While Asterion didn't care about Grindelwald's arrival, others didn't think the same way. Hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches fell into complete silence; only the blinding flashes of cameras and the sound of the man's footsteps echoed throughout the place.
Gellert Grindelwald walked with his loyal adopted son following behind him with leisurely steps. He wore a simple black German suit with a gray tie, his hair perfectly combed, while a gentle smile played on his lips.
He looked like any kindly grandfather you might meet on the street, his charismatic aura emanating from his every gesture. However, one of his suit sleeves fluttered gently with his movements, revealing that he was missing one of his arms.
The duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald had a particularly costly consequence—the loss of one of the Dark Lord's limbs. Technically, Grindelwald should have died from Dumbledore's attack, but the seer sacrificed one of his arms to reshape reality and successfully survive the assault by the most powerful man in the world.
Grindelwald walked over to the VIP seats and smiled gently at the seven special-grade wizards present.
"Sorry for the delay, the traffic these days is terrible," he said with a cheerful laugh, his silver eyes falling on Albus Dumbledore.
"I see you're healthy, Albus." Ignoring the murderous glares from the ministers of magic from various countries, especially France and Germany, Joseph Weiss and Luis Delacour practically exuded a cold killing intent.
Joseph, as a special-grade wizard, looked at Grindelwald with a cold, deadly stare, already gripping his wand, ready to fight the Dark Lord at any moment.
"No fights, gentlemen and ladies, let's not forget the hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches present right now." Seeing the imminent battle, Albus had to intervene; a fight among seven special-grade wizards would easily kill almost everyone present without distinction.
Although Dumbledore's words prevented the fight from starting, they didn't alleviate the heavy atmosphere. On the contrary, anyone could see that the environment felt like a volcano, and when it erupted, it would bring a great disaster to all of England.
"What are you doing here, Dark Lord?" One of the few women who was a Special-Grade Wizard, Ingrid Bergström, the Swedish Minister of Magic, spoke coldly, her aura so icy it lowered the surrounding temperature.
"Ingrid, don't be angry, it wasn't anything personal." Transfiguring a chair to sit down, Grindelwald unbuttoned his suit and sat. His voice was gentle and warm.
Hearing this, Ingrid's face became extremely cold; the hand gripping the arm of the chair tightened so much that the wood cracked under the pressure of her strength.
"Hahaha," Ingrid laughed, her laugh full of veiled sarcasm. "It wasn't personal?"
"Three hundred and forty-three victims you killed!!!" she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the Quidditch stadium, the aura of a special-grade wizard spreading ruthlessly through the surroundings.
The hundred thousand wizards and witches felt as if a mountain was pressing down on their shoulders; even breathing had become a privilege few could afford at that moment. The ministers of magic who were not special-grade wizards were the most affected, as they were seated next to Ingrid.
The Italian Minister of Magic, in particular, was pale and had trouble breathing. He deeply regretted sitting next to this cold and cruel woman.
Grindelwald did not care about the woman's emotional outburst; he smiled gently at her and responded in a very simple tone. "Where you see murder, I see martyrs. They will be remembered as heroes when this world is pure again."
If Grindelwald had previously angered Ingrid, at this moment, the woman erupted from the purest fury.
"Innate Spell Manipulation – Hundred Winters – Glacial Era!!!"
But before the spell could be successfully cast, the powerful hand of Dumbledore touched Ingrid's shoulder. Looking down at her, Dumbledore spoke in an authoritative tone, his eyes calm as they met hers. "Calm down, Ingrid, or I will ask you to leave."
In the presence of the most powerful man in the world, Ingrid showed no fear; she shrugged off Dumbledore's hand and remained silent, fixing her eyes on the relaxed figure seated.
As if feeling her gaze, Grindelwald waved at her amicably and turned his curiosity back to the four giant screens positioned around the Quidditch stadium.
"England certainly has unique alchemical items," he commented, his chair intentionally placed next to Dumbledore's. His eyes focused on the screen showing the Hogwarts team, briefly settling on Luna before refocusing on Asterion and Rose.
Turning to Dumbledore, he rested his head on his hand and spoke with a laugh. "Rose reminds me of you at her age, always so arrogant."
"I wouldn't say the same; Asterion doesn't resemble you at all. Previously, he seemed like a block of ice. Fortunately, the child has improved this year," Dumbledore rolled his eyes and commented casually, his smile not fading since he had sat next to Grindelwald.
There was no responsibility, just the two of them chatting as they used to. There was no longer the most powerful man in the world or the fearsome Dark Lord. For a moment, it seemed as though they had returned to being simple boys that summer.
Both of them laughed at their own words.
"To what level did you restrict Asterion and Rose?" Grindelwald asked curiously.
"Grade 2," Dumbledore replied, looking at the two promising young wizards. He could see something happening between them but did not care, as it was part of his plan.
Unknowingly, Rose had the role of making Asterion more human, something that young Daphne had been doing the previous year. This could be seen in the significant change in Asterion this year; the boy seemed more like a normal child for his age.
What Dumbledore didn't know was that his successor was planning to marry Asterion, thereby uniting the factions and throwing away all his hard work of decades.
"You should have placed them at Grade 3. Both are too strong, even if they are limited to using only Grade 2 magical energy," Grindelwald commented casually.
"Hmmm…" Dumbledore simply nodded and continued watching the screen.
Looking at the two talking amicably, all the Ministers of Magic showed strange expressions.
"Is it just me, or do Dumbledore and Grindelwald seem to know each other very well, maybe too well?" The Brazilian Minister of Magic, Carlos da Silva Pereira, said with a curious tone, his eyes observing their close behavior with a slightly amused smile.
Unlike other present Ministers of Magic, he held no grudge against Grindelwald, making him the only one who seemed relaxed in the presence of the Dark Lord.
Hearing the Brazilian Minister's ambiguous words, Benjamim and Dmitri exchanged glances and considered a possibility, but immediately shook their heads, dismissing it.
It was such an absurd possibility that it would be tragically ironic. They were not in a fantasy book written by a woman desperate for money for something so ridiculous to occur.
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Next Chapter Second Volume: Chapter 143 - King's Game (11), Chapter 144 - King's Game (12), Chapter 145 - King's Game (13), Chapter 146 - Second Phase of the King's Game (1), Chapter 147 - Second Phase of the King's Game (2), Chapter 148 - Second Phase of the King's Game (3), Chapter 149 - Second Phase of the King's Game (4), Chapter 150 - Second Phase of the King's Game (5), Chapter 151 - Second Phase of the King's Game (6), 152 - Second Phase of the King's Game (7), 153 - Second Phase of the King's Game (8), 154 - Second Phase of the King's Game (9), 155 - Second Phase of the King's Game (10), 156 - Second Phase of the King's Game (11), 157 - Second Phase of the King's Game (12), 158 - Second Phase of the King's Game (13 e And), 159 - Death of Arcturus (1).