Hogwarts...
Great Hall...
While the rest of the hall erupted in murmurs, questions, and awe,
Albus Dumbledore sat still.
"____"
The golden fork and spoon beside his plate were untouched.
The headlines from the Daily Prophet stared up at him:
"Leo Morningstar Prevents Assassination at MACUSA – Muggle Officials Saved"
"Global Concord Begins: Magical and Non-Magical Worlds on a Path to Unity? Are we going to witness history?"
Dumbledore's old hands trembled slightly as he folded the paper and placed it on the table.
His eyes—
those pale blue pools that had seen too many centuries of pain and glory—
grew distant.
The excited chatter of students became background noise as his mind wandered, pulled back to decades ago…
Flashback —
Nuremberg Castle Ruins, 1945.
The war was ending.
But another war, a quieter, deadlier one, had left its own scars.
Dumbledore stood opposite Gellert Grindelwald, who sat bloodied and bound in magical chains, yet still grinning faintly.
"____"
"It was never about hate, Albus."
Grindelwald rasped, smiling through the pain.
"It was fear. The fear of what they'll do when they finally understand us…"
Dumbledore said nothing, only stared.
"____"
Grindelwald chuckled darkly.
Chuckle~
"You think defeating me stops what's coming? I've seen it, Albus. In glimpses."
"A world where they strike first. Where the Muggles—terrified, united—launch a war against us. Machines of fire. Poisoned skies. Entire bloodlines snuffed out overnight…"
His voice grew colder.
"You know what scares me the most? That we'll let it happen. Because we wanted peace… while they sharpened their knives."
Flashback Ends...
Dumbledore blinked slowly, eyes returning to the present as Herbology Professor leaned toward him with a smile.
"Albus, it's wonderful. The magical and non-magical worlds work together. It could be… historic!"
He gave her a soft smile.
"Yes. It could be."
But in his mind, Grindelwald's warning still echoed.
And now, with the Concord taking its first shaky steps, Dumbledore could feel the weight of destiny shift ever so slightly.
He looked at Leo's name again—
Leo Morningstar—
and exhaled deeply.
"Let's hope… this path brings light, and not fire, which Gellert feared,"
He whispered to himself.
Nurmengard Castle –
Grindelwald's Cell...
The wind howled outside the towering, ancient structure of Nurmengard, carrying with it a chill that cut through stone and steel.
Within the shadowy confines of a solitary cell, a scrap of newsprint fluttered down through the small, iron-grilled window, landing softly at the feet of a hunched figure cloaked in darkness.
The figure stirred.
Gellert Grindelwald, once feared and worshipped, now reduced to a ghost of his former self, slowly lifted the newspaper.
He didn't even glance at it first. Instead, his cracked lips parted with a rasp:
"Kreel…"
A moment later, a tiny, wrinkled house-elf appeared with a tray of meagre food.
Without a word, it placed the meal beside him and vanished again into the shadows.
The air was cold.
The stone was even colder.
Grindelwald absentmindedly took a bite, but his dull eyes locked onto the front page.
"Magical World Intervenes to Aid Muggle Crisis – MACUSA Assassination Plot Thwarted"
"Leo Morningstar Identified as Key Saviour – Tames Lethifold, Foils Dark Wizards"
His spoon clattered to the ground.
"____"
His thin, pale fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the page, pulling it closer, reading it again and again.
Then his breath caught—
His mind lurching as an old vision surged forward, unbidden.
Flashback –
A Vision from Long Ago
Fire. Screams.
A world torn between magic and machines.
Muggle cities rising in smoke, while wizards fell from the sky, hunted and branded as monsters.
A future born not from hate… but fear.
And in that dream,
he remembered the moment it all began—
a meeting, a single decision that would change everything.
And yet… amidst the flames, there was a light.
A name. Morningstar.
A figure standing between two worlds.
Flashback Ends...
Grindelwald closed his eyes, calming the rapid beat of his heart.
His breath grew slow, calculated.
"So… the future I saw begins now,"
He whispered to himself.
But something else gnawed at him.
He flipped through the rest of the newspaper, eyes searching for more.
And then—
There it was.
Another article.
Another headline.
"Leo Morningstar's Involvement in Concord Unclear – Records Sealed by Ministry"
He tried to peer deeper, to see further, as he once did.
But it was foggy.
The future beyond Leo Morningstar was clouded, blurred—
as though someone or something was shielding it.
A rare phenomenon.
An uncertainty that magic itself could not pierce.
Grindelwald's eyes widened.
"____"
For the first time in decades, something inside him stirred—
not ambition, not vengeance… but hope.
"So… the Morningstar is here,"
He murmured.
"And even fate dares not touch him."
He stared at the newspaper again, his lips curling into a slight, dangerous smile.
For the first time in years, his eyes were alive.
"Perhaps… there is still a way. Perhaps the future is not lost."
The silence in the prison was eerie, broken only by the occasional drip of water and the faint scuttling of rats.
The guards were deep in routine, their minds dulled by years of monotony.
Inside the highest, most heavily warded cell sat Gellert Grindelwald, once a terror to nations, now a relic of the past…
Or so they believed.
The newspaper lay folded beside him. His eyes burned not with madness, but with clarity.
"Kreel,"
He spoke again, his voice now calm but purposeful.
The same house-elf reappeared, tilting its head in confusion.
"Master?"
"Fetch me my wand,"
Grindelwald said, his tone carrying the weight of inevitability.
The elf's eyes widened in fear, understanding the depth of the request—
But it did not protest.
Moments later,
It returned, holding a dark, twisted wand—
His original wand, the one he had wielded before claiming the Elder Wand.
Grindelwald took it, fingers curling around it like greeting an old friend.
Power hummed instantly in the air.
With a slow, deliberate breath, he stood.
And then—
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion shook the entire tower as Grindelwald blasted the stone wall apart,
ancient runes sizzling and crumbling in defeat.
The magic that had held him for decades shattered like glass.
The roar echoed through Nurmengard like a war horn.
Dozens of Aurors began apparating in,
surrounding the opening with wands raised, faces pale with fear and disbelief.
"____"
"It can't be… Gellert Grindelwald…!"
They barely had time to react.
In the smoke, the old man stepped forward—
And as the dust cleared, his form began to shift.
The wrinkles faded.
The hunched posture straightened.
His white, frail hair regained its deep platinum sheen.
Before them stood not the prisoner—
But the vision of dread from their history books.
Young Grindelwald, eyes gleaming with unrestrained purpose, lips curling into a wry, mocking smile.
"Don't mind me,"
He said, voice smooth and charismatic.
"Just heading out for a tour. My kind of tour."
He raised his wand, and with a powerful sweeping motion, detonated the entire western wall of Nurmengard, stone and flame blasting outward in a glorious arc.
Before the Aurors could respond, his elf appeared by his side—
small hand gripping his arm.
With a snap—
CRACK!
They were gone.
Only the roar of the wind and the rain of broken stone remained behind.
Next Day –
The Portkey chamber shimmered with blue light as Minister Jenkins, her trusted aides, and the bound prisoners—
Harold Mitchum and his captured followers—
landed with a dull thud.
Thud~
The British Aurors were already waiting, files in hand, wands at the ready, grim faces staring at the defeated captives.
Harold, barely conscious, was chained with enchanted bindings glowing faintly, the residue of Leo's lightning still visible in faint scorch marks on his robes.
His men were no better; some still trembling after being subdued by MACUSA's top Aurors.
Minister Jenkins stepped forward with regal calm, nodding to the head of the British Auror Office.
"They are yours now. Do not let their influence cloud your judgment. The charges are many—do not underestimate them."
The official nodded in acknowledgement,
motioning for the guards to escort the prisoners deeper into the Ministry's secure wing.
Nod~
Leo stood beside Jenkins, silent and unreadable.
"____"
"____"
The two shared a brief look—
An entire conversation passed in that moment.
"You've done more than I could have asked for."
Jenkins said softly, her voice reserved for only him.
"But now… It's back to your shadows, Professor Morningstar?"
Leo gave a slight smirk.
"Only until the next storm."
Jenkins chuckled.
"Hogwarts missed its lion. No, it's a dragon."
Without another word, Leo turned on his heel.
His Lethifold fluttered behind him as he made his way to the Floo Network, stepping into the green flames that would carry him back to Hogwarts.
Hogsmeade...
The green flames of the Floo Network crackled quietly inside the discreet fireplace tucked into the corner of a hidden building in Hogsmeade.
With a gust of wind and a flicker of embers, Leo Morningstar stepped out, brushing soot off his coat.
The village was still waking up.
Few students roamed the snowy streets, mostly bundled in their scarves with shopping bags in hand.
A couple of villagers blinked and whispered upon recognising him—
But Leo didn't stop.
As he made his way up the winding path toward the castle, the silhouette of Hogwarts stood proud against the wintry morning sky.
It felt distant and familiar all at once.
He didn't stop in the Entrance Hall.
He didn't greet any staff or students.
Instead, he went straight for the House Dragon dormitory.
The moment he stepped in, warmth wrapped around him—
The fireplace roaring, the green-blue tapestries fluttering gently, enchanted lanterns floating in lazy spirals.
His students weren't there—
It was early, and most were likely at breakfast or in the library.
He quietly ascended the stairs to his quarters, opened the door with a whisper of a spell, and stepped inside.
His room was just as he had left it.
Leo sighed and dropped his coat onto the chair.
There was no Defence Against the Dark Arts class today.
No students to lecture. No ministry emergencies—
at least for now.
So he could take this time to rest.
Headmaster's Office...
Albus Dumbledore sat comfortably in his chair, a half-melted lemon drop between his fingers, the bowl of sweets beside him nearly half-empty already.
Across from him, Fawkes the phoenix perched silently on his stand, preening his fiery feathers, occasionally letting out a soft trill that filled the room with warmth.
Dumbledore chuckled softly as he popped the candy into his mouth.
"Ah, Fawkes, perhaps today will be a peaceful one... just tea, toffee, and no surprises."
Just as he reached for another sweet, a sharp tapping echoed at the window.
Two owls flew in almost simultaneously—
one brown and official-looking with a Ministry of Magic seal, and the other a majestic, silver-feathered owl bearing the embossed crest of the Wizengamot, marked
"Urgent – Level Seven Priority".
Dumbledore's brows furrowed.
Frown~
"____"
His fingers paused mid-reach for the lemon drop as he took the first scroll—
The one from the Ministry.
As he broke the seal and scanned its contents, his eyes widened.
Thud~
The candy dropped from his hand, landing silently onto the desk.
"No... it can't be..."
He stood abruptly, the chair behind him sliding back with a faint creak.
The parchment trembled slightly in his hand.
Grindelwald has escaped Nurmengard.
Fawkes let out a low, uneasy cry, sensing the shift in Dumbledore's mood.
With urgency, Dumbledore opened the second scroll—
The one from the Wizengamot. His hands were steady, but his jaw tightened with each word he read.
The letter was short, but clear:
"All high-ranking officials and senior Wizengamot members are hereby summoned to an emergency conference at the Ministry.
Subject: Containment of potential global magical threat –
Code Name: Gellert Grindelwald.
Your presence is not requested. It is required."
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of history pressing down on his shoulders.
He glanced at the name "Leo Morningstar" in the corner of the parchment—
mentioned as a potential factor in the recent global shifts.
"The past always has a way of returning, doesn't it, old friend?"
He murmured to Fawkes, who stared back solemnly.
With a sweep of his wand, his formal blue robes floated toward him, fastening themselves neatly.
He tucked the letters into his sleeve and walked toward the fireplace.
"Let's hope this time… we're ready."
With a flick of green flames, Dumbledore disappeared into the Floo Network, en route to the Ministry.
Magical Britain –
Ministry of Magic, London...
The Atrium of the Ministry was in chaos.
Officials darted back and forth, memos flying, voices raised in disbelief.
The notice board now bore a massive red-letter headline:
"BREAKING: GELLERT GRINDELWALD ESCAPES NURMENGARD"
Magical Law Enforcement Unit was already mobilised.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the rising stars, spoke with urgency to his team.
"If he's loose, then we must assume he's already ten steps ahead. Notify the International Confederation. Reinforce Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and every magical border point."
The Department of Mysteries was on full lockdown.
2. MACUSA –
New York, United States...
Director Graves stood at the head of the briefing room, papers scattered before him.
"Double-check every prisoner record. Was this a coordinated distraction? We can't rule out the possibility of a resurgence of his followers."
In the background, newspapers shouted from floating headlines:
"THE DARK AGE RETURNS?"
"IS HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF?"
Minister Seraphina Picquery's portrait frowned from her place on the wall.
3. The French Ministry –
Paris...
In the opulent halls of the French Ministry of Magic, whispers spread like wildfire.
The French had hosted the International Confederation of Wizards in recent years.
Their spokeswizard appeared before a crowd of magical press.
"We urge calm—but make no mistake. We are treating this as the highest-level breach of security in the last century."
Behind the scenes, a special team of curse-breakers was summoned.
All records of Grindelwald's known hideouts and sympathisers were retrieved.
4. Durmstrang Institute –
Northern Europe...
In the halls of the Dark Arts-famed school, whispers among the older staff and students buzzed.
Some of the older professors exchanged wary looks, one of them muttering under his breath:
"The Black Phoenix rises again…"
A new generation of students who idolised Grindelwald's vision began speculating:
"What if he was right all along? Muggles are encroaching."
The headmaster ordered increased security, but privately sent word to the Ministry:
"We fear ideological revival among the students."
5. Wizarding Families – Global...
Pure-blood families in Britain, Russia, Japan, and India held closed-door meetings.
The Nott, Lestrange, Rosier, and Malfoy names came up in certain whispers.
Some saw it as a threat.
Others… saw opportunity.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.