Tom nodded. "I've read about it in history books, but this is the first time I've actually encountered it in person. Grindelwald's been defeated for fifty years, yet there are still people seeking revenge for him? But why come after you instead of Dumbledore?"
Newt's expression turned slightly odd. "Go after Dumbledore? I think… even before Grindelwald was imprisoned, most of his Saints wouldn't have dared to think of such a thing."
"Besides… truth be told, I've had more than a few dealings with Grindelwald myself."
"How many times? You plagued me for nearly twenty years!" Grindelwald's voice bellowed from within the study space. Andros was right there beside him, happily munching on metaphorical popcorn, enjoying the gossip. Honestly, life in this strange limbo was more comfortable than when he'd been alive.
Newt gazed at the night sky, as if seeing once again the white-haired man with that proud, unruly expression. "He was… a man of extraordinary personal charm. The future he painted for the wizarding world drove countless witches and wizards into a frenzy, many willingly pledging themselves to his banner."
"And Grindelwald himself worked tirelessly for that goal. But what he sought to achieve would have swept countless innocent lives into the crossfire. So Dumbledore thought of me—a wizard with few personal ties, but… other methods—and asked me to deal with him."
Other methods?
Tom thought back to what had just happened: a handful of magical creatures had already tossed eight fairly well-trained wizards into complete disarray. And those creatures were just the tip of the iceberg compared to what Newt kept in his enchanted case—let alone whatever he had released over the years.
The thought made Tom shiver. Better to provoke a Dark wizard than to tangle with a beast-tamer like Newt. Far too dangerous.
"Actually…" Newt's voice suddenly lowered, as if wary of eavesdroppers. "The first time I met Grindelwald was in New York. Dumbledore sent me—or rather, he steered me—into rescuing Frank. I had no choice but to bring him home."
"At the time, Grindelwald had already been impersonating the Head of the Auror Office, Percival Graves. By chance, Tina and I caught him, and we subdued him. But for safety's sake, the whole affair was never made public."
"Slander! He's slandering me!"
In the study space, Grindelwald was loudly defending himself to the now thoroughly entertained Andros. "They didn't capture me—I let them! Do you understand? I was infiltrating the MACUSA from the inside, working to sway them. And I succeeded!"
"Ah, yes, yes, of course." Andros nodded with utter insincerity. "And to sway others, you just have to get caught, right?"
Grindelwald was on the verge of fainting. "You know nothing! Getting caught is how you make them drop their guard. You muscle-brained brute, all you know is blasting through problems with magic—you don't understand hearts and minds!"
"Ah, yes, yes, of course."
"You—!"
Tom ignored the two old men squabbling in the background and instead turned to Newt with surprise. "You captured Grindelwald? That's a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore!"
Newt gave an embarrassed smile. "It was a combination of many… coincidences. I could sense Graves held a deep hostility toward me, though we had never met before. Only when he revealed his true identity did I understand—it was because…"
Halfway through, Newt abruptly stopped. If he continued, it would stray into certain… adult matters involving Dumbledore. And Tom was still a child. Best to keep that to himself.
"Don't tell anyone about this. I only want you to know why those Saints are targeting me. Their focus is on me alone. You won't be in any danger, so there's no need to worry."
"I understand." Tom nodded. Worry about the Saints?
He was only worried there weren't enough of them.
"But with such a great contribution, you've never let the public know—it's such a shame," Tom prodded slyly.
Newt's lips curved into a faint smile. "Once Grindelwald is dead, I'll publish a memoir to record those years."
Inside the study space, Grindelwald nearly passed out from rage.
Shrimp-and-pig heart! How many decades had it been, and you're still planning to dig up my grave?!
And you, you wrinkled relic in your nineties—what makes you so sure you'll outlive me?!
After hearing Newt's plans, Grindelwald made up his mind. Even if he had to cling to life with the foulest Dark magic, he would outlast Newt. The old man was not dying before him—no matter what!
"I think you don't need to be afraid," Tom said casually. "Just an old man locked away—no need to show him any courtesy. Best to write it now and get it published sooner."
In Tom's mind, if Voldemort never appeared, Grindelwald could easily keep breathing for another twenty or thirty years.
And Tom was impatient—he wanted those updates! The Bhutan election was still more than a decade away from '45. What had happened in between? He wanted to hear Newt's version, not the self-flattering drivel Grindelwald would tell.
A Hufflepuff's account was far more trustworthy.
Newt shook his head firmly. "No. Never underestimate Grindelwald. He escaped from MACUSA's prison once—he could do the same from Nurmengard. If we push him too far… the one to suffer wouldn't just be me. The entire European continent could be thrown into turmoil."
"All right, it's late. Go get some rest."
With that, Newt dusted off his coat and walked away. Tom sighed regretfully and returned to his own tent. Then he entered the study space—only to be greeted by the sight of Grindelwald's face, dark as a thundercloud, his eyes narrowed like a predator's.
The murderous intent wasn't aimed at him, of course. It was all for Newt.
"Tom," Grindelwald said coldly, "when you see MacDuff in August, ask about the Saints. Learn what you can about them. And if you can… help them."