— — — — — —
The German Minister of Magic's office had been temporarily taken over, and the room was now filled with the core members of the Acolytes.
Vinda Rosier, Gunnar Grimmson, Vogel… and even Laos Wilkinson sitting quietly in a corner.
Grindelwald was laying out the next phase of their operation.
"Vinda, you and Grimmson take a team to Durmstrang and secure control." As he spoke, he tapped the arm of his chair. A notebook on the desk floated up on its own and landed in Rosier's hands.
"These are the weak points in Durmstrang's defensive wards. Bring plenty of people. And no casualties. Not you, not those students."
"Yes, sir." Vinda understood exactly what he meant.
Durmstrang's student body was almost entirely pure-blood. If news spread that they'd killed underage wizards, it would gut the Acolytes' reputation. Durmstrang wasn't strong, but it was sensitive — a political minefield — so they had to tread carefully.
"Vogel," Grindelwald continued, turning to him. "There are probably enemy plants in the country as well. Spread the news that I was ambushed. Make it look like a panic. Once they crawl out, take them all at once. And don't imitate your father's nonsense with mass purges. Just remove the real culprits and be done."
Vogel accepted the assignment with an awkward look.
His father had acted too ruthlessly back in the day and pushed a lot of potential allies straight into the opposition. Vogel had no intention of repeating the same mistake.
Command after command was handed out. Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald's leadership was far more competent. He simply couldn't be bothered with day-to-day details most of the time and usually left planning to Vinda.
Then a sudden crack split the air.
Everyone stood instantly when they saw Tom appear beside Grindelwald.
"Mr. Riddle."
Tom waved a hand and took the seat next to Grindelwald — the chair the old man had prepared for him specifically. "Go on."
"There's nothing left to cover."
Grindelwald dismissed the ten people who would be accompanying them to Bulgaria and waved the rest out.
"Laos, stay a moment." Tom stopped the man just as he reached the door. He gave him a teasing glance. "Why do you look even fatter than before?"
Laos forced a shy smile and tried to return to his previous seat, but Tom gestured for him to come sit up front.
"Since we got to Germany Madam Rosier hasn't assigned me anything," Laos admitted. "I'm home doing nothing every day — it'd be a miracle if I didn't get fat."
"She's showing you mercy." Tom sipped his tea. "By the timing, Solen should be due soon, right?"
Laos nodded. "Half a month, give or take."
"So how are you planning to wrap things up?" Tom asked, genuinely curious.
Laos fell silent. Solen approaching him had been extremely deliberate — a calculated move — but she was still the mother of his child.
"The Schneider family can afford to keep an idle person or two." Grindelwald normally didn't bother with these small personal matters, but since Tom and Laos were on amicable terms, he spoke up. "Just keep her. If she can give you an heir, she's useful."
"Have her give you another and you come out ahead."
Schneider was Laos's mother's family — an old German pure-blood house, classic Junker landowners. They had provided Grindelwald with significant resources when he first rose to power and hadn't hesitated to back him again this time.
Tom nodded. "Old G is right. A witch who can bear children has a real advantage. Though after the baby's born, Laos, you could lay the truth out for her. Might even win her over."
"Thank you, Mr. Grindelwald. Thank you, Mr. Riddle," Laos said gratefully.
Tom chatted with him through another pot of tea, mostly asking questions. Dumbledore was still keeping in contact with Laos and knew he was back in Germany, yet still hadn't invited him into the Order of the Phoenix.
Maybe he didn't need to. Maybe he still didn't trust him enough.
When Laos finally left, Tom picked up a book and casually asked, "So when are we leaving?"
Grindelwald gave him a playful look. "Do I really need to go? Isn't today your turn for action? You could just lead the team yourself."
"Mm…" Tom said in a low, ghostly voice. "If your goal is to make Dumbledore die of rage, then sure, I can go alone. And if he discovers my secret… well, I'll just have to shed a tear, strike him down, and let him rest forever."
"With my full strength and Ravenclaw possessing me, Dumbledore's going to die cleanly."
Grindelwald's smile froze.
He knew Tom wasn't bluffing — the boy could absolutely do it. Lately Tom and Ravenclaw had been practically glued to each other, spending every day in that little villa doing who-knows-what. He'd probably unlocked possession by now.
The kid usually acted easygoing, but once someone touched his core interests, he turned ruthless in a heartbeat.
"We'll head out this afternoon." Grindelwald dropped the banter. "I'll deal with the initial formalities. Oblansk has arranged a public ceremony announcing their allegiance. That's probably when the enemy will strike. At that point, it's your turn."
Tom nodded, accepting the plan. "Take my pocket world for now. I'm going to nap inside."
"Hold on. First let me check if your Transfiguration has any flaws."
---
Two hours later — Southeastern Europe, Bulgaria
This country didn't border Germany or even Poland.
But still, Grindelwald arrived at the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic with his entourage. Under a mess of wary, complicated stares, he walked through the front entrance as Oblansk greeted him with exaggerated humility and led him into the Minister's office.
Grindelwald never shortchanged people who pledged their loyalty. He agreed to every condition Oblansk put forward. To be fair, all of Oblansk's requests were reasonable things any responsible Minister would ask. Compared to Fudge, the man was practically a model official. He wasn't brainwashed, just a gambler with no better options.
But small countries were always stuck like this. If they didn't take risks, being a fence-sitter would end even worse.
"Mr. Grindelwald, we've prepared a public ceremony for you. We'll announce to all of Bulgaria that we are under your command."
Oblansk was in high spirits after receiving Grindelwald's promises, but Grindelwald only looked at him with pity. The man had no idea his own subordinates had already sold him out. His competence was… questionable.
Still, loyalty was enough. Grindelwald just needed that.
"Go on ahead. The trip tired me out. I'll arrive in about an hour."
"Yes, sir."
Oblansk left to prepare. Once he was gone, Tom and Grindelwald swapped places. The ten Acolytes glanced at each other, baffled.
Was this the legendary 'open the front gate while sneaking through the back'? Were they going to lure Dumbledore in so Grindelwald could ambush him with something brutal?
As expected of Lord Grindelwald — shameless, cunning, completely underhanded.
Tom stood before the mirror for a bit, tweaking his hairstyle to look even more arrogant. Then he turned to the Acolytes. "Stay here. If you hear fighting, leave immediately and go back to Berlin."
They hurried to reassure him. "Mr. Riddle, we can fight too."
"It's fine. Once a real fight starts, you'll just get in the way." Tom waved them off, his voice shifting smoothly into Grindelwald's signature low tone. "Don't stick around just to make things harder for me and my teacher."
The Acolytes exchanged looks, then nodded.
---
Meanwhile, Vinda and Grimmson were already leading a strike force toward Durmstrang. Grindelwald's goal today was to secure enough leverage to force Dumbledore to accept his terms.
Durmstrang, despite sharing global prestige with Hogwarts, had slipped badly over the years. They had actually allowed a fleeing Death Eater to become Headmaster. If that was the person running the place, the rest of the staff must be a joke.
It was one of the reasons Grindelwald was furious enough to act against his own alma mater. It was shameful. Utterly embarrassing.
He wouldn't have been this angry if Voldemort himself were headmaster — but a Death Eater?
Better he take the position himself and compete with Dumbledore on another level… assuming Tom, the walking wildcard, wasn't in the picture.
---
One hour later
Tom, still disguised as Grindelwald, stepped out of the office. Oblansk had been waiting and led him to a manor on the outskirts of the city.
Hundreds of people were already gathered — Ministry officials, pure-blood heads of family, magazine reporters. A tall platform stood on the wide lawn.
Tom didn't hesitate. He strode up to the platform, swept his gaze across the crowd, and the noise died instantly under his sharp stare.
"I'm glad to see Bulgaria's witches and wizards returning to my side. But I'm not pleased that a few clowns think they can pull something disgraceful on such a joyous day."
Faces stiffened. Many people dropped their gaze, terror flickering in their eyes.
He knows.
Tom drew his wand and aimed it at the head of the Bulgarian Auror Office. One spell — the man's arms hit the ground. And the screams echoed as Tom smiled.
"No more hiding. Shall we move on to the next part?"
Realizing the plan was completely exposed, the ICW wizards acted immediately. They fired signal flares into the sky.
"Grindelwald! Today is the day you die! This will be your grave!"
The next moment, nearly half the wizards present fired spells at Tom. More people Apparated in by the second, joining the assault.
Oblansk stared, dumbstruck, as the sky filled with curses raining down on Grindelwald. His mind went blank.
What on earth was happening?
.
.
.