In the end, as expected, Malfoy knocked Ron off the dueling platform with a "slight" advantage—
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Dungeon.
At some point, a stone chamber suddenly appeared in a corridor that not even the most familiar with the castle could find. The walls and floor were filled with reinforced runes and anti-Disillusionment barriers.
In the center of the stone chamber, a middle-aged man clad in shattered heavy armor was tightly bound to a cold stone chair by several chains shimmering with Demon-Banning Runes.
The armor, designed to withstand most charms, now appeared badly damaged, covered in scorched marks. The man hung his head low, his deep chestnut hair plastered with blood and dirt covering most of his face, breathing heavily, his complexion fierce, even his skin had turned slightly purple.
Aside from the scent of dust, the air was permeated with a faint bitter smell of burnt flesh.
Suddenly, the door of the stone chamber silently slid open.
A figure entered, without Lumos or any kind of Lighting Spell, yet still seemed to illuminate the surroundings enough for visibility.
The man cautiously lifted his head, and in the dim light, upon realizing the newcomer wasn't the Man Slaughter but an utterly unfamiliar old man with white hair, a bewildering confusion flashed in his eyes—Who is this?
The newcomer wore an ordinary professor's robe, his sparse white hair glowing faintly silver in the dim light.
The old man said nothing, just silently and meticulously studied the man before him.
The man's fear grew under the silent scrutiny, even his breath slightly quickened, triggering waves of pain that caused his wounds all over to throb unbearably, cold sweat pouring down, "You...who are you?...What do you want?..." His voice was hoarse and broken, "You're with the Man Slaughter, aren't you?...If you're going to kill—just do it quickly..."
The old man finally spoke, his voice steady, low, and penetrating, "Man Slaughter... Such a pretentious title, isn't it?"
Grindelwald had to admit, he was somewhat intrigued—yet the pressing matter at hand, "Speak, your name? Who do you serve?"
"Pah!"
Upon hearing this, the man spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva, though his eyes still held an irremovable fear, he defiantly cursed, "Damn bastard... You'll never get anything from me! Anything!"
"It's alright,"
Grindelwald's face showed no emotion, nor any sign of anger, "Very well." He merely uttered two light words, then from his pocket, the old man pulled out not a wand, but an M1911, suspending the muzzle a few inches from the man's forehead—
"?"
Something seemed off?
Grindelwald pulled the trigger, and in the next moment, the man's pupils shrank instantly to the size of pinpoints, a massive and indescribable terror, stemming from deep within his soul, instantly seized him, he was unable to even scream, the waves of fear completely engulfed him—
"Ahhhhhhhhh—!"
A scream, so shrill it sounded almost inhuman, exploded in the confined stone chamber.
"...Ah, got the wrong one."
Seeing the man's state, Grindelwald instinctively glanced at the label on the handgun—"Crucio", he had originally intended to use Legilimency.
Yet, as Grindelwald was examining the handgun, a rapid series of footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor, mixed with an anxious voice, "William! Wait! No..."
The door to the stone chamber was forcefully pushed open, Newt Scamander rushed in, panting heavily, evidently tracing the source of that extremely shrill scream, but now, the scene before him left the mild-mannered old wizard momentarily stunned.
"...Professor Percival?"
Newt furrowed his brows, and after a brief moment of contemplation, recalled the person's name standing before him.
Then he noticed the handgun firmly gripped in the old man's hand, while the prisoner on the stone chair was convulsing madly, foaming at the mouth, emitting incoherent whimpers.
It appeared there was no hope for survival.
"Ah—hello, Mr. Scamander."
Grindelwald calmly wiped the handgun and spoke in an amiable tone, "What a coincidence—Professor Richard asked me to help him with a small task, given his classes just started this week, it's hard to find someone to cover for him." Although Grindelwald always found the overly "soft" caretaker in his eyes annoying, the elderly man's acting skills were long perfected.
"..."
"As for this?"
Grindelwald tucked the handgun into his pocket, "Don't worry, it's merely an... unusual interrogation tool, though its power seems to have exceeded my expectations...perhaps a slight miscalibration." The old man's movements were smooth and composed, as if it were merely a chopstick.
While he spoke, his eyebrows twitched impatiently—William hadn't mentioned it would be so troublesome, having to also deal with Newt.
Grindelwald's hand holding the gun slightly trembled, beginning to ponder whether to give Old Freckles a shot.
"..."
Newt momentarily didn't know what to say, watching the man with eyes rolling back, throat intermittently gasping, face turned a purplish hue—wasn't this parameter "miscalibration" a bit too severe?
Yesterday—
Yes, although it seemed like they had gone through nearly a week of adventure, everything actually transpired within just one day, from the morning when he found the poacher's Teleportation Array, to the complete demise of the largest poacher gathering in all of Europe—it actually took less than ten hours.
Nearly eight of those hours were spent "infiltrating."
Even though the final "infiltration" clearly ended in failure—
Fortunately, the outcome was favorable, they eradicated those crime syndicates, rescued all kidnapped Muggles, wizards, and beasts, except for the Romanian Reserve which was somewhat perplexed about suddenly having to take in and accommodate nearly three hundred fire dragons, no one else was injured.
Oh, because the injured were mostly deceased.
"I think...he needs some treatment because we still need to get some information out of him, Professor Percival."
"...Ah, of course, Mr. Scamander."
Grindelwald instinctively blinked—
He suddenly wondered—was the person in front of him really Newt? Why was he so different from the "naive" and "carefree" Freckles in his impression? Shouldn't he now be expressing strong condemnation of his recent actions and reporting it to Dumbledore?
What had this guy experienced over the years?