— — — — — —
"The Aztec ruins were discovered by Ilvermorny's former headmaster, Lopez," Robert explained. "Back then, I was still the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Not long after the discovery, he passed the location on to Agilbert Fontaine. Their families have been close for generations."
Grindelwald let out a scornful laugh.
The Original Twelve Aurors, huh. North America's Magical Congress had grown into the largest single wizarding state in the world, but at its core, it was still the same old story. A bunch of elders carving up the pie among themselves. If you wanted a seat at the table, you married in, cooperated, bent over backward, and proved your usefulness.
This kind of thing happened everywhere. The difference was that Europe obsessed over bloodlines, while North America cared more about benefits.
"And where exactly is the ruin?" Grindelwald asked.
Robert hesitated. "Sir… my mind…" He pointed to his head. "As one of the highest-level secrets shared between several families, there are things I can't say. I can only tell you this: it's not within the country. It's farther south."
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. Without another word, he walked up to Robert and pressed his wand against his temple. Robert didn't dare resist. A thin silver thread was drawn out, but after only a few feet, it abruptly dissipated.
"Well now," Grindelwald murmured as he paced the room, his smile growing deeper. "This just keeps getting more interesting. All right. You can go ahead and tell me everything you do know. I won't make things difficult for you."
Robert finally breathed out in relief. He'd been terrified Grindelwald might ignore his life entirely and forcefully dig deeper into his mind.
Whether that would have worked, he didn't know. But one thing was certain: he wouldn't have survived it.
As expected of a Dark Lord with vision. Even in the face of such an enormous secret, he still cared about his subordinate's safety.
Robert was genuinely moved.
"It's like this..."
By carefully skirting the contract through vague and indirect phrasing, Robert revealed everything he could. Gradually, Grindelwald formed a fairly clear picture.
The Aztec ruins truly were prehistoric, containing vast amounts of documents and magical knowledge from a previous civilization. Beyond that, the most important treasure inside was "It."
"It" was a miraculous existence born through prayer and sacrifice, something capable of answering wishes.
All current research revolved around "It." As for concrete progress, even Robert didn't know. The core members there were all old-generation wizards. Information only leaked out occasionally, like that vampire who had once caused quite a stir on the European continent.
"Is 'It' the Feathered Serpent God?" Grindelwald mused, half asking Robert, half speaking to himself.
Judging by the blank look on Robert's face, he clearly didn't know either.
"Alright, you can go," Grindelwald said, waving him off. He needed time to think.
But Robert didn't leave right away. Instead, he asked cautiously, "Sir… do you have any other tasks for me?"
Grindelwald glanced at him. "In a few days, your superior will return."
"Yes, sir."
Robert assumed his future boss would be someone from the core leadership of the Acolytes. As he respectfully withdrew from the office, he was already thinking about how to flatter his way up the ranks.
...
"Where's Tom?" Grindelwald asked that evening as he returned to the learning space, intending to share what he'd learned. He scanned the room and only spotted Andros, staring off into space.
"You picked a great time!" Andros instantly perked up, leaping from his chair. "Let's have a no-holds-barred duel!"
"I—" Grindelwald barely opened his mouth before the rest of his sentence was stuffed back down his throat by a spell.
'If I can't beat Tom, I can at least beat you, right?'
Andros went all out. Grindelwald was caught completely off guard. Within minutes, he was smashed straight into a crater. It was the very same spot where Andros had been lying that morning.
"Are you out of your mind?" Grindelwald scrambled up, furious and disheveled, glaring at the laughing Andros. "A sparring match is one thing, but why did you bring out your Patronus?!"
Against Andros's Patronus, most of Grindelwald's dark magic was useless. In their usual duels, using it was strictly forbidden.
Today, that rule had clearly been broken.
"Worth it!" Andros said, not bothering to answer. Then he remembered what Grindelwald had asked earlier. "Oh right, you were looking for Tom. He's over—"
"Little Gellert, you finally made it!"
Tom, who had been at Jeanne's place reading picture books with her, heard the commotion and ran out.
"Tom—" Grindelwald tried to speak.
Another explosion of dazzling magic slammed into him.
...
..
"So just because Tom became a Century King, you both decided to beat me up?" Grindelwald lay back down in the crater, staring at the sky with dead eyes. This time, he didn't even bother getting up.
"No choice," Andros sighed. "He beat the hell out of me, so I had to get my balance back somewhere."
"Heh." Grindelwald let out a cold laugh and stiffly turned his head. "And you? You already beat this bastard once. Why are you still hitting me?"
Tom spread his hands innocently. "Because I wanted to share my happiness with you. And it wouldn't be fair if only Andros got beaten up, right? Relax, we're very big on fairness around here."
Grindelwald took a deep breath.
What kind of Dark Lord was he supposed to be anyway? These two idiots were darker than he'd ever been.
Still, the strength Tom had just shown genuinely rattled him. The kid could probably take on two people at once. One of them being Grindelwald himself, the other Dumbledore.
A freak was a freak. After a brief lull, he'd shot straight into the stratosphere.
It took Tom and Andros quite a bit of coaxing before Grindelwald was finally willing to crawl out of the crater. With a sour expression, he told them about what he'd learned that day.
"So it really is a prehistoric civilization," Andros said with a sigh of emotion. "I dug one up back in the day too and got a lot out of it, but from the sound of it, that one doesn't come close to this."
Tom's physique-enhancing potion had come from Morinsos, something Andros had unearthed while digging up his tomb back then. That place itself had actually been a remodeled prehistoric ruin.
Many ancient methods of using magic to commune with the world had also come from similar sites.
In a way, these ruins had shaped modern magic itself. They weren't some completely alien or independent system.
"Just keep an eye on it. Don't pour too much energy into it," Tom said, sipping his orange juice and motioning for Grindelwald not to obsess.
They already had more than enough on their plate, not to mention a world-level quest hanging over their heads. No matter what civilization it was, it would never outrank the Wizarding Guild in priority.
"Say," Tom added suddenly, "should we pass this information on to Dumbledore?"
He was very good at one thing.
Actually, two things. Aside from living off others, his real specialty was outsourcing. Any trouble, task, or headache that belonged to him, he'd toss it to someone else the moment he could.
From Ravenclaw at the top to Nicolas and Newt at the bottom, all of them had been dragged into his schemes more than once.
Now that his own people were busy, the only one he could think of was Dumbledore.
Grindelwald immediately caught on to Tom's intent. After a moment's hesitation, he agreed. Giving Dumbledore something to do was a good idea. Better than having him stare at him all day.
Soon enough, Grindelwald logged off to go "bond" with Dumbledore.
Andros, having vented his frustrations, headed into the meditation room full of energy to work on himself.
Tom, meanwhile, made his way to Ravenclaw's garden villa.
He didn't have a fixed residence in the study space. When he wanted to study or think, he came to Ravenclaw. When he wanted to relax, he went to find Ariana.
This time, he was here to reorganize his mental power.
With his will strengthened, his control and use of every fragment of power had improved once again. Sticking to the old divisions would only waste potential. After several experiments, Tom had now split his mental power and consciousness into twelve parts.
Under normal circumstances, only one part remained active at a time, while creating a mind avatar consumed another.
But his priority now was the trail... His maximum Apparition range was about 1,500 kilometers per jump. Each mental segment could manage three jumps. Counting everything, he could barely go from the South Pole to the North Pole and back.
The odds of winning were high, but if anything unexpected happened, it still wasn't completely safe.
So Tom's crooked little brain started turning again.
He decided that starting tomorrow, he'd feed Fawkes some things that were hard to digest. Mess with its condition on competition day. If the opponent wasn't in good shape, that wasn't his fault, right?
...
Creak—
The door opened, and Ravenclaw walked in, looking exhausted.
Tom opened his eyes. He'd just finished splitting his mental power and hadn't fully adjusted yet.
Ravenclaw didn't bother questioning why Tom was in her home. She tossed herself onto the sofa and let out a long, weary sigh.
"…Rowena, what's wrong?" Tom asked once his vision settled.
"I think there's something seriously wrong with my memory magic," Ravenclaw said dreamily.
The words shocked even Tom.
Memory magic was Ravenclaw's specialty. For her to doubt herself like this meant something was really off.
Tom hurried over and leaned in, fully prepared to listen to some drama.
Ravenclaw stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before finally saying, very seriously, "That girl Jeanne… she's someone special."
.
.
.