"Damn it, why is the Burning Legion still chasing me?!"
"That's fel energy! Those are demons?!"
The backdrop in the prophecy was unmistakably this world's towering skyscrapers—or rather, in the vision, they were reduced to shattered ruins, collapsed buildings, and screaming crowds fleeing in panic.
Harry's entire body stiffened instinctively, his fists clenched, muscles taut.
"This is the future," Gellert Grindelwald's voice echoed across the plaza. Though he spoke softly, his words thundered, piercing every mind present. "I don't know what these creatures are. Some are elemental, others… unknown—but I can say with certainty they are not benevolent."
"This world is about to change… Wizards, rise up, grip your wands tightly."
"Protect yourselves."
Grindelwald's speech ended abruptly as Aurors from the German Ministry of Magic stormed the scene. Without so much as a warning, streaks of red and green spell-light shot toward him. The old man, with hair and beard as white as Dumbledore's, merely flicked his wand with ease, deflecting the curses. With a few precise counter-spells, he sent the Aurors sprawling to the ground.
He could have fled immediately, but perhaps to avoid the Ministry hounding him endlessly, Grindelwald stayed long enough to dispatch every Auror. Only then did he offer an elegant bow before Disapparating with a flourish.
The memory ended there. A dizzying whirl of vertigo followed, the surroundings twisting and blurring as if Harry and Dumbledore were surfacing from water. They found themselves standing on solid ground again, a Pensieve between them.
This wasn't Hogwarts—it was a room in the German Ministry of Magic.
"I must admit, even after all these years, Gellert's words haven't changed much," Dumbledore said, his expression complex. "He's always been like this—using grand, noble slogans to mask his true intentions."
"For the greater good?" Harry recalled the descriptions he'd read of Grindelwald and his purist followers.
"Something like that," Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps this time he'll use a different rallying cry, like the one he just gave—urging wizards to protect themselves… Standing for the safety of ordinary wizards… Who knows?"
"You don't look well, Harry," Dumbledore said, studying his face closely. "It's the same look you had when you saw Nicolas Flamel's prophecy… Those creatures—you know them, don't you?"
"…Yes," Harry took a deep breath. "Give me a moment. I never imagined this world could end up like this—Dumbledore, those creatures wreathed in green flames? They're called demons."
"Demons," Dumbledore repeated, a familiar word that seemed to carry new weight. "I suspect the demons you're referring to aren't the same as the ones I know, are they?"
"Correct," Harry nodded, his voice low. "They're demons of the Burning Legion… or maybe not? The Twisting Nether is already full of demons… In any case, their goal is to destroy and conquer entire worlds, corrupting planets in the process."
"But—how can this be?" Harry's face twisted in confusion. "Even Sargeras, the Dark Titan and leader of the Burning Legion, is imprisoned in the Pantheon. So why are these creatures still appearing in droves? Is this just some chaotic invasion driven by their nature?"
Demons were inherently chaotic. Not all in the Twisting Nether were part of the Burning Legion—some were even hostile to it, though they were usually too weak to resist.
Harry fell into deep thought, and Dumbledore didn't interrupt.
"…Sorry," Harry said after a while, shaking his head. "In any case, if these demons do appear, we need to be cautious of those green flames. Fel energy is one of the fundamental forces of the universe, but it symbolizes destruction."
"It's highly corrosive. Anyone touched by fel energy—body or soul—will gradually be corrupted, possibly even transformed into a demon. Fel energy devours life force and causes all things to fall," Harry said with a self-deprecating smile. "In another world, one of the main duties of shamans is cleansing lands tainted by fel energy. Hah, I thought I'd left all that behind."
"So, like the Death Knights?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Not quite," Harry sighed. "At least some Death Knights can be allies. If demons from the Twisting Nether show up here, I'd rather have the Ebon Blade show up instead… At least they're a reliable force against demons."
There were too many unanswered questions. Why had the Ebon Blade managed to open a portal to this world? And why the Death's Hall? Had the undead caused some new catastrophe in Azeroth after Harry left?
"It sounds promising, Harry," Dumbledore said, surprisingly calm. Even after witnessing a prophecy filled with monsters and war, he managed a smile. "At least you know them well. We won't have to pay a heavy price to learn about our enemies or face them blindly. That's a good thing, Harry."
"Maybe," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, his composure returning. "You're right, Dumbledore. It's a good thing… Have you gone to see Grindelwald?"
"You mean Nurmengard?" Dumbledore replied. "Not yet. I only learned about this shortly before you did. Shall we go together?"
"Of course."
Faster than a Firebolt, they were off.
Austria, Nurmengard.
The castle's exterior and courtyard were blanketed in snow. Harry had to use his wand to clear a path through the drifts.
It didn't take long for them to reach the top floor, where Grindelwald had lived in self-imposed confinement.
No search was necessary. Grindelwald had anticipated visitors. As Harry and Dumbledore entered the room, they immediately saw a message formed by air elementals, their bodies shaping words in midair.
[Trust me, Albus]
"Hah, a message from your old flame," Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Feeling touched, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore: "…"
Honestly, even with Dumbledore's vast experience and thick skin, being teased by someone nearly a century younger—a friend and junior—made him… well, slightly blush.
"Ahem, I wasn't finished earlier," Dumbledore said, pretending nothing had happened. "I must admit, much of what Gellert said hasn't changed from years ago… But his prophecies have always been accurate. Decades ago, he foresaw the Muggle world wars and the explosion of the atomic bomb… That's what it's called, right?"
"Go on, I'm listening," Harry said, pointing at the floating words. "Looks like things aren't as bad as they could be. If Grindelwald isn't planning to deceive you strategically, then his escape isn't about starting a wizarding revolution amid global chaos."
"Gellert wouldn't deceive me," Dumbledore replied without hesitation. "But these air elementals… It seems, unbeknownst to me, he's become a shaman. How intriguing."
"You know, Dumbledore," Harry said suddenly, "you've got this really happy smile on your face right now."
"Ack! Cough, cough, cough!"
Harry's words nearly made Dumbledore choke.
"I'm kidding. Your beard hides most of your expression," Harry added quickly.
Dumbledore: "…"
For once, Dumbledore was at a loss for words—a rare occurrence, considering he was usually the one leaving others speechless.
"…Let's move on to Gellert," Dumbledore said after a pause, changing the subject. "What do you think he's up to, Harry?"
"I think he's seen something. He's a seer, after all. But after seeing these elementals, I wonder if he got information from them," Harry said thoughtfully, then stopped. "No!"
His expression turned grave.
"If Grindelwald foresaw the demons' arrival or received information from some unknown source—were those really elementals speaking to him?"
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, momentarily puzzled before catching on. "You mean—demons?"
In every mythology, demons were tied to honeyed words and temptation. They could peer into a person's deepest desires and use them to manipulate, leading to actions one would never consider otherwise. Whether through verbal traps or twisted wishes, demons always delivered a future far different from what their victims expected, claiming regretful, fallen souls in the process.
That's what demons were.
"Exactly," Harry nodded seriously. "Some demons in the Twisting Nether are masters of disguise. They can appear as the thing you trust most, whispering seemingly truthful words to tempt you."
Except for brainless brutes like Pit Lords, demons like Dreadlords, Eredar, or Succubi were experts at this. Even the lowliest imps were skilled at manipulation—they just couldn't shapeshift, so their attempts often failed.
After all, most species judged based on appearances. A pretty face made words easier to believe.
"In another world—Azeroth's sister world, Draenor, the orcs' homeland—the Burning Legion destroyed everything, corrupting it all. But when the demons first appeared, they disguised themselves as the orcs' ancestors, subtly corrupting them…"
To make Dumbledore understand the danger, Harry recounted a story from that world: how Kil'jaeden, a great demon of the Burning Legion, disguised himself as the spirit of Ner'zhul's late wife. He gradually led the orc shaman to corruption, turning him against the ancestral spirits and elemental forces, ultimately ushering in the demons.
Even when Ner'zhul later regretted his actions, the damage was irreversible. He could only watch as his people fell to demonic enslavement, their world shattered into fragments.
It was a stark warning.
Dumbledore's brows furrowed just imagining it.
To be thorough, Harry began listing every demon type and ability he could recall, worried that Dumbledore might be swayed by their guile. After all, from a demon's perspective, someone like Dumbledore—respected, influential in the international magical community—would be a prime target for corruption.
If Dumbledore fell, demons could use him to spread their disguised power rapidly. They were experts at this.
After hearing Harry's knowledge, even Dumbledore, who had been somewhat optimistic—okay, mostly pleased by Grindelwald's "Trust me"—lost his cheer.
He was certain Grindelwald would never intentionally harm him or cause him pain. But what if, objectively, something had fed Grindelwald false information? What if he'd been misled into believing he was doing something great? Dumbledore's heart grew uneasy.
He knew all too well that Grindelwald's heart held a grand, unshakable ideal.
They had to find Gellert quickly—Dumbledore made up his mind.
And then let Harry, the expert shaman, determine if Grindelwald had been deceived.
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