— — — — — —
Inside the headmaster's office, Dumbledore—rarely seen so rattled—was in the middle of a fierce argument with Grindelwald.
"You shouldn't have told the children any of that! Why didn't you talk to me first?!"
"Because I knew this would be exactly how you reacted, Albus. And if I told you beforehand, how would I get the result I wanted?"
"Gellert, do you just want the whole world thrown into chaos?"
"No. I want them to see the world as it truly is—cruel and real—instead of living wrapped in the little safety net you've woven around them."
"They're still kids!"
"Everyone has the right to know the truth."
Neither could convince the other. Dumbledore sank back into his chair, his breathing heavier than usual. The office fell into a tense quiet. Then Grindelwald stood up, pulled out the photographs, and held them up for the past headmasters who were peeking from their portraits, explaining how he got them.
It didn't take long before the portraits erupted in furious shouting.
Phineas pointed at Dumbledore and snapped, "This is what you call an era of peace?! Wizards reduced to test subjects for Muggles! You should've joined forces with him back then and flipped the whole damn world over!"
"Phineas!" Armando Dippet barked, stopping him. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end only sighed helplessly.
"Mr. Grindelwald," Dippet asked, "did you rescue those children?"
Grindelwald spoke evenly. "I found them a place to rest. Everyone involved paid with their lives. As for whoever was behind it, I haven't dug that far yet. Muggle employment networks are… complicated—layers upon layers like spy rings and double agents. It'll take time."
"Good. For once, you're right, the world really needed you," Phineas said bluntly, not hiding his praise.
Throughout all of this, Dumbledore only watched and listened silently. He didn't refute anything, nor did he condemn Grindelwald for ruthlessness. In fact, he knew that if it had been him in that situation… he likely wouldn't have resisted striking back either.
Grindelwald turned, walking back to his spot, but he didn't sit.
He looked down at the old man and said, "I told you—we were never enemies, and we never will be. Both of us care about this world. We just walk different roads."
"You're too passive, Albus. Always waiting for the enemy to move before you act. You did it with me, and you did it again with Voldemort."
"Albus, you need to change. Standing still is the same as falling behind."
With that, Grindelwald didn't wait for Dumbledore's response. He strode out of the office—he still needed to discuss the photographs and their discovery with Tom.
And whether Dumbledore would understand, or shed the tired aging mindset he'd slipped into—Grindelwald didn't know. But he hoped to see that ambitious fierce Albus again—the one who once wanted the world to hear his voice.
— — —
Inside the Study Space
Everyone sat around the round table. Tom drank tea cup after cup while Grindelwald told them what he'd uncovered with the information Robert Graves provided.
The ones experimenting on young wizards were people in North America. Was it an official operation?
No—but the people behind it could influence, even control, official institutions. In practice, the difference was negligible.
"They know almost nothing about wizards," Grindelwald said, a cold laugh slipping out. "To them, we're just a rare mutation."
"And for that, we have to thank the International Statute of Secrecy. If they knew there were at least a hundred thousand wizards living right under their noses, they'd never sleep soundly again."
Ravenclaw frowned. She'd done experiments far crueler than the ones in the photos—and Slytherin even more so—but their subjects were criminals, enemies, people who deserved it. There was guilt, but not much.
That was why she condemned Nicolas's idea of using slaves in cruel ways, and taught Tom some "principles."
But now… these people had used children. That was the vilest thing imaginable in any human mind—using innocent, pure six-year-olds in such a bloody way.
Even someone with her raven-cold personality felt anger rising. Her gaze flicked toward Tom, who hadn't spoken once. If Ravenclaw looked like that, no one else needed mentioning.
Andros was practically vibrating with fury, itching to storm out and slaughter someone.
"Some things can't be rushed," Tom finally said, setting down his teacup. "Rowena, you know better than any of us what comes from slaughtering Muggles without restraint. A full-scale war is impossible. If a war breaks out, both sides end up destroyed."
"You're not invincible. And neither am I. Not right now." When he said that, he was looking at Andros.
Andros let out a dissatisfied huff. "I could wipe out a few thousand Muggles without anyone noticing. I'd deal with the fallout myself."
"See? You're already in a rush," Tom sighed. "I never said we wouldn't deal with it. Things just need to be done in order."
"Your body still isn't ready. Even if you're furious, it won't change anything yet. Or do you want me to just charge in?"
That shut Andros up.
Ravenclaw gave a slight nod, understanding what Tom meant.
"You really don't act like a teenager."
Grindelwald gave a helpless laugh. When he first got the intel, he didn't tell Tom immediately because he was afraid the boy would do something extreme. Other kids lacked the ability even if they had the impulse. Tom had both.
Turns out he'd worried for nothing. Tom was even steadier than he was. Grindelwald had slaughtered quite a few people to vent before he calmed down.
What no one knew was that if Tom hadn't kept using the talents from the Unicorn and Jeanne, he would be the most furious right now. For the first time, his Obscurus was on the verge of losing control.
"Tom, I'll send people to monitor the situation. Right now your priority is getting stronger. Don't repeat my mistake of chasing influence at the expense of power."
Grindelwald was talking about his younger self—thinking the Elder Wand made him untouchable and pouring everything into expansion instead of growth.
Tom nodded lightly, stretched lazily, and his figure faded before popping back into existence inside the Room of Requirement.
Grindelwald's public lecture brought some changes to the school, and yet on the surface nothing had changed at all.
Students went to class as usual and life kept moving. The news from that night spread fast, but an invisible hand pressed it all back down.
The Daily Prophet didn't report anything either. Some things, even if they leak out, can't be made public. Exposing them would have consequences too terrible to imagine.
But seeds had already been planted in certain hearts. They only needed the right season to sprout, bloom, and bear fruit.
---
After afternoon classes, Tom originally planned to train with Fleur, but someone intercepted him at the door.
"I talked it over with Delacour. She said I can borrow you for an hour." Cassandra didn't even give him a chance to speak before shutting down any objection.
Tom stared at her. Borrow him? Was he being treated like an object?
Still, seeing Cassandra march over despite all the weird looks from other students, he nodded. After a quick word to Daphne, he followed Cassandra out of the castle.
It was her second time at Hogwarts, so she navigated the halls with ease. Soon the two of them were standing by the Black Lake. The weather was nice, and the giant squid was sunbathing on the surface.
Since Cassandra wasn't saying anything, Tom had to start somewhere.
"So when did you and Fleur get so close?"
Cassandra glanced back at him and replied in a sarcastic sing-song tone, "It's called sticking together to survive. We're both outsiders here, and there are way more Hogwarts students. If we don't band together, we'll get stomped into the dirt."
Tom played dumb, not even blinking differently.
Of course he wasn't going to admit he understood she might not be talking about Hogwarts as an institution, but rather a certain someone's collection of little witches.
"That's good then. You two should share notes. Try to get a strong result in the Tournament."
Cassandra rolled her eyes. She knew perfectly well he was pretending not to get it, but there was nothing she could do. The advantage always lay with people who had nothing to fear.
"I actually just wanted to ask you something." Cassandra took a deep breath, dropped all side routes, and went straight for it. "What's going on with you lately? Why do you act like... like you don't care about the progress of your products?"
She'd come to Hogwarts excited—not just for the Tournament, but to see him and show off the achievements she'd made in North America.
But once she got here, reality wasn't as pretty as she imagined. Last week she finally caught Tom and proudly presented her work, but nothing made him react. He praised her, sure, but Cassandra could tell the compliments were surface-level.
It terrified her. She knew her talent in magic didn't compare to his. Even among her generation, she wasn't the most dazzling. The one thing she had was this unexpected business talent she'd stumbled onto.
Tom used to care a lot about money. That made her feel valuable. But now he didn't seem interested. So did that mean she wasn't useful anymore?
For days she'd lost her appetite and couldn't sleep. After agonizing over it, she finally chose to just ask. If not, the question would eat her alive.
Tom looked at her wide eyes—stubborn, but scared too. He only had to think for a moment to figure out what was racing through her head.
A gentle smile softened his face. He stepped closer, closing the space between them.
"Cassandra, you're misunderstanding me." He held her gaze, and she couldn't look away even if she wanted to. "I don't care about money. I've never cared about money."
.
.
.