What made Gellert Grindelwald truly terrifying was never just his magic.
It was his words. His charisma. His ability to influence others.
The Death Eaters had brought Britain nothing but fear and bitter memories. But Grindelwald's followers, the Saints, were different. They drew people in, inspiring them to join willingly, growing like a rolling snowball until they became a catastrophe that swept across the entire world.
Dumbledore was certain of one thing. Grindelwald had not escaped on a whim, nor for something as trivial as freedom itself.
There would be more.
There had to be more.
But with the information currently available, he simply could not see through the full picture.
In that instant, Horcruxes, the so-called Chosen One, all of it was pushed aside in Dumbledore's mind.
None of it mattered more than this.
He opened his contacts list and selected a name, initiating a video call. It was answered in less than a second.
On the blank page appeared an elderly Black wizard.
"Thank goodness, Albus. I've finally managed to reach you," the old man said, relief evident on his face.
Skipping all pleasantries, Albus Dumbledore went straight to the point.
"Babajide, how did Grindelwald escape? What exactly happened at the scene? Tell me everything in detail."
The man on the other end was Babajide Akingbadé, the current Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Dumbledore himself held the title as well, though only honorarily, with no real responsibilities.
Babajide spoke concisely.
"The Austrian Ministry of Magic extracted the memories of a Squib guard. Grindelwald appeared before him in the form of a middle-aged man. Fiendfyre destroyed Nurmengard's tower… but it seems he intentionally spared the guard's life."
"Fiendfyre… blue Fiendfyre?"
"That's right. Our Aurors found no signs of external assistance. Grindelwald acted alone. He broke through all defenses from the inside and left. At present, we have no way of tracking his location."
Dumbledore frowned deeply, lost in thought.
Casting Fiendfyre without a wand was not particularly difficult for Grindelwald in his prime. But that was then.
After decades of imprisonment, to still accomplish something like this…
It was far beyond what Dumbledore had anticipated.
"Albus, the Austrian Ministry has already contacted more than eighteen countries. In two days, we'll convene at the headquarters of the Magical Congress of the United States of America in New York to discuss countermeasures. I hope you can attend."
"Sorry, Babajide."
Dumbledore snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head.
"I can join remotely, but I cannot go in person. I don't believe Grindelwald will head to North America. If he comes looking for me and finds me absent, Hogwarts will be placed in grave danger."
"…I see."
Babajide hesitated, then nodded.
"You make a fair point. But if Grindelwald appears, you must go. Aside from you, no one can stop him."
"I promise."
Dumbledore's voice was firm. Then he added,
"Babajide, I have a suggestion. You should invite Newt Scamander to the meeting. He happens to be living in seclusion in New York, and he has extensive experience dealing with Grindelwald. He might be of help."
"Thank you for the reminder, Albus. I was already considering it."
Babajide ended the call in a hurry. There were far too many matters requiring his attention.
Grindelwald's escape was not simply about one man breaking free.
If the Saints learned of this, there was no telling how many loyal followers would resurface.
They had to act immediately, placing surveillance on all key individuals.
At this moment, Babajide felt an immense gratitude for the existence of the WhatsApp notebook. Without it, he might not even have received news of the escape yet. At the same time, he couldn't help but curse those countries that had failed to adopt it, forcing him to rely on slower, more primitive methods of communication.
...
Back at Hogwarts, Tom slipped quietly into the small world after the feast ended.
"Master Riddle… has Lord Grindelwald really escaped?"
Vinda Rosier asked excitedly. Through the connection, Tom could faintly hear cheers and even sobs coming from the other side.
"Yes. It happened just three hours ago."
Even Tom hadn't expected the French Ministry's secrecy to be this poor. News had spread astonishingly fast.
"I witnessed it myself," he said calmly. "My teacher destroyed Nurmengard's tower and regained his freedom."
Joy surged through Vinda.
"Where is the Dark Lord now? We must welcome him back!"
"Yes! The Saints are about to welcome their master!" Vogel shouted excitedly from the side, nearly losing control.
"Calm down, Vinda."
Tom's voice was like a bucket of cold water.
"The Ministries of Magic will react quickly. You Saints are their primary targets for surveillance."
"What you need to do now is pretend nothing has happened. Act as though you know nothing. When the time comes, my teacher will reveal himself."
"But—"
"There is no 'but.'"
Tom cut her off coldly.
"Don't be foolish and jeopardize our plans. The purpose of the Saints is to assist Grindelwald, not to drag him into cleaning up your mistakes. Know your place."
"Decades have already passed. What's another ten days or half a month?"
"…Yes. I understand, Master Riddle."
Vinda lowered her head. She knew he was right.
"Good."
Tom's expression softened slightly.
"Pass the order along immediately. Don't cause me trouble."
"Yes."
The connection ended, and Tom closed the WhatsApp notebook.
But a question lingered in his mind.
Since breaking free, Grindelwald had not entered the learning space even once.
Where had he gone?