Chapter 542

Goblin Palace

In the grand, dimly lit throne room of the Goblin Palace, the Goblin King, Turan, sat motionless upon his ornate seat, his piercing eyes fixed on Elder Nass, who stood below, delivering his report with conviction.

"My king, if the news is accurate this time, then this is indeed an unparalleled opportunity," Nass declared, his voice filled with urgency.

"If we allow this moment to slip away and wait until Grindelwald regains his full strength, we will once again find ourselves trapped in the same deadlock as before."

The elder's expression grew more determined as he continued.

"Chenos has promised that, should we succeed in killing Grindelwald and eliminating the Saints, the goblins will retain all of our previous rights and privileges in the American Wizarding Territory."

Turan remained silent, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the throne's handle, his sharp nails making a soft but deliberate clatter, clatter, clatter with each strike.

Nass, emboldened by the King's patience, pressed on.

"Furthermore, Chenos has assured us that once he ascends to the position of Speaker, he will allocate ten parliamentary seats to our kind."

At this, Nass's tone lifted slightly, betraying his satisfaction.

The Magical Congress of the United States, unlike the Ministry of Magic in Britain, operated under a Speaker-Member system. To hold a congressional seat meant to wield real political power—to stand among the ruling class, shaping policies and securing influence over the wizarding world.

For the goblins, who had long been forced to maneuver from the shadows, gaining an official, legitimate voice in Congress was nothing short of revolutionary.

Compared to centuries of clandestine negotiations and subtle maneuvering, this offer was almost too tempting to refuse.

Turan's fingers continued their rhythmic tapping against the throne, his gaze unreadable.

Then, suddenly—

"Nass, follow Chenos's request in full."

Nass blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before quickly composing himself.

"Of course, my king," he said respectfully.

"Chenos requests that we deploy at least one thousand elite goblin warriors to join the battle. Additionally, to ensure Grindelwald's absolute destruction, you, my king, must personally take action."

Turan's expression remained unreadable, but Nass pressed on.

"Chenos insists that we must coordinate with Dumbledore and use the Disk of Destiny to cut off any possibility of Grindelwald's resurrection."

A heavy silence settled over the room before Nass hesitated, then added,

"There is one more matter, my king." He exhaled softly before continuing. "Though Chenos did not say it outright, his intentions are clear."

"He hopes that once Grindelwald is truly do death, we will commit all of our resources to ensuring his rise to the position of Speaker."

A smirk curled the corner of Turan's lips.

"I see."

Nass nodded, his expression serious.

"If Grindelwald is truly eliminated, the prestige Chenos will gain from this victory will all but guarantee his ascension to the Speaker's chair. And, of course, he expects certain... rewards for his efforts—magical artifacts, treasures, design schematics for magic firearms..."

He trailed off, sensing he had said enough.

Now, it was up to the King to decide.

Despite the enticing offer, Nass knew better than to overstep. He was an elder, an advisor—but the ultimate decision lay solely with Turan. To assume otherwise would be a fatal mistake.

The Goblin King, after all, had earned his crown not through diplomacy, but through sheer, ruthless power.

No wizard had slain more goblins than Turan himself. And no goblin had slain more wizards than him.

The room remained silent as Turan's mind churned.

Finally, his gaze lifted once more.

"Nass, are you certain this proposal came directly from Chenos?" His tone was measured, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. "Has he been influenced by anyone else?"

Nass immediately shook his head.

"I personally spoke with him after the congressional meeting," he confirmed. "I used every method at my disposal to probe his intentions. I am convinced that this plan is entirely his own."

"He has staked everything on this. To Chenos, defeating Grindelwald is the key to securing his rise to power."

Turan's fingers stopped tapping.

"And Dumbledore? How did he react?"

Nass took a moment to recall before answering carefully.

"Dumbledore remained cautious," he admitted. "He did not oppose the plan, but neither did he express great enthusiasm. He merely warned the assembly not to underestimate Grindelwald. Beyond that, he said little."

Turan leaned back in his throne, his sharp gaze narrowing in thought.

It was true—this was a rare and perhaps final opportunity. Grindelwald was weakened. If they acted now, they could crush him and his followers, ensuring goblin dominance in the wizarding world's political sphere.

If they succeeded, goblins would no longer be creatures lurking in the shadows of human governance. They would be equal participants in shaping the future.

The risk was great—but the reward was far greater.

Turan exhaled slowly, the decision solidifying in his mind.

"Very well," he said at last. "Contact Headmaster Dumbledore. I wish to discuss the specifics of our battle strategy with him personally."

Ilvermorny, Headmaster's Office

Grindelwald sat at his desk, his complexion flushed with vigor. A slow, knowing smile played on his lips as he listened to Holm, the elite Saint responsible for overseeing intelligence operations.

Across from him, Holm stood stiffly, shifting nervously under the leader's gaze.

"Leader," Holm began, his voice tight, "we've received troubling reports from the Magical Congress. Something is happening—something significant."

Grindelwald's smile widened, but he remained silent, allowing Holm to continue.

"It seems they are preparing for a large-scale attack on Ilvermorny."

At this, Holm hesitated, stealing a quick glance at his leader's expression before pressing on.

"The reason for their aggression is a rumor—one they themselves spread."

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

"They claim that you perished in the United Kingdom," Holm elaborated, "and though you have since been resurrected, you remain in a weakened state."

He exhaled sharply. "They believe this is their best opportunity."

For the briefest moment, silence stretched between them.

Then—

Grindelwald chuckled.

The sound was soft at first, then it deepened, growing into a rich, amused laugh.

"Interesting," he murmured, his amusement unmistakable.

Holm, however, swallowed hard. He had not seen the leader in days, and with the Congress confirming these claims, he couldn't shake his growing unease. If there was any truth to them—if Grindelwald was vulnerable—then the Saints might be walking straight into their own destruction.

"Leader..." Holm hesitated. "What are your orders?"

Grindelwald leaned forward slightly, fixing Holm with a knowing gaze.

"Holm," he said smoothly, "what do you think we should do?"

Holm stiffened, a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

His mind raced for a response, but before he could speak, Grindelwald exhaled a quiet sigh.

He already knew the answer.

Rozier would have never hesitated.

Grindelwald's thoughts flickered briefly to his fallen confidant. Unlike Holm, Rozier would have simply presented the facts, then awaited orders without hesitation, without doubt.

A hint of disappointment crept into Grindelwald's expression as he waved a hand.

"Go."

Holm, sensing his dismissal, gave a quick bow and hurried toward the door.

Just as he reached it—

"One more thing," Grindelwald's voice called out.

Holm froze.

"Tell the Saints to be on high alert. Prepare for war."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Grindelwald's face.

"This time, we will end the Magical Congress and the goblins once and for all."

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