"Of course, I know none of you will actually master this, and even if you did, you'd likely botch the execution," Grindelwald surveyed the students impassively. "So, I'm prepared to teach you alternative methods."
...
Rewind to the previous night.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald were in the Headmaster's Office, winding down after their return to Hogwarts Castle.
"Albus, what are your thoughts... if young wizards were to encounter giants, how should they best protect themselves?" Grindelwald inquired, plucking a stray berry from the plate Dumbledore had "neglected" and sampling it.
The Headmaster's Office was indeed stocked with more than just sweets; it also featured fruit—meant for guests, of course. Whether Dumbledore himself ever partook was another matter entirely.
"..."
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, taking his time to respond. "You suggest... that this is also worthwhile."
While Gropp was still a minor and not malicious by nature, his sheer strength presented an unavoidable risk of accidental harm. Furthermore, the students might still face giants—even fully grown ones—after they graduated. It was useful for them to learn how to protect themselves in such confrontations.
"But Gellert, I confess I'm surprised to see you so concerned with such matters."
Although unsure of Grindelwald's precise motives, Dumbledore was quite certain that "respect for elders and care for the young" wasn't exactly Grindelwald's mantra, and he doubted such concern stemmed from genuine care for the students' well-being.
Grindelwald offered no denial, merely a cryptic smile and contemplative silence.
"So, what method do you propose I impart to them for dealing with giants?" Grindelwald steered the conversation. "Perhaps we should summon Tom Riddle to brainstorm? The boy's a veritable wellspring of mischief; he's bound to have a few tricks up his sleeve."
"That won't be necessary."
Dumbledore brushed off Grindelwald's suggestion, unfazed by the abrupt shift in topic. "I've been instructing students for decades, after all. I've accumulated some practical experience in these matters."
"But you must appreciate the sheer powerlessness of a juvenile wizard, barely of age, when pitted against a fully grown giant."
Grindelwald paused thoughtfully. "They stand virtually no chance of prevailing."
"Precisely. Therefore, what we must impart to them is the art of self-preservation," Dumbledore emphasized. "Not the delusion of conquest."
...
Back to the present.
Grindelwald ruminated on his discourse with Dumbledore from the previous evening.
Originally, his approach had been centered on "how to enable a weakling to defeat a much stronger foe."
After all, that was his trademark: seeking out methods of confrontation.
But Dumbledore's perspective had broadened his focus.
These whelps could not possibly hope to defeat giants, but all that was required was for them to live to tell the tale.
"Should you encounter giants," Grindelwald spoke, conjuring an illusory forest that played out a scene of "young wizards encountering giants."
"You might... attempt communication initially."
The words felt foreign on his tongue.
But Dumbledore had insisted on it. "Giants are capable of communication. While understanding their language might be beyond you, alternative methods exist, such as rudimentary gestures."
"However, should your interactions devolve into conflict, and the situation spirals beyond redemption..." Grindelwald assumed a grave demeanor. "Your only recourse is to flee."
He spoke without jest or flippancy, embracing the role of a genuine instructor, imparting genuine knowledge to his students.
Of course, this transformation wasn't entirely Grindelwald's own doing.
Tom Riddle had recently conveyed a message suggesting that while he might never be "Dumbledore's favorite student," he still had potential to become "Dumbledore's favorite colleague," whatever that meant.
Moreover, if he committed to teaching diligently, Tom Riddle insinuated that he might even manipulate Albus into embarking on a honeymoon with him - a private escape for just the two of them.
"..."
Grindelwald squinted, acknowledging Tom Riddle's manipulative prowess.
Grindelwald internally protested that he was not being manipulated. He harbored no desire for a honeymoon with Dumbledore; instead, he sought recognition as a role-model educator.
Please, call him Professor Gellert Grindelwald!
"Typically, outrunning a giant exceeding seven meters in height is an impossibility."
Grindelwald altered the illusory scene, showcasing a "young wizard" employing magic to disorient the giant. "However, by sowing confusion or diverting their attention, and capitalizing on the surrounding environment, escape is not entirely beyond the realm of possibility."
"While instruction in this particular spell is typically reserved for the following year... its early introduction is not unwarranted."
Grindelwald nonchalantly summoned a toad, which fluttered over to him. With a casual flick of his wand, he intoned, "Confundo!"
Though unspectacular in its execution, the toad shuddered violently. Then, as if lured by an irresistible beacon, it propelled itself in the opposite direction.
"This spell confounds the senses of the afflicted. With sufficient finesse, you can even influence their actions."
Grindelwald lowered his wand. "However, given that none of you possess an abundance of latent genius, I advise employing utmost concentration when casting it."
"..."
The students listened intently, choosing to ignore Grindelwald's earlier chastisements.
They found themselves intrigued by the new spell Grindelwald taught, sensing the potential to create a budget version of the Imperius Curse if applied skillfully.
While their status as Death Eaters had not yet afforded them the ability to wield the Imperius Curse, a low-cost substitute would certainly be useful! Witnessing Grindelwald "expending his twilight years" to illuminate his "Death Eater blossoms," Tom Riddle nodded approvingly before serenely resuming his tea.
With Grindelwald occupying the teacher's seat, he was freed from his self-appointed "tutoring" responsibilities.
After all, the students' Defense Against the Dark Arts education had been... wanting, for the past several years.
But they were his underlings, and he would undoubtedly need them after their elders had passed. Tom Riddle simply couldn't afford to let them become complete incompetents.
...
In addition to the Confundus Charm and the proper wand stances, Grindelwald also shared various insights and techniques gleaned from his own experiences.
As for the rest... that was left to the young wizards to hone through individual practice.
"You may venture into the Forbidden Forest and experiment with that giant."
Grindelwald still firmly advocated for practical experience as the most effective means of facilitating his students' growth—a pedagogical philosophy he had only grasped that very day.
He contemplated capturing other dark creatures to serve as real-world teaching tools.
Whether the students might accidentally kill themselves whilst practicing independently... frankly, he was reluctant to burden himself with such trifles. He was almost eager to pronounce that only exceptionally talented wizards were deserving of his tutelage.
However, mindful of his newfound standing as "Dumbledore's favorite colleague" and Tom Riddle's tempting promise of a "honeymoon excursion with Al," Grindelwald hesitated before modifying his instruction. "Never mind, I'll take you later. No one is allowed in the Forbidden Forest without the professor's explicit authorization!"
---