— — — — — —
Just like Rowena Ravenclaw once said, even a legendary wizard is still human. Birth, aging, sickness, and death come for everyone.
History has seen even legendary sorcerers die from dragon pox, or from the plague.
Grindelwald's body had looked fine from the outside, but in truth, both his body and mind had long been riddled with wounds. Half a century of malnutrition, untreated illness, and the suffocating weight of isolation had gnawed at him.
A normal person would likely have taken their own life after ten years of such confinement.
He endured fifty. That alone was proof of a terrifying will.
And now, under the power of the system, everything reversed. Everything rejuvenated.
His body was like a drought-stricken field drinking its first rain. His soul, like a withered tree bursting into new leaves. His thoughts sparked to life again, and deep inside him, an emotion called ambition began to rise.
But that ambition did not come from the system. It was simply what happened when a soul and body regained their prime.
Grindelwald sat with his eyes shut, a faint smile curling at his lips, savoring the feeling. The euphoria lasted nearly five minutes before abruptly ending.
He was familiar with this state. This was how he had been in his early forties, when his magic was perfected and his grand designs first began to unfold.
For Muggles, forty is the fading edge of one's prime. But for a wizard, it is just right.
Grindelwald suddenly laughed.
"Ha… ha ha…"
"Hahahaha!"
The laughter swelled, louder and more unrestrained, spilling out the window and rolling across the mountains.
Downstairs, the Squib guard was eating his lonely Halloween dinner. Hearing the laughter, he looked up, startled. In thirty years, he had never heard Grindelwald laugh like that.
So, out of duty, he put down his fork and knife and headed upstairs.
Shilo had been 25 when he'd been assigned as guard. Now he was 55. Three decades here had made him forget that Grindelwald was once the most dangerous wizard alive.
In fact, he even felt a strange… anticipation. The two had never spoken before. Maybe today would be the first time in thirty years?
The next second—
Boom.
Blue Flame poured down from above like an ocean. Shilo stared, stunned, as the flames curled around him, carefully avoiding the space where he stood, and continued rushing downward.
"Even a Squib is part of the wizarding world. Rest assured, I do not kill without reason."
The voice was magnetic, rich, and calm. The fire parted, forming a corridor. A man in a black coat, white hair like a spray of snow, walked toward him with a crooked smile.
"You… who are you?" Shilo stammered.
"You've brought me meals for thirty years, and you still can't recognize my face?"
Shilo's eyes widened. His voice broke.
"Y… you're G-G-Grindelwald?!"
"The one and only."
Their eyes met, and Shilo felt the world flip upside down. He fainted. In his final moment of consciousness, he saw Grindelwald walk past him.
The next heartbeat, the Protego Diabolica stopped restraining itself and erupted outward.
On a cliff, Tom watched the spectacle quietly.
The Flame bloomed like a monstrous flower in the night. The fortress of Nurmengard, which had stood for nearly a century, crumbled inch by inch under the force.
People say that the moment of destruction is also the most beautiful. And Tom thought that made sense now.
Blue flowers, roses, and countless other blossoms spread across the entire castle, tearing through every protective ward.
The petals gathered together, shaping themselves into a massive winged creature that ripped through the air… and then, in an instant, all of it collapsed into fire. The flames curled inward, shrinking down into a single small ember that settled quietly in Grindelwald's palm.
"Hmm..." Grindelwald smiled.
Just a small warm-up. Casting Protego Diabolica without a wand. He merely wanted to see whether his skill was still intact.
Now he was sure.
He wasn't just as strong as before. He was stronger.
And that was only natural. With Andros, a wizard even more powerful than himself, to share knowledge and practice with, and the meditation room enhancing them both… not growing stronger would have been absurd.
Of course, this comparison didn't include the boost from the Elder Wand. Only someone like him knows the true extent of power that wand can grant.
Then Grindelwald looked toward the cliff.
He flicked his hand. A wine glass appeared, filled with deep red.
"To you, Tom Riddle."
Tom watched his lips carefully, smiled, and conjured his own glass.
"To freedom."
They both drank.
A gust of wind swept across the cliff. Tom's figure vanished into the night.
Grindelwald stood a bit longer, looking at the ruins of Nurmengard. After around five minutes, he turned and left.
Nearly half an hour later, the Aurors finally arrived.
Nurmengard sat deep in the Alps, within Austrian territory. Naturally, it was the Austrian Ministry of Magic that oversaw its operation.
According to the original regulations, once the alarms of Nurmengard were triggered, three Auror squads were supposed to arrive within ten minutes to assess the situation.
But decades had passed. The old generation who remembered what Grindelwald truly was had long since withdrawn from the stage. Nothing had happened for so many years that the meaning behind the alarm had been all but forgotten. Staff took far too long to react, to recall the protocol, to rush and call for the stationed Aurors.
When they finally arrived and faced the smoking remains of the fortress, with the harsh stench of sulfur still hanging thick in the air, every Auror went pale. Their expressions were stunned, vacant.
"Where's Grindelwald?" one of them whispered, as though afraid he might be heard by something lurking nearby.
"Alive or dead, we must find him!"
They raised their wands and began clearing rubble. Soon, they uncovered the unconscious Squib guard, Shilo, and woke him. The first words out of his mouth shattered the last thread of hope anyone might have held.
"G–Grindelwald escaped!"
The message reached the Ministry at once.
Panic rippled through the entire Austrian wizarding government. In the Minister's office, the current Minister, Carl Friedrich, was drenched in cold sweat.
He was 73, not particularly old by wizard standards, still in his prime in terms of political ambition.
When he had been young, Grindelwald's movement had been at its peak. In fact, even his own family had once stood under Grindelwald's banner.
How had he risen to his current position?
Because when the tide began to turn, his family — along with others in their country — defected early. They avoided the purges and even profited from turning sides in time.
But now Grindelwald had broken free. Would he return for revenge?
Would the surviving believers rally to him once more, gathering beneath his banner to sweep across the world again?
One question after another crashed down on him, until his mind nearly blanked.
No idea how much time passed before Carl finally snapped into action, hands shaking as he activated emergency communications. This was beyond the control of a small ministry. Europe would have to move. Maybe the entire wizarding world.
Halloween?
Cancel it. Everyone was going to suffer together.
---
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, the feast had only just begun. Even though Tom had delayed returning to watch Grindelwald's release, his Apparition was fast. The professors at the high table hadn't even entirely taken their seats.
The Great Hall buzzed with laughter and candlelight and playful Halloween frights. No one there had any idea that a world-shaking event had just occurred.
Tom cut into the steak Daphne had sliced for him and nibbled at a boneless wing, while talking with the three others in the study space.
Since it was a big day for one of their "colleagues," Tom had let Andros and Ariana watch as well.
Watching Grindelwald break free, regain youth, and reclaim his glory stirred something in them. When they were all imprisoned, it hadn't felt like much. But now? Now the envy was real.
"Why him..." Ariana muttered. Dark mist coiled faintly around her. She was actually so irritated her resentment was leaking out.
Andros cracked his knuckles. "He looks strong. I really want to fight him again. With my real body."
"Calm down. You'll both get your turns," Tom said, soothingly. "I haven't even perfected the flesh reconstruction process yet. You two don't want to walk around in half-functioning corpses, right? Especially you, Andros. How many times did you bully Grindelwald in the study space? Aren't you afraid he'll return the favor when you meet face to face?"
Andros froze. "...Right. I can wait. Take your time."
Ariana immediately added, "And I refuse to come out looking ugly. Tom, you have to make me a perfect body."
"Then be patient. Good."
After calming them both, Tom finally looked toward the silent Ravenclaw. "You're awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?"
She returned to herself, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm wondering how Grindelwald recovered his peak strength. Was it time magic? Life force restoration? Or perhaps something else I do not yet understand."
"Don't ask me," Tom shrugged. "If you want to figure it out, study it yourself."
"Just don't forget the research I assigned you," he added.
A research talent like her was not something Tom intended to waste. He'd already handed her multiple projects and was simply waiting for results.
Ravenclaw nodded. Then she headed toward the meditation room.
Tom watched her go. That woman had so little interest in resurrection itself. It was the principles behind it she cared about. What, exactly, could stir her emotions?
Helena, perhaps?
Lost in thought, Tom absently patted Ariana's head and withdrew his consciousness from the space.
Just then, Dumbledore entered the Great Hall with McGonagall and Lupin beside him. All three wore warm smiles, chatting cheerfully.
Tom looked at Dumbledore's kindly, smiling, old face… and smiled himself.
Still smiling. Let's see if you're still smiling when you hear your old friend broke out tonight.
.
.
.