Chapter 583: The City of Magic, Dalaran!
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Dumbledore’s refusal to play by the rules left Grindelwald thoroughly disgusted.
He looked like he’d just swallowed a fly, suppressing an irritated snort. "It was only a casual wager. I didn’t even state the terms before conceding. Albus, when did you beco this dull?"
Seeing Grindelwald stonewalled only made Dumbledore’s smile deepen. Cradling a warm cup of coffee, he replied in a lightly teasing tone, "I enjoy harmless amusent as much as anyone. But if a bet is unwinnable, why waste the effort?"
"Mr. Wilkinson is under your command now. My earlier guess was based only on what I used to know about him. I didn’t account for your thods."
Grindelwald’s lips curled into a cold smile, eyes sharp as blades. "My subordinate? You really have the nerve to say that... Wasn’t he the one feeding you intelligence on a regular basis?"
This ti, Dumbledore fell silent.
Not because he felt embarrassed or panicked about Laos’s identity being exposed. He’d never believed Grindelwald wouldn’t see through it. Between them, there had always been an unspoken understanding.
Even when they’d been at each other’s throats, swords drawn, Grindelwald hadn’t broken that tacit agreent. He’d allowed Dumbledore to keep an extra "pair of eyes" at his side. So why bring it up now, when their relationship had softened?
Was he planning sothing new?
In an instant, Dumbledore’s heart tightened. His thoughts went straight to Laos’s safety.
As if reading his mind, Grindelwald scoffed. "Don’t overthink it. I won’t harm Wilkinson. He may be your spy, but his mother’s family are capable people under my command. Out of respect for them, I won’t touch him."
The wizarding world had never been purely about killing and bloodshed. It ran on relationships and favors. Even Voldemort had hesitated when dealing with pure-blood families, and Grindelwald was far more reasonable than that.
Dumbledore believed him.
"Then why tell ?" he asked.
"Because I’m sending him to New York." Grindelwald lifted his teacup and took a slow sip. "Graves has a record. He’ll never reach the top. I need Laos to fill the power vacuum."
Dumbledore imdiately understood.
The Magical Congress had been unusually lively these past few days. Quahog had passed every examination; no one could poke holes in his logic, and therefore no one could openly block his restoration to authority.
Back on his ho turf, Quahog’s battered body and mind had gradually stabilized. He’d begun contacting and lobbying the interest groups behind the scenes, slowly reclaiming the influence he’d lost.
Graves, however, was another matter. His earlier massacre of his own family had shocked the entire world. Sparing his life was one thing, but letting him control key departnts? Neither his enemies nor public opinion would ever allow it.
No wonder Grindelwald wanted to push Laos forward. Though he was one of the Acolytes, the Wilkinson family descended from the original twelve Aurors. Old New York stock, practically born under the stars and stripes. The pedigree spoke for itself.
It was a solution Dumbledore could accept. Better Laos than people like Rosier or Vogel taking the stage.
As they spoke, another wave of applause erupted below.
Two minutes passed quickly. Laos had cleared the challenge as well. He wasn’t as effortless as Professor Flitwick, but he made up for it with sheer brute force. With overwhelmingly powerful spells, he smashed the puppet head-on, skipping finesse entirely. It was crude, explosive, and exhilarating to watch.
After passing, Laos broke into a broad grin, venting the tension in his chest.
His journey here... well, maybe not walking on thin ice, but still legendary enough. He’d muddled through Arica, then Hogwarts, and now he even held a position among the Acolytes.
The one who’d truly propelled him forward was Tom Ridde. Because of Tom’s relationship with Grindelwald, he’d gained access to vast secret inheritances and even bloodline fusion potions. His magic had multiplied several tis over.
...
..
Next, the remaining professors took the stage one after another.
This assessnt also doubled as pri advertising for the major magical academies. Each professor revealed their signature magic, the kind they normally kept in reserve.
An Ilvermorny professor summoned heavy storm clouds. Lightning lashed down, wrapping the puppet in crackling arcs that hissed as they burned.
A professor from Castelobruxo cast druidic magic, conjuring thick vines that bound the puppet. Pale green runes glowed along the tendrils. Then he transford into a massive wind hawk, beating his wings to unleash slicing gusts that shredded everything in their path.
A Uagadou professor employed cursecraft. The puppet’s movents stiffened, its magic destabilized, and dark mist coiled around it until it lost all ability to act.
The Mahoutokoro professor displayed exquisite Transfiguration, chaining multiple transformations in rapid succession until the puppet couldn’t keep up.
Of course, so people completely missed the point... and wasted the perfect opportunity.
When Snape stepped onto the field, his robes snapped outward, sweeping aside the incoming spells. A few invisible blades of compressed air followed, slicing three puppets open in an instant.
The entire exchange took less than ten seconds. The audience barely registered what had happened before he was already finished. His long cloak lifted with his stride, making him look like a giant bat gliding just above the ground.
"Gulp—"
Harry swallowed hard. For the first ti, he wondered if maybe he ought to show Snape a little respect.
The old bat was that strong?
He wasn’t the only one stunned. Many Hogwarts students looked just as dumbfounded.
No wonder he kept applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Snape really did have the ability.
Next up was Durmstrang’s representative, Vinda Rosier.
Vinda raised her hand and cast a silent Killing Curse. A faint green flash passed through the air. The puppet froze and collapsed instantly. Students held their breath in shock, while the Aurors all gripped their wands, tense and ready.
"Dark magic is also a form of strength."
Tom’s voice descended from above. "As long as you win in a direct confrontation, any magic is permitted. Passing the test proves you possess the power required for that tier."
Vinda smiled faintly and gave the audience a graceful bow, sending countless girls into starry-eyed admiration.
Really, soone like the "Black Rose of France" cut down n and won alike. Her presence was like fine wine. The older it got, the richer it beca.
...
Soon, all fourteen professors had completed the trial.
Only two failed the Arcane Wizard assessnt, one from Ilvermorny and one from Uagadou.
They hadn’t lost to the three puppets working together. They simply ran out of ti. One took three minutes, the other five.
Even so, Fontaine and Okoye looked mortified. Their faces were as dark as the bottom of a pot, heads lowered, afraid to et anyone’s eyes.
Fourteen participants, only two failures. That made it painfully obvious who didn’t asure up.
Tom descended back onto the field and presented each successful professor with a dal and the newest Codex.
He also used the opportunity to advertise the Astra Abyssum Guild.
Anyone who passed the Arcane Wizard rank assessnt would receive fifty Galleons per month from the Guild, or an equivalent value in potions, alchemical items, or raw materials.
Fifty Galleons ant little to wizards at this level. The real temptation was the second option.
Truly valuable items were rarely available, no matter how much money you had. There simply weren’t channels to buy them. Astra Abyssum was different. With Tom, a master potioneer and the world’s number-one alchemist, backing it, shortages weren’t an issue.
Six hundred Galleons’ worth per year was enough to secure sothing you actually wanted.
The grand event concluded. The Lu-Lens signal cut off, and the attending wizards filed out through the fireplaces, still reluctant to leave. After exchanging a few words with Professor McGonagall, Tom kept Fleur and Daphne behind.
He pointed up at the massive do covering the stadium. "Want to see what it looks like outside?"
"The prison’s finished?" Daphne asked listlessly. It was right around her usual nap ti.
Fleur had assud the sa.
Tom smiled mysteriously, saying nothing. He took one of each by the hand. With a sharp crack, they Apparated to the hillside outside.
The mont they saw what lay ahead, the young lady’s drowsiness vanished. Fleur stared, stunned.
Across the lowland plain in front of them, thousands of wizards were at work.
So levitated massive stone slabs, assembling towering walls in midair. Others carved protective runes to reinforce structures. So adjusted the glow of magical fountains. Beams of magic flashed across the sky, feeding into the growing city.
The scale of the area was impossible to estimate at a glance. Buildings stretched as far as the eye could see. Skyscrapers more than fifty stories tall pierced the sky, their outer walls shimring with pale blue magical light. Clusters of garden villas dotted the landscape, interwoven with fountains, parks, and winding green paths. Everything was ticulously planned.
"Tom... th-this... what is this?" Daphne stamred, her bright blue eyes filled with shock and confusion.
"This is my city. The future core of the wizarding world."
"Welco to the City of Magic... Dalaran."
Tom spread his arms, a surge of ambition rising in his chest.
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