"Oh, right, and that little girl—"

In the cramped tower room, Grindelwald nodded with a smile.

Boom!

Before anyone could react, a scarlet curse grazed the edge of Dumbledore's wizard hat and slammed into the stone wall behind.

"So… you're threatening me? Albus—Dumbledore!"

Power so immense it was almost unbelievable spread unreservedly throughout the confined space.

Like a dragon awakened from its slumber, it instantly froze the flow of air.

Cornelius Fudge and the others instinctively drew their wands, casting every protective spell they knew.

But the pressure continued to mount, unceasing.

This was not magic, merely pure intimidation, the raw suppressive force of immense magical power.

Grindelwald slowly rose from the wooden cot, a rapier-like wand of birch wood in his hand.

And directly in front of the wand tip, Dumbledore lightly raised his hand, effortlessly dispersing the oncoming wave of magical energy.

He didn't draw his wand. Even with Grindelwald's malice almost coalescing into a tangible form, the old wizard maintained his usual gentle demeanor.

"No, this is certainly not a threat, Gellert—"

Dumbledore said calmly, "I'm merely reminding you, the child is only eleven years old, while you are nearly one hundred and ten…"

"You are destined not to be with her for long, if you truly care… even just a little, you must consider this—"

"Perhaps your 'Purist Party' can look after her, but as Headmaster of Hogwarts, I still suggest you consider the Ministry of Magic, though you have refused once before…"

"Consider what… consider how to help you stabilize the situation, so you don't get driven out of office by panicked citizens?"

Grindelwald snorted, glancing dismissively at the wizards behind Dumbledore, a mocking smile on his face.

"The Ministry of Magic? It's not a constant, objective entity. The government is based on people, and people—gentlemen present, how much time do you have left in your terms? Especially after a dark wizard forced his way into the Ministry of Magic, how much time do you have left in office? If you want to use 'time' as a bargaining chip to persuade me, Dumbledore, you must at least be on the advantageous side, right?"

He paused for a few seconds, his wand lowered again, looking past Dumbledore to the rear.

"If I wanted to seek the Ministry of Magic as a 'future guardian,' why not wait a little longer? You… are more anxious than I am, aren't you?"

As Grindelwald's gaze swept over them, the officials standing behind Dumbledore appeared uneasy.

As the old dark wizard said, the front pages of magical newspapers in various countries had already been published.

The dilapidated, ruined Ministry of Magic atrium was a stark threat. What they lacked most was time to resolve the situation, and a way to ease the tension.

Just as the Ministry of Magic officials thought the negotiation had reached a stalemate and they had to wait for the "second option" proposed by Dumbledore, Grindelwald spoke again, "Of course, your suggestion has some merit, I do need to consider it more thoroughly—"

"I understand what you want, I can agree. However…"

Grindelwald grinned, twirling his wand in his hand, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Paracelsus's Destiny Group, you must have heard of it, right?"

"Since he 'reluctantly' 'adopted' Eileen, then take some time to transfer the ownership, assets, and everything else along with it—anyway, he's an immortal fellow. As for assets and companies… these are unlikely to be of much use to Mr. Paracelsus. Besides, even if Eileen inherits the Destiny Group, it won't prevent him from continuing his alchemical research."

"The Ministry of Magic assisting in the enforcement of some simple, just legal notarizations, that shouldn't be a particularly complicated, excessive request, right?"

Grindelwald looked at Cornelius Fudge and the others, asking carefully and seriously, looking like an old, law-abiding citizen.

"Grindelwald, Paracelsus has made many concessions. If you continue to press him step by step—"

Dumbledore's expression changed, his brow furrowing deeply, and he was about to retort.

"Ahem, if I say yes, then how do you plan to deal with 'that person'?"

At that moment, Cornelius Fudge coughed seemingly inadvertently, taking the initiative to continue Grindelwald's words.

"You should know what Horcruxes are, right? 'That person' is an unkillable monster now. What methods do you have to solve it?"

"Unkillable? No, no, no—"

Grindelwald's lips curled up, his gaunt fingers waving, a flash of wicked delight in his eyes.

"You can say temporarily unkillable, or temporarily unable to be completely killed—but in this world, there is absolutely nothing that cannot be killed. Let me tell you an introductory piece of knowledge about dark magic: anything that moves and has thoughts, when killed, will die."

"My solution is very simple—"

"Find that guy, and then just kill him cleanly and neatly, just like that."

"Uh—the problem is, he will resurrect…" The Swiss Minister for Magic swallowed hard.

"Then I'll wait for him to resurrect, find him, and kill him again," Grindelwald said without hesitation.

"But he can keep resurrecting…"

"Then keep killing him." Grindelwald nodded with a smile.

He impatiently picked at his ear, raised his hand to stop the meaningless question and answer, and said with a gentle smile.

"I understand the principles and workings of Horcruxes. Resurrection may not lose too much power, but at least it can never become stronger—and his number of resurrections is limited by the number of Horcruxes. He has how many Horcruxes, we will kill him how many times, until all the Horcruxes are exhausted."

"But…"

"At least during your terms in office, he resurrects how many times, I will kill him how many times. As for ten years later? Heh—"

"Then, how confident are you in defeating, um, I mean…"

The French Minister for Magic, Caster, pondered for a moment, and asked in a deep voice.

"…Killing that dark wizard?"

"Fifty percent, after all, he still has a certain chance to run away, but—"

Grindelwald smiled, adding, "If you add Mr. Dumbledore, and… um, Newt Scamander's little pets, the probability should be one hundred percent—if that doesn't succeed, then I suggest it's best to surrender early, what do you say?"

"Of course, before that, the deal…"

"Done! We can find a way to persuade Mr. Paracelsus."

The Austrian Minister of Magic suddenly said, exchanging a look with the surrounding officials.

"But there is a condition, at least after you have successfully killed Voldemort once, this deal will officially begin to be fulfilled."

"No problem—"

Grindelwald smiled inscrutably, a glint in his eye.

"Don't worry, if all goes well, you'll see his corpse soon enough…"