"...I'm really stupid, truly."
Sipping hot milk, Hermione sighed sadly. Clearly, this passionate girl had just been drenched with the biggest bucket of cold water in her life so far, now slipping into a phase of decadence and self-doubt.
Dobby stood somewhat at a loss before the girl, opening his mouth but unsure of what to say.
"This is a historical problem that's been continuing for hundreds of years in the wizarding world. You really expected to just meet those little elves and easily resolve it?"
William reached out and took the empty cup from Hermione's hand, casually washing the milk stains inside clean, "Though it's not appropriate to say so, you're not the Minister of Magic nor the President of the World Magic Association...even Merlin couldn't solve this situation—
"Are you planning to hold your magic wand and storm into the mansions of those pure-blood clans, pointing it at their necks to make them pay the elves a salary?"
"Can I really do that?"
Hermione sniffed, seemingly greatly inspired.
"..."
William fell silent, now wanting to knock open this young girl's skull to see what's inside.
"Miss Granger, this must be very difficult! Because they are not like Dobby, Dobby is a free little elf!" Dobby spoke with some excitement, trying to comfort Hermione, "Dobby is very grateful for Miss Granger's noble action, and Dobby is willing to strive together with Miss Granger, for freedom—"
"Yes, for the freedom of all elves!" Inspired by Dobby's words, Hermione took a deep breath and picked up her spirits once again.
"..."
Watching one person and one elf, fired up to fiercely stir up a revolution, William silently retreated two steps, just hoping the blood wouldn't splatter on him when the time came.
The last non-human species to stage a revolution was the goblin rebellion of 1892, whose leader was Lanlock, and he was crushed completely. So many years have passed, yet even a tombstone hasn't been erected for him.
...
Thus, in the following one or two weeks, apart from everyone being amazed at Professor Lupin actually putting an end to Voldemort's curse and discussing amongst themselves how Dumbledore would prevent underage students from signing up for the Eight-Team Tournament, along with some friction between Slytherin students and Ilvermorny students—
It was widely known that among the American immigrants were many bloodlines from European pure-blood families at the time, even among America's seventeen pure-blood families were many descended from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, repeatedly quarreling openly over "blood purity"—
No major events occurred.
But no matter how William looked at it, it felt like watching a Teddy and Bichon barking at each other.
Because, apart from looking somewhat different, there was virtually no distinction between the two.
"...After I fell from power, quite a few remnants of the Witch Supremacist Faction fled to that side, and now have even taken root in the United Kingdom."
"?...You call your own subordinates remnants?"
"Heh, those truly loyal to me wouldn't choose to leave—"
After a Muggle Studies Class, William stayed to have a cup of tea with the old man, Dumbledore, who had been dusty and traveling all month. Clearly, the preparations for the Eight-Team Tournament were taking quite a toll on him, so—
The old man now seemed like a lonely elder left behind in a rural area.
Exuding an air of "I'm very solitary, come play with me."
"It means they'll mourn for thirty years in your stead?"
"Hey! I'm not dead yet!"
"Almost, if Dumbledore hadn't secretly let you out, would you have really planned an escape?"
"...Alright, that would indeed be mourning." Grindelwald had no rebuttal, pausing for a moment, "But what I mean is, those truly loyal to Grindelwald, understanding and carrying out our generation's noble ideals, wouldn't possibly run away—"
"Meaning, they actually all died."
"...Please don't put it so bluntly, although it's quite accurate."
"Alright then."
William tapped the table with his teacup, filling it with tea again at the moment he put it down, "Let's not talk about this for now, how's your research on Ravenclaw's diadem going?" Before the holidays, William had tossed the diadem ruined by Voldemort to Grindelwald, who was very proficient in the curses of the Dark Arts—
At least more thorough than William's studies.
However, William wasn't worried about him using it to contact Voldemort, then the two Dark Lords banding together to stage a revolution or something—
It's simply absurd.
One aims for racial revolution, the other for terrorist attacks, their starting points are quite different, so there's fundamentally no space for collusion. Not to mention, Grindelwald never thought much of Voldemort and, in his eyes, that noseless oddball seemed more like a lucky Muggle child who grabbed a lethal weapon—
'A person who possesses power but does not learn how to control it is destined not to achieve great things—' Grindelwald once remarked.
"I've tried all the conventional methods; it's impossible to completely remove it safely."
Grindelwald pulled open the drawer of the desk and took out the rusted diadem. The Soul Artifact looked even more worn than the last time he saw it, with gray-brown rust even spreading to the gemstones. "There isn't actually a curse placed on it, but the existence of the Soul Artifact itself is like a curse, akin to Dark Arts without a Counter-Curse—"
"So... should we really destroy it?"
Taking the diadem, William smacked his lips. Truthfully, he always wanted to know the purpose of this diadem, after all, Ravenclaw's Diadem was legendary, said to be able to even bestow intelligence upon a stupid monkey, but with its current state—
Who would dare to put this thing on their head? What if Voldemort inside it possessed them?
"... By the way, I've crafted something good."
Just as William was packing away the diadem and planning to turn and leave, Grindelwald suddenly opened the second drawer beside him and took out a pitch-black object, slapping it onto the desk.
As William looked at the silver-gray handgun lying on the desk, he fell into a brief silence—
"... What's the meaning? 'A gun in hand'? 'Follow me'?"
"?"
The old man was stunned for a moment, then continuously shook his head, seemingly fearing that William would misinterpret and slap him with a big accusation, and then blast him to pieces with three Charms. "Of course not!" The old man said, while also pulling out a handful of gleaming golden bullets from another drawer, stretching them out like a line on the table—
"Thunk—"
The metal tapped the table, emitting a crisp and melodious sound.
"Whoa, even the ammunition is prepared. Boss, are we going to attack Ping'an County?"
"What are you saying? These are Magic Bullets—"
"Magic... bullets? What, can they produce defeat effects?"
William raised his hand to pick up one, the shell of the golden bullet glimmering softly in the lamp light, and at the bullet's tip, a grayish-white Crystal Stone emitting a faint glow was embedded, with what seemed like a flicker of red light brewing inside—
"Of course not. I've researched the Magic Rune circuits you brought back and found there's exactly a circuit symbolizing 'Energy Storage'—"
Grindelwald said, picking up two of the bullets; one bullet began to glow faint red following his touch, while the other glowed with purple light. "This is the 'Stunning Spell' bullet," he finished, lifting up the purple one again, "This one, is the Blasting Curse—"
"... Stunning Bullet?"
"Yes, Colt M1911, using .45ACP bullet, muzzle initial speed can reach 253 meters per second, plus a magic rune circuit—"
Grindelwald grabbed the pistol, some intricately complex Magic Rune circuits lit up—William only then discovered that almost the entire gun was engraved with colorless patterns, until the magic rune circuits were infused with magic power, those engravings faintly glowed, "Can raise the bullet's initial speed to 375 meters per second—"
As he spoke, Grindelwald loaded the magazine with two types of bullets and aimed at the wall to William's right—
"Bang—"
A red stream of light flashed through the air, and disappeared the moment it hit the wall, leaving not a single mark or hole; "I added a rune representing 'Netherworld Oblivion', directly 'killing' the bullet on the Magic level, only allowing the Charm within to burst forth—"
"Meaning, non-lethal?"
William stared wide-eyed, received the handgun from Grindelwald, its handle glowing with red patterns felt warm to the touch.
"Yes, exactly like being hit by a Stunning Spell—" Grindelwald nodded, then added, "Of course, it's the same as the Stunning Spell used by Dumbledore—these items all use his samples."
"And the next one?"
William raised his hand, aiming at another wall, not waiting for Grindelwald to explain, he directly pulled the trigger.
"Bang—Boom!!!"
Dust was flying, the bricks of the wall were blown out into a huge gap, William could even feel the tremor of the floor, seeing birds outside the window so startled they forgot how to flap their wings, William lightly coughed—"Reparo. (Repair as before)"
As if time were reversing, the battered bricks flew back up, blocking the hole in the wall.
"The power is quite good, plus—the magazine can hold up to 8 rounds, clearing it once every ten seconds on average, with an effective range of up to fifty meters!"
Grindelwald's face was somewhat flushed, his tone filled with strong excitement, "The key is, bullet types can be chosen, I have now started researching Cruciatus... ahem, the Scouring Charm's effect on non-living objects, which means it could even be used in household care—
"Isn't this thing way better than a Magic Wand?!"
"... Impressive."
After a long pause, William could only silently give a thumbs up.