The vast Quidditch field had been transformed into a spectacle of light.
Albus and Gellert were locked in a titanic battle that shook the very foundations of the stadium and the castle in the distance. Spells flew at speeds that defied human comprehension, colliding in midair and veering off course to carve craters into the grass with their immense force.
Seeking to break Grindelwald's suffocating rhythm, Dumbledore decided to change his strategy. With a subtle movement and without taking his eyes off his opponent, Albus channeled his magic in a completely different way. Using the complex Arcane Patterns, the headmaster traced a shape in the air with his free hand, which suddenly materialized right behind Grindelwald.
Before the Dark Lord could react to the magical fluctuation behind him, the pattern exploded. A searing, dense beam of pure light shot out from the seal, striking Gellert in the back.
Grindelwald was thrown forward, falling to one knee. He let out a hoarse groan of pain as he felt the searing heat of the magic burning through his clothes and skin, leaving a smoking, circular wound on his back.
Slowly, Gellert placed a hand on the ground and looked up. Despite the pain, a smile of admiration spread across his face.
"Well…" Gellert gasped, straightening up with difficulty but without losing his elegance. "You've definitely learned some new tricks, Albus. That wasn't in your repertoire when we were younger."
Albus Dumbledore did not lower his Elder Wand. His face remained serene, but a faintest of smiles peeked out from beneath his beard.
"Magic must evolve, Gellert," the headmaster remarked calmly. "Getting stuck in the past is the first step toward defeat."
Grindelwald let out a hoarse laugh, wiping a drop of blood from his lips.
"You're absolutely right!" Gellert agreed enthusiastically, raising his wand again. "Let's see what else you have to show me!"
The battle resumed with double the ferocity, turning the night into a spectacle.
Meanwhile, in the deepest shadows beneath the stands, a predator waited for its moment to strike.
Aurelian continued to prepare his spell in silence, his gaze fixed on the two Archmages. In the palm of his right hand, his Zero spell crackled uncontrollably. As he channeled all his reserves into the magic and wove it together with the dark hisses of Parseltongue, the spell had… mutated. The lightning bolts leaping between his fingers were no longer just purple; now they blended and intertwined in hypnotic shades ranging from emerald green to a very dark purple, emitting a high-pitched screech.
The perfect opportunity hadn't presented itself yet. He needed that exact millisecond—a total distraction—so he could literally fly like lightning and seize the Elder Wand without taking a lethal curse in the process.
Aurelian chuckled to himself.
"Who better than me to have the Elder Wand?" he thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins. "I'm sure even Headmaster Dumbledore would accept it. After all, it's for the greater good, HaHaHa."
Knowing the moment was approaching, Aurelian began to conjure his own Arcane Patterns around his legs and torso. All with the goal of increasing his speed and pushing himself to his limit, further compressing his monstrous magical power. The symbols adhered to his skin; his entire body began to glow with a faint green hue, vibrating with the energy he was drawing from the surroundings.
In the center of the field, the tension reached its climax.
Albus and Gellert, exhausted but with determination shining in their eyes, pointed their wands at each other at the same time. Their most powerful spells shot forth and struck the exact center of the stadium. A clash of energies illuminated all of Hogwarts, creating a dome of light and a gust of wind that sent dirt flying and deafened both combatants.
This was the moment.
Aurelian closed his eyes and clenched the hand holding Zero with all his might. The world around him seemed to slow down.
A heartbeat later, he streaked across the stadium.
Dumbledore and Gellert, focused on their duel of wills, failed to notice him. Amid the dazzling clash of their own magic, they could only catch a glimpse out of the corner of their eyes of a trail of purple and green light that shot past them at full speed, breaking the sound barrier with a sonic boom that severed the magical connection between their spells in one fell swoop.
Aurelian landed violently on the grass, slipped, and spun across the ground as he tore up the turf, finally managing to stop his momentum by planting his boots in the steaming earth of a crater left by the previous battle.
Breathing heavily, his heart pounding against his ribs, Aurelian opened his right hand.
There it was. The Elder Wand rested in his palm.
A huge, triumphant smile spread across his face; his stupid plan had worked.
Dozens of meters away, in the center of the stadium, Albus Dumbledore stumbled forward as the clash of spells abruptly ended. Suddenly, the headmaster felt something terrifying. The bond—the connection he shared with his wand—had simply been severed.
Albus's eyes snapped open, surprise and horror mingling on his face. He looked down at his hand. It was empty.
Beside him, Gellert Grindelwald blinked. He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what had just interrupted his glorious duel. When his gaze fell on his former friend and he noticed Dumbledore's empty hand, his initial bewilderment gave way to understanding.
Gellert looked at Albus, now unarmed, then at the trail of scorched earth leading into the shadows on the other side of the field, and the irony of the situation hit him.
Throwing his head back, Grindelwald let out a huge, thunderous, uncontrollable laugh that echoed through the cold night. The irony of life.
Aurelian slowly stood up. With quick slaps of his hands, he extinguished the flames that had begun to devour the edges of his robe due to the immense friction and residual energy from his spell.
A few meters away, Grindelwald began to approach, walking across the lawn. The Dark Lord was clapping, a smile spread across his face.
"I'm truly surprised," Gellert said, stopping at a safe distance. "I never saw you coming. I didn't even sense a hint of your magic or your presence until it was already too late."
Aurelian finished brushing the ashes off his clothes and returned the smile.
"I know how to go unnoticed when I set my mind to it," the young man replied, twirling his wand between his fingers.
Dumbledore, still coming to terms with the severing of his connection to the wand and the shock of seeing his student there, stepped forward.
"What were you thinking, Aurelian?" Albus asked, his voice laced with a mix of sternness and disappointment.
Before the headmaster could reprimand him or demand that he return the artifact, Gellert raised a hand, halting his old friend's advance.
"Leave it, Albus," Grindelwald interjected, without taking his two-colored eyes off the boy. "Mr. Gaunt is, by nature, an extremely ambitious young man."
Aurelian raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know me?"
Gellert let out a soft chuckle.
"How could I not know the great Aurelian Gaunt?" Grindelwald asked rhetorically, spreading his arms slightly. "The young Lord of the Ancient House of Gaunt, the owner of Gauntcorp, and the prodigious co-creator of the revolutionary Arcane Patterns. There's always an interesting news story or a photograph of you gracing the front pages of newspapers across Europe."
Aurelian nodded slowly, acknowledging the logic in the dark wizard's words.
"That's a very good point," he murmured, conceding the point.
Gellert lowered his arms, and his tone became a bit more calculating, though he didn't lose his sense of amusement.
"I assume, seeing as you're standing here, that Vinda and Percival failed miserably in their mission to come find you."
Aurelian burst out laughing.
"They failed. And to be completely honest with you, it's very likely that one of them won't survive tonight."
Instead of flying into a rage over the downfall of his best lieutenants, Grindelwald laughed along with him. That boy's audacity and boundless talent were a breath of fresh air. He was definitely starting to take a real liking to Aurelian Gaunt.
At his side, Albus watched them both, deeply conflicted. Seeing his student—the boy he had once considered as a possible successor to lead the country—interacting so freely and cynically with Gellert… left him at a loss for what to think. The abyss in Aurelian's mind was much deeper than he had feared.
The pleasant atmosphere ended as quickly as it had begun. Grindelwald's gaze sharpened.
"Well, that's enough introductions for one night," Gellert declared, extending his hand toward the young man. "I want that wand, boy."
The words snapped Dumbledore out of his trance. Snapping abruptly out of his own thoughts, Albus reacted swiftly, reaching out and gripping the wrist of Gellert's raised hand tightly, preventing any attempt to use his magic.
Aurelian didn't hesitate. He took a step back, clutching the Elder Wand to his side. His mind was racing to devise an escape plan. He had accomplished the easiest part: seizing the moment to steal the grand prize. Now came the hard part—holding onto it while fleeing from two Archmages.
But something unnatural happened.
The skin of all three wizards suddenly bristled. A chill descended upon the stadium, sucking the heat and sound from the air, as if reality had shattered into a thousand pieces.
A fissure in space—a crack as black as the void of space—tore open in the air right behind Aurelian, swallowing him whole.
"Aurelian!" Albus shouted. Ignoring Grindelwald, the headmaster let go of his arm and leaped forward to try to catch the boy before he disappeared.
But the anomaly repelled the Archmage. A shockwave of energy erupted from the rift. Dumbledore was struck with such force that he was hurled backward through the air, flying until he crashed on the opposite side of the stadium.
Gellert, anchoring his feet to the ground with magic, weathered the shockwave and watched the scene with rapt attention. Through the fissure, just before it closed, Grindelwald saw something that both chilled his blood and fascinated him at the same time: the terrifying silhouette of a skull wrapped in a tattered robe. It was Death, finishing up "devouring" the boy and dragging him with her into the unknown.
When everything returned to normal and the temperature rose again, the place was empty, and Aurelian Gaunt was gone.
Gellert looked down, still processing what he had just seen, when a new shift in the air caught his attention. He looked up at the sky.
Dozens of wizards and witches began to surround the perimeter of Hogwarts. Grindelwald sensed the various magical presences flying rapidly toward his position. The British Ministry of Magic had finally arrived with its troops, and at the head of them all, radiating oppressive and furious magic, stood the Minister of Magic himself, Tom Gaunt.
His time had run out.
As realization dawned on him, Grindelwald smiled. The invisibility cloak that eluded the living, the stone that brought back the dead, and the wand that conquered all. The entity from the rift left no room for doubt. Aurelian Gaunt possessed all three Deathly Hallows.
A mere, arrogant child had beaten him in the race of his life, securing them all right under his nose.
Gellert's smile widened, transforming into an expression of pure delight. Without losing that smile, his body shifted, vanishing from the Quidditch field and entering the castle. He had to find the comrades who were still standing and flee Scotland as quickly as possible.
However, as he fled the impending wrath of the British Ministry, Gellert knew one thing for certain: he would never forget Aurelian Gaunt. And deep down, he sincerely hoped that the ever-unpredictable magic would bring their paths together once again.
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