Some people spend a lifetime preparing for a prison break, while others need only issue an order.
Half an hour later, the cell door opened. The elderly woman packed her belongings, instructed someone to deliver them to her home tomorrow, and walked out of her prison cell.
"Madame Rosier, your wand." Before leaving the prison, a guard respectfully produced a birch wand.
"Hmm."
Vinda calmly accepted it, gave it a casual flick, and with a distorted twist of her figure, she Apparated away.
In an instant, she appeared in a shop within the black market. The old man minding the store was startled, but upon recognising the visitor, he regained his composure and sighed deeply.
"I knew you'd come out once you received the news, Vinda."
"Uncle, where is the Master now?"
Vinda Rosier, known as the French Black Rose, was once Grindelwald's second-in-command. At times, her words carried even more weight than Grindelwald's.
During the peak years of the followers, while Grindelwald focused on expansion and battling Dumbledore and others, Vinda Rosier served as the chief administrator, organising all resources for Grindelwald's use.
Such a figure was undoubtedly Grindelwald's right-hand. During sentencing, many advocated sending her directly to the guillotine to eliminate future troubles.
However, Grindelwald's precondition for pleading guilty was that no other follower would be executed, with all receiving lenient treatment - otherwise, he would fight to the end.
At that time, no one in the wizarding world dared ignore Grindelwald's words. Combined with the influence of the French Rosier family, this secured her survival.
Over the following decades, though Rosier had lost her guiding force, she remained convinced that Grindelwald would return as long as he lived, quietly accumulating power all the while.
The prison guards were merely the tip of the iceberg.
"You're only twelve hours behind him. Right now, nobody knows where he is."
Croesus Rosier sighed, standing up to prepare breakfast for Vinda.
"Eat something first. You've suffered in there."
"I'm fine, Uncle." Vinda only took a sip of coffee before rising. "I'm going to find the Master."
"Where will you look? If he doesn't want to be found, nobody can locate him."
"I'll mobilise my forces. There will be traces."
"Stop, stop, stop. I'll help you think of something." Croesus Rosier had no choice but to concede.
Vinda withdrew her foot from the doorway and turned to look at Croesus without speaking.
"The Master previously transferred authority over the followers to Wayne Lawrence. We gathered once two years ago. If anyone in this world might know where the Master is, it can only be him."
"Lawrence..." Vinda murmured softly. "What's his relationship with the Master?"
"I don't know, but he's on good terms with Newt and Nicolas Flamel. Strictly speaking, he's aligned with Dumbledore's faction, but they aren't in a subordinate relationship."
Vinda grew more puzzled, but Croesus Rosier earnestly assured her he wasn't lying and immediately wrote a letter to Wayne.
He only hoped that before Grindelwald officially reappeared, Vinda wouldn't make any rash moves.
The Rosier family couldn't withstand another upheaval.
Understanding her uncle's good intentions, Vinda Rosier was willing to wait a few more days, but if there was still no news by then, she would take action.
...
Soon, the French Ministry of Magic also received news of Vinda's prison break.
Out of fear of Grindelwald, they temporarily had no intention of announcing it or attempting to recapture her.
To be honest, among all the countries, France was the most panicked, because back in the day, Grindelwald hadn't even given them a chance to surrender—he'd simply set everything ablaze without a second thought.
This painful experience remained fresh in the memories of many older generations.
So, upon receiving the news of Grindelwald's escape, they first sent Fudge a letter lambasting him, then dispatched a large number of people to find Dumbledore.
...
Meanwhile, Wayne had also returned to the school by morning.
At Hogwarts, the day's headline in the Daily Prophet was undoubtedly about Grindelwald's prison break, but the young wizards didn't react too strongly to it.
After all, Britain hadn't been ravaged by him—their greatest fear was still Voldemort.
But the teachers were a different matter.
Just as Wayne finished breakfast with Cho, Professor McGonagall, along with the other three Heads of House and Newt, came to find him.
Newt's aged face was full of unease and exhaustion; it seemed he hadn't slept well the night before.
"Senior, would you like to rest a bit more?"
"Let's discuss the important matters first," Newt said with a bitter smile. "I received the news last night and didn't sleep a wink."
The grudge between him and Grindelwald wasn't something that could be explained in a few words. Upon hearing the news, Newt's first instinct was to flee.
But he soon realised.
If Grindelwald was determined to find him, even fleeing to North America would be useless. Staying at Hogwarts was the safest option, especially since Wayne was here and could definitely protect him.
Not only that, Newt had also written overnight, urging Tina to bring Jacob and Queenie to seek refuge as well, as it truly wasn't safe otherwise.
"Wayne, what should we do now?" Professor McGonagall asked.
The Headmaster was the pillar of strength. Professor McGonagall understood the gap between herself, Dumbledore, and Wayne.
She didn't possess the kind of power that could reassure everyone. In times like these, there had to be someone who could command the scene to keep people's hearts steady.
It was at this moment that Professor McGonagall truly felt that, aside from Dumbledore, Wayne was indeed the most suitable person for the role.
"Minerva, these aren't things we should worry about," Wayne said with a smile. "Decades ago, Grindelwald couldn't reach the British Isles, and he certainly can't now."
"But we still need to be prepared..." Professor McGonagall hesitated. "You're young, you don't know about Grindelwald's ability to sway people back in the day. What if—"
She didn't know that Wayne had shared meals with Grindelwald more times than she had ever laid eyes on the old man.
"Even so, it shouldn't be us who are anxious." Wayne tapped his fingers on the table, explaining somewhat casually. "If we're talking about direct competition, Voldemort should be the one most concerned."
"Voldemort?" The other professors shuddered involuntarily at the name, but only Newt asked in confusion, "Why should he be concerned?"
"There cannot be two suns in the sky; there is only room for one Dark Lord in the world."
Wayne stroked his palm, his eyes glinting with amusement. "When there are too many kings, they become worthless. Even if some are getting restless, it should be the Death Eaters and other Dark Wizards – they'll choose the strongest one."
"Don't you think Voldemort must be frantic, now that even his own followers might betray him?"
...
Voldemort was indeed frantic.
Malfoy Manor.
It had now become the secret headquarters of the Death Eaters. Over a dozen Death Eaters sat in rows, though the seat at the head remained empty.
A flash of green light appeared, and Voldemort finally arrived.
"Lucius, has the news been confirmed?" Voldemort asked the moment he appeared.
Malfoy rose respectfully. "Master, my contacts abroad have written. The Austrian Ministry of Magic is in complete disarray. It's said Nurmengard has been reduced to ruins, and Grindelwald has vanished."
"They've contacted fifteen Ministries of Magic and are conducting a joint investigation."
"So he's escaped after all..." Voldemort leaned back in the wide chair, closing his eyes in thought.
A hissing sound came from behind him, and the Death Eaters immediately shut their eyes, not daring to breathe.
A twenty-foot giant snake slithered out from behind the door, coiling at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort reached out, unconsciously stroking the Basilisk's slightly raised crest.
Regarding Grindelwald, he only knew bits and pieces, with no deep understanding. The information he did possess often served merely to highlight Dumbledore's achievements.
But at this moment, Voldemort suddenly understood what Grindelwald truly represented.
When he had returned to life, Fudge alone had suppressed the news, leaving the British wizarding world utterly undisturbed.
Yet Grindelwald's prison break had thrown the entire European continent into chaos.
'This is the difference, damn it.'
Voldemort felt a surge of resentment.
He'd once heard people refer to Grindelwald as the first Dark Lord and himself as the second. The person who said it was now dead, because Voldemort had scoffed at the notion.
He, Voldemort, was the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. Only he deserved the title of Dark Lord.
As for Grindelwald, he was merely a failure defeated by Dumbledore. Had they lived in the same era, Grindelwald might even have become one of his Death Eaters.
Though he'd never attended school, Voldemort still understood simple comparisons.
Grindelwald lost to Dumbledore, while he himself had never been defeated. Therefore, he was greater than Grindelwald.
Having reasoned this through, Voldemort's mood improved considerably.
Still, he felt angry. Were those Europeans blind? Clearly, he was the more powerful one.
Voldemort's eyes snapped open. The Basilisk slithered away silently.
"Malfoy, any news of Dumbledore's whereabouts?"
"Apologies, Master. I've been monitoring the Ministry closely, but they haven't located Dumbledore either."
"No matter. It's unimportant." Voldemort waved a dismissive hand. "Open your eyes. I have tasks to assign."
The Death Eaters cautiously opened their eyes.
"Fudge has done me a great favour, and Grindelwald's escape is further divine assistance."
A cruel smile spread across Voldemort's face. "This perfectly diverts all their attention. My loyal servants have waited long enough."
"Rookwood, you lead the team. Carrow, you go too. Release Bellatrix and the others."
"Yes, Master."
Several voices responded in unison. Voldemort then turned his gaze to Malfoy. "Lucius, your son hasn't sent any news for quite some time."
Lucius Malfoy instantly broke into a cold sweat. "M-Master, he's still preparing. Lawrence has been completely focused on dealing with Umbridge and has had little contact with Draco."
"As you wish." Voldemort let out a light laugh. "Anyway, you know the consequences if he fails to complete the mission."
The other Death Eaters laughed along in response, but Lucius kept his head lowered, a flash of hatred in his eyes.
...
Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic.
Though it should have been a day off, Fudge had been bombarded back to his office by hundreds of foreign letters.
Accompanying them were over a dozen representatives from other countries.
"Gentlemen, I truly don't know where Dumbledore is." Fudge continuously wiped his sweat with his handkerchief. "Moreover, this is an internal matter of the British Ministry of Magic. You have no right to interfere!"
He was utterly bewildered. Who could have known that the moment Dumbledore disappeared, Grindelwald would emerge?
"Who wants to deal with your rubbish affairs!" The French representative angrily slammed the table. "Britain may be hunting Dumbledore, but Paris welcomes him! As long as Mr Dumbledore comes, we will award him the Medal of the Purple Wisteria!"
"Germany feels the same! Our Minister has already stated we invite Dumbledore to take the position of Minister for Magic!"
"Fudge, if anyone in our country dies because of this, our Ministry of Magic will absolutely not let you off! You're the one who drove Dumbledore away, leaving Grindelwald unchecked!"
The group argued noisily, practically wanting to drag out Fudge's family tree to curse each generation.
If it were just one or two envoys, Fudge would definitely have dared to call Aurors to throw them out.
But there were over a dozen now, and surely more would come later. Britain couldn't afford to offend so many countries and could only swallow their insults.
Finally, after being cursed as ungrateful and foolish, the long-suffering Fudge finally snapped.
"Are your countries all full of incompetents? Can't you survive without Dumbledore?"
"Bunch of rubbish! Our Britain isn't afraid!"
The room fell silent. The various national envoys seemed not to have expected him to dare launch such a wide-ranging taunt.
One envoy angrily retorted, "When Grindelwald attacks here, I hope you can still be this stubborn."
Fudge sneered, "We may have lost Dumbledore, but we still have Lawrence!"