The air in MACUSA's main lobby had turned into a suffocating hell of smoke and dust. With a double, dry crack—the sound of an apparition—Aurelian Gaunt and Victor Van Droombeeld materialized in the midst of the chaos
The scene that greeted them was straight out of a nightmare. Everything was utterly destroyed. The majestic golden statues had been reduced to rubble, and the luxurious chandeliers hung by a single thread, threatening to crush anyone below. Spells, curses, and hexes of every kind flew wildly in all directions, ricocheting off the walls and further devastating the place as the Aurors desperately tried to contain the stampede of enraged prisoners.
A blood-soaked prisoner, wielding a stolen wand, spotted their robes and charged straight at them with a battle cry.
Without even batting an eye, Victor swung his wand, and a powerful red bolt struck the man in the chest, stunning him and sending him flying several meters backward.
"Desmaius!" roared the wizard, and another criminal was sent flying backward, crashing violently into a column before falling unconscious.
Victor turned toward Aurelian, shielding his face with his forearm to block a burst of sparks.
"Don't let your guard down for even a second, boy," Victor warned, raising his voice above the din. "On a battlefield like this, one wrong move can cost you your life!"
Aurelian nodded, drawing the Elder Wand from his sleeve. Victor gave him a smile and nodded in return.
"I'll go meet with President Sam MacDuff to see how I can 'help' the government… Have fun, my young Lord," Victor said, before disappearing into the crowd of Aurors and smoke, leaving Aurelian completely alone.
Without wasting any time, Aurelian walked toward the source of the chaos. In the center of the lobby was a massive black hole leading directly into the prison's dungeons. With precise movements, Aurelian began casting cutting spells and explosive curses at the prisoners trying to peek their heads over the edge, flinging them back into the darkness.
With the area temporarily cleared, Aurelian peered down into the depths of the dungeon through the enormous crater. Down there, floating in the center of the destroyed prison with his arms outstretched, was Gellert Grindelwald.
Sensing a familiar magical signature watching him, Grindelwald lifted his face. Their gazes met across the distance.
But before Aurelian could do anything, a yellow beam shot out from the side of the hole, straight toward his head.
Aurelian reacted, quickly throwing himself backward to dodge the impact that shattered the floor where he had been standing a second earlier. As he raised his head to see who had carried out the surprise attack, a mocking, arrogant smile slowly spread across his lips.
He stood up, brushing the dust off his coat. Before him, emerging from the shadows with his wand raised and breathing heavily, stood his old enemy.
"Well, well," Aurelian murmured, tilting his head with amusement. "How's that wound holding up, Percival? I honestly didn't think you'd survive our last encounter. But look at that… here you are, standing right in front of me. Although, from what I can see, you've come back with one less eye."
Percival Graves, who now wore a thick leather patch over the left side of his mutilated face, clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscles in his neck tensed.
"I've come all this way to collect that debt, Gaunt," Graves growled, his voice dripping with deep hatred.
Before Graves could cast another spell, a hand rested firmly on his shoulder. Gellert Grindelwald, having levitated up from the basement, materialized right behind his subordinate.
The old Dark Lord gave Aurelian a charismatic, calculating smile, sizing up the young wizard from head to toe.
"It's a pleasant surprise to find you here," Gellert said, assessing his posture. "But tell me, what is the heir of Slytherin doing so far from home?"
Aurelian shrugged, looking at him with annoyance.
"What's it to you, Elderly?"
Gellert burst out laughing; the boy's arrogance never ceased to amaze him. His gaze drifted down to Aurelian's pale hand, fixating on the unmistakable Elder Wand—its knots and the unmistakable power it radiated.
"The last time we met, I didn't have the chance to take it…" whispered Grindelwald, greed shining in his single blue eye. "But this time, I'll be the one to take that wand."
Aurelian tilted his head, and his smile widened.
"Then come and try, you decrepit old man."
With a quick thought, Aurelian made the Elder Wand vanish. He raised both hands and, looking them straight in the eyes without letting the arrogant smile fade from his lips, gave the middle finger to the two wizards standing before him. Aurelian took a step back and let himself fall backward into the immense hole, straight into the prison's abyss.
Above, Gellert narrowed his eyes; his smile had vanished completely. He gripped Graves's shoulder tightly.
"Don't hold back. Kill him," Grindelwald whispered.
Graves nodded furiously and immediately leaped through the gap in pursuit of Aurelian.
As he plummeted down the immense tunnel, Aurelian spun deftly in the air, orienting himself toward the bottom. Dozens of criminals were still crowding the base, trying to climb up through the rubble. Aurelian opened both hands, stretching them toward the ground.
A surge of magic burst from his palms. It unleashed a destructive electric field; a web of purple lightning rained down on the basement. Screams of agony echoed through the cells as the prisoners were instantly incinerated, clearing the area where he would land.
No sooner had his shoes touched the ground among the smoking bodies than Aurelian had to jerk his head back sharply.
Percival Graves had landed just a few meters away, propelling himself forward with brutal speed; he pounced on him like a rabid dog, flinging his wand aside as the one-eyed wizard began unleashing a barrage of magic-infused punches.
"This will be your last day alive, you damned brat!" Percival shouted, landing a blow that shattered a stone column behind Aurelian.
Aurelian leaned backward, dodging the blow by a hair's breadth. He dematerialized in a trail of black smoke, teleporting a couple of meters to the left of the cells, but Graves—driven by a blind desire for revenge—managed to track his magical signature instantly, appearing right in front of him to unleash blow after blow in a fierce and merciless hand-to-hand combat.
They teleported all over the panoptic prison. A clash of fists on level two, a curse on level three, crack, thud, bursts of magic on the lower level. Aurelian dodged and blocked, but Percival always managed to catch up to him, possessed by his desire for revenge.
After dodging the fifth consecutive punch that grazed his jaw, Aurelian realized they were going in circles. Graves was an experienced duelist, and hatred made him relentless. He needed to resort to another tactic to throw him off balance mentally and force him to make a mistake that would secure his victory.
Aurelian appeared on the walkway, tilted his head, and smiled cruelly at him.
"Tell me, Percival… How does it feel to have such lousy depth perception with just one eye? You must see everything as flat, like a mere Muggle, haha."
Graves growled and lunged again. But the comment had hit the mark. He began to get angry, and with that anger, his blows became slightly heavier and more brutal, but much more erratic—and therefore, predictable.
"Is that all you've got?" Aurelian continued to taunt, dodging a slash and landing a quick backhand blow to his stomach. "You're weak. You're old, Graves. You're nothing but a washed-up wizard who let a Hogwarts boy take away your pride and your eye. I'm sure you're a disappointment even to Grindelwald."
"Shut up!" Graves shouted furiously, completely losing his temper. "SHUT UP! YOU DAMN BASTARD!"
Graves unleashed an uncontrollable burst of fire. Aurelian simply slipped beneath the attack, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
The mental trap had worked perfectly. Percival Graves was blinded by rage, lashing out at thin air and wasting his magic recklessly. Aurelian kept his smile, dodging and dancing around his opponent. Now, he just had to wait patiently for the right moment to finish off his pathetic opponent once and for all.
With Percival blinded by fury, his movements lost all technique. As he threw a desperate hook, the one-eyed wizard left his guard completely open, showing Aurelian exactly the opening he needed to attack.
He didn't even try to dodge completely. He deliberately let Percival's punch graze his cheek, absorbing the impact to close the distance between them in a single step. Taking advantage of Graves's loss of balance, Aurelian raised his left hand and firmly struck the mage's exposed chest.
"Doom," Aurelian whispered, unleashing one of his self-created spells.
A vortex of pure darkness and gravitational force erupted directly from his palm. The black vortex instantly tore Percival's torso to pieces, shredding flesh, bones, and organs as if they were paper.
Graves opened his one eye in shock. He vomited a thick gush of blood and fell to his knees on the stone floor. He tried desperately to breathe, choking on his own blood, while staring intently into Aurelian's eyes, unable to comprehend that his life was ending right there.
Aurelian crouched slightly, bringing himself down to Graves's level as he observed him coldly, devoid of any hint of empathy. He leaned close to the dying man's face and whispered softly.
"I assure you, this time I will not fail."
Showing no mercy whatsoever, Aurelian took a step back. He raised his arm, opened his left hand wide, and unleashed Doom once more.
The black vortex expanded, distorting the light around it, swallowing Percival Graves whole. In a fraction of a second, the gravitational magic disintegrated the wizard's body, erasing him from existence without leaving the slightest trace that he had ever been there.
Aurelian quickly clenched his hand into a fist, cutting off the magical flow. Doom was an immensely destructive spell that operated on the same principles as a black hole: the larger the vortex became and the longer it remained open, the more unstable and dangerous it became for its surroundings—and above all, for Aurelian himself. It was a double-edged sword that required his full control.
Feeling the heat of the magic still coursing through his veins, Aurelian moved his left hand up and down a couple of times, trying to dispel the residual tension.
"A truly flawless execution, my Lord."
The polite, calm voice abruptly snapped him out of his thoughts. Aurelian turned his head and saw Paul. The Van Droombeelds' old butler was standing a few meters away, his hands politely clasped over his stomach, oblivious to the chaos and explosions that continued to rock the upper floors of MACUSA.
"Congratulations on dispatching your rival in such splendid fashion," Paul added, bowing his head slightly.
Aurelian nodded, regaining his composure.
"Thank you, Paul. But what are you doing down here?"
"Mr. Victor ordered me to come and assist you and ensure that no one took you by surprise from behind," the old man replied calmly. "Although, given your mastery of magic, it's clear that my assistance wasn't necessary."
Aurelian smiled, pleased by the servant's loyalty and efficiency in carrying out his duties, as well as by the acknowledgment of his power.
"Take me to Victor," Aurelian ordered, turning away without looking back.
Paul nodded, offering him a small, respectful bow. The two began walking through the ruined corridors of the prison toward the upper floors, leaving behind the silence of the cell and a small, dark, lonely pool of blood as the only evidence of Percival Graves's death.
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