The students were divided into two groups.
They couldn't move. They couldn't interfere. They could only watch.
One group stared at Voldemort as he charged forward-more precisely, at the students Voldemort had chosen as his targets. In that moment, their attention couldn't be anywhere else.
The other group was instinctively drawn to the green light.
Avada Kedavra.
An Unforgivable Curse.
Once struck, there was only death. The only known exception was the Boy Who Lived-Harry Potter.
As Harry watched the green light erupt from Voldemort's wand, the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead throbbed violently.
A memory surfaced.
A brilliant green flash.
But this time, the spell wasn't meant for him.
It was aimed at Mr. Wardling on the pitch.
At that moment, Harry still didn't know that Wardling's true identity was Grindelwald.
Most people never think to reverse a name.
"Dodge... dodge!" Harry screamed internally.
Under everyone's gaze, Grindelwald remained calm. He simply leaned slightly to the side.
Avada Kedavra was fast.
But no matter how fast a spell was, if it didn't hit, it was meaningless.
With that subtle movement, the green light brushed past him.
Then it struck something invisible and vanished.
An air wall.
Morin's work.
He never relied on Grindelwald alone. A protective "Vacuum" shield was essential.
This vacuum wasn't literal. It was magical.
It isolated magic itself.
As the foremost of the Killing Curses, Avada Kedavra was notoriously difficult to block. Even striking inanimate objects caused explosions and green flames.
But it was still made of particles.
As long as the electromagnetic field was strong enough, it could be suppressed and decomposed.
One of the four fundamental forces.
It governed everything.
Whether it worked depended only on strength and application.
Just another day of disappointment for the so-called "Master of Magnetism."
Grindelwald paid none of this any mind.
Before the battle, Morin had made it clear: he would handle everything outside the field. Voldemort was Grindelwald's responsibility.
This was a test.
If he failed, it meant he was unqualified. And the weak had no right to cooperate with the strong.
He shook his head slightly.
"Avada Kedavra?" his voice echoed across the pitch. "How lacking is your combat experience? Or is your opponent simply too weak?"
As he spoke, Grindelwald lifted his wand and drew a circle in the air.
Magical elements surged violently, gathering and manifesting.
Fire.
But not ordinary fire.
This flame burned all living things and devoured anything combustible.
Fiendfyre.
Both a flame and a curse. A high-level dark art.
Anyone could use it.
Very few could control it.
In another context, Hermione had called Fiendfyre an evil fire. One of the few forces capable of destroying a Horcrux. She'd never dared to use it.
Too dangerous.
That concern didn't apply to Grindelwald.
He was a Dark Lord.
The Fiendfyre roared to life, restricted to a precise range, forming a wall of fire that cut off Voldemort's advance.
It spread further, surrounding the entire Quidditch pitch.
Within the flames, countless terrifying creatures took shape.
They waited.
Voldemort was forced to stop.
He turned and fired another Avada Kedavra.
The most frightening aspect of Fiendfyre wasn't its power.
It was persistence.
Unlike ordinary spells, it didn't fade if the caster died, nor did it dissipate over time. Once invoked, it could only be suppressed by Finite Incantatem.
If Grindelwald died, the fire would spiral out of control.
Chaos would follow.
And Voldemort could escape.
Naturally, Voldemort wouldn't waste magic on Finite Incantatem. It cost more than Avada Kedavra, and he never made losing trades.
"I suppose my position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is secure," Grindelwald said, leaning again to avoid the green light. "So let me teach you something."
His voice carried effortlessly.
"Avada Kedavra is feared because once it hits, death is nearly guaranteed. That is its strength."
He paused.
"And also its weakness."
The students were silent.
"The trajectory is fixed," Grindelwald continued. "Anyone with even minimal combat experience can predict and dodge it, provided there's distance."
He gestured casually.
"In short... you just need legs."
The stands remained silent.
Is that really all?
Can you not say it like that?
"So," Grindelwald went on, "when facing a single opponent in open terrain, Avada Kedavra is a poor choice. Unless multiple casters coordinate perfectly, it's ineffective."
He flicked his wand, forming a transparent shield that blocked the Cruciatus Curse.
"Unless, of course, you possess a spell or item capable of blocking it. Or you erect a thick wall-but then you lose vision. So the best option remains prediction and evasion."
He spoke from experience.
Hundreds of battles.
Thousands.
Many of his opponents had used Avada Kedavra.
And he was still alive.
His standards were simply... elevated.
He was a max-level existence. His enemies had been formidable too.
So to him, this really was simple.
"Now then," Grindelwald said, reshaping his wand again. "Combat is about controlling the field so you can attack safely."
A sudden burst of light erupted from the wand's tip.
Straight at Quirrell's eyes.
It was like staring into the sun.
Or a child's laser pointer-magnified, thickened, weaponized.
Voldemort was focused on Grindelwald's position.
Attached to the back of Quirrell's head, he couldn't force the body to turn away.
The light struck directly.
Quirrell screamed.
"I can't see! Idiot!" Voldemort snarled. "Turn around!"
"Too weak," Grindelwald said calmly. "This is just one of the wand's minor functions. No incantation required."
A perfectly natural advertisement.
"Perhaps your current vessel is inconvenient," he continued. "If this is all you can do, then your soul will perish here today."
"How do you know?" Voldemort demanded.
"It's difficult to remain hidden forever," Grindelwald replied. "There are always tells."
He flicked his wand.
"Any more tricks? Use them."
"Fiendfyre!"
Voldemort unleashed the curse.
Not at Grindelwald.
At the Fiendfyre wall itself.
The flames merged instantly.
Fiendfyre did not oppose Fiendfyre.
The circle swelled violently, mixed with Voldemort's unstable control.
The entire formation trembled.
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow.
He understood.
A straightforward scheme.
Maintaining control was harder than causing destruction.
If Grindelwald focused on stabilizing the fire, Voldemort would gain openings.
If he failed, the fire would spread.
And the students would be the first to die.
Voldemort was talented.
Strategic.
But this time, he was limited.
Borrowed body.
Inferior hardware.
A clever cook still needed rice.
"A fine plan," Grindelwald said approvingly. "You've finally shown some skill."
"Finite Incantatem."
The Fiendfyre began to contract.
He could have let it spread. Morin or Dumbledore would have handled it.
But that would be calling for backup.
Grindelwald didn't call for backup against a junior with a shattered soul and a stolen body.
Winning that way would be worse than losing.
"Arrogant!" Voldemort roared, launching another Unforgivable Curse.
Grindelwald expanded his wand again.
A transparent shield unfolded, blocking the spell without obscuring his vision.
"Strength determines outcomes," he said calmly. "And equipment advantage is also strength."
He gestured slightly.
"This shield is made of a special material. It blocks most spells while preserving visibility. That confidence matters in offense."
From the sidelines, Dumbledore's eye twitched.
He looked at Morin.
"Is this what you meant by a product launch?"
"What's more convincing than real combat?" Morin replied. "The opponent's identity guarantees authenticity. And defeating Voldemort-even a fragment-will be remembered."
He smiled faintly.
"The headline writes itself."
Below them, spells continued to clash.
Grindelwald demonstrated every function Morin had built into the new wand.
Perfectly.
And because the opponent was Voldemort, the effect was undeniable.
The students' eyes widened.
Fear gave way to awe.
Thoughts crept in.
Voldemort doesn't seem that unbeatable.
Mr. Wardling is terrifying.
That wand is different from Ollivander's.
I want one.
When students from all seven years thought this-
They would tell their families.
Just as Morin predicted.
This was the greatest product launch in history.
One that would echo across the entire wizarding world.