It was a swift and clean strike. A thin crimson line appeared across Grindelwald's neck, and a heartbeat later, his head slid free from his shoulders, dropping onto the scorched earth. The expression frozen on his face was a rare look of surprise, as though whatever had occupied his final thoughts had caught even him completely off guard.Not only him, everyone was taken aback for a moment, the whole atmosphere falling into a strange silence. When Dumbledore had left the decision of what to do with his old friend in Maverick's hands, all eyes had turned toward him, waiting to see what choice he would make. Only, nobody expected Edward to act first, nor did they expect him to be so decisive about it. And seeing his old lover die just like that, Dumbledore lost control for a brief moment. His magic reacted before his mind could, surging outward as if demanding an explanation from the one responsible. Fortunately, Maverick was there to calm the situation before it could escalate further while a moment later the old wizard also managed to rein in his turbulent thoughts and regain control of himself. “My... sincerest apologies, Garling,” said Dumbledore. His words were barely more than a whisper, wavering, clearly still shaken by what had just happened. No matter how heinous a villain Grindelwald was, he was still the man Dumbledore loved. It was a bitter, painful kind of love, burdened by regret upon regret, but love all the same. In fact, from the moment Grindelwald had appeared, Dumbledore knew there would be no escape for his old friend. After all, not only were Maverick and himself present, but the Founders and Merlin as well. So what troubled him was not whether his old friend would fall, but whether that fall would end in chains again or in death. He had wrestled with the dilemma from the very beginning, and it had granted him little peace since. That was also precisely why he had so readily agreed Maverick to face him alone. The truth was, he had been uncertain of his own thoughts. And when the duel ended, those thoughts only grew stronger within him. His old friend had even looked him in the eye and asked him directly what choice he would make. Could he bring himself to kill the man he loved? He knew the answer all too well. It lay in the choice he had made fifty years ago, despite the entire world having told him to do otherwise. And perhaps it was precisely because he knew that answer that he had entrusted the decision to Maverick. He knew Maverick was decisive when it mattered. It’s just that, when the moment actually came, and came so unexpectedly, delivered by someone else entirely, he found himself unwilling to accept it. "Calm down, Headmaster," Maverick said to him in a low, firm voice. Narrowing his eyes, he then turned to his teacher, silently demanding an explanation. Edward was still recovering from that brief moment of being completely pinned down by Dumbledore's majestic magic, cold sweat dripping down the side of his face. The higher a wizard's rank, the greater the gap between realms became, so it wasn't surprising that despite being an Arch-Magus, he had been rendered utterly helpless by nothing more than a look from Dumbledore. Letting out a quiet huff, Edward crossed his arms over his chest. "Does it really matter whose hand delivered the sentence?" he asked, fixing his pupil with a knowing look. In truth, Edward's actions had not been born from impulse, nor from any grudge he held against Grindelwald, but for one reason alone—to spare his student from having to bear that burden himself. He had no doubt that Maverick would ultimately decide to kill the old Dark Lord, but he didn't want Maverick to be the one to carry out the deed. Or rather, he didn't want a rift to form between his pupil and Dumbledore because of that. In that regard, it was better for him, the mentor, to get his hands dirty instead. Maverick also understood that his teacher wouldn’t have acted without reason. In fact, knowing Edward, it wasn't hard to guess. But that didn't mean he appreciated it, nor that he would have preferred things to happen that way. He wasn't a helpless kid anymore, could carry his own burdens, and Edward didn't need to shoulder every weight for him. Sigh… He exhaled and shook his head slightly. In any case, what was done was done. There were more important matters at hand. Meanwhile, Olympe Maxime looked between the three men, following their wordless conversation with mounting irritation, she was rapidly losing patience. "Have you all had enough?" she snapped suddenly. She shot Edward a sharp look. "You stupid brute." For once, Edward didn't fire back with a retort, instead just stared into the distance. "While I don't disagree with what you did, that wasn't your decision to make," she continued before turning toward Maverick and Dumbledore. "And you two, what's done is done. We have more important things to worry about right now." Dumbledore didn't respond either, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body, and his expression gradually softened. With a wave of his hand, he stored Grindelwald's cold corpse inside his storage ring before looking toward Maverick and offering him a faint smile. It wasn't a happy smile. It wasn't a sad smile either. If anything, it looked tired. Nevertheless, Maverick understood it was the old man’s way of telling him that he was setting the matter aside. Maverick gave him a small nod in return as well. He made no attempt to offer comfort, even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could. Heck, Maverick still didn't fully understand what kind of relationship Dumbledore and Grindelwald had shared. Homosexuality wasn't something exclusive to the Muggle world; it existed in the wizarding world as well. Well, getting sidetracked there, Maverick shook his head inwardly and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. A snap of his fingers echoed through the crater, and the invisible barrier separating them from the Great Magi standing around its rim dissolved instantly. "Teacher, go and bring Bella and her team... tell her to broadcast the devastation here from high ground." "Why do I have to be the one..." Edward grumbled while giving him a look, paused halfway through his sentence, and then just disappeared. Maverick then turned toward Dumbledore, "headmaster... I'm sorry, but I must ask you to take out Gellert Grindelwald's corpse and leave it here a while longer." Dumbledore's brow furrowed, though only for a moment, and then he raised his hand without further comment. The corpse reappeared exactly where it had vanished, head and body settling back into the same position they had occupied before, as though the intervening moment had never happened. "What are you up to now, kid?" Olympe Maxime regarded the headless body for a long moment before turning her attention fully onto Maverick. "And while we're at it, I have been meaning to ask. Was all of this part of the plan as well?" "No. This was purely a coincidence. I had no idea he would escape prison, let alone break through to the rank of Warlock." "So it's true, then." She said it carefully, doing her best to keep her surprise from showing, though the confirmation landed with nearly as much weight as the original suspicion had. "The two of you have made the breakthrough. When did it happen?" "A few months back." Maverick offered her a faint smile and left it there, declining to elaborate further. "I would rather no one know about this for now. About Grindelwald as well. Let everyone go on assuming he was still an Archmage." "Whatever you say." Maxime waved a hand, setting the matter aside for the moment, though her expression made it clear she had filed it away for later. "What I would really like to know is how he managed to break out of that place in the first place." She turned to Dumbledore and gave him a look. "I am every bit as puzzled as you are," Dumbledore's gaze drifted briefly toward the headless body before returning to her. "If I were to guess, I should say that once he crossed into Warlock rank, Nurmengard's restrictions were no longer equal to containing him… we shall know more once the fortress has been properly inspected." By then, the Great Magi gathered along the crater's rim had begun walking inward, McGonagall's trio leading the way before the rest fell in behind them. They came to a stop a short distance off, and although several pairs of eyes flicked toward Maverick and the others, most remained fixed on the headless body. "Albus." McGonagall's voice was soft as she addressed her old mentor, and there was something close to pity in the way she looked at him, an understanding that perhaps only she, among everyone present, fully carried the weight of what this meant for him. "I am fine, Minerva." Dumbledore offered the three of them a nod and the faint suggestion of a smile, though it did not entirely reach his eyes. "Did everything go well on your end?" "I certainly hope so," said Flitwick, his gaze never leaving the severed head resting on the broken ground. "What about here, kid?" Alastor Moody's eyes swept over the ruined landscape before settling on Maverick. "Did you make arrangements beforehand, or are we improvising as we go?" "I did." Maverick nodded. "The settlements in the area were evacuated before this place became a battlefield." "Speaking of battlefields." Moody turned, surveying the cratered wasteland stretching out in every direction, and clicked his tongue. "If this is not enough to convince the world of your point, I don't know what will." In fact, the destruction here wasn't anywhere near what two Warlock-rank wizards could create should they go all out. It could be said the duel between Maverick and Grindelwald was very much limited, or rather concentrated into one location. The area of destruction was actually quite small. And by small, in this case, still meant something in the neighbourhood of fifty kilometres across, hundreds of square miles of what had once been green hills now reduced to ruin. It was, regardless, more than sufficient to support the claim that this had been a battle between Archmages, which was, after all, the story the world was meant to believe. "Are we simply going to leave the place like this?" McGonagall asked, her gaze settling on Maverick, and one by one the others turned as well waiting on his answer. None of those gathered here were outsiders in any meaningful sense. Every one of them answered to Edward, Dumbledore, Olympe, or Maverick himself, so they were more or less aware of the main objective of the operation. "Of course we'll patch this place up. Just not yet." Maverick's tone remained even, "The destruction here needs to be broadcast first, for the world to see, along with the one responsible for it." He gestured, without particular ceremony, toward the headless body. "The plan has not changed. The rest of you will head to the city and coordinate with Muggle law enforcement there to begin restoring it as quickly as possible." "Openly?" one of the witches asked, her accent suggesting German or perhaps French origins. Almost certainly one of Maxime's people. "Yes, openly." Maverick met her eyes, "Don’t worry about the ICW. We will be heading there shortly ourselves to meet with Volkov, Matheus, and Zhang." "Go on, then." Maxime added, with a small wave toward the assembled group. "We will handle matters from here." "Wait, Speaker Caesar. Could you tell us why Gellert Grindelwald is here?" Suddenly, a voice rang out from among the gathered Great Magi, and those who were just about to Apparate also stopped. Indeed, they had almost forgotten the elephant in the room. "We don't know." Maverick didn't mind their curiosity and answered honestly. "Like Headmaster said, all we know is that he escaped somehow. We'll know more only after inspecting the prison itself." He turned to the wizard who had asked the question and added, "And it really doesn't matter now, does it? Look how it turned out for him..." After that, the gathering thinned quickly, until only Maverick, Dumbledore, and Maxime remained standing in the ruined crater. And, of course, the dead Dark Lord, who remained entirely indifferent to everything. "I'm surprised they haven't shown up. Especially that old fellow Zhang Weiguo..." Olympe Maxime said with a sigh, her head turning toward the sky, eyes narrowing at a spot in the night. Maverick also turned his head, looking thoughtfully into the distance. There, Isabella and her team were streaming the area via Magic Vision, and Edward, it seemed, had brought along a small contingent of Muggle journalists as well, which suited the main purpose in any case. He sent a brief mental nudge to his teacher, encouraging him to move slightly closer and ensure that Grindelwald's headless body remained clearly within frame. The news would only spread from here on, in the magical world and even faster in the Muggle world. Under normal circumstances, the ICW would already have dispatched their people, particularly their Obliviators, to begin managing the situation. More than two hours had passed since everything began, and yet, for whatever reason, they remained conspicuously absent. Perhaps they too understood that this was not a situation they could simply contain, and so those old foxes were most likely still locked in deliberation over what to do next. Heh. Maverick allowed himself a small, private chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling upward just slightly. "Let's get this place cleaned up first," he said at last, and his feet lifted gently off the cratered ground as he began to rise slowly into the night sky.