— — — — — —
With a thought, Tom pulled Grindelwald's consciousness into the study space and opened shared vision.
"Take a look. Recognise him?"
Grindelwald had been confused, but when Tom prompted him, he finally focused on Percival. After studying the man for a moment, his frown slowly eased. With a hint of uncertainty, he asked: "…Percival Graves?"
"That's right."
"And why are you looking for him—oh, right... His grandson crossed you." Grindelwald remembered halfway through. The matter was so trivial he'd forgotten it altogether, though he hadn't expected Tom to have a grudge even smaller than that. Crossing the ocean for payback… impressive pettiness.
Still, he reminded him, "That old fox is no pushover. Keep your guard up. Don't let him sucker you."
If Grindelwald was willing to say someone wasn't simple, then that person definitely had real ability.
At the very least, Hogwarts' four heads of house had never received such praise. Even McGonagall, whose Transfiguration was the best of the lot, barely counted as "acceptable" to Grindelwald.
The others weren't worth mentioning.
Tom had once defended his own head of house, insisting Snape's potion mastery had been praised by Dumbledore himself. And Grindelwald just snorted at that.
Old G was a complete power absolutist. Anything that couldn't be used to fight or kill was, to him, a sideshow. Even his own prophetic ability didn't impress him much.
So... Why had Grindelwald chosen to impersonate Percival back then?
The first reason was obvious. Percival held a high enough position. In his thirties, he was already Director of Magical Security and Chief of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Basically the combined authority of Bones and Scrimgeour. Even President Picquery treated him with respect.
And how had a man in his thirties climbed so high?
Well, simply because Percival was strong. Grindelwald had told Tom before: subduing Percival back then took real effort. It was an excellent duel.
Impersonating someone powerful and highly placed meant Grindelwald could act more freely, boldly, without fear of drawing suspicion.
Later, when he easily defeated Newt and Tina with wandless magic, no one had been surprised. Even when he was surrounded and arrested by dozens of Aurors, no one suspected him. If Newt hadn't been sharp enough to expose his true form with magic, everyone would've assumed Percival was simply capable of those feats.
Decades had passed since then. Even if the old man hadn't grown stronger, he still deserved respect.
"..."
Tom had never underestimated an enemy. So the moment he stepped into the room, he kept his magic sight active. Even without wand movement or incantations, magical fluctuations couldn't be hidden. If Percival made even a hint of a move, Tom would sense it instantly and strike first.
And Tom can see it... Within his magical vision, Percival's power clearly surpassed the four heads of house level. He was even stronger than Grindelwald's best hitman, Gunnar Grimmson.
About on par with Aberforth.
After a brief silence, Tom dragged a cushioned chair over, sat down with exaggerated ease, and smiled.
"I've heard a lot about you, Percival Graves. You were quite the star back in the day."
Percival let out a dry chuckle. "A star? I suppose so. Among the people Grindelwald impersonated, I probably ranked the highest."
"That's something, at least." Tom tapped the chair's armrest idly. "How about it? Feel like an intense exciting duel?"
"I'll pass," Percival said cheerfully, shaking his head. "These old bones can't handle that anymore. I'd rather not die today. I've still got unfinished business."
Tom tilted his head. "Old man, I killed your descendants. You're not thinking of avenging them?"
Percival kept smiling. "I saw everything clearly. You never struck to kill. Kahn hit you with the Killing Curse first and accidentally killed Tracy. You killed him in return. No one else is to blame."
Tom pointed out the window. "You saw the sign?"
Percival didn't flinch. "After the humiliation Grindelwald put me through, this is nothing."
"Young man, whatever went on between you and Robert is his business. You should focus on the storm that's coming."
The old man was like a turtle in its shell. No matter how much Tom tried to provoke him, Percival didn't react. In the end, he simply closed his eyes and refused to speak.
"Tsk. Fine. I'll wait for the day you go looking for Grindelwald and get yourself killed."
That finally broke the old man's composure. His eyes opened a sliver, and a cold gleam flashed inside.
Tom chuckled, suddenly bored with him. He left the bedroom, though he didn't leave the Graves estate just yet. Instead, he found the library and began clearing it out.
Only after Tom had been gone for quite a while did a young witch dare sneak out through the side door. Trembling, she asked, "Great-grandfather… should I go ask for help?"
Percival shook his head. "Not yet. Write to your father and to the rest of the family. Tell them to return. The Graves family has had it far too easy these years. Some humiliation might finally cool your heads."
"In this world, influence is nothing but the shell your power fills. Without real strength, no matter how great your reputation is, it's just a castle in the sky. When you meet someone truly powerful, it collapses immediately."
Percival walked back out onto the balcony. He didn't look at his devastated descendants. Instead, he lifted his gaze to the sky, where Usaki's massive form flickered in and out of the clouds.
A spark of longing flashed in his eyes.
If he had a creature that strong… his chances of revenge would skyrocket.
Yes, Tom hadn't been wrong. Ever since Grindelwald broke out, the only thing keeping Percival alive was the thought of revenge. Even if it meant dying together, he'd accept it.
The reason he hadn't shown himself during Grindelwald's rampage across North America was simple: he knew he wasn't strong enough. He had to wait. Wait for the moment he could strike with certainty and land a killing blow.
What he didn't know was that Grindelwald had seen every reaction he just had… and hadn't taken any of it seriously.
After witnessing Andros, Grindelwald finally understood how much a wizard's state of mind could affect their strength.
Someone whose courage had been shattered could dress it up as "biding his time" or "waiting for an opportunity," but at its core, it was fear. Just like Grindelwald himself when he played cautious against Dumbledore back then. Without a change in mindset, he'd never have stood a chance.
---
Inside the library, books floated in front of Tom one after another, flipping themselves open as he projected each into his study space.
When he came across a copy of {The Graves Family Chronicle}, he paused, took it in hand, and flipped through it quickly.
By the end, he was deeply disappointed.
He'd thought the Graves family had chosen this remote place for their ancestral home because of some hidden secret. But no… it was just a gold mine.
Grindelwald had been watching Tom's movements the whole time. Seeing Tom's disgruntled expression, he couldn't resist laughing.
"Tom, what exactly did you think? Do you know what kind of people came to North America in those days? Failures and desperate men, mostly penniless. Back then, money meant everything to the Graves. A gold mine was enough to keep them standing on this continent. Building their estate on top of it was perfectly reasonable."
"Make sense." Tom tossed the heavy book aside. "Did you find anything on your end?"
"If only it were that easy." Grindelwald snorted. "Do you know why the forests of Albania are a haven for dark wizards, why anyone who's in trouble flees there?"
"That forest has a strange aura. It's hard to survive in, and it interferes with magic. It wipes out magical traces. Even I need time to hunt down anything inside it."
Tom knew that. He only asked to shift the topic so Grindelwald would stop mocking him.
"I might be able to help."
A gentle woman's voice drifted into their conversation. Rowena Ravenclaw appeared without either of them noticing. "I invented a tracking spell. It was how young Baron managed to find Helena."
"That's excellent news. Thank you, Lady Ravenclaw." Grindelwald's eyes lit up. A spell invented by a legendary witch was no small thing.
Tom shot him a look of pure disdain. "Look at Ravenclaw, then look at you. Can't even handle a small task."
Grindelwald's face twitched. If Voldemort were as easy to find as Tom made it sound, Dumbledore wouldn't still be waiting.
...
Once Tom finished scanning every book in the library, he picked a random room, destroyed the estate's entire Floo network, and left the Graves lying in the snow. Some of them were waking up already, but he didn't bother with them.
Everyone's wand had been destroyed. They weren't even declawed tigers anymore, more like toothless cats.
Tom walked right through their midst. They glared at him with venom, but none of them dared lift a finger.
At the iron gate, Tom bent one section of the bars open and planted a sign beside it. The sign read "Pig Hole." He scratched out the picture of the pig on the larger plaque, then turned toward the dazed family members scattered around.
"I thought about it. I really did go a bit too far with that sign. How could I bully pigs like that?"
"So, you can use this entrance to leave. I'm not a monster."
His grin was radiant, but to the Graves family, it was more terrifying than a demon's. If they actually crawled through that hole, they'd be admitting they were worse than pigs. How would the Graves family ever show their faces in North America again?
"All right, I'm heading out. No need to see me off."
As if saying goodbye to old friends, Tom gave them a cheerful wave and walked off into the snowstorm.
...
Hours later, more Graves family members finally returned. They had planned to take the Floo network straight back, but it failed. They had to arrive at a nearby public fireplace and Apparate from there.
Dragonfire dropped from the sky before they could even finish Apparating, forcing them out of the shifting space and slamming them onto the ground outside the estate. A deafening roar and an explosion followed.
Percival stared at the two family members passed out at the gate and let out a long sigh.
"Contact the Congress. Ask for help."
Even he hadn't expected Tom to go this far, leaving his pet behind to block the entrance. This was more than humiliation. He was grinding the Graves name into the dirt.
.
.
.