Escape

Snow blanketed the world, casting a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere over everything.

"Lord Eredin," a Wild Hunt rider spoke.

Voldemort nodded. "I know."

He stood at the prow of the ship, gazing downward.

There, rooted like a black reef in the endless white sea, stood Nurmengard.

No guards.

Yet the doors stood wide open.

As the ship descended, a red carpet unfurled from the aged, abandoned fortress—though it was quickly buried under snow.

Voldemort noticed.

"You stay here," he commanded the Hunt. "I'll go in alone."

The Wild Hunt obeyed silently.

None dared defy Eredin—especially now, after today, when they could all feel the drastic change in him. His personality had grown darker, more violent. He had branded each of them with strange totems—marks pressed by his own hand.

Voldemort floated from the ship and stepped into Nurmengard alone.

He didn't fear Grindelwald. Everyone now acknowledged he had surpassed the old dark wizard.

Especially now—stronger than ever.

He walked along the carpet.

Fwoosh—

As he stepped, oil lamps flared to life one by one.

Until at the far end, in a grand hall...

Grindelwald sat at the other end of the long table. "Welcome, Voldemort."

"You knew I would come?" Voldemort approached, tapping the table, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

Grindelwald's eyes were deep. "You've heard of my Sight."

"Should I admire your courage then?" Voldemort murmured. "Or your confidence?"

"You stayed here knowing I would come."

Grindelwald shook his head. "It wasn't courage or confidence that kept me. It was love."

Voldemort's features twisted.

That word, that tone—it brought to mind Dumbledore, and made his skin crawl.

"Love?" Voldemort scoffed. "A ridiculous notion."

He waved his hand, transforming the chair beside him into something grander.

Only then did he sit, proud and poised. "Mr. Grindelwald, I'm offering you one last choice."

He lifted his right hand, casting the Dark Mark into the air above them.

"Accept my goodwill. Be my friend."

"Or die."

Grindelwald laughed. "Did you know, I once used my Sight to glimpse my future?"

"Before Harry defeated you."

Voldemort's expression darkened.

His second-most hated topic, brought up again.

"Guess what I saw?" Grindelwald asked.

"You defied me—so naturally, you died," Voldemort said softly.

Grindelwald nodded. "Exactly."

"In that future, you killed me—effortlessly."

But he smiled.

He knew exactly what that vision meant.

Even imprisoned in Nurmengard, his power wasn't completely gone. He wasn't so weak he could be crushed like a chick.

But in that future, he had no reason to live. Dumbledore was dead.

Reality now was different. Dumbledore was very much alive.

Voldemort's mood improved. "So, your choice is to be my friend?"

He raised his hand, magic ready.

Just waiting for Grindelwald to offer his left arm.

Grindelwald shook his head decisively. "No. I will never submit to you."

Voldemort's face turned cold. "Then you've chosen death."

Power surged.

White Frost poured forth, overwhelming, crashing toward Grindelwald.

He tapped the table with one finger.

The table transformed into a vast pocket dimension, momentarily swallowing the Frost. But even steel bent before that elemental force.

Fwoosh— the Frost burst free and surged forward.

No wands.

Grindelwald struggled under Voldemort's assault.

He could hold out.

But only just—barely able to protect himself.

He'd been locked in Nurmengard for decades, his power had waned.

But Voldemort—

His very body was partially made of wandwood now. He didn't need a wand. The elemental White Frost gave him freedom.

After several probing attacks, Voldemort laughed mockingly. "Grindelwald, I thought you'd have something prepared."

"Is this all? This isn't worthy of a Dark Lord."

Grindelwald dodged, shaking his head. "I've never called myself that."

Voldemort raised both hands.

The Frost surged stronger.

"Now I'll give you one more chance."

"Tell me where the Elder Wand is, and I'll spare your life."

"Let you live out your days in Nurmengard."

The Frost coiled around Grindelwald's arms. "You'll never get it, Voldemort."

Voldemort clenched his right fist.

The Frost tightened.

"Though you disgust me..." Grindelwald wasn't panicked. He smiled just as he had the day Dumbledore visited with Harry. "But right now, Tom Riddle, I must thank you."

Thank him?

The strange words made Voldemort pause.

A thousand thoughts raced.

Was Grindelwald plotting all these years? Had he seen this in a vision—just like Voldemort planned his resurrection through Hogwarts?

Did he plan to use Voldemort to unlock some deeper power?

On Grindelwald's left hand, a faint magical glow pulsed.

A ring.

Voldemort recognized it. Not a powerful curse or vow—just a Portkey.

"Goodbye, Voldemort," Grindelwald said cheerily.

He twisted his core—

And vanished.

Voldemort's face darkened.

Escaped?

They barely exchanged spells—and he ran?

Grindelwald actually fled?

"Very well." Voldemort took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. "Let's see how far you can run."

The White Frost was part of him.

He could track it.

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Powerstones?

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