Grindelwald.
Although Maverick had never seen the man in person, there was simply no mistaking him. He had read enough about the infamous wizard, heard countless stories spoken with equal parts fear and fascination, and even seen a few old photographs over the years to recognize the man standing before him.
Time had clearly aged the man's face, carving years into his sharp features, but none of it diminished the overwhelming presence he carried. There was an effortless arrogance about him that felt almost natural, which made Maverick wonder just how had history even thought of placing Voldemort in the same category as this man.
"I have heard many things about you, young man," Grindelwald's pale eyes seemed almost fixated on Maverick, watching him with careful attention like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
His voice carried none of the frailty one might expect from a man who had spent more than fifty years imprisoned. "But every tale I heard appears to have underestimated you, and not by a small margin."
After saying, he turned slightly just as the air beside Maverick rippled strangely, followed by a dull twisting sound that echoed through the otherwise silent docklands.
A figure emerged, someone whose face both Maverick and Grindelwald recognized at once.
"Gellert..."
The instant Dumbledore laid eyes upon that familiar face, his pupils contracted sharply, the name escaping him almost unconsciously. Shock rippled across his face, followed by confusion and countless other emotions that appeared and vanished just as quickly, looking like a man standing before the impossible.
"Albus," Grindelwald replied, inclining his head slightly. A flicker of emotion crossed his face as well, something that seemed strangely melancholic before it disappeared beneath composure once more. "I heard, old friend, you were dying..."
"When did you leave Nurmengard?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring the remark entirely.
Close by, Maverick could not help arching an eyebrow, it almost sounded like Grindelwald could have left whenever he wanted.
A quiet chuckle escaped Grindelwald. "Not only are you apparently alive and well, Albus, but you also seem to have broken the chains suppressing your magic all these years." His pale eyes glimmered faintly with amusement as they lifted toward the half-moon hanging above them. "Which leaves me wondering what sort of grand deception you are weaving this time to fool the rest of the world."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed behind his half-moon spectacles. It appears not even half a century spent in isolation had managed to change his old friend.
Other than the abyss-like depth his magic now possessed, Grindelwald was just as calculating as Dumbledore remembered, dancing around questions and speaking in circles, as though every conversation needed to become some elaborate game.
"You haven't answered my question, Gellert." Dumbledore asked again, a trace of coldness and growing impatience slipping into his tone this time.
"Very well," Grindelwald let out a quiet breath, seemingly ready to finally answer Dumbledore's question, but his attention drifted back toward Maverick first before any words came.
"Well I have you to thank for my freedom, young man."
Maverick said nothing, but one of his eyebrows rose slightly.
"Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect? A clever idea, I must admit. Surprisingly insightful for something created by Muggles..."
"There was a time when fate had already decided I would spend the rest of my life rotting inside Nurmengard," Grindelwald continued in the same calm tone. "Then you arrived and changed the course of events so completely that every future I once saw collapsed into something unrecognizable."
His pale eyes wondered toward the distant capital, "I am curious... that creature you pursued was clearly far beneath you, yet you hunted it relentlessly for so long. People rarely devote such effort to something so insignificant unless there is a far greater purpose hidden beneath it."
Maverick listened in silence, though inwardly his thoughts had already begun racing. Encountering Grindelwald here had already complicated things enough, but sensing the monstrous depth behind the man's magic, one that rivaled his own, made matters considerably worse.
And the timing could not have been worse. Grindelwald's sudden appearance had introduced a massive variable into plans Maverick had spent years carefully arranging, plans that were now nearing their conclusion.
He wasn't perticularly worried about a fight breaking out though, nor concerned about Grindelwald somehow gaining the upper hand. If he truly used every trump card at his disposal, then even Grindelwald, despite being a warlock-ranked mage, would ultimately lose to him. Not to mention Dumbledore was standing right beside him, along with the Four Founders and Merlin himself close by.
In all honesty, Maverick was just irritated. After carefully moving every piece into place for so long, having another one suddenly appear from nowhere made him want to... punch someone.
He didn't even bother commenting on the man's rambling about fate and butterflies, ignoring the speech entirely. Maybe there was some truth there, maybe not. Honestly, he couldn't care less. Besides, he detested the word prophecy, along with anything even remotely connected to it.
"What do you want?" so he asked straightforwardly.
Finding out what this old relic wanted was the priority. If Grindelwald intended to meddle in his current affairs, then so be it. If words failed, the matter could simply be settled through magic. It had been quite some time since he last had a proper chance to vent anyway.
Almost the moment Maverick made his decision, Grindelwald seemed to sense it too. Nearby, Dumbledore's eyes also turned quietly toward him, absent of their usual twinkle and instead carrying a silent question, are you certain about this?
Dead certain!
The silent understanding that passed between Maverick and Dumbledore ofcourse did not escape Grindelwald's keen magical sense, as a slow smile curled onto the old wizard's face, though this one carried none of the earlier amusement, instead, it looked cold enough to cut.
Sigh... He let out a quiet breath, and the smile on his face vanished completely, his eyes slowly closing before snapping open sharply again.
Rumble!
For a single heartbeat, the world seemed frozen in place while a slow tremor spread through the air and ground alike.
Then—BOOOOM—!
A crushing pressure erupted outward with Grindelwald at its center, vast, majestic, and so arrogantly overbearing like the wrath of some ancient god descending upon the world.
No exaggeration, it was the most tyrannical and overwhelmingly dominant spirit Maverick had ever felt.
He had never truly experienced the full pressure of the Four Founders or Merlin for that matter, so he could not properly compare them directly, but barring anyone else, Grindelwald's arrogance alone was enough to make Maverick seriously reconsider whether provoking this man had really been such a good idea.
The sheer weight behind it was so overwhelming that even the rusted metal beneath the first generation dark lord's feet let out shrieking groans under the strain, as though unable to endure the pressure pressing down upon it.
The pressure slammed into Maverick like a runaway train, forcing him backward several steps, while from below came the deafening sound of metal and concrete bursting apart into fragments.
Dumbledore likewise was also caught off guard, the two of them raising arm against the pressure while the hems of their coats whipped furiously.
The sky above had also changed, darkening as though clouds from some terrible storm had been summoned overhead. The wind died at first, only to erupt moments later like a hurricane, while even the distant sounds of sirens coming from the city vanished completely.
However, Maverick and Dumbledore were caught off guard for only a moment before they too, perhaps unintentionally, perhaps not, answered with their own magic erupting outward.
Boom— followed only a moment later by another, Boom, and then a third, Boom.
Three overwhelming and monstrous forces collided head-on, and the aftermath that followed was nothing short of deafening.
The instant the three warlocks unleashed their magic, the entire sky changed. Far away in the capital, countless people stopped in their tracks, they who had thought the worst of tonight's chaos was over felt the color drain from their faces once again.
Confusion and fear spread throughout, countless people raising their heads. The sky, which had been partially clear only moments earlier, suddenly began to churn violently, as though some invisible hand had reached down and stirred the heavens themselves.
Within seconds, enormous masses of dark clouds had gathered, twisting and colliding like a monstrous storm on the verge of being unleashed upon them.
Thunder roared in every direction simultaneously, but that was only the beginning.
"They're tearing apart..."
"Heavens above... it's almost like they're competing for dominance..."
People began murmuring aloud in shock and astonishment, with no small amount of fear mixed into their expressions as well.
Before their very eyes, the churning clouds had split into three clearly distinct sections, each side violently pushing against the other two as though struggling for control, yet somehow remaining locked in a terrifying balance.
---
"Now we're talking... Wahahahaha!"
At the same time, somewhere above London, another group was also observing the drastic changes unfolding across the sky. Unlike the ordinary people below, however, they were close enough to feel the full overwhelming force released by the collision of the three powers.
Godric Gryffindor laughed heartily, appearing almost thrilled by the violent magical storm raging against his own. His beard and hair whipped violently while his eyes gleamed brightly, an almost fanatical grin spreading across his face.
"My blood... it hasn't boiled like this in centuries—"
"Quiet, you moron," Salazar Slytherin snapped sharply from beside him, throwing him a cold sideways glance. "This is no laughing matter."
"Salazar is right, Godric," Rowena Ravenclaw added, her expression also grim, staring toward the distant sky. "They must not be allowed to fight here."
Even Helga Hufflepuff's face looked unusually serious, though she remained silent. All four of them kept their eyes fixed on the man standing before them, Merlin, who stood there like an indestructible wall, both hands resting atop his cane.
The easygoing expression he usually wore had long disappeared, replaced now with visible solemnity.
He had not merely been observing either. Just moments earlier, he had already made his move, calmly lifting his cane before lowering it once more.
The move itself may have looked insignificant, far too simple to have done anything at all, but Merlin was a mage of the Supreme Rank, after all. Even the smallest gesture from someone like him carried unfathomable consequences.
With that single motion, he had instantly, yes, instantly, cast a dome of magic over the entirety of London, shielding the city from the tsunami-like waves of magical pressure spreading outward from the clash between the three warlocks. Had he not acted, the city's population would already have collapsed unconscious.
"Ambrosius..." A portal suddenly opened nearby, and the Ancient One stepped through it, her expression far darker than usual. "Are you seriously considering what I think you are?"
"You're back?" Merlin said calmly, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. "Did they make matters difficult?"
Whether intentionally or not, he appeared to have completely sidestepped the Sorcerer Supreme's earlier question.
"My avatar is still there," replied the Ancient One while resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She glared, "Stop avoiding the question... Are you, or not, planning to let them continue fighting out in the open?"
Sigh... Merlin finally let out a helpless breath. "Nothing you fear will happen, Yao. Or perhaps it has been so long that you doubt me to handle three mere children?"
The Ancient One's glare intensified after he said that, for several long seconds, she fixed on him before finally letting out a slow breath as well.
"Have it your way then..." she said finally. "I can prevent the others from interfering, provided, of course, that you can keep your word. But you are going to owe me dearly for this, Ambrosius." And with those final words, she didn't even wait for a response before vanishing once more.
The Four Founders remained silent throughout the exchange. To anyone else, the conversation between the two Supremes might have sounded overly dramatic, but they understood perfectly why the Sorcerer Supreme had reacted that way.
A clash between demigods was no small matter, let alone three — the aftermath alone would be catastrophic, and that was only part of it.
Ordinary people simply could not withstand the tyrannical pressure released when beings like them truly went all out, and would be enough to knock them unconscious on the spot.
From accidents alone, who knows how many would die, so it goes without saying what would happen if millions of people throughout London suddenly collapsed at once. Catastrophic would be an understatement.
"Teacher... what are your orders?" Moments after the Sorcerer Supreme disappeared, Rowena Ravenclaw asked quietly while looking toward her mentor's unmoving back.
"Scatter," Merlin answered without turning around. "Continue what you have been doing. I will handle the matter here and dictate where they fight."
The Four Founders nodded solemnly before disappearing as well, leaving Merlin standing alone in the sky.
Within his silver eyes, the distant battle reflected clearly. Blue. Orange, and Black.
Three colors flickered within his pupils, colossal manifestations of magic that had already begun taking shape.
The clash had clearly escalated beyond mere collisions of magical pressure now, to something far more tangible.
ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!
The sky eventually filled with three enormous creatures straight out of myth and legend.
A gigantic blue-cyan dragon stretched across the sky, its enormous wings blotting out half the horizon with every thunderous flap. Opposite it soared a majestic phoenix just as massive, its blazing form illuminating the storm-covered sky like a second sun.
And finally, a raven-black creature so unnaturally dark that its true features could barely be seen at all, its body appearing more like a living abyss carved into the sky itself. Only the deep crimson aura pouring from it, darker and thicker than blood, outlined the monstrous silhouette lurking within the darkness.
Merlin raised his head toward where the enormous constructs now covered nearly the entire sky. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering what the humans below must be thinking as they stared at such an otherworldly scene.
In truth, this was precisely why he had decided to let them clash openly before the world.
Sure, the earlier spectacle involving Voldemort had already been enough to prove a point, but since an even greater opportunity had suddenly presented itself, there was little reason to stop just there.
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