At midday, under the escort of Rosier, Abernathy, and several others, Wentworth arrived at a desolate stretch of land on the outskirts of London. As Abernathy waved his wand, an estate, long concealed under layers of enchantments, gradually materialized before Wentworth's eyes.
This estate was well known within the British wizarding world, for its owners were none other than the Greengrass family—one of the twenty-eight Sacred Houses of Britain.
As the grand manor came into view, a young and imposing wizard, accompanied by two little girls, rushed out of the estate to stand respectfully before Wentworth and his entourage.
The young wizard lowered his head deeply, despite being much taller than Wentworth, and declared in a firm voice:
"Auston Greengrass, at your service, my lord Wentworth Grindelwald."
Raising his head, Auston gestured toward the two young girls beside him and continued:
"These are my sisters, Daphne Greengrass and Astoria Greengrass. The Greengrass family has always upheld our ancestors' oath—we pledge ourselves eternally as vassals to the house of Grindelwald."
Hearing this, Wentworth instinctively glanced at Astoria Greengrass. His curiosity was simple: he wanted to see the girl who, in the original timeline, would one day become the wife of Draco Malfoy.
Auston, noticing Wentworth's gaze lingering on his younger sister, seemed pleased, a flicker of satisfaction passing through his expression.
At that moment, Rosier stepped forward and spoke to Auston with a sharp edge to her tone:
"Auston Greengrass, our young master has chosen your estate as the venue for our Pureblood Party's Yuletide gathering as a reward for your family's unwavering loyalty. However, do not mistake this as an opportunity to play petty tricks."
As Rosier reprimanded Auston, Abernathy signaled for Wentworth to continue toward the manor. Walking alongside Abernathy, Wentworth whispered with curiosity:
"Grandma Rosier seems rather displeased. Why?"
A smirk played at the corner of Abernathy's lips before he explained:
"By all rights, Auston should have gathered alongside the other Purist wizards to welcome your arrival. Instead, he came forth only with his sisters—clearly, the young man hoped to attract your attention through such a display."
Understanding dawned on Wentworth. Compared to the seasoned Purist wizards, Auston Greengrass was indeed still too inexperienced.
Abernathy continued with a chuckle:
"Truth be told, Rosier is likely quite pleased by this. The more ambitious young wizards we have, the less burden we old folks bear. But a necessary lesson still had to be given."
As they spoke, the two reached the entrance of the grand banquet hall within the Greengrass estate. The moment their silhouettes appeared at the threshold, the lively hall fell into a hushed silence.
Then, all at once, a deafening chorus erupted:
"Hail, Lord Grindelwald!"
Inside the hall stood a sea of dark-robed witches and wizards—figures feared throughout the magical world—yet before an eleven-year-old boy, each and every one of them bowed their heads in deference.
One among them, an elderly man in tattered robes, utterly out of place among the finely dressed wizards, fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he muttered incoherently.
Led by Abernathy, Wentworth strode forward through the crowd and reached the head of the gathering.
Moments later, Rosier entered the hall, followed closely by a visibly flushed Auston Greengrass. The two swiftly took their places behind Wentworth, flanking him on either side.
Standing at the center of attention, Wentworth's mind raced. Even after living two lifetimes, he had never experienced anything like this.
The hall remained silent, as if every wizard within was awaiting something.
Suddenly, Rosier's words from the previous night echoed in his mind:
"Wentworth, when you see all this, you must understand—many are waiting for you to return, to take your place in the wizarding world! For you are the heir of Grindelwald, the rightful leader of the Pureblood Party!"
Exhaling deeply, Wentworth steadied his heartbeat and spoke in an even tone:
"My friends, my family—I am Wentworth Grindelwald. Grindelwald has returned."
At his words, many among the gathering broke down into sobs. Even Rosier, standing beside him, turned away discreetly to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
Then, from the entrance of the hall, Auston Greengrass suddenly stepped forward and shouted:
"Grindelwald!"
In unison, the crowd roared back:
"Grindelwald! Grindelwald!"
Their cheers rang through the estate, reaching a deafening crescendo.
When the fervor reached its peak, Wentworth raised both hands, then slowly lowered them. As he did, the uproar gradually faded into expectant silence.
Looking upon the gathered wizards, Wentworth spoke once more:
"My family, my friends, your cheers should not be for me. They should be for yourselves."
"They call us Dark wizards? No! We are not! We merely hold ideals different from theirs. They outnumber us—that is all."
"They believe themselves righteous. But what is justice, if not history written by the victors? Time and again, history has proven that truth is often in the hands of the few."
As he spoke, Wentworth lifted his right hand and traced a slow circle in the air before him.
Then, his voice rang out once more:
"We have never sought to rule the world. We do not act for selfish gain. Now tell me, for what cause do we stand?"
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a single voice answered, growing into a unified cry:
"For the Greater Good!"
Unbeknownst to Wentworth, in a shadowed corner of the hall, Xenophilius Lovegood was scribbling furiously onto parchment. Nearby, Luna Lovegood idly twirled her pendant between her fingers as she remarked to her father:
"Father, if not for my insistence, you wouldn't have come at all. Why take such detailed notes now?"
Xenophilius, without lifting his head, grinned and replied:
"I've just had the most brilliant idea."
Two decades later, when Xenophilius Lovegood's book Grindelwald Reclaimed was published, many would mark this night as the moment history welcomed the rise of the Third Dark Lord.
-----
TL/N:
Yuletide is an archaic term for Christmas.
-----------------------
Want to read ahead of schedule?
Join here for advance chapters: PATREON.COM / PRIMALDEMON