And so, Leon was promoted to Grindelwald's bag-carrying sidekick.
The two hightailed it out of the crime scene, fleeing to America overnight.
If they hadn't, the Aurors would've come knocking (just kidding—they'd have been arrested).
Leon followed Grindelwald, getting a taste of the thrill of a hit-and-run escape.
The Aurors, arriving a step too late, found nothing.
Since no Muggles were harmed, they ruled out dark wizard involvement.
The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures concluded it was likely the work of one or more rogue magical creatures.
With a lead in hand, the Aurors split up to investigate Britain's most notorious beast tamers.
Newt Scamander and Hagrid, both with prior records, topped the suspect list.
The cleanup was left to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
The Memory Modification Squad and the Accidental Magic Reversal Team worked overtime, waving their wands until they were practically smoking, finally sorting out the mess.
In the end, the Muggle news report about the Upton Stand riot read:
"CCB News, live from the scene of West Ham United's home match against Leicester City in the English League One.
Due to outrage over a baffling own goal by the home team's goalkeeper in the final two minutes, allowing the visitors to equalize, fans in the upper stands lost control.
They hurled a barrage of objects downward, sparking a localized riot.
This behavior is utterly deplorable, and authorities are pursuing the culprits.
Thankfully, only a few fans sustained minor scrapes from falls.
One security guard was more seriously injured and is receiving hospital treatment.
Most of those affected suffered no physical harm but were deeply shaken, unable to recall exactly what hit them.
A young fan named Dean Thomas, visibly emotional, shared an intriguing story with reporters.
According to Dean, he was coerced by a boy around his age and a small creature, forcing him to 'fly' from the upper to the lower stands.
Many of the fallen fans were knocked over by them.
Having admitted involvement in the riot, the young fan has been taken by police for questioning.
Stay tuned for further updates."
This book is first published on 101𝘬𝘢𝘯.𝘤𝘰𝘮, offering a seamless reading experience with no errors or out-of-order chapters.
Days later, basking in California's sunny glow, Leon read a New York Ghost reprint of a Daily Prophet article.
It lambasted irresponsible magical creature breeders for failing to leash their pets, letting them wreak havoc in the Muggle world.
Such actions violated the International Statute of Secrecy, endangering the entire wizarding community.
It called for laws banning private ownership of magical creatures, yadda yadda.
Leon yawned, bored.
They were talking about magical creatures—what did that have to do with his macaw?
Still, Tom's modifications needed some serious acceleration.
If Tom had pulled his weight, Leon might've already made a clean getaway.
The Fwooper bloodline, while keeping its vibrant feathers, needed slight dilution to tone down the incessant squawking.
Further refine the Diricawl's teleportation ability, spend more time training Tom to teleport independently.
And enhance its flight and carrying capacity to lay the groundwork for a future flying mount upgrade.
Leon was lost in his bioengineering daydreams when Grindelwald dragged him off to learn Protego Diabolica—y'know, the "gas stove" spell.
Since it's an advanced version of the Fiendfyre curse, he had to master that first.
Fiendfyre, a powerful and dangerous dark spell, had two big hurdles: it required silent casting, and once unleashed, it drained the caster's magic continuously, making wandless casting nearly impossible.
With both of them unable to legally use wands, the learning curve was brutal.
Casting it was hard enough; controlling it was even tougher.
It demanded unwavering willpower, confidence, and precise magical sensitivity.
If the caster wasn't strong enough, Fiendfyre could backfire and consume them.
Despite its difficulty and danger, Grindelwald taught with the flair of a genius prodigy.
A few sentences to explain Fiendfyre's key points, a casual demonstration.
Wave hand, fire on!
Wave again, fire off!
Lesson over.
Done and dusted.
As if he wasn't teaching a fiendishly complex dark spell but a basic linear equation.
"Mate! Skipping every step and just writing the answer—who's gonna get that?!" Leon protested, trying to make Grindelwald see the gap between a genius and a struggler was bigger than between a human and a house-elf.
"Are you some shoddy textbook with 'solution omitted' for every answer? Who'd buy that rubbish?"
"You've gotta match your audience's level! Meet the user's needs!"
"Assume your student's thick as a troll, break it down, chew it up, spell it out clearly, thoroughly, step by step…"
Mid-rant, Leon realized he was wasting his breath.
Grindelwald's face screamed, "What's so hard? Just do it."
Leon got it.
To a genius, Protego Diabolica might be tricky.
But Fiendfyre? It was like the final math question on the NEWTs—geniuses ace it without trying, while strugglers like Leon flail and fail.
He'd thought Voldemort's Fiendfyre learning process was streamlined enough.
But Grindelwald? He'd taken it to minimalist art.
Leon wasn't thrilled.
Two Dark Lords mentoring him, and he still couldn't nail a measly Fiendfyre!
His stubborn streak kicked in.
Head down, he grinded.
Up, down, left, right, A, A, B, B.
He studied like a madman, lost in it, risking it all…
He was so exhausted he was practically panting, and still—nothing. Couldn't do it.
Too hard. This spell was too bloody hard. He was stumped!
Rubbing his elegant curls into a bird's nest, Leon finally gave up on the impossible mode and switched to easy.
"Mate, just get me a wand. Fiendfyre wandless is too much. I'm this close to nailing it—I just need a wand."
"You think I can just buy a wand?" Grindelwald side-eyed him.
"C'mon, it's easy. Just nick one," Leon said with a cheeky grin.
The words barely left his mouth before Grindelwald turned away, ignoring him.
Leon backpedaled, "Kidding! With human transfiguration, you could change your look and buy one. Easier than breathing for you, right?"
"Hm," Grindelwald nodded slightly. "But how do you know this isn't already a transfigured face?"
Leon's grin froze.
No way.
The face was fake?!
Then what was real?
He couldn't tell, he—
Thwack!
"Ow! What was that for?"
Leon clutched his head.
"Stop thinking weird thoughts."
"I was thinking about wands!"
Leon pressed on. He'd never even touched a wand in this life.
"I'm just a kid! My magic's barely there. Without a wand, how am I supposed to handle Fiendfyre?"
Grindelwald looked down at Leon's head, considered, and nodded.
"Fair point. Buying a wand's out, but I can modify you. Like this."
He rolled up his left sleeve, showing his arm to Leon.
Leon squinted, seeing nothing special, and was about to ask when—
A faint glow sparked at Grindelwald's elbow, racing to his fingertips, where a magical beam shot out.
Grindelwald raised his glowing forearm, bathed in an almost holy aura.
The light wasn't harsh but intricate, like sunlight filtering through a carved window, tracing delicate patterns.
"What's this? A new spell skin? Voldemort's got his snake tattoo, and you've got a glowing arm?"
Leon gaped, thoroughly out of his depth.
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