Once the "press conference" wrapped up, Sirius took Catherine off to set up operations in Germany, with several more countries still ahead of them, while Dumbledore escorted Tom back to Hogwarts.
Grindelwald left the Guild's affairs in Rosier's hands and departed Durmstrang himself, making his way to a castle just outside Munich.
An elderly attendant led him respectfully through the doors and toward a particular suite, where a small crowd had already gathered outside. A woman's cries of pain carried from within.
The pained cries didn't last much longer before giving way to a single, ringing wail.
"It's a boy! A baby boy!"
"Wonderful!"
The whole group erupted with excitement, and inside the room, Laus felt something close to it himself, cradling the small, wrinkled newborn with careful hands, the crying sounding like music in his ears.
"I have a son. I finally have a son!"
In the wizarding world, continuing the family line carried weight rivaling that of the old feudal nobility, and it had to be a son. A daughter simply wouldn't do.
A married daughter was water spilled from the family's cup, taking a new name with her. How could she still count as one of the family's own?
Solenne watched the tender exchange between father and son, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion.
But hearing her voice, the smile on Laus's face slowly faded, his expression growing complicated.
"Solenne. I've arranged a gift for you."
Solenne blinked. "What kind of gift?"
At that moment, the door swung open, and Grindelwald swept in at the head of a small procession.
"You've always wanted to meet me, haven't you? His gift is bringing me here to grant that wish myself."
"G-Grindelwald? My lord?" Solenne's flicker of panic passed quickly, and she forced herself upright, composure settling back over her.
"Enough pleasantries."
Grindelwald fixed his gaze on her, the weight of it pressing down hard enough that Solenne's breath caught. "What exactly is your Caruso family scheming? I'd suggest you tell me yourselves, and quickly."
Solenne's expression shifted.
...
The founding of the Wizard's Guild sent ripples through the wider world. The addition of several thousand Sacred Confederation members alone was enough to land word of this private organization on the desks of every major power.
Newspaper coverage brought it further still, catching the attention of no small number of wizards struggling to scrape by, offering them a new path to make a living.
In the wizarding world, the gap between rich and poor could be enormous, but the gap in raw combat ability rarely ran nearly as deep.
Even a well-trained Auror could find themselves in real trouble against three or four adult wizards working together, and a student who struck first could just as easily bring down a professor.
People like that, banding together, made for a force nobody could afford to dismiss.
Fudge, in typical fashion, was slow to catch on. It wasn't until everything was already well underway that he even discovered the Guild's headquarters sat in Diagon Alley, let alone that it was entirely Tom's doing.
Once a fair number of Ministry employees started registering for membership themselves, hoping to earn a little extra on the side, Fudge could no longer sit still. He stormed off to Hogwarts to confront Tom directly.
The conversation clearly didn't go well. Fudge left with his face nearly purple, not even sparing an apology for the student he barreled into on his way out, hurrying off with quick, agitated steps.
"What on earth did you say to Fudge?" Hermione asked, curious, back in the Room of Requirement.
"He wanted jurisdiction over the Guild. I turned him down flat."
Tom said it without much concern. "Fudge is an idiot, and he assumes the worst of everyone besides. He thinks every problem should funnel through the Ministry, and if the Ministry can't solve it, well, too bad, nobody else gets to try either. Any outside power stepping in to actually fix something reads to him as a threat to his own authority."
"The Guild's already got three hundred registered wizards. Just yesterday, a pair of werewolves brought in a wanted fugitive. Handed him straight over to the Ministry too, and it still managed to rattle Fudge's nerves."
The young witch's brow furrowed deeply as she listened, and she couldn't help muttering, "What a useless government. You're literally doing good work. If they won't help, fine, but actively trying to stop you on top of it?"
Tom looked at her, mildly surprised. "You've lived in Britain your whole life. Haven't you gotten used to this by now?"
Hermione fell silent at that. Fair enough. The Muggle side of things wasn't exactly a shining example either, with the Iron Lady's various schemes; she heard her father complain about it constantly at home.
"Enough about that." Tom waved a hand. "I've got something different planned for your training today."
"What kind of method?" Hermione looked at him, curious.
The young man rose to his feet, opened his right hand, and an old, weathered book materialized above his palm. It fell open on its own, pages riffling rapidly, giving off a faint blue glow.
"Let me find... ah, here we go."
A shaft of light spilled out from the book's pages and gathered itself into a hazy, humanoid shape, settling in front of Hermione.
"Today's lesson is Blasting Curse practice. Ready yourself."