Christmas Eve.
A small three-story house stood beside the University of Vienna in Austria.
At first glance, it looked entirely ordinary—no different from the other homes in the neighborhood. Yet the snow lay perfectly flat across its sky-blue roof, every flake seemingly placed with precision. A single one too many would make it heavy, a single one too few would seem lacking. Even the snow by the door had been neatly swept to the side.
The result was a kind of meticulous beauty—so precise that it looked less like nature's work and more like building blocks arranged by someone with obsessive care. Whoever lived here clearly wasn't ordinary.
The next instant, a graceful figure appeared out of thin air on the deserted street.
Despite the freezing night, she wore only a wool coat draped over a thin tailored suit. The deep crimson fabric matched her slender, poised frame perfectly, giving her a refined sharpness and a maturity beyond her years.
Her long, swan-like neck led up to a delicate, composed face. Her black hair was pinned neatly atop her head, giving her the appearance of a traditional Eastern woman rather than someone of Slavic descent.
Cynthia Vasyka—that was the name of this elegant young woman.
She glanced at the smooth, even snow with a small, amused smile. It looked as though someone had taken a shovel and carefully leveled it flat.
"No Muggle would ever do this," she muttered with a sigh. "Your teacher really is impossible."
Then she began walking, her steps unhurried.
Click, click, click…
The soft rhythm of her high heels echoed faintly through the quiet street—unnoticed, much like her sudden arrival.
As she approached the house, the bell at the door jingled, and the front door swung open on its own, revealing a dimly lit hallway inside.
Cynthia didn't seem surprised. She stepped in with practiced ease, moving with the comfortable familiarity of someone entering her own home. Even without the lights, she found her way straight to the kitchen.
She tossed her coat onto a chair, flicked on the kitchen light, and cheerfully began unpacking the food she had brought for the evening from her small handbag—roast turkey, roast chicken, steak, a variety of vegetables, and of course, a rich assortment of desserts and candies.
"You really went to a lot of trouble," came an aged, teasing voice. "You know how much I love sweets."
Without turning around, Cynthia replied, "This isn't for you. And don't you dare eat everything like last time."
The old man shrugged, entirely unconcerned, and began examining the pile of candies.
"Oh, my favorite—Sherbet Lemon," he said with delight, popping one into his mouth as his eyes crinkled in pleasure. "Still, I should thank you on Tver's behalf."
At that, Cynthia turned, exhaling softly as she watched him taste each dessert one by one.
His body, once frail, had grown stronger over the years, filling out the dark green pajamas he wore. Time, however, had left countless lines on his face. Only his eyes remained unchanged—steady and composed as ever.
Having long hidden from the world, there was little left that could surprise Gellert Grindelwald.
"Professor Grindelwald," Cynthia said as she placed the last dish on the table, "I've told you so many times—don't eat only sweets. They're bad for your health!"
The old man hesitated briefly, then decided to leave a single portion of lemon pudding for his only student. The rest, naturally, would be his.
"Yes, yes, I'll save some for Tver," he said with a faint chuckle.
Cynthia's face turned red, her hands fumbling slightly at the table.
Grindelwald's lips curved in amusement as he looked her over. "He does have a fondness for elegance," he remarked lightly, "but you're only eighteen. You can't even manage high heels properly yet. That outfit doesn't suit your temperament at all."
Her blush deepened, and she glared at him, cheeks burning as the old man smiled knowingly.
"I only try dressing like this once in a while. Unlike you—you never try anything new. No wonder Tver despises your outdated mindset!"
Grindelwald sat casually in the main seat, tasting a candy as he spoke.
"If I truly didn't care about what he said, why would I choose to live in a Muggle community?"
"Oh?"
Cynthia looked at the old man in surprise. She had always thought it was just one of his odd habits, a preference for living in Muggle houses untouched by magic.
"Don't think of me as so rigid. Long before your parents were even born, I… we held the most radical ideas in this world."
"I suppose you haven't noticed the Muggle university nearby?" Grindelwald said thoughtfully. "It's the most prestigious one in the country."
"I go there every day, watching every Muggle student, professor, and scholar."
"At first, I scoffed at their research. After all, magic is the true miracle that stands above them. But after Tver took me deep into their research institute, I realized—"
He unconsciously clenched his fists, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"Muggle progress is far beyond what any of us expected. In less than a century, their technology will stand on equal ground with magic."
"What's even more terrifying is that their rate of progress keeps accelerating!"
Cynthia wasn't surprised by his words. In fact, it was because of such ideas that she had come to deeply admire Tver.
So she said firmly, "Tver foresaw it."
Grindelwald burst into laughter. This student, he thought, was his final achievement in life.
"Yes, he foresaw this trend more clearly than anyone. That's why I moved out of Nurmengard."
"I want to see with my own eyes how he accomplishes what I never could."
A trace of sadness crossed the old man's face as he murmured, "If only I'd chosen a better path, like Tver did… perhaps things would have been different."
Seeing him drift into melancholy, Cynthia hurried to change the subject.
"Speaking of Tver, why isn't he here yet? Could he have been delayed on the way?"
Her clumsy attempt made Grindelwald chuckle, and his distant look faded.
"Don't worry. With his power, there are few who could delay him. He just said he'd join us after having an early dinner with his family."
Cynthia pouted in disappointment and quickly snatched away the small cake Grindelwald was about to take.
"No eating until Tver gets here!"
She had poured so much effort into tonight's dinner—most of it prepared especially for Tver. She wasn't about to let it be eaten casually, not even by his teacher.
...
The sound of a bell rang from the doorway. Moments later, the handsome figure she had been eagerly waiting for appeared in the kitchen.
Tver smiled at the two of them.
"Sorry, it took me a bit longer to prepare the gifts for my students."