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Blood Pact.
Hearing that, Dumbledore felt his thoughts drift.
A blood pact was an extremely ancient form of magic. Using the blood of both parties as a medium, it forged an unbreakable oath that prevented either side from betraying their promise. Even the mere thought of breaking it would be punished.
Back in their youth, Grindelwald and Dumbledore had used a blood pact to ensure neither of them would betray the passion and ideals they once shared. It was meant to stop the day when they might stand on opposite sides.
It was more than a contract spell. It was a symbol of their confidence.
In each other's hearts, aside from the other, there was no one in the world who could stand in their way.
History proved them right.
One of them did betray the great cause of "reviving the magical world" and overturning the Statute of Secrecy, yes. But it also proved that, apart from Dumbledore, no one could stop Grindelwald.
Before the alliance was broken, aside from Newt causing Grindelwald a bit of trouble, everyone else was little more than puppets to be played with. Grindelwald had nearly become the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, poised to use official authority to push the wizarding world into open war with Muggles.
Unfortunately… a shameless little Niffler stole the blood pact.
Even so, despite all of Dumbledore's magical knowledge and power, he still couldn't break its binding.
In the end, it shattered only by chance. Dumbledore wanted to protect Credence. Grindelwald wanted Credence dead. Neither wished to harm the other, yet their magic collided violently, and with Aberforth's interference, the blood pact finally broke, unwillingly.
And now… Grindelwald wanted to form another blood pact with him?
As Dumbledore fell into thought, the other representatives, Babajide included, looked completely lost.
A blood pact? What was that?
Tom kindly explained its function and effects. After listening, Babajide's expression turned grave. He spoke solemnly to Dumbledore. "Albus, you can't agree to this. Once a blood pact is signed, you won't be able to act against Grindelwald, while he'll be free to target ordinary witches and wizards however he likes."
"I know," Dumbledore said quietly after a moment of silence.
"Heh."
Grindelwald let out a laugh dripping with mockery, the disdain in his eyes undisguised.
"This is exactly why I hate you useless parasites who sit in high office doing nothing. Can you even understand plain speech?"
"Didn't Riddle explain it clearly just now? A blood pact doesn't only prevent the two sides from harming each other. You can add other conditions. Yet the only thing rattling around in your heads is that one restriction, terrified Dumbledore won't be able to protect you anymore. Is that it?"
Babajide's old face flushed red. The other representatives lowered their heads in shame, because that was exactly what they'd been thinking. If Dumbledore got banned from acting, then the wizarding world might as well lie down and wait to die.
Dumbledore defused the awkwardness. "What kind of blood pact do you want?"
"Very simple." Grindelwald tapped his fingers lightly on the solid wooden table and looked straight into Dumbledore's deep, unreadable blue eyes. "Albus, we're both remnants of an old age. Even if we fight to the death, so what?"
"Do you want to leave behind a wizarding world in ruins, one where our own people no longer have the strength to resist Muggles?"
"Haven't you noticed? Today's wizarding world has no one to take up the mantle."
His voice carried deep exhaustion, and an even stronger sense of bitter disappointment. "Four hundred Aurors? Back in my day, even if a hundred Aurors gathered together, I'd still have to avoid their edge."
"But look at them now. Rotten to the core. And this is supposed to be the elite?"
"So I came back. I want this world to stay alert forever. I want a sword hanging over these wastes of space, forcing them to move forward. Always."
Even Babajide and the others were affected by his presence. They stared blankly at the arrogant white-haired man, shame welling up in their hearts.
They had been busy guarding their own little patches of ground, scrambling for power, raking in Galleons they could never spend. And yet a dark lord was worrying about the fate of the wizarding world.
"Albus, the condition of the blood pact is this. You and I are forbidden from acting against wizards of the opposing camps. Everything will be left to the younger generation to handle."
Babajide's eyes lit up. He frantically signaled Dumbledore to agree.
Had Grindelwald gone mad? If those two overwhelming forces couldn't act, wouldn't it just come down to numbers again? Even if the Acolytes were elite, they'd be helpless against enemies two or three times their size.
But would Grindelwald really be that stupid?
Of course not. He had additional conditions.
"At the same time, Riddle will serve as witness. You and I will swear an Unforgivable Oath. No more than five countries' Ministries of Magic may jointly act against the Acolytes. If that line is crossed, then you and I must retaliate against those countries together."
Five…
Everyone began calculating in their heads. If the strongest countries joined forces, five of them, and were willing to pay the price, they could absolutely wipe out Grindelwald's faction. Right?
As for the Acolytes, so long as Grindelwald stayed out of it personally, holding their current territory would be easy enough. Expanding further would be a stretch. At best, they could swallow a few neighboring small countries.
So this was meant to be a balanced confrontation?
Once they understood Grindelwald's intent, the room noticeably relaxed.
Fine. Great. Awesome. As long as the struggle stayed within the rules, they were confident. With their experience, they could drag their opponent down to the same level of mediocrity they themselves had perfected.
From the very beginning, what the International Confederation of Wizards and the various Ministries had feared was never the Acolytes themselves. It was Grindelwald alone.
Only enemies who exist outside the rules are truly terrifying.
Now that he was stepping back inside them, it just meant there was one more player at the table.
Dumbledore, however, still frowned.
These terms were a terrible deal for Grindelwald. His position was stronger than ever. Why shackle himself now?
"Thinking I'm plotting something?" Grindelwald flicked a sheet of golden parchment onto the table in front of Dumbledore. "Read it yourself. If you think any clause is a trap, say so."
Babajide leaned in, checking it alongside Dumbledore. Soon enough, dozens of people crowded around that single piece of parchment. Tom got squeezed out of the circle and exchanged a glance with Grindelwald.
(I've got something fun to tell you later.)
The boy raised an eyebrow. (How fun?)
Grindelwald only smiled.
Before long, the contract had been thoroughly examined. No traps were found.
"Albus, what do you think?" Babajide asked.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "My opinion doesn't matter. What matters is the stance of the International Confederation you represent, and the views of the other Ministries."
"I need to consult my Minister," said one department head. Others quickly echoed the sentiment.
"You have plenty of time to think," Grindelwald said, tapping the table lightly. The doors opened on their own. "There are empty offices next door. Albus, care to have lunch together?"
"No, thank you," Dumbledore refused instantly.
Grindelwald turned to Tom instead. "And you, Riddle?"
"Of course." Tom rubbed his stomach. "I barely ate this morning." With that, he followed Grindelwald out of the meeting room.
This time it was Dumbledore who froze. Could he really let Tom be alone with Grindelwald?
With no other choice, the old wizard followed after them. Up ahead, the two were already laughing themselves silly in their private mental space.
Dumbledore spent the entire meal on edge. Fortunately, Grindelwald didn't bring up anything sensitive. He only asked about Hogwarts, then mocked Dumbledore's teaching standards without mercy.
"You can't even find a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You really are getting worse with age."
Dumbledore had no good response to that, though the remark did remind him of something.
He'd almost completely forgotten about Voldemort lately. Who knew where that wandering spirit had gone? As for the escaped Bellatrix and Lockhart, they hadn't crossed his mind at all.
...
An hour later, the three returned to the conference room.
Babajide spoke first. "Grindelwald, we agree to your terms. At the same time, the International Confederation will announce your official pardon. As long as you behave yourself, you may train the next generation and enjoy your retirement."
"Hahaha!"
Grindelwald let out a scornful laugh. "I need your pardon? If you're so capable, why don't you try arresting me again right now?"
"You!" Babajide felt like flipping the table.
Come on. We're already negotiating peace. Couldn't you at least give us a way to save face?
Ignoring his discomfort, Grindelwald continued. "Since you've agreed, I have one more condition."
"You're going back on your word?" The representatives reacted with shock and anger.
"Of course not. Just a small additional request." Grindelwald raised a finger. "Since we're calling a temporary ceasefire, you should lift the economic blockade on Berlin. My people should be free to travel the world as well. Naturally, Western Europe will also welcome other wizards into my territory."
"But I don't trust the Confederation's ability to restrain individual Ministries. How do you plan to guarantee my followers' safety? You need to give me an answer."
"This…"
They exchanged looks. The condition itself wasn't unreasonable.
Honestly, Grindelwald wasn't the only one worried. They were just as uneasy about the safety of their own wizards in Germany.
But coming up with a solution on the spot was easier said than done.
"I might have an idea."
Tom, who had been coasting and watching the show the whole time, yawned. After waiting so long, it was finally his turn.
In an instant, every gaze snapped toward him.
.
.
.