, Strange found himself adopting elements of Grindelwald's perspective.
Suddenly, David's voice broke through their private conversation.
"Everyone, allow me to introduce Master Strange." David placed a hand on Grindelwald's shoulder, unaware he was addressing an impostor. "You're likely familiar with him already, but you may not know he has provided us with invaluable intelligence—including the information necessitating today's comprehensive meeting."
Pride saturated David's tone—not the pride of a leader acknowledging a valuable subordinate, but rather someone showcasing a friend's accomplishments to impress others.
From his magical hiding place, Strange couldn't suppress a sigh. This man truly lacks the disposition to lead. His attitude doesn't reflect how one treats subordinates—he clearly views his allies as personal acquaintances rather than components of a structured organization.
As the fallen sorcerers gathered closer to hear what news had prompted this rare assembly, tensions and expectations hung in the air like an uncast spell, waiting for the final word that would set it in motion.