— — — — — —
The slaughter didn't last long.
More than twenty attackers looked intimidating at first glance, but in reality… they were mostly dead weight. Only a few members of Bask's family and some hired muscle were halfway competent.
And even that was only compared to ordinary wizards. They were a little meaner, a little more ruthless, and knew a couple of dark spells. That was all.
From start to finish, Tom used just one spell. He never moved an inch, standing where he was and calmly admiring the hellscape he'd created. Some people were engulfed in flames, their bodies charred black. Others were frozen into ice sculptures, their pale faces tinted an eerie bluish-purple by the firelight.
He even had time to think about the flaws in his magic.
"I can cast two opposing extremes, ice and fire, at the same time," he mused, "but instead of reinforcing each other, they cancel each other out. The runes clash head-on. Is there really no way to fuse them?"
Lost in thought, Tom vaguely sensed that solving this problem would be the key to a massive leap in his power.
Maybe I could try Andros' method. Force the opposing forces to merge first, then let everything snap back to normal and unleash their full destructive potential.
By the time he reached that conclusion, the fight was already nearing its end. Tom had to cut his thoughts short. He raised his right hand, and every spear halted in midair, suspended directly in front of Bask and Ragnar. One centimeter more, and they would have pierced more than a dozen vital points.
These two had been deliberately left alive.
They were Ginny's trial.
"Spare me… Riddle, please, spare me." Bask's body was covered in severe burns over more than half his skin. He barely looked human anymore.
"Don't kid yourself," Tom said lightly. "Look at your friend here. This werewolf gentleman is much smarter. He's already accepted his fate."
Thanks to his werewolf physique, Ragnar was in far better shape than Bask. His blood-red eyes locked onto Tom as he hissed, "Riddle, I lost this time. But Fenrir won't let you go. He won't let your guild go either. Just wait for the revenge of the werewolves!"
"Oh wow, I'm terrified," Tom replied with an exaggerated look of fear. "Fenrir Greyback? That useless trash who even the Ministry can chase around like a stray dog? How about this. I'll let you go back and you bring him here yourself?"
Fenrir Greyback was the most vicious werewolf leader in Britain. Unlike most werewolves, he chose to become one and actively spread the curse. His name had long since entered bedtime horror stories. Parents used him to scare disobedient children. If you don't behave, Fenrir will come on the full moon and bite you.
Remus Lupin had been bitten by Fenrir as an act of revenge. After all, his father, Lyall Lupin, was a former Auror who had openly condemned werewolves, earning Fenrir's hatred. Lupin paid the price for his father's words.
"Hahaha!" Ragnar looked delighted.
Anyone with a brain could tell Tom was mocking him, yet Ragnar took it seriously. Hope flared in his eyes. "Riddle! You promise—urk!"
Pfff!
A spear of ice punched straight through Ragnar's throat. He stared at Tom in disbelief, unable to understand why the attack had come so suddenly.
"Talking to idiots like you is such a waste of time," Tom said, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. Whatever. Leaving one for Ginny should be more than enough for her to work with.
With a flick of his fingers, the corpses on the ground were lifted and skewered by ice spears, neatly lined up and pinned to the stone pillars. The temperature was already low, and with the added ice magic, the bodies would keep for ten days or even half a month without any trouble.
Their lives would serve as a warning.... And as a test.
Dragging the barely alive Bask behind him, Tom entered the guild hall. Ginny hurried over and threw herself into his arms. "Tom, you were amazing."
"This?" Tom laughed, ruffling her hair. "Just a bunch of nobodies. Study hard. By fifth year, I guarantee you'll be able to do what I did today."
"Mm." Ginny looked at Bask, who was still clinging to life. "Leave him to me."
"Do whatever you want."
She stared at Bask for a long moment before finally deciding on her first spell.
---
At the same time, at Hogwarts
Grindelwald was still awake.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door was rapped in a steady rhythm. A smile curved Grindelwald's lips as he reached out and pulled it open.
Crouch stepped inside, dressed neatly in a suit. Surprise flickered across his face. He clearly hadn't expected Grindelwald to open the door so quickly. He recovered almost at once and greeted him politely. "Mr. Grindelwald, I apologize for disturbing you so late."
"That's hardly a disturbance," Grindelwald said, looking him over with amused interest. "I was waiting for you, Mr. Crouch. Your nerve really exceeds my expectations. Don't you know this is Dumbledore's territory? His eyes and ears are everywhere."
Crouch shook his head. Faced with the implied threat, he showed no sign of panic. "That's true. Hogwarts is under Dumbledore's control, but he holds a certain respect for me. He wouldn't pay attention to my movements."
"And your residence," he continued calmly, "because of the wariness surrounding the Dark Lord, I imagine this is actually the least monitored place of all. Isn't that right?"
"Hahaha—"
Grindelwald suddenly laughed. "That's where you're wrong. The very day you arrived, I stepped outside for less than a minute before Minerva stopped me."
At that, a flicker of panic finally appeared on Crouch's face.
This was bad. Had Dumbledore really noticed him?
Then Grindelwald changed his tone. "After that, though, I cast Confundus Charms over the entire area. Even if they wanted to monitor it, they no longer have the ability to do so, unless they're willing to openly turn against me."
Crouch fell silent.
What kind of twisted sense of humor did this Dark Lord have? Was it really that fun to mess with people?
The rhythm of the conversation was completely in Grindelwald's hands now. He stopped toying with Crouch's nerves, gestured for him to sit, and went straight to the point. "The Crouch family is one of Britain's Sacred Twenty-Eight, generations of high-ranking officials. I'm genuinely curious why you would choose me."
Tom had already told him about the Crouch family's current situation, and Grindelwald had a good idea why Crouch was here. Still, he needed to hear it from Crouch himself. Otherwise, it would be nothing more than a scheme.
"A glorious history can't save a miserable present," Crouch said softly.
He let out a long sigh. The carefully maintained air of an elite official crumbled away. What remained was a frail old man nearing seventy, speaking with painful honesty.
"I have a son. Barty Crouch Jr. I once placed all my hopes on him. I wanted him to carry on my legacy, to achieve the unprecedented feat of father and son both serving as Ministers."
"During his school years, he was outstanding. Twelve O.W.L.s, all with top marks. When he graduated, he was the best in every subject. And yet…"
"He was seduced by Voldemort."
His face grew even more haggard, heavy with guilt.
"I was consumed by work. I didn't know how to be a father. Every time I was home, we barely spoke before we started arguing. He filled the absence of a father with Voldemort. After becoming a Death Eater, he committed countless crimes. And at the final trial, it was me… I personally sent him to Azkaban."
"Tris… my wife fell gravely ill because of it. Before she died, she begged me to save our child, to keep Barty from being tortured to death in Azkaban. I agreed. I sent her there in his place and secretly swapped them. Not long after, she died there."
By now, Crouch was in tears, sobbing so hard he could barely catch his breath.
He had never said these things to anyone. They were like a mountain crushing his chest. Now that he had finally spoken them aloud, much of that weight lifted, and losing control of his emotions was inevitable.
Grindelwald neither urged him on nor tried to comfort him. He simply waited in silence.
After some time, Crouch finally managed to steady himself again.
"My apologies, Sir…"
"It's fine," Grindelwald said with a faint smile. "This is only human. Crouch, I welcome wizards with strong emotions into my ranks. Only those who understand love have the courage to sacrifice for an ideal."
Crouch's gaze softened noticeably.
This was what true vision looked like. Compared to this, Voldemort was nothing but trash.
His confidence in his choice grew stronger.
"Barty is currently imprisoned at home," Crouch continued. "I regularly use the Imperius Curse to control him, and a house-elf takes care of his daily needs."
He looked at Grindelwald with sincerity. "Mr. Grindelwald, rather than letting his faith cling to a monster like Voldemort, who rules through slaughter and fear, I would rather have Barty follow you. Whether it's strength or vision, you far surpass him. I don't ask for greatness. I only want my son to be more… normal. To live properly, as a normal person."
"For that, I'm willing to pay any price. I can serve as your informant within the British Ministry of Magic, even at Dumbledore's side."
Grindelwald's smile deepened. "Poaching Voldemort's followers, hm? An interesting idea."
"But I can't promise success," he added. "Your son has followed him for many years. That kind of worship runs deep."
"This is my only choice," Crouch said, taking a deep breath. "No matter what, I can't let him drift through life like a walking corpse. I can control him with the Imperius Curse now, but what happens after I die?"
"If even you can't change him, then please… kill him."
Grindelwald looked at Crouch with clear admiration. No wonder Tom considered him one of the only two truly capable people in the British Ministry. That level of resolve alone put him leagues above that useless Minister.
"Very well. Once the exchange tournament ends, I'll take your son with me."
At those words, the weight pressing on Crouch's heart finally eased. He nodded heavily.
From this moment on, he too was an Acolyte.
.
.
.