Just as Rowena Ravenclaw had once said, even legendary wizards had never truly transcended the limits of being human.
Birth, aging, illness, and death were inevitable.
Throughout history, even great wizards at the level of King of the Century had perished from dragon pox… or the Black Death.
Grindelwald's body had appeared intact.
In truth, both his body and mind had long since been riddled with decay.
Years of malnutrition. Illness left untreated. The crushing psychological weight of isolation.
An ordinary person might have lasted a few years… perhaps a decade at most before breaking.
That Grindelwald had endured fifty years was a testament to terrifying willpower.
But now, under the system's overwhelming force, everything reversed.
Everything was restored.
His body, like parched earth receiving rain after a long drought, drank in vitality. His soul, like a withered tree, sprouted life anew. Even his thoughts grew sharper, quicker.
And deep within him, something long buried began to stir.
Ambition.
It was not the system's doing.
It was instinct.
The natural resurgence of a man returned to his prime.
Grindelwald closed his eyes, a faint smile curling at his lips as he basked in the sensation. The pleasure of restoration lasted nearly five minutes before vanishing as abruptly as it had come.
He understood this state intimately.
Mid forties.
The peak of his magical system. The moment he had once begun pursuing the so called Greater Good.
For Muggles, forty marked decline.
For wizards, it was merely the beginning.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
Then it grew.
And grew.
Until it became unrestrained laughter that echoed through the tower, spilling out into the surrounding mountains.
Below, the Squib warden was enjoying his solitary Halloween dinner.
Hearing the laughter, he frowned and looked up, unsure what madness had seized the prisoner above. Still, out of duty, he set down his utensils and began climbing the stairs.
He had been sent here at twenty five.
Now fifty five, thirty years had dulled his fear.
He had forgotten that the man above was once the most dangerous wizard in the world.
In fact, he felt a strange anticipation.
There had never been any conversation between them.
Would tonight be the first?
...
Boom.
A tide of blue Fiendfyre surged downward from above.
Hilo froze in terror.
Yet the flames curved around him, leaving him untouched as they poured past and descended further.
"Even a Squib is still part of the wizarding world," a smooth, magnetic voice drifted from above. "Rest assured, I will not take your life without reason."
The inferno parted.
Through the sea of blue fire, a man descended step by step.
Black coat.
White hair, wild and untamed.
A smile that carried something dangerously unhinged.
"Y… you are…" Hilo stammered.
"For thirty years, I accepted your meals," the man said calmly. "And yet you cannot recognize this face?"
Hilo's eyes widened in horror.
"Grindelwald?!"
"No need to bring dinner today. Keep it for yourself."
Their gazes met.
The world spun.
Hilo collapsed into unconsciousness.
The last thing he saw was Grindelwald walking past him.
The next moment, the Fiendfyre was unleashed.
No longer restrained, it roared outward in all directions.
...
From a distant cliff, Tom watched.
The blue inferno bloomed like a midnight rose, radiant against the dark sky. The towering walls of Nurmengard, which had stood for nearly a century, shattered piece by piece under the overwhelming force.
So this was destruction.
Beautiful.
The collapse of the tower. The scattering of stone. The final spiral of flames forming a massive vortex that consumed even the outer defenses before condensing into a blazing sphere.
Then–
It shrank.
Returning to Grindelwald's hand as a single flickering flame.
Extinguished with a casual gesture.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
A simple test.
Wandless Fiendfyre.
He had wanted to see how much of his former self remained.
Now he knew.
Eleven parts.
Perhaps even twelve.
Stronger than he had ever been.
That was only natural.
With Andros guiding him, sharing knowledge without reservation, combined with the benefits of the meditation chamber, stagnation would have been impossible.
Of course…
This comparison excluded the Elder Wand.
Only its true master could comprehend how much power it granted.
"Still not enough to surpass you… Albus."
Grindelwald shook his head softly.
Then he turned.
Across the distance, his gaze met Tom's.
With a flick of his hand, a wine glass appeared. He raised it slightly in silent acknowledgment.
"To Tom Riddle."
Through enhanced vision, Tom read his lips.
He conjured his own glass and smiled.
"To freedom."
They drank.
The wind howled once more.
And Tom's figure dissolved into the night.
Grindelwald lingered, staring at the ruins of Nurmengard for several minutes before finally turning away.
Half an hour later, Aurors arrived at last, drawn by the alarm.
Nurmengard lay deep within the Alps, under Austrian jurisdiction.
And now…
It was gone.