Austria, Nurmengard Castle. Outside, wizards frantically shouted Grindelwald's name, their voices echoing off the ancient stone walls in a deafening chorus.
Standing before the castle's towering gates, Grindelwald extended both hands to welcome their fervent cheers, basking in the adulation like a dark messiah.
Yusuf Kama stood blankly in the crowd, his face carefully neutral. Grindelwald stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder with deceptive warmth.
"You came here not to betray Dumbledore, but for your own pure heart. Prove it to me, Kama."
Grindelwald walked into the castle with measured steps. Inside Nurmengard, they had used powerful magic to transform the interior into a giant pool, the water's surface reflecting torchlight in dancing patterns.
Alchemical runes were carved deep into the stone bricks, glowing with otherworldly light. Grindelwald entered the pool holding the dead Qilin, its lifeless body limp in his arms.
"Episkey, Rennervate."
At the same time, the alchemical matrix beside him blazed to life, continuously injecting the Deep Realm's corrupting power into the Qilin's body.
The Qilin, itself a life form forged by the Deep Realm King—Life—began twitching again under the enhancement of the Deep Realm King—Hell's dark power.
"Good, good," Grindelwald murmured, holding the resurrected Qilin in his arms like a precious trophy.
Watching Credence walk toward him, he continued instilling his twisted ideology.
"This is what makes us special. Hiding our power is not just humiliation to us, but a sin against our very nature."
At this moment, Grindelwald's heart swelled with grand ambition. He believed wizard civilisation would definitely move toward a more glorious future under his leadership.
However, the Deep Realm itself was power abandoned by civilisation—corrupted strength rejected by the natural order. Could using it to lead civilisation really lead to the future?
Grindelwald placed the Qilin on the stone bricks, but in the water's surface, another Qilin's reflection mysteriously appeared.
What no one noticed was that at this precise moment, Grindelwald's channel connecting to the sea of consciousness was already covered with silvery-white threads—like a butterfly caught in a spider's web, completely unaware of being slowly paralysed.
"That's another Qilin? There was another Qilin that night!" Grindelwald said, looking sharply at Credence.
"There shouldn't be—"
Before Credence could finish his protest, the water suddenly erupted upward. Grindelwald's hand reached out from it, grabbing Credence's face with crushing force.
"You've disappointed me twice already. Do you know how much danger you've put me in?"
Flames burnt in Grindelwald's eye sockets with supernatural fury.
"Last chance, understand? Find it."
Grindelwald released his grip. Credence slid down the wall to the ground, gasping desperately for breath.
"Look again," Grindelwald commanded coldly.
In the Hog's Head Inn, Newt searched everywhere for the frolicking Qilin, moving through the cluttered space.
"Oh, little one, there you are," Newt said, finding the Qilin hiding behind a chair. He picked her up gently.
The Qilin licked Newt's face twice affectionately. Newt carried her carefully into his magical briefcase.
Bunty took the case away, while others were notified to gather on the castle's eighth floor for final preparations.
On the eighth floor, an open room seemed to welcome the group's arrival with ancient magic. Inside hung a colourful clock that ticked with supernatural rhythm.
"What is this place?" Theseus asked quietly, looking around in wonder.
"The Chamber left by founder Ravenclaw," Aiden introduced, his voice echoing slightly.
The surrounding magic gently brushed against Aiden's face like invisible fingers. He could even sense 'himself' sleeping in the collective unconscious sea.
"I trust you've all received the admission tickets Bunty gave you?" Dumbledore asked, walking out from the shadowed side of the room.
"Only with it can you enter to observe the ceremony."
Dumbledore walked to Newt's side, pressing his shoulder reassuringly.
"How about it, Newt? Can you tell which is your case?"
"No," Newt admitted, shaking his head.
"Good. If you could tell, I'd be worried," Dumbledore said, putting on his gloves with careful precision.
"Kind of like a gambler's three-card monte, shell game?" Jacob offered, waving his hand. Seeing the confused expressions of the surrounding wizards, he felt his face flush.
"Muggle sleight of hand. Jacob, you should realise this thing was originally meant to simulate wizard magic," Aiden said, handing him a coconut ice cream to ease his embarrassment.
"To get our rare little friend, Grindelwald will stop at nothing. In any case, as long as by teatime the Qilin and all of us are still alive, we'll have succeeded," Dumbledore said, hanging up his scarf properly.
"By the way, three-card monte doesn't usually involve deaths," Jacob said, putting his hands forward nervously.
"That's an important difference. Jacob, you and I will go first."
Dumbledore waved his hand, and the clock began spinning rapidly with magical energy—apparently functioning as a Portkey.
"By the way, can you tell me about the advantages of three-card monte?" Dumbledore asked, extending his hand to Jacob.
Jacob picked up the case hesitantly. Dumbledore pulled him, and they were transported away in a swirl of displaced air.
"Good luck to you all," Bunty said, smiling encouragingly from the side.
The others also picked up their cases and were transported away one by one.
When Aiden opened his eyes, he found himself on the eastern side of the Himalayas—completely alone on a windswept ridge.
"Damn it, Dumbledore, what were you thinking!" The dragon's lonely cry echoed through the mountains, swallowed by howling wind.
At Bhutan's mountaintop palace, Vogel was proclaiming carefully crafted words to the assembled crowd.
His face was transmitted through magic to every corner of the wizarding world, projected on enchanted surfaces.
Almost every country's Ministry of Magic had sent their attention to this grand gathering, watching with political interest.
"We in the leadership haven't forgotten—this is a divided world. New conspiracies every day, new whispers every hour. These whispers have only recently appeared, and now with a third candidate, there's only one way to make us certain which of these three is trustworthy."
Vogel's proclamation seemed neutral on the surface, but actually every clause was carefully designed to favour Grindelwald.
He walked inside with dramatic flair and brought out the Qilin with reverent ceremony.
"Every wizard knows that the Qilin is the purest creature in our wizarding world. Let us revisit the ancient legend and have it lead us in choosing a leader worthy of such power."
Vogel's calculated smile and the Qilin's innocent face were displayed to audiences worldwide.
In the town below Bhutan's palace, Dumbledore led Jacob through narrow streets crowded with wizards.
Suspicious wizards behind them began quietly drawing wands and following at a distance.
Using the chaotic marches of various supporters, Dumbledore shook off the followers at a corner with practised ease.
"Where do we go next?" Jacob whispered anxiously.
"I'm very sorry. I must leave you now," Dumbledore said, tilting his head toward him apologetically.
"What? Leave me!" Jacob said, startled by the sudden abandonment.
"Yes, I need to meet someone, Mr Kowalski," Dumbledore explained, removing his scarf.
He tossed it at a nearby threshold, and it transformed into a shimmering curtain of magical concealment.
"Don't worry. You don't have the Qilin. If you encounter trouble, you can throw the case away anytime and run."
Dumbledore patted Jacob's shoulder reassuringly. About to leave, he suddenly thought of something important.
He leaned back toward Jacob with sudden intensity.
"One more thing. I hope you won't mind—I suggest you should stop doubting yourself so much."
"I..." Jacob wanted to argue, but a Legilimens master's penetrating gaze pierced through his self-deprecating thoughts.
"You possess many qualities that ordinary people find difficult to have—a brave and complete heart that refuses to compromise its integrity. Perhaps afterward you can find Aiden. He can give you some help."
Having said this, Dumbledore Disapparated and vanished with a soft crack.
Jacob scratched his neck thoughtfully, revealed a genuine smile, and walked forward with surprisingly light steps, carrying the case with newfound confidence.