In the silence that followed, muffled cracks continued to echo through the air as figures appeared one after another onto the blackened earth. The first thing that greeted them was the wind. It was searing hot, hot enough to blister the skin of an ordinary person, but that was quickly pushed to the back of their minds as their gazes swept across the devastated landscape and took in the sheer scale of what lay before them. Where once there had been countryside, there was now only ruin, as far as the eye could see. Craters pockmarked the scorched earth. Enormous fissures snaked across the ground as though gouged out by unseen hands, and shattered rock littered the region like the aftermath of a volcanic apocalypse.At the same time, Maverick also surveyed those who had arrived. Closest stood Dumbledore, Edward, and Olympe, the three of them forming a triangle around him and Grindelwald, while beyond them the Great Magi had lined the crater's rim in a wide and silent circle. “Are you alright?” Edward asked as he walked over, giving Maverick a brief once-over before immediately shaking his head. “Forget I asked.” There wasn't so much as a scratch, had he not witnessed the battle personally, he would never have guessed Maverick had just come out of a life-and-death duel. His eyes then dropped to the restrained figure, “did you put a seal on his magic?” Maverick offered his teacher a brief smile and nodded. Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Olympe also approached from the other sides. "Didn't think I'd ever be seeing that face of yours again," remarked Olympe, looking down at Grindelwald with her arms folded across her chest. Grindelwald coughed up blood and spat it aside, a low laugh rumbling from his throat. Then, still smiling through bloodstained teeth, his eyes moved from one person to the next before settling on the last man. “Should I be flattered that you've gathered so many people for my funeral?” "You haven't changed at all, Gellert," said Dumbledore softly, looking at the miserable figure before him. There was disappointment in his eyes, but something deeper too, something that sat quietly beneath the disappointment like a stone at the bottom of still water. "It would seem that even now, power continues to draw out the worst in you.""Gehaha..." cough, cough, "haa..." Grindelwald laughed, more blood spilling from his lips, but his eyes remained sharp, locked firmly onto his old friend. "I could... say the same to you..." He grinned, flashing bloodstained teeth, then spoke again. “So what will it be, Albus? What. will. you. choose...?” Dumbledore sighed resignedly, in fact, his heart was in far greater turmoil than his calm exterior showed. He understood exactly what his old friend was asking — half a century ago, it had been his intervention that stayed the wizarding world's hand, that kept Grindelwald breathing when the alternative had been very firmly on the table. His feelings for this man had never been simple, and time had not simplified them. Love, once, certainly. That much he could say without hesitation, could say it and mean it and carry the weight of it without flinching. However, time has a way of healing even the most broken of things, and fifty years was a very long time. Whether what had once existed between them had survived that passage in any recognisable form, or had simply quietly ceased to be, he could not say with any honesty now. He was not sure he even wanted to know now. Grindelwald had indeed struck the jackpot with that question. To kill him and finally lay the past to rest, or spare him, the man Dumbledore had once loved and allow him to continue existing in a fate little better than death. Then again, did Dumbledore even possess the right to decide? This wasn’t fifty years ago.After lingering on his old friend for a final moment, Dumbledore turned toward Maverick, and something in his expression settled, not into peace exactly, but into the particular quiet of a man who has made a decision by choosing not to make one. Whatever Maverick decided, Dumbledore told himself, he would accept. "I... leave this matter," he said quietly, "entirely to you." There was a hint of pleading in his voice, yet it remained firm all the same, the two seemingly contradictory emotions coexisting in a way that suggested he had spent a lifetime reconciling them. The others said nothing, their gazes also turning one by one toward Maverick, waiting to hear his decision. Maverick observed the old man's expression as it changed, each emotion giving way to the next. It was, he thought, quite interesting.To be honest, Maverick was firmly in favor of getting rid of Grindelwald right then and there, and the only reason he had hesitated was also, Dumbledore. He had needed to gauge the old man's response first, and he would be lying to himself if he claimed that response did not matter to him. Dumbledore had his shortcomings, certainly, but Maverick had nonetheless come to respect him, and genuinely consider him a friend. Now, however, the situation appeared considerably simpler than he had anticipated. At the very least, he would not be forced to go directly against Dumbledore's wishes. Grindelwald, meanwhile, also watched his old friend with something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of surprise, there and gone. And beneath it, something else, something buried so deeply he had long since forgotten it existed where Dumbledore was concerned. Respect, perhaps. Or recognition. Had his old friend's gentler nature, that infuriating blend of naivety and indecisiveness, finally changed after all these years? “If I said I intended to put a permanent stop to him, Headmaster,” asked Maverick. “What would you do?” --- Further back, quiet murmurs had already begun to spread among the gathered — some were still trying to comprehend the scale of the devastation, others kept their eyes fixed solely on the center of the crater, but all wore much the same expression: shock, apprehension, fear, and no small amount of awe. "That’s… Gellert Grindelwald…" one said inquiringly while recalling the face he had seen so many years ago. "I thought he was locked away somewhere. When did he break out?" another voice wondered aloud. "Does it matter now? Look at him... half his face is gone. It's a miracle he's still breathing." “Do you think killing an Archmage is as simple as hitting them with a Killing Curse?” “Of course not, but... look at Speaker Caesar. After everything, he doesn't look even slightly injured.” “Maybe he's masking it. After a fight like that, I refuse to believe he's completely fine.” “Keep your voice down.” “Huh?” “Are you trying to die? Haven't you heard what people say about him?” “What?” “That he's also that ruthless guy... Bloodyraven.” “...” “When they were fighting, I felt like I'd die just from getting close... Even now, with their magic sealed, every instinct in my body is screaming at me to get as far away from here as possible.” “Should we go over there as well, Minerva?” Flitwick asked in a low voice. Standing beside him, McGonagall remained silent. On her other side, Moody was equally focused on the scene below. “We needn't concern ourselves with that matter,” McGonagall said, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “They would not have erected that barrier without reason. Since they clearly do not wish to be overheard, we shall wait until they have reached a decision.” “Aren't you curious at all, Minerva?” Moody asked, turning slightly toward her. “About how Gellert Grindelwald got mixed up in all of this?” "If you're that curious, Alastor, you are perfectly welcome to walk over there and ask," McGonagall replied, without any particular expression on her face. "No one is standing in your way."Alastor Moody let out a grunt but remained where he was. Anyways, he wasn't keen on looking for death simply because he was curious. Well... for the most part. “If anything...” Flitwick said after a short chuckle, his eyes drifting toward the distant city. “I'm looking forward to seeing what happens after all this. I can't wait to—” “—Merlin's beard!” he exclaimed, cutting himself off mid-sentence. At nearly the same moment, stunned gasps rose from those nearby as well, all eyes turning toward the center of the crater, widening visibly as they stared at what had just occurred in plain sight. ‐‐‐ “Teacher?” Maverick furrowed his brows and looked at his teacher inquiringly, the hand he had raised halfway, humming with Eldritch magic, slowly falling silent as the energy faded into nothingness. “What difference does it make?” Edward said without emotion, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Whether it's you, me, or someone else, the outcome remains the—” He paused, or rather, he found himself unable to continue, as dreadful pressure suddenly wrapped around him, suffocating enough to make even his soul tremble. He groaned and forced his head upward inch by inch, meeting a pair of unnaturally bright blue eyes staring directly into his own. Dumbledore’s eyes were unnaturally wide, his pupils reduced to tiny dots as he slowly raised his head from the ground. “Headmaster... that's enough!” Maverick quickly flashed in front of his teacher and narrowed his eyes as well. At the same time, an equal amount of magic, controlled with absolute precision, erupted from him and canceled the pressure pouring from Dumbledore into nothingness. Maxime alone did not move. She was still trying to make sense of what had just happened when her eyes finally lifted and settled on the three of them, making her realize things were becoming somewhat troublesome. Thankfully, the situation did not escalate as she had thought, for in the next moment, Dumbledore was seen drawing in a long breath and shutting his eyes, the strain and tension on his face easing little by little. Maverick, however, stayed where he was, standing in front of his teacher with his gaze locked onto the old wizard, patiently awaiting him to speak. “My... sincerest apologies, Garling.” After several tense seconds, Dumbledore finally broke the silence with a quiet exhale. It sounded sincere enough, only, the tone in which it was delivered felt strangely hollow, almost devoid of feeling, something entirely out of character for the old wizard. Looking past Maverick, his eyes settled on Edward, who was smoothing out the front of his shirt and readjusting his posture. Only, the cold beads of sweat glistened across his forehead told a different story. ————————— Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, guys. Super busy few days at work, and on top of that my daughter has been sick, so I've barely had any free time. Anyways, this arc has finally reached its conclusion. I'll be honest, I'm not entirely happy with how everything turned out. I ran into so many bouts of writer's block during this arc that I can't even properly describe it... Sigh... Still, it's done, and now I can focus on what comes next. I'll do my best to make the aftermath even better. I know I can. 😊 As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for the patience and hope you enjoyed the chapter.