When Hoffa buried the void deep within himself, the world shifted once again. On the dimly lit streets, the flames continued to crackle, but the expressions on the frenzied people gradually returned to normal.
They halted their wild running, dropped their guns, bricks, and knives, ceasing their mutual violence. Bewildered, they looked around as though waking from a long, chaotic dream.
Some looked at the corpses beside them and burst into shocked sobs. Others glanced at the severed heads in their hands and, as if electrocuted, flung them away in horror.
In a park beneath the distorted, colorful sky, a man pinned a woman beneath him, heedless of her cries, desperately moving his hips.
Then, the kaleidoscopic lights in the sky vanished.
The man froze and hurriedly pulled on his pants.
Looking tenderly at his crying girlfriend, he said, "Darling, you have to believe me—I love your soul, not your body."
Inside a church, a hideous, naked old priest was wielding a kitchen knife, savagely hacking at his congregation.
Then, the swirling lights in the sky disappeared.
The priest shuddered, clarity returning to his eyes. He threw away the knife and quickly dressed himself in his clerical robes.
"The Lord's virtues shine upon all creation. All the suffering we endure is but His test. In the face of hardship, we must remain grateful."
In a mall, a disheveled businessman was scattering expensive goods and cash like confetti, drooling with glee.
Then, the shimmering lights in the sky disappeared.
The businessman stopped in his tracks, looked at the money in his hands, and immediately wore a pained expression.
Clutching his head, he let out a crazed roar before diving to the floor and frantically gathering every last bill.
When someone refused to return his money, the businessman smacked them on the head.
"No transactions, no society! Why are you taking my money?"
In a Muggle high school, a teacher led a group of students in a frenzy of book-tearing, filling the classroom with endless clouds of white paper scraps.
Then, the kaleidoscopic lights in the sky vanished.
The teacher and students froze mid-motion, then stopped altogether. Standing amidst the whirlwind of paper scraps, they fell into an awkward silence.
Finally, the teacher cleared his throat. "You lot—go to my office and grab another set of workbooks."
In a Western country, a group of politicians in a conference hall were engaged in a chaotic brawl, yanking each other's ties, stabbing one another's eyes with pens, and hurling shoes across the room.
Then, the swirling lights in the sky disappeared.
The fighting politicians froze, and the flying shoes fell to the ground. In no time, they returned to their seats, straightened their ties, put on their shoes, and resumed negotiations as if nothing had happened.
The madness that had shrouded the world dissipated. The sky no longer twisted, and faint starlight pierced through the dense clouds, spilling onto the streets. At that moment, everyone felt a profound sense of relief.
Within Hogwarts, countless students who had been transformed into animals regained their human forms. As they stood up, they stared at their hands in confusion, as though awakening from a bizarre, absurd dream.
However, at the British Ministry of Magic, Fatiere, who had witnessed the change, wasted no time grabbing Vincent. Clutching his arm tightly, he roared, "Arrest them all!"
This command was like igniting a powder keg. Surrounded Ministry officials drew their wands, while countless prisoners brandished theirs and charged toward the Ministry staff.
The dragons, stationed between the two groups, received orders and unleashed torrents of flame without hesitation. They flew through the crowd, diving and climbing, burning prisoners into charred remains with each breath.
For a moment, the air was thick with curses and shattered marble shards that flew like shrapnel.
Firelights of various colors flashed wildly. Statues hit by spells corroded rapidly, while people struck by blasting curses lost limbs in explosions of blood and gore.
Shouts and screams of battle filled the air. Some Ministry officials, overwhelmed, fled in panic. Crawling beneath desks, they tried to escape the slaughterhouse.
But some didn't make it far before being dragged out by the legs by crazed prisoners. With a sinister grin, the prisoner aimed his wand at the Ministry official, only for his upper body to be bitten in half by a frenzied black dragon.
The dragon hadn't even swallowed its prey when a volley of spells struck it, tearing its scales and shattering its eyes.
Amid the chaos, the cacophony of violence never ceased.
In the turmoil, Fatiere pinned Vincent to the ground. Gripping his throat with one hand, he snatched away his wand with the other before landing a heavy punch to his face.
"Snap out of it! Can't you see?"
The warden roared.
"See what?" Vincent replied with a sneer, his voice tinged with bitterness and despair. He shook his head. "You're still struggling, aren't you? Don't you understand? Grindelwald foresaw all of this long ago."
He paused, struggling to speak, and finally said, "He asked me to deliver a message to you."
Fatiere tightened his grip on Vincent's neck, an ominous foreboding surging in his chest. "What message?"
Vincent's facial muscles twitched as he smiled faintly. "Grindelwald said that living is far more painful than dying. And to grant death is, for him, an act of mercy."
"What are you talking about?"
Fatiere demanded sharply, the sense of dread growing stronger.
"He also said… that for a fleeting moment, he genuinely admired your daughter. She is resilient, lively, optimistic, and always living in the moment. Compared to her, we are nothing but grotesque maggots."
Boom!
Fatiere felt as though he had been struck by lightning. His grip loosened, and he stumbled backward.
After a few seconds, he charged forward again, slamming the Azkaban warden against the wall and roaring, "Where is Grindelwald?"
Vincent looked at him with a gaze filled with sympathy.
Fatiere drew his wand and pressed it against Vincent's temple, yelling once more, "Tell me, where is he?!"
"I don't know," Vincent replied, his face reddening. "Do you not know where you sent your family?"
"I'm asking you where Grindelwald is!"
The tip of Fatiere's wand bent under pressure, distorting Vincent's face. Feeling the raw, unmasked intent to kill, Vincent raised a hand and said, "Grindelwald didn't tell me. He only said..."
"Said what?"
Fatiere's voice was sharp and urgent.
"He said that despite all your wisdom, you're nothing more than a man who prioritizes family above all else—a mediocrity, an ordinary man. You don't deserve to be a dragon tamer."
Fatiere's face turned pale. He released his grip, staring blankly at the chaotic Ministry of Magic around him, at the Azkaban prisoners battling fiercely with the dragons. Without hesitation, he disapparated, vanishing into thin air.
Vincent slumped to the ground, laughing. His laughter turned into uncontrollable sobs, tears streaming down his face.
In the courtyard of a dark, ivy-covered castle, rows of red roses swayed gently in the wind, resembling flames and frost—mysterious and serene.
Inside the castle, a man sat high in the hall, hidden behind curtains, his silhouette barely visible.
In front of him floated several translucent, pale blue cubes, each containing a different figure—men and women alike.
They were trapped within these transparent barriers, suspended like goldfish in a tank, gently tumbling as though unaffected by gravity. The entire Drases family was imprisoned within.
The air was silent, the curtains billowing in the moonlight. It was as if this place were far removed from any conflict or chaos on Earth.
The stillness was broken by a soft crack.
Fatiere apparated into the center of the hall. Straightening his posture, he saw the group confined within the barriers.
His expression shifted, and he strode forward in large steps, pressing himself against the edge of one barrier.
The people inside noticed him and began pounding desperately against the transparent walls, trying to make noise, but no sound emerged.
Fatiere walked slowly along the row of barriers, finally stopping.
Inside one of them, a silver-haired girl gazed at him quietly. Her cascading hair floated in the air like a silken waterfall.
Seeing this, Fatiere clenched his fists tightly, veins bulging on the backs of his hands. He turned sharply, bellowing, "Let them go!"
His voice echoed far into the still darkness.
No one replied.
"Grindelwald!"
Fatiere roared again, "If you have something to settle, settle it with me!"
Still, there was no response.
Fatiere took a deep breath, his tone growing colder. "Enough. Is tearing apart all illusions and exposing the cold, harsh reality so important to you?"
At last, the shadow in the darkness stood, moving stiffly out from behind the fluttering curtains. A pale yet refined middle-aged man's face emerged.
Fatiere's expression tightened, his muscles tensing as his gaze fixed on Grindelwald.
His face was ashen as he repeated, "Let them go."
"And the price, Professor Drases?" the man asked softly.
"Anything you want—Minister of Magic, Chief of the Wizengamot—whatever it is, just spare my family."
Grindelwald adopted a pensive expression. "Really? Is that your personal wish, or the wish of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Families?"
"That's none of your concern."
Fatiere stared unblinkingly at the man. "Gellert, if you want to change the world, fine. We'll work with you. Let's take it slowly, alright?"
"Slowly?"
Grindelwald's voice was soft and velvety.
"You've changed, Professor. Are you trying to extinguish my passion with endless routines and meetings? Are you planning to corrupt my pure soul with power and desire?"
"No, I just don't want to see the world turned into a chaotic mess by you."
"Enough."
Grindelwald interrupted casually, as though bored. "What I want isn't that complicated."
"What do you want?"
Grindelwald rubbed his chin and grinned. "We haven't had a proper conversation in a long time. Why not talk now?"
Fatiere was on the verge of breaking. He looked at his wife and daughter trapped in the barrier, his heart pounding wildly. Finally, he raised his arm and took a step back, lowering his tone. "Fine, we'll talk. Just don't hurt them."
"That depends on you."
Grindelwald smiled. "If the conversation pleases me, I might just release them."
"What do you want to talk about?"
Grindelwald tilted his head. "Do you remember our days at Durmstrang?"
"I remember," Fatiere replied.
Grindelwald's expression turned nostalgic as he murmured, almost to himself, "The black walls, the candlelit podiums, shelves full of books on the dark arts, and dungeons adorned with chains and cages…"
After a moment of reminiscing, he sighed lightly.
"I remember your very first lecture. You told us a story."
Fatiere's face paled, and he said nothing.
"Do you still remember that story?" Grindelwald asked softly.
"I do," Fatiere rasped.
"Tell it to me," Grindelwald whispered.
Fatiere stared at him and shook his head. "Gellert…"
Grindelwald raised his right hand and made a slight motion.
Immediately, sharp, transparent spikes appeared within the barriers imprisoning the Drases family. Several of the less prominent family members opened their mouths in silent screams as they were impaled, their blood spraying soundlessly against the barrier's walls.
The sight made Fatiere's face twist in agony. His nails dug into his palms, but he pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to speak.
When Fatiere remained silent, Grindelwald raised his hand again. The barrier around Aglaia began to shrink, its top sprouting countless transparent spikes.
"Tell me the story," Grindelwald said again, his voice calm yet unyielding.
(End of Chapter)
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