At last, they entered the dining hall, a long room lined with crystal chandeliers and windows overlooking the storm. A single table stretched across the center, set with silver and wine.
Alice gestured gracefully. "Sit. Unless, of course, you prefer standing guard."
Adrian pulled out the chair opposite her. "Old habits die hard."
"Then I'll try not to kill this one," she said, sitting down.
Dinner appeared with a flick of her wand — steak, buttered vegetables, red wine that glowed faintly with warmth. It smelled comforting. They began to eat — slowly, in measured silence.
After several minutes, Alice set down her glass, her voice quieter now. "You've seen the world, haven't you?"
Adrian looked up from his plate. "Pieces of it."
"Pieces are often enough." She leaned back. "Tell me something, then. Why does a man with your power keep running?"
Adrian's eyes met hers. "Because standing still attracts bullets."
She chuckled faintly. "I meant— spiritually."
He smirked. "And I meant literally."
Then, after a pause, he added, "I stopped running. Now, I've been chasing something. Knowledge. Power. Balance. I'm not sure there's a difference anymore. I am not sure it even exists."
Alice tilted her head. "A philosopher in the body of a warlord. No wonder Dumbledore fears you."
He didn't respond. His gaze dropped for just a second — unreadable, distant.
The silence stretched until Adrian finally asked, "What about you?"
Alice blinked. "Me?"
"Yes. Why this life? You could have done anything else."
For the first time that night, she looked away. The laughter faded from her voice. "Because I was born into it."
He didn't interrupt.
She stared at the glass in her hands, her reflection rippling. "My father built this empire. He wasn't a saint, not even close, but he taught me one thing: control or be controlled. When I was sixteen, someone decided to take both from him."
Her tone hardened, brittle as glass. "They killed him. Took his business. Left me to die."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't."
"No." A small smile — bitter, sharp. "One of my father's old friends found me. Trained me. Protected me. Until he didn't make it out of a job alive."
She set the glass down, staring past Adrian into the dark. "So I came back. And I took it all back. Every name. Every debt. Every life that thought it owned mine."
The rain hit the windows harder now.
Thunder rolled over the city.
"And here you are," Adrian said softly. "Queen of a kingdom built on ash."
Her eyes met his again — calm, steady, shimmering faintly with something like pain. "And what about you, Adrian? Tell me, why become the world's next Dark Lord?"
He smiled. "Is that what they call me now?"
"That's what they fear you as," she said. "And fear has a way of becoming truth."
Adrian leaned forward slightly, the candlelight catching his face. "Perhaps I'm not trying to rule the darkness," he said. "Perhaps I'm trying to understand it."
Alice's lips parted to reply—
But her words never came.
It happened in a blink.
The air around Adrian twisted — his magic eyes flaring bright violet, the world slowing into fragments of motion.
He moved.
One moment, he was sitting; the next, he was standing between Alice and the window — a wall of invisible force expanding outward from his hand.
A heartbeat later, impact— BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A blast of light tore through the glass wall like a comet, smashing through the penthouse. The shockwave hit with a sound like thunder breaking the earth. The entire building convulsed — walls shattering, chandeliers exploding into shards of diamond rain.
Adrian's shield held.
He felt the force against his magic, heat searing his skin, the air vibrating with destruction. Alice was thrown backward — but he caught her before the flames touched her.
The world went white, then black.
When the smoke cleared, the penthouse was gone.
Only ruins remained — twisted beams, burning glass, the storm howling through the hollow sky. Adrian stood in the center, one arm still wrapped protectively around Alice, his other hand raised — the defense still glowing in the rain.
Alice's breath trembled against his chest. For once, her composure was gone — eyes wide, skin pale. "What—" she began.
Adrian didn't answer. His gaze swept the shadows beyond the wreckage, his pupils narrowing to slits. "They found me," he said softly.
A cold wind swept through the ruins.
Below, in the streets of New York, black-robed figures began to appear — shadows with wands drawn, moving in perfect formation.
Alice turned toward him. "Who are they?"
Adrian's eyes burned brighter, violet cutting through the dark. "Grindelwald and his men," he said. "And they just made their last mistake."
He released her gently, his tone calm, deadly.
"Stay behind me."
The city outside the windows of New York's sleepless maze of steel and neon dimmed in an instant. Every hum, every flicker, died, replaced by the deep, bone-shaking growl of something fearful stirring beneath.
Alice froze.
She felt it, the pressure, the world itself tensing like a held breath. Adrian rose slowly, his face turning toward the window. The next moment, the world split open.
A column of blue fire tore through the streets far below, spiraling up like a serpent unleashed. The shockwave hit seconds later, blasting through the glass wall. Shards rained inward; the sky turned blue. Alice staggered back as the air warped with heat.
And from the inferno below, a figure emerged — walking through the fire.
Silver hair. White cloak. The gleam of a wand that glowed brighter than lightning. Grindelwald.
The others surrounded him — cloaked, armed, radiating old power. They were rising. Not flying, not levitating — ascending on rings of wind and, carried upward as if the laws of magic bent in obedience.
'They are bending the air molecules to shape and act the same as solid molecules do.' He thought, a bit amused.
The tower shook with each step they took skyward.
Alice's voice broke into the thunder. "Adrian—"
"I see him."
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
She turned to him — and felt her breath catch.
Violet otherworldly light was bleeding from his eyes, light of radiance crawling down his hands. The air around him distorted, heavy with invisible gravity. His coat fluttered in the wind.
The table between them cracked as the energy built.
From below, Grindelwald's voice echoed, carried by the storm,
"Adrian Atlas! Come down. Your time ends tonight. The world has suffered enough monsters born of Dumbledore's shadow. I came here to close the promise I made to Albus. Today, only one of us will be left alive!"
Alice felt the words vibrate through her bones.
But Adrian only laughed — soft, low, dangerous. "You've grown poetic in your old age, Gellert. If you think you actually pose a threat to me after I fought Albus and his minions… You are delusional. But if you came to die, I'll make it quick."
The answer came not in words — but in fire.
Fiendfyre.
Blue.
Blinding.
Alive.
It roared upward from the streets below — a storm of flame shaped into dragons and phoenixes, the sky itself burning with motion. The flames spiraled around the tower, biting into glass and steel, their wings stretching wide enough to blot out the moon.
Alice screamed as the first wave hit. Adrian's hand shot out — and the world bent.
A golden sphere enveloped them both, shimmering like sunlight trapped in crystal. The Fiendfyre struck it and scattered, bursting into sparks that filled the air like burning rain.
"Move!" he barked, grabbing her waist as the ceiling above them collapsed.
In one motion, he teleported — the air imploded, colors inverting. They reappeared meters higher, standing in open air, the remains of the penthouse now a jagged skeleton below them.
The wind howled. The city burned.
Grindelwald's army was upon them now, casting spells that rained upward like comets. Each impact shook the skyline. Towers swayed, windows shattered for miles.
Adrian's magic flared in answer — not spells, not words, just will.
He raised his hand — and gravity inverted. The debris of the penthouse exploded outward, forming a ring of orbiting steel and stone around them. His magic burned brighter with every gesture.
Alice watched, speechless, as the two forces collided midair.
It was a symphony of annihilation, their clashing, lightning meeting fire, every motion a storm. Adrian flickered through space, apparating faster than sight, his silhouette dancing between the Fiendfyre dragons, deflecting curses with nothing but raw thought.
Below him, Grindelwald moved like a conductor, each flick of his wand releasing another shape from the flames — serpents, wolves. They circled the tower, trapping Adrian in a spiral of blue fire that turned night into a second sun.
Alice could hardly see — the heat, the light, the sound — it was all too much.
And then, Adrian vanished.
The fire twisted, searching — but he was gone.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared behind Grindelwald's men; no matter how skilled they were, they paled in comparison to Adrian.
His magic flared, striking not to disarm, but to kill.
Months of training have turned him into a combat machine that does not fear anyone, even if Albus and the Professors were here, like in the Astronomy Tower battle, Adrian was still confident that he could win.
Grindelwald screamed at his fallen comrades, but there was nothing he could do. Adrian was simply too fast for his men to even react. But Grindelwald did not receive the title of a Dark Lord for nothing; he moved and struck Adrian, limiting his movement.
BAM!
A ward struck the air, blocking the space, preventing Adrian from teleporting around.
'Trying to block my movements?' Adrian sneered, but his movements did not stop. He disappeared into a mist of Darkness, his speed did not slow down— it increased!
He struck and killed each time he appeared, a corpse after corpse, fell.
Until only one man remains— Grindelwald.
' It doesn't make sense? Why would he come here to fight? Did he seriously believe that he could defeat me with this many men? No, something isn't right… ' Adrian thought. He decided to test.
"Is that all the great Grindelwald can do?" He said his words and tone were cokey, but his magic eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of reanfourment.
Grindelwald did not answer with words, but actions; he fired curse after curse at him, but his eye told Adrian all he needed to know; they were sad, and he felt it.
At that moment, Adrian understood; he knew why Grindelwald was here.
'So be it, old man, I'll give this one last battle…'
His palm was already raised.
The blast was silent, dark, infinite.
Grindelwald countered just in time. A wall of mirrored light flared behind him — but cracked instantly under the force. The air screamed. His Fiendfyre itself recoiled.
Adrian's spell was pulsing like stars now, his voice low, resonant, carrying over the storm. He was pushed by him, "You know, of all those who have fought me, there is no one who surpasses you in combat. I acknowledge this power of yours and your title as a true Dark Lord! Let us see who is better, shall we?"
Grindelwald smiled for a moment; sometimes, between intelligent men, words were meaningless. Actions spoke louder!
He spun, his wand carving spells into the sky, each igniting into blue fire. "Come then!"
The curse fused into a spell — a chain of flame that wrapped around Adrian like a serpent, crushing, searing, pulling him downward toward the city. Grindelwald was going all out!
Alice's heart seized. "Adrian!"
He fell — for a moment — then stopped midair.
The area burned away. It was completely not recognizable.
His eyes turned a shade of deep violet, "A true Evil Flame is not brewed by other emotions," he said quietly. "It is born from the depths of your heart."
His eyes flashed, his emotions surged forward, " Burn till nothing remains, FIENDFYRE!"
The sky exploded again.
A wave of light — white flame surged countering the blue one; it surged outward from him, swallowing the blue Fiendfyre whole. The dragons screamed as they disintegrated into smoke. Grindelwald shielded himself, but the blast hurled him backward, shattering the levitation spell beneath his feet.
He dropped — and Adrian was already there.
He shot a spell into Grindelwald's wards— shattering them— BAM!
The sound of a glass breaking was heard.
Alice covered her ears from the immense sound.
But it was not over.
Teleportation flashes lit the air as the two wizards clashed faster than thought, each appearance marked by shockwaves that shattered nearby buildings.
One strike sent Adrian flying through a skyscraper; another hurled Grindelwald across the river.
Both returned, both scarred by their own power.
The world trembled beneath them.
As if nothing mattered to them, as if the destruction and death of thousands did not matter, and it did not.
Alice, still in Adrian's arm, protected by his shield, watched in silence as the two clashed; it was not a battle she could interfere in.
'They are smiling.' She thought,
'Why are they smiling?'
She did not understand it and perhaps she never will, but Adrian and Grindelwald were in fact very similar by nature; they were both warriors, killers, an army of one.
Both were extreme people, albeit for different reasons: Grindelwald sought to save the world in his own twisted belief, while Adrian cared only for himself.
One was an arrogant idealist, a revolutionary. The other, an egotistical man who will do anything for his goals.
Lightning shot from the heavens and bent toward Adrian like it recognized him.
The air itself sang when he moved.
And when he finally raised his hand for the last time, Alice knew it was over.
The sky dimmed.
The sound vanished.
Grindelwald staggered, his wand raised in defiance, blue flame spiraling around him like wings.
His voice was a whisper lost to the storm, "For Albus… I will not—"
Adrian's voice cut through him like a verdict.
"You already have. Old man, farewell."
A Green Light.
Silence.
Then — nothing.
The fire faded. The clouds parted.
Only the soft rain remained, falling through what was left of the area.
Adrian put Alice down; she stood alone on the remains of her building balcony, trembling. The air still smelled of ash.
She turned — and Adrian was there again, standing in the rain, his eyes dim now.
"You… you killed him," she whispered.
He looked out over the city — over the broken towers, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
"No," he said quietly. "He killed himself the moment he came here. It wasn't a fight, it was a farewell of a warrior."
She wanted to speak, to ask, but words failed her.
Instead, Adrian stepped closer, reaching up to brush the rain from her cheek with a hand that still glowed faintly.
"Don't look so frightened," he murmured. "You're safe. As I promised."
She met his gaze, and for just a heartbeat, the fear and awe in her heart blurred into something else entirely.
He smiled — quiet, unreadable, and unbearably calm.
"Come, Alice," he said softly. "The fight's over. Let's see what Dawn thinks of us."
And together, they disappeared into the rain.
\\\
The world had never been louder than now.
Not because peace had been restored — but because fear had taken its place.
Across continents, magical newspapers bled with the same headline, translated into every tongue:
"Grindelwald Defeated — The Storm Above Us."
"The Duel That Shook the Heavens."
"Adrian Atlas — The Man Who Defied Legends."
Eyewitness accounts spoke of fire that burned blue, of two figures colliding in the sky like living gods, of buildings trembling and magic itself crying out. Bodies were everywhere, and only a crater of glass where the highest tower once stood, and echoes that refused to fade.
And at the center of it all — Adrian Atlas.
The man who had once been hunted. Now, the world whispered his name as both warning and prayer.
Within days, panic consumed every Ministry across the globe.
From the French Council of Sorcery to the Egyptian Senate, to the wards of Tokyo and the enclaves of New York — all convened in emergency.
And one by one, they yielded.
The decrees were swift:
All bounty orders on Adrian Atlas were revoked.
All international warrants annulled.
Official apologies issued — each cloaked in the language of diplomacy but born of terror.
"We express deep regret for any misunderstanding or action that may have been perceived as hostile toward Mr. Atlas. Our nations seek only peace and cooperation." They said.
Even the British Ministry of Magic, now under Voldemort's hidden control, followed suit. Death Eaters in pressed robes spoke through the Minister's office, announcing the removal of Adrian's bounty — not from mercy, but calculation.
They knew better than to tempt a man who had slain Grindelwald himself.
As the world bent its knee, Adrian disappeared.
No trace. No sightings. No owl could find him, no spell could track him.
Only rumors — whispers that spoke of lightning storms moving against the wind, of strange lights flickering above the Alps, of two silhouettes seen upon distant cliffs.
Because he was not alone.
Alice had chosen to vanish with him. After the battle, when the flames faded and the world's eyes turned upward, her face — her very name — had been exposed alongside his. It was impossible now to separate them.
To the world, they were one entity — the 'Witch' and the 'Serpent', the ones who walked through the storm.
For days, they moved across the edges of Europe — hidden valleys, abandoned castles, forests. Adrian kept his magic cloaked, his aura folded inward like a blade sheathed in silence.
At night, he would sit by the dying fire, eyes faintly glowing violet as magic shimmered along his fingertips — testing, refining, calculating.
Alice would watch quietly, her own mind still fresh from the battle.
She smiled faintly, the firelight dancing across her face. "Then what now?"
"Now?" he said, eyes turning toward the endless dark horizon. "Now the world learns what it means to live under its own fear."
He reached out his hand — and the flames before them shifted from gold to violet, flickering in patterns like language.
Alice's breath caught. "You're… communicating with it."
Adrian nodded slightly. "Fire remembers emotion; it can even remember will."
The night deepened, and stars above burned like ancient eyes.
Somewhere far away, ministries still debated how to "contain the threat."
But in that quiet valley, the threat everyone feared was too busy taking a nap.
\\\
'It's warm,' she thought.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees — a soft hum of leaves brushing against the canvas of the small tent hidden deep within the forest.
From the outside, it looked ordinary, a traveler's shelter half-buried in mist. But inside, it opened into a quiet haven — walls lined with soft light, a wooden table carved by magic, and the faint scent of herbs and roasted meat filling the air.
Two figures sat opposite each other, their plates half-full, steam curling gently upward.
Alice leaned back in her chair, still holding the fork between her fingers, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You're telling me you cooked this?"
Adrian didn't even look up. He was calmly slicing another piece of meat, the flicker of the candles casting violet reflections in his eyes. "Why does that surprise you?"
"Because," she said slowly, chewing, "this is actually good. Like… disturbingly good. I didn't know you had culinary skills hidden between all your world-shattering spells and philosophical monologues."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Magic is about control, precision, and understanding structure," he said mildly. "Cooking isn't that different. Change the ingredients, change the reaction."
Alice laughed softly. "Silly, food isn't alchemy."
"In a way, it is," he said. Then his tone shifted, softer. "Which reminds me — what will you do now?"
Her laughter faded.
Adrian set his fork down, studying her with that calm, unreadable expression that always seemed to see too much. "The world knows who you are now, Alice. Your face, your name, every contact, every disguise you ever used is burned."
She looked down at her plate. For a moment, the only sound was the quiet crackle of the enchanted fire.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I… I haven't thought that far ahead. Everything feels—" she hesitated, searching for the word, "—disoriented. Like I'm standing still while the world moves around me."
Adrian watched her silently. His eyes weren't cold — just steady, as if measuring something invisible.
Finally, he spoke. "Then I'll leave you somewhere safe. Somewhere, the world won't find you. I know a place like that."
She froze, a tiny movement that only he would notice. A small twist of her lips, a shadow in her eyes.
She didn't argue. Didn't speak.
She only nodded. "All right," she said quietly.
They finished dinner in silence.
The night stretched on. When they finally lay down to sleep, Alice turned away, pretending to rest.
But she didn't.
Her eyes stayed open for a long time, fixed on the faint outline of Adrian's silhouette — the man who seemed both savior and storm.
Morning came with pale sunlight breaking through the trees. The air was cold, the world washed clean by dew.
They left the forest behind without a word. Hours later, they reached a small village on the edge of the French countryside — quiet, timeless, the kind of place untouched by headlines or fear.
A modest inn stood near the square, ivy climbing its old stone walls. Adrian stopped in front of it.
"This will do," he said.
Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish. The innkeeper — an elderly woman with no curiosity left in her eyes — handed over the keys without a question.
Alice followed Adrian up the stairs. When they reached the door, she stopped. "Adrian," she said softly.
He turned, waiting.
"I don't want to leave you."
He blinked once. "You'll be safer here."
"That's not what I mean." She stepped closer, her voice low but firm. "Being with you… It opened my eyes. I used to think power came from manipulation — from cleverness, from pulling strings behind the scenes. But you—" she shook her head, almost smiling, "you are the strings. The world bends around you."
Her eyes met his. "All those years of schemes and dirty deals… they were empty. I thought I was strong, but I was just surviving. With you, for the first time, it feels like I'm living."
Adrian's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his gaze — something that wasn't indifference. "Alice," he said quietly, "I travel alone for a reason."
"I don't care," she said, biting her lip, her voice trembling just slightly. "I'll learn, I'll adapt, I'll do whatever it takes. Just, don't send me back to that emptiness."
He stared at her for a long moment. Long enough for the tension to become almost unbearable. His eyes searched hers, not for words, but for truth.
Finally, he exhaled slowly. A faint sigh, almost too quiet to notice.
"Fine," he said.
"You can stay. But understand this: the moment you become a burden, I leave. No hesitation. No second chances."
Alice's face softened into a smile, half relief, half triumph. "You won't even dream of leaving," she said with quiet certainty. "Because it won't happen."
She brushed past him, stepping into the bathroom. The sound of running water echoed a moment later, the steam rising faintly through the open door.
Adrian watched for a second, then shook his head with a trace of amusement.
"Woman," he murmured, lying back on the bed. The faintest smile touched his lips as he stared at the ceiling, the room filled with the quiet rhythm of water and the hum of protective wards.
The room was washed in the amber glow of a single candle. Outside, rain threaded down the window like lines of silver ink, whispering against the glass in a rhythm that matched the slow, quiet beating.
Alice stepped out from the bathroom, wrapped in steam and silence. Her hair clung to her neck, a few loose strands curling against her skin. She had changed into one of her soft white shirts.
Adrian was seated near the bed, his back straight, the violet hue of his eyes dimmed but not gone. In that half-light, he looked almost… tranquil. The fire reflected in his gaze turned his calm into something softer.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
"You really would've left me," Alice said at last, her voice a whisper almost lost under the sound of the rain.
Adrian didn't look up. "I would have."
There was no anger in his tone, no cruelty, just truth.
She crossed the room slowly, the wooden floor creaking beneath her feet. "Do you prefer loneliness?"
Adrian replied quietly. "It's not a matter of preferences but of habit."
Alice stopped beside him. "Why?"
"For clarity. When I am alone, I can think; I like to think."
She studied him, searching his expression for something. "And what happens," she asked softly, "when clarity becomes loneliness?"
Adrian finally looked up. The look in his eyes was steady, unreadable, but behind it there was a flicker of something unguarded.
"That's when you should meet interesting people," he chuckled.
Alice smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Have you met any?"
He didn't answer.
The silence between them thickened — alive, magnetic.
She reached out, her hand hovering near his jaw before she finally touched him. Her fingers were cool against his skin, tracing the line of his cheek, the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes.
"I know you feel something too," she whispered. "Just like I feel the same."
His breath caught.
"And I know that you know of my feelings." She continued, her hands touching his upper body.
"You are very perceptive," he said, voice low.
Alice's hand moved to the back of his neck, her thumb brushing the edge of his collar. "I have many skills, Adrian, many I would love to show you." She whispered to him.
Adrian didn't shy away; he began to touch her body as well.
Then simply looked at her — really looked — and in that gaze, the room seemed to dissolve. The rain faded, the candlelight blurred, and for a fleeting instant, there was nothing left but the pull between them.
Adrian moved first; their lips met. It was slow, but passionate like gravity finally remembering its purpose.
The kiss deepened, unhurried but certain.
Alice's hand slid up to his shoulder, his fingers brushing through her damp hair. The warmth of the firelight painted their faces in gold and shadow, and the air around them felt charged — as if the magic that had once torn worlds apart had chosen, for a moment, to rest in quiet connection.
He drew back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between. "You don't know what you're asking for," he murmured.
"Maybe not," she said softly, "but I know what I'm choosing."
Her words hung in the air like a spell that didn't need to be spoken.
Adrian's control faltered. His hand found hers, their fingers intertwining as though they had been meant to fit that way all along.
The candle flickered.
The rain stopped.
And in that quiet room, the storm outside finally reached its end — replaced by warmth, breath, and the quiet rhythm of two people who had spent too long in the cold.
Dawn was beautiful; it crept through the curtains. Alice and Adrian lay still, both as naked as newborns, her head pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Adrian was awake, caressing her naked and sexy body.
The light outlined the edge of his face in pale gold.
Neither spoke of what had happened.
They didn't need to.
Some truths didn't require words.