Nurmengard Castle stood tall and foreboding, its dark stone walls a stark reminder of its grim history. Built by Gellert Grindelwald during his rise to power, the castle had once served as a prison for his enemies and a symbol of his vision for a new world order. After the legendary duel between Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore, which ended in Grindelwald's defeat, the castle had been repurposed. It became his prison, a place where he was held in isolation, reflecting on the consequences of his actions. The once-proud fortress now stood as a monument to failure and regret, its halls silent and its towers empty.
Dumbledore stood at the base of the castle, his eyes fixed on its towering silhouette. It was the first time he had returned here since Grindelwald's defeat. His heart felt heavy, and his legs barely carried him as he approached the entrance. The weight of the past and the urgency of the present pressed down on him as he stepped inside.
The castle's interior was cold and lifeless, its grandeur faded with time. Dumbledore walked through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Memories of his youth, of the dreams he and Grindelwald had shared, flashed through his mind. But those dreams had long since turned to ash.
When he reached the highest room in the castle, he paused. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.
Inside, Gellert Grindelwald sat by a small window, his once-fiery eyes now dulled by years of imprisonment. The two old men stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, the weight of their shared history hanging heavily in the air.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "It's been so many years."
Grindelwald smiled faintly, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're a heartless person, Albus. Not visiting for so long."
Dumbledore's expression was sad but resolute. "You know exactly why I didn't visit."
"It is because I know, I think you are heartless" Grindelwald replied then his smile faded, as he continued. "Things have changed now, haven't they?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. How much have you heard?"
Grindelwald leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. "A lot of things. Enough to leave me wondering what's true and what's not."
Dumbledore held up his shriveled hand, the effects of the Elder Wand's curse evident. "Most of it is probably true. This is the injury I received from fighting him. The Elder Wand, the Deathly Hallows—they were Horcruxes all along, Gellert. Dante Malfoy's Horcruxes. He is the Master of Death. He spread them in the world, but for what end? I don't know"
A solemn look crossed Grindelwald's face. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me everything."
Dumbledore nodded and began recounting everything he had seen and heard about Dante—his ancient history, his unimaginable power, the battle at Hogwarts, and the prophecy that foretold the end of the world. He spoke of Dante's ability to see magic, his immunity to the Killing Curse, and his plans that will destroy the world.
When Dumbledore finished, the room fell silent. Grindelwald sat back, his expression thoughtful.
"This is all we have on him," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "He's coming, Gellert. And I have no confidence in stopping him, I don't even know what he is planning. We need all the help we can get."
Grindelwald nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with a familiar fire. "I'll come out of Nurmengard. I'll summon my acolytes. For the greater good."
Dumbledore smiled faintly, the phrase echoing in his mind. "For the greater good."
The two men sat in silence, the weight of their decision settling over them. The storm was coming, and the wizarding world would need every ally it could find.
For the greater good, they would face the ancient evil together.
__________
The British Ministry of Magic was abuzz with activity as representatives from magical governments around the world gathered for an emergency meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. The urgency and importance of the meeting were likened to the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy centuries ago. The stakes were too high to ignore.
Cornelius Fudge, his face red and determined, stood at the head of the room. He began by explaining everything they knew about Dante Malfoy—his ancient origins, his past lives as figures like Herpo the Foul and Ekrizdis, and his role as the progenitor of dark magic. He recounted the battle at Hogwarts, where the combined forces of Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, aurors, and Death Eaters had ambushed Dante, only to be slaughtered.
"We believe Dante Malfoy is planning to return to Hogwarts to complete his plans," Fudge said, his voice steady but grim. "We need to prepare all the defenses we can to stop him. At the same time, we must search for his traces across the globe. He cannot be allowed to succeed."
The reaction to Fudge's words was mixed. Some representatives nodded in solemn agreement, while others exchanged skeptical glances. A few outright refused to believe the claims, dismissing them as madness.
Then, a wizard named Damian Twelvetrees stood up, his presence commanding the room. "Many here may not know this," he began, "but I am a descendant of Aristotle Twelvetrees, who represented America during the signing of the Statute of Secrecy centuries ago."
The room fell silent as Damian continued. "We have here the diaries of my ancestor. They mention that he was acquainted with Ekrizdis. In fact, the two belonged to the same tribe and the concealment magic used in the Statute of Secrecy was proposed by Ekrizdis decades before it was signed. My ancestor wrote that Ekrizdis was an eccentric and extremely powerful wizard working on unspeakable projects rejected by all the magic communities, supposedly to complete a larger goal that no one knew what it was. Even Nicholas Flamel opposed Ekrizdis in that era and erased his work to avoid spreading its vile nature. They were relieved when they thought he had finally passed away."
Cornelius Fudge nodded, his expression grave. "The dementors disappeared from Azkaban around the same time Dante vanished. We believe they are part of whatever he is planning. We can't afford to hesitate."
The French Minister of Magic raised a hand, his voice filled with concern. "What could he be planning exactly? What magic could destroy the world?"
Fudge shook his head. "No one knows. Personally, I don't want to find out. We have confirmed that house-elves are bound by magic created by Dante over ten thousand years ago. If he could create such magic back then, it's a nightmare to imagine what he's planning now—something that required thousands of years of preparation."
The room fell into a collective silence, the weight of Fudge's words sinking in. One by one, the ministers and representatives began to nod, their expressions resolute. The stakes were too high to ignore.
Finally, the French Minister spoke again. "We will help in defending Hogwarts. We cannot afford to stand at the side when the world is under such a threat."
The others echoed his sentiment, their voices united in purpose. The International Confederation of Wizards had made its decision. They would stand together against Dante Malfoy, no matter the cost.
___________
While the leaders of the magical world held urgent meetings and prepared for a battle that would determine the fate of their world, Dante Malfoy—the ancient seeker foretold in the darkest prophecy—was far removed from the chaos. He was in the eastern parts of Japan, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he wandered through bustling markets and serene landscapes.
Dante sat at a small, traditional eatery, savoring the local cuisine. The delicate flavors of sushi and the warmth of miso soup brought a rare smile to his face. He had always enjoyed exploring the world, immersing himself in its cultures and cuisines was just part of the exploration in his eyes. To him, these moments were a reminder of why he had lived for so long—to experience the beauty and complexity of the world and learn more of its mysteries.
After his meal, Dante made his way to a nearby river, where he spent hours studying the magical fish that swam beneath its surface. These creatures, unique to the region, fascinated him. Their scales shimmered with enchantments, and their movements hinted at ancient magic. Dante took meticulous notes.
He was blissfully unaware of the frantic preparations being made at Hogwarts or the global efforts to stop him. Even if he had known, he likely would have chuckled in amusement. The idea of the wizarding world uniting against him, building defenses and gathering armies, would have seemed almost quaint to him.
As the sun set over the Japanese countryside, Dante packed his notes and continued his journey. There was still so much to explore, so much to learn.
For now, the ancient seeker was content to wander, to study, and to wait. The storm would come, but it would come on his terms. And when it did, the world would see the true extent of his grand work.