From the break of dawn until the fall of night, the golden words "For the Greater Good!" shone prominently on the grand surface of Ilvermorny Castle in the United States.
Every student attending Ilvermorny only had to lift their head to see the ever-present motto, a philosophy upheld by their esteemed leader, Gellert Grindelwald.
It was not merely a phrase. It was a doctrine. A purpose. A common goal that united every member of the Saints organization:
For... the greater good!
But what did "the greater good" truly entail?
Was it the suppression of goblins? The domination of America? The development of new magic?
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
These were merely fragments of a much larger picture, small components of a grand design.
So, what exactly did the greater good mean?
Grindelwald himself had made it explicitly clear—there was only one true greater good:
The supremacy of wizards.
For the Saints, there was nothing in the world more significant than the interests of wizards. Their rights, their privileges, their dominance—these were paramount. To them, protecting and securing the sovereignty of their kind was not just a duty but an obligation.
Wizards reign supreme!
This belief was shared among all Saints, including those still in training, the Reserve Saints.
The so-called suppression of goblins, the expansion of magical knowledge, and the restructuring of society were merely strategies—means to an end. The ultimate objective was simple: to restore wizards to their former pinnacle, or even surpass it. To bring back an era where all beings of the world would once again bow in reverence to wizardkind.
This ideology was not just theory—it was practice. It had already achieved considerable success.
Under this banner, most of the magical forces in the United States had sworn allegiance to the Saints.
The reason was simple: they were all wizards.
And what wizard would refuse something that benefited them?
Especially among the pure-blood families, the philosophy resonated deeply. It validated their very existence, reinforcing the centuries-old belief that wizardkind was meant to rule.
It was a serene night at Ilvermorny. The moonlight bathed the castle in silver, casting an ethereal glow over its towering spires.
From the dense forest beyond, the occasional chirping of cicadas punctuated the silence.
Yet, at the heart of the castle, the atmosphere was anything but quiet.
The grand ballroom was ablaze with light, glittering chandeliers casting a golden hue over the extravagant scene within. The sound of elegant, yet energetic piano music filled the air, setting the rhythm for the dancers who moved with grace across the polished floor.
A lavish ball was in full swing.
Men, dressed in impeccable black tuxedos and crisp white bow ties, led their partners with effortless charm. The women, adorned in ornate, beaded gowns with delicate fringes and floral embellishments, twirled under their arms, their skirts flaring in mesmerizing waves.
Laughter and whispered conversations blended seamlessly with the music as wizards and witches exchanged glances, words, and secrets between intricate dance steps.
"Beautiful and elegant Ms. Nicole, may I have the honor of this dance?"
"Why, of course, Mr. Cassirer, I would be delighted."
As they stepped onto the dance floor, the couple moved with refined precision, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the music.
However, beyond the dance itself, conversations of far greater consequence were taking place.
"Mr. Cassirer, have you heard the latest developments from the Magical Congress?" Nicole whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the music. "What does your family think about it?"
Cassirer Danvers hesitated.
Instead of answering immediately, he tightened his grip slightly on Nicole's waist, guiding her through a flawless turn before responding.
"Nicole, this is not the place for such discussions," he murmured smoothly, his expression unreadable.
For all her beauty, Nicole lacked discretion. She was too impulsive, too careless with her words. A lovely decoration, yes—a stunning vase, but a vase nonetheless.
Nicole stiffened slightly, realizing her mistake. With a quick, practiced smile, she swiftly changed the topic.
"Mr. Cassirer, have you heard of the so-called 'Dark Lord' from Britain?" she asked with feigned curiosity. "A French acquaintance of mine mentioned that France's current ruler is a shadowy figure—one causing quite a stir in their magical community."
Cassirer raised an eyebrow.
"And are you certain of this information?" he asked.
"Absolutely," Nicole replied confidently. "The Danvers family must have received word by now. After all, it is no longer a mere rumor."
Cassirer remained silent for a moment. He neither confirmed nor denied, but his lack of response was an answer in itself.
Sensing his interest, Nicole leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
"They say this mysterious man has already suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of Headmaster Lockhart," she continued with amusement.
"Now, he's attempting to discredit Lockhart by spreading absurd rumors across France."
"What kind of rumors?" Cassirer asked.
Nicole smirked.
"That Lockhart is not merely a Dark wizard, but one of the most vile sorcerers to have ever walked the Earth."
"That he has murdered countless victims, tampered with souls, and committed unspeakable horrors."
"And—perhaps the most ridiculous claim of all—" she added with a chuckle, "they say Lockhart isn't even from this world, but an invader from another realm."
"The so-called Dark Lord is urging all wizards to unite and hunt him down."
Nicole shook her head in disbelief.
"Honestly, how gullible does one have to be to believe such nonsense?"
Lockhart—the renowned pioneer of modern wizardry, the revolutionary mind behind meditation magic, and a celebrated leader of the new era—was a figure of global renown.
And yet, Voldemort, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, thought he could turn public opinion against him with such ridiculous lies?
How desperate must he be?
The mere idea of it was laughable.
She sighed, shaking her head.
"It is said that rumors die when they reach the ears of the wise," she muttered. "If that's true, then France must have very few wise wizards left, given how easily they're falling for this nonsense."
Nicole glanced up at Cassirer, her green eyes gleaming with curiosity.
She had always envied pure-bloods—their heritage, their influence, their standing in society. Now, she was eager to hear his perspective.
However, Cassirer remained unreadable, his sharp gaze betraying nothing.
"Sorry, Nicole," he finally said, "This is the first time I've heard such claims. I'll need to discuss it with my family before giving you an answer."
Nicole's expression darkened.
Cassirer's evasiveness was clear. He had been dodging her questions all night, refusing to reveal even the slightest hint of his true thoughts.
It was infuriating.
Her enthusiasm quickly waned.
After a few more turns around the dance floor, she abruptly excused herself, departing to find a more talkative partner.
With the magical world in turmoil, with unrest brewing in Britain, Germany, France, and even America, she knew that information was power.
And as a beautiful woman, she intended to use every advantage she had to stay ahead.
Perhaps, if she was fortunate, she might even secure herself a place within a powerful pure-blood family.
Cassirer watched her go, an amused smirk on his lips.
It was a shame, really.
For all her flaws, Nicole was undeniably breathtaking.
If only she had been less nosy—then perhaps, he would have indulged her curiosity a little more.
News had spread.
Something significant was happening in France.
Cassirer Danvers had personally visited the four great wizarding families of the country, seeking confirmation. Their responses were all the same—they were closely monitoring the situation.
After all, Voldemort was not just any Dark wizard.
He was among the most powerful entities in the wizarding world, and now, it seemed, he had aligned himself with Lord Grindelwald, following him as his ally.
How could they not pay attention?
Especially when Lockhart—an enemy common to both Voldemort and Grindelwald—was involved.
As the situation grew more volatile, the French families had begun collecting extensive intelligence on Lockhart, trying to decipher his true intentions and weaknesses.
After multiple high-level discussions, they had naturally arrived at a decision…
The grandeur of Ilvermorny Castle stood tall under the shimmering night sky, its stone walls illuminated by torchlight.
Inside the castle, the Saints' Dinner was in full swing, a gathering of powerful wizards, influential pure-blood families, and those who had sworn allegiance to Grindelwald's cause.
Cassirer Danvers stepped forward confidently, recognizing a familiar figure.
"Mr. Cassirer, welcome to Ilvermorny."
The voice that greeted him was calm yet polite, neither overly warm nor cold.
Cassirer smiled, unfazed by the formality.
"It is an honor to be here and attend the Saints' Dinner," he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly in greeting.
The other wizard remained expressionless, but Cassirer had long since learned not to take such indifference personally.
He didn't waste time on small talk.
"Danny, our family has received word that the Magic Congress has been making significant moves recently," he said, his tone light, yet probing. "Have the Saints received any specific intelligence?"
Then, as though casually adding an afterthought, he continued, "Does the Danforth family require any assistance from us in investigating? We would be more than happy to lend a hand."
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Wizard Danny's lips.
For all Cassirer's formalities, he was nothing if not calculating.
Danny's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he replied, his voice calm and measured, "We appreciate the offer, Mr. Danvers, but we are already well prepared."
Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Of course, we always welcome our friends to witness history alongside us."
Cassirer did not press further. Instead, he laughed lightly, brushing off the subtle rejection with ease.
"Of course, of course. The Danvers family has always been the most loyal of the Saints' allies."
With that, he smoothly transitioned the conversation.
"By the way, when will Lord Grindelwald be arriving? Our family has prepared a most generous gift for him."
That was his true purpose for coming here.
Grindelwald—his movements, his health, his intentions.
That was what everyone wanted to know.
The wizarding world was rife with rumors—whispers that Grindelwald had been gravely injured, even claims that he had once died and was resurrected by sheer luck.
These rumors were deeply troubling to those who had placed their faith, fortunes, and very lives in Grindelwald's hands.
Many had already eliminated high-ranking members of the Magical Congress in his name. Some had even led assaults on elite Goblin forces.
If Grindelwald truly had fallen, then what would become of them?
Cassirer was not the only one who sought answers tonight.
Danny, however, remained unshaken.
With a faint smirk, he said, "Rumors stop with the wise, Cassirer."
His voice held a note of amusement, but beneath it was a sharp undertone of condescension.
Danny had heard the rumors, of course, but he knew better. He had seen Grindelwald with his own eyes—unfazed, unbroken, and even more powerful than before.
To him, this was merely a pathetic attempt to shake their morale.
"Those who cannot defeat the leader resort to cowardly tactics," he said smoothly. "Disrupting our confidence is the only weapon they have left."
Cassirer remained unreadable, but internally, he was not so easily reassured.
His family's future depended on their decisions.
And decisions could not be made on mere words alone.
So, he simply chuckled and mirrored Danny's confidence.
"Yes, I have no idea which brainless fool started such nonsense." He sneered. "Those third-rate wizards will never comprehend the greatness of our leader."
Danny inclined his head slightly, as if in agreement, about to respond—
Then, everything changed.
A sudden shift in energy.
A presence.
Danny whirled around, his eyes instantly shining with fervent devotion as he locked onto a familiar figure.
"Lord Grindelwald."
A hushed silence fell over the room.
And then—
"Leader!"
Voices rose in unison, carrying emotions of reverence, awe, and even fear.
All eyes turned toward the high platform, where Grindelwald stood, gazing down at the gathered wizards.
He was clad in a dark purple wizard's robe, regal yet menacing. His posture was imposing, exuding absolute authority.
"Dear wizards," his voice rang out, smooth yet commanding.
"Welcome to this dinner… to witness history."
The words struck like a spell.
Witness history?
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, puzzled expressions flickering across their faces.
Something momentous was about to happen.
Standing tall on the platform, Grindelwald observed their confusion with a faint smirk.
Then, his voice rang out once more.
"I believe you have all heard the recent rumors."
A cold chuckle.
"It is said that rumors stop among the wise, but we all know—wise men are rare."
He spread his arms, and suddenly, a massive wave of magical energy surged through the room.
A crushing pressure filled the air.
Many staggered, their breathing suddenly labored under the weight of his overwhelming power.
Fear flickered in their eyes—but also relief.
Grindelwald was unharmed.
Their investments, their sacrifices, their future—none of it was in vain.
Grindelwald, sensing the shift in their emotions, nodded in satisfaction.
Then, his lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Let me share some good news."
A pause.
Then—
"We have an ally among us tonight."
With a casual flick of his hand, a massive circular screen appeared beside him, glowing faintly.
A figure emerged from within.
A man clad in dark green wizard robes, his deep, piercing eyes scanning the crowd coldly.
His blood-red cloak billowed behind him, exuding a dark, oppressive aura.
He was Voldemort.
Grindelwald's voice was calm, but filled with unyielding confidence.
"Our enemies are strong," he admitted. "But we are stronger."
"Dumbledore and the Goblin King may have allied themselves, but we hold the superior power."
"And now," his gaze swept over the crowd, "I ask you—do you have the courage to seize victory?"
A thunderous roar erupted from the gathered wizards.
"We have confidence!"
"Defeat the Magical Congress! Expel the Goblins!"
The shouts rang out, causing Voldemort on the side to narrow his eyes.
My own Death Eaters didn't seem so excited, but it didn't matter.
This time, kill Dumbledore first and then the Goblin King.
at last...
Alliance with Grindelwald to eliminate Lockhart.
As long as Lockhart dies, the existence that symbolizes the supreme power will be caught off guard.
When he thought of this, Voldemort felt a little excited.
I wish I could start the battlefield earlier.
Be on the path to supreme power.
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