— — — — — —
This time, the International Confederation of Wizards had prepared thoroughly.
They chose to fight in a manor outside the city instead of at the Ministry. First, they wanted to keep the damage contained; the Ministry sat in the bustling city center, and if Grindelwald went berserk, the battlefield could spill into the Muggle world. Cleaning up afterward would consume absurd manpower and resources.
Second, they simply had too many people. More than twenty countries had contributed fighters, plus the ICW's own Aurors. Altogether, over four hundred experienced Aurors were participating in the ambush. No trainees. No weak links.
Their numbers alone exceeded the entire staff of the Bulgarian Ministry.
Many of the "guests" who attacked suddenly weren't guests at all but Aurors disguised with Polyjuice.
More and more figures dropped from the sky. The Aurors had divided their roles beforehand: fifty maintained the anti-Apparition field, fifty more protected them and kept the battle contained within the manor grounds. Their job also included blocking Grindelwald's large-scale spells, like Protego Diabolica.
"Grindelwald, you're too arrogant! You knew this was a trap but walked in alone. Your pride has doomed you. Dumbledore is already on his way!"
A woman shouted bravely, as she kept retreating, hiding behind the line of Aurors.
Tom raised a hand. A pale moonlit orb formed above his palm. As it rose higher, it grew brighter, washing the field in soft silver light. It looked delicate, but the glow was as solid as a wall. The curses hitting it bounced away wildly. Far better than any Shield Charm.
"Dumbledore?" Tom smiled, amused. He layered several speed-boosting charms over himself. One step carried him several yards. He blurred forward and appeared before an Auror almost instantly. His wand traced a lazy line. A thin red slit opened across the man's throat, and blood fountained out.
"By the time he gets here, you'll all be dead."
He vanished again. Dozens of spells slammed into the ground where he'd stood, blasting a crater into the lawn.
Chaos broke loose. Among the crowd were innocent guests and the completely clueless Oblansk. Some Aurors broke formation to subdue the bystanders, then hurried back to join the attack on "Grindelwald."
---
Meanwhile…
Deep in the Amazon rainforest, within Castelobruxo.
Dumbledore was selecting books for Tom when Babajide contacted him.
The head of the ICW looked panicked and grim. "Albus, you were right. Grindelwald did see through the plan, but he still came. He's alone. The ten Acolytes who arrived with him have already escaped."
"I'll go at once," Dumbledore said calmly. He'd predicted this exact outcome. Competing with Grindelwald in strategy? These people weren't even close.
Their grandfathers had been played like puppets by Grindelwald. What chance did today's soft, peace-pampered witches and wizards have?
But he had no choice. Hundreds of lives were tied to this disaster, and in the end he had to clean up after Babajide and the reckless Ministries.
He ended the call and summoned Fawkes. Fire flared as they vanished.
...
While Dumbledore focused on traveling, Babajide received another piece of terrible news. Durmstrang was under attack by the Acolytes—no, by the time he heard, the wards had already fallen. No one responded to any message.
He realized the disaster was complete. Grindelwald had walked straight into the trap knowingly, then used the opportunity to strike Durmstrang at the same time.
Control Hogwarts, and the whole British wizarding world freezes in fear. Take Durmstrang, and half of northern Europe loses sleep.
Send help now?
No way. Even assuming they could gather enough people in time, the thousand-plus students inside could be pushed forward as living shields. No Auror would dare lift a wand.
"Albus… everything rests on you."
Babajide knew he was down to wishful thinking. Only Dumbledore and the ambush team could possibly eliminate Grindelwald. Beyond that, he had no options left.
"Hundreds of Aurors… they should be able to hold him, right?"
He tried to comfort himself.
And to be fair, his prayer worked a little. Grindelwald—or rather, Tom—really was being held back.
The Aurors weren't scarecrows or target dummies. Aside from dealing with monsters, they were the backbone of the wizarding world—the elite of the elite.
Even Hogwarts professors, when facing more than five Aurors at once, would first think of running, not of trying to subdue them.
Being swarmed by over three hundred Aurors, Tom felt pressure—real, life-threatening pressure—for the first time in his life.
But that only excited him more. His journey had gone far too smoothly; without noticing, he'd become an academic prodigy, a top-tier wizard who had never been pushed hard enough to really cut loose.
"Protego Diabolica!"
Hellish blue flames erupted, twisting into a gigantic firebird that let out a furious roar. It wasn't long before several Aurors combined their strength to cast Finite Incantatem and restrain the blaze.
Tom never expected Protego Diabolica to deal real damage here. Its only purpose was to distract part of the enemy force—any spell they aimed at the flames was one less aimed at him.
A few dozen spells hitting his shield at once would break it. More than that, and the shield collapsed even faster; a hundred spells at once would shatter it instantly.
The Aurors on-site were firing one or two spells per second each—basically magical machine guns.
With power pouring steadily into the Protego Diabolica, Tom ignored it entirely. Wand pointed skyward, he weaved and dodged while sweeping his arm in wide arcs.
Dark clouds groaned overhead. Lightning brewed and then lashed downward in wild, unpredictable strikes, drowning the entire manor in a sea of electricity. No one could believe Grindelwald had cast a full-scale weather spell in such a short time.
Chaos broke out immediately. The Aurors had to juggle offense, suppression, and the protection of their own bodies. Fortunately, each wore a Guardian Necklace to buy them some margin for error.
Tom suddenly realized he'd sabotaged himself a little—if he'd come as himself, he could've triggered the hidden backdoor in the guardian necklaces and blown them all instantly. But as Grindelwald, he had no access to that, so he'd have to break through using brute force.
"How about mist?"
He cast another field spell. The surge of power thickened the fog so much that even the winds couldn't disperse it. Moving silently through the haze, he relied on his magical sight to track the Aurors' positions.
Tom's reaction speed beat everyone's—an advantage not of magic, but of what he was. Still, the Aurors weren't helpless; they gathered up, standing back-to-back, covering each other's blind spots.
Tom burst out of the fog—only to be smothered instantly by a rainstorm of spells. He had no choice but to drop the ambush and raise his shield.
"He can't do anything to us!" The Aurors, thrilled at pushing him back, even shouted, "It's one against hundreds! He's burning his magic on wide-area spells! Forget Dumbledore—we can kill him ourselves!"
"Heh… truly, ignorance is fearless."
Their arrogance amused Tom. He had intended to handle them like just another group of wizards. But if they insisted on turtling up, then he'd answer with something outside their pay grade.
"Embrace the end."
"Raaah—!"
A rotting, ear-splitting shriek tore out of Tom's throat. Solid waves of sound slammed straight into every mind present. For a moment, everyone's thoughts went blank, then terror and despair flooded in, pushing them to the brink of madness.
"AAAAAHHH—!"
Dozens of Aurors collapsed screaming, then hit the ground unconscious as if relieved to escape.
Their impenetrable formation shattered instantly. Over a hundred Aurors fell where they stood. The rest, though more strong-willed, clutched their heads in agony, barely able to remain upright.
This was a Lich's signature Fear Scream—a mental and spiritual attack all at once, bypassing the necklaces completely. Wizards simply had no defense against this sort of thing. It was a pure, one-sided beatdown.
The Aurors stationed farther out were the lucky ones. Distance weakened the sound wave's force; they only felt sick for a moment before recovering.
But the battle was already lost.
The three hundred main attackers were crushed. Everywhere Tom walked, he scooped up fallen Aurors—dead or alive, he didn't care—hit them with a quick Petrification Curse, and stored them away.
"He's not human! He's a demon—run! RUN!"
Watching their comrades vanish one after another finally broke one Auror's mind. He abandoned his station at the anti-apparition array and bolted.
Then, like a row of dominoes, the rest scattered in panic. Tom didn't bother chasing. Three hundred captives was more than enough to send the entire wizarding world into chaos.
Then—he froze for a second.
Usaki, high above in the atmosphere (eating meteors), had spotted Dumbledore.
"I'll leave the next part to you, old man."
Without hesitation, Tom blasted the ground, kicking up a wave of dust—and switched identities with Grindelwald under its cover.
Grindelwald continued cleaning up the battlefield. When only a dozen Aurors remained, Fawkes appeared in a flash of flame, carrying Dumbledore.
"Albus, you're a bit late."
Grindelwald blocked the incoming barrage, calmly securing the final prisoners. Only then did he lift his head, meeting Dumbledore's grim gaze with a playful smile.
.
.
.