Oh? That old fool came in person?

In the middle of the gathering, Blake briefly recounted the events of the night.

Gasps and exclamations rippled through the audience.

Blake said, "If possible, I'd like to know if there are other vampires like him in the world."

"Don't worry, leave it to us!"

"Yes! There's nothing we can't do!"

A group of elderly witches and wizards, eyes blazing with youthful excitement, echoed their determination.

Whatever Blake personally thought, his words landed on their ears like a command.

It was the first order given by young Grindelwald since stepping out from behind the curtain.

"Alright, I'll excuse you all," Blake said with a smile.

Grindelwald said a few more words, and slowly the crowd dispersed. Within minutes, the stadium that had been packed moments ago stood empty.

Only then did Blake notice something peculiar—Nurmengard didn't have anti-Apparition spells.

But—

Another group of old but fierce-eyed wizards vanished into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.

Blake sighed in relief. With such formidable guards, few could enter Nurmengard and leave unscathed.

Tonight's vampire had been a rare exception.

Just then, Vita approached with Winsty. They had arrived earlier but stayed back due to the crowd. Now, with the place quiet, they came forward.

Winsty stared at the monster trapped in the ice coffin. Her expression was hard to read—layers of memory and pain crossing her face.

Once, this creature had posed as a loving father.

But that, she knew now, had been a cruel lie.

He was just a vampire…

And she still remembered that day—how suddenly the game ended, how the mask dropped, and how her mother died, eyes wide in horror.

"Winsty…"

Blake's voice drew her out of the memory.

"We've captured him. We wanted your input on what to do next."

Winsty's eyes lingered on the frozen monster—grotesque and terrifying.

Her old nightmare, now encased in ice.

Vita gently squeezed her shoulder in support.

Winsty swallowed hard.

"I have no objection to how you deal with him, but… I don't want to see him again."

She couldn't bring herself to say the words kill my father—so she left the decision to Blake.

Blake nodded. "Don't worry. No matter what, you'll never see him again."

He didn't specify how he'd handle the vampire—only promised to end Winsty's nightmare for good.

And he meant it.

From his pocket, Blake pulled out a large suitcase—empty and perfect for holding the ice coffin.

He climbed into the suitcase and transformed the interior environment—creating a frozen tundra to keep the coffin preserved.

Having worked with Newt Scamander, Blake had long since mastered the art of suitcase habitat manipulation.

Now, inside the case, snow swirled and the air was freezing—ideal for long-term storage.

Blake then activated the mirror space inside the suitcase and shoved the ice coffin in.

Even if the vampire escaped the ice, he'd have no way out of the mirror dimension.

Crisis contained, Blake closed the suitcase and tucked it back into his pocket.

Grindelwald, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up.

"That outfit of yours... it's quite impressive. Could I have one as a gift?"

The robe, an alchemical product, had withstood even the vampire's sonic attacks without so much as a wrinkle.

Blake glanced down at the cloak, now transformed into a robe. He remembered—he had the blueprint for the levitating cloak. Making another wouldn't be hard.

He nodded. "Alright... but you'll need to provide the materials."

Grindelwald, wealthy as ever, agreed without hesitation.

Blake handed him a list of required components.

Then he checked his pocket watch—already past one in the morning.

"I need to get back…"

He'd hunted a Dark wizard during the day, and then spent the night fighting a vampire. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs.

Grindelwald, ever scheming, tried one last time. "Why not stay here tonight? Rest a little?"

His intentions were loud enough for Dumbledore to hear back at Hogwarts.

Blake politely declined.

He could handle Dumbledore in small doses, but spending the night in Nurmengard? That would complicate things.

Blake wasn't naïve. He knew Dumbledore was already aware of the school Grindelwald had built in Nurmengard.

He'd be shocked if the headmaster hadn't planted spies among the witches and wizards here.

Even the Wiccan Party—Grindelwald's loyal followers—weren't immune. Back in the day, Snape had been a Death Eater and still turned.

If Dumbledore wanted to flip someone, he would.

And even if there weren't any moles, Grindelwald would almost certainly brag about tonight to Dumbledore—just to rub it in.

The smug smile on Grindelwald's face said it all. He was already imagining the confrontation.

Blake sighed. The more smug Grindelwald looked tonight, the more trouble his backside would be in tomorrow.

Dumbledore had a particular way of "disciplining" him.

With a final farewell, Blake opened a dimensional door, took the suitcase, and vanished from the stadium.

Winsty watched him go, her eyes clouded with emotion.

Back at his room on Wuming Island, Blake collapsed into bed and fell into deep sleep.

Early the next morning, the same owl from before returned—this time with a large package.

It contained all the materials Grindelwald had promised.

After a quick breakfast, Blake got to work.

Using the blueprint, he crafted a blue version of the levitating cloak. His alchemy skills had grown enough that the process was swift and smooth.

While the cloak lacked the evolutionary capabilities of the original, it was more than sufficient for Grindelwald.

After all, aside from actual levitation, it included all the key features—expansion, defense, concealment.

Blake folded it neatly and added a manual, then sent it off via phoenix to Nurmengard.

At Nurmengard, Grindelwald admired his new cloak, which now changed styles according to his whims.

It was practical and fashionable.

But most importantly—it was a gift from Blake.

Even Dumbledore had never given him something like this.

As Grindelwald tried different styles in the mirror, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, still admiring himself.

Vita entered, face pale with concern.

"Dumbledore is here... just outside."

"Oh? That old fool came in person? Guess he knows what happened last night." Grindelwald smirked. "Excellent. Good job!"

He tugged proudly at the sleek cloak, now styled like a trench coat.

Finally, someone would appreciate his new look.

=============

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