Meanwhile, Grindelwald was once again negotiating terms with Dumbledore.
The two of them were mid-conversation through the enchanted notebook.
"Bring Scamander to see me," Grindelwald said, unhurried. "Old friends grow scarcer by the year. Our last meeting was far too brief. Scamander and I still have plenty left unsaid."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "I have no authority over Newt's choices. He lives his own life. And frankly, I doubt the two of you share much common ground to begin with."
"Then bring that fool Aberforth instead," Grindelwald said, the true point of the conversation finally surfacing. "He's your brother, surely you have some say over him?"
That deranged old goat, cursing him out like that. Did Aberforth honestly think the Dumbledore name would protect him?
Grindelwald had always been a petty, grudge-holding sort of man by nature.
Spending so much time around Tom lately, he'd noticed his own pettiness had all but vanished, replaced instead by a truly obsessive capacity for holding a grudge.
He really had picked up bad habits.
Grindelwald reflected on this privately, while across the connection, Dumbledore's frown only deepened.
You're determined to drag one of them into this regardless, aren't you?
Whether it was Newt or Aberforth, both men carried old, unresolved grievances against Grindelwald that ran too deep to simply set aside. If forced to choose, Dumbledore would far rather send Newt.
Aberforth's temper was too volatile. Even knowing full well he stood no chance against Grindelwald, he'd charge in anyway, and a fight would be all but inevitable.
But this wasn't a moment for choosing. This was a moment for refusing both entirely.
"I won't use either of them as bargaining chips to appease you," Dumbledore said, each word deliberate. "Grindelwald, don't forget, we're bound by blood pact. Even if either of them came to see you, you couldn't lay a hand on them."
"Of course. How could I possibly forget?"
Grindelwald turned the blood pact over in his fingers, amused. "This is simply catching up with an old friend. How could you possibly call that a bargaining chip? A friendly invitation, nothing more. But if you refuse, then whatever happens next, don't blame me for it."
Dumbledore didn't respond. He simply closed the notebook and cut the connection outright.
Left hanging mid-conversation, the wry amusement on Grindelwald's face stiffened for a moment before fading entirely.
"Hmph!"
"He actually hung up on me?" Grindelwald scowled. His own brother had been the one hurling insults, and here Dumbledore was, sanctimoniously protecting him regardless.
"That fool Aberforth loses his head the moment anyone provokes him even slightly. That wouldn't count as breaking the blood pact..." Grindelwald had already started working out how to get his revenge.
Bound as they were by the pact, neither he nor Dumbledore could initiate an attack against a wizard from the opposing camp, but should the other side strike first, retaliation was fair game.
Remembering he'd be heading to Hogwarts in a few days regardless, Grindelwald let the matter go, some of the urgency draining out of him.
You wouldn't come to me? Fine. I'll simply come to you instead.
...
Saturday. Durmstrang, kingdom of ice and snow as ever.
The routine held: Dumbledore brought Tom along to meet with the Ministry delegation, though the lineup had shifted somewhat this time.
Sirius had joined the group. Babajide, meanwhile, was absent, replaced by a deputy chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards from North America, a man named Pierce.
Even with nearly every captured Auror recovered safely, someone still had to answer for the plan's failure and the enormous risk it had carried, and Babajide ended up shouldering that blame.
In truth, Babajide had handled his position well, and plenty of people had hoped he'd stay on. But he himself had clearly made up his mind to step down. No telling what fresh chaos Grindelwald might stir up down the road, and his position would always be the first to absorb the fallout.
Better to retire gracefully now while he still could, and leave whatever came next to someone else.
Dumbledore had originally hoped to see himself elevated from honorary chairman to a genuine, full chairmanship, but he refused the position outright when it was offered. In the end, the role fell to Deputy Chairman Pierce by default, and once the formalities ran their course, that "Deputy" would quietly disappear from his title.
Babajide, for his part, had already gone home to run his own plantation.
Grindelwald, oddly, had come away with a certain grudging respect for the old man. Not everyone managed to hold onto their principles once they reached a position of real power. Most people saw the enormous potential gain first and let it blind them to the risk.
"Well, his absence hardly changes anything. The International Confederation showing up today was superfluous regardless."
Grindelwald's open contempt darkened Pierce's face considerably, though the man didn't dare say a word in response, keeping his head bowed so no one could clearly see his expression.
Sirius stood a step behind Tom, studying the Dark wizard whose name was spoken in the same breath as Dumbledore's, and who was, by most accounts, even more dangerous than Voldemort had ever been.
Honestly, nothing about Grindelwald matched what he'd expected from a Dark wizard. Most practitioners of the Dark Arts he'd known ended up permanently disfigured by their own magic, each uglier than the last. But Grindelwald looked every bit the charming, dangerously handsome older man, and those eyes of his in particular seemed to pull at a person's attention like some invisible whirlpool.
Sirius found himself staring, thoroughly captivated despite himself.
Grindelwald hadn't paid much attention to Tom's chosen "tool" up until now, but Tom had mentioned offhand the night before that Grindelwald might try turning Sirius, just to see how Dumbledore would react to it.
That was enough to get Grindelwald's attention.
Anyone capable of getting under Dumbledore's skin was a person worth cultivating.
Still, now wasn't the moment for that particular game. Plenty of opportunities to work on Sirius would come later, through the Guild if nothing else. No need to rush it.
"Riddle, that Wizard's Guild you promised me should be ready by now, shouldn't it?"
"Otherwise I suppose I'll have to let my men force their way into the neighboring country myself. They've been getting rather restless lately."
Every face in the room went pale.