For decades he waited in the shadows, watched as lesser wizards tried to claim greatness only to fail spectacularly. Grindelwald, Voldemort, all fools who looked for the wrong things, who misunderstood magic not only fundamentally but also profoundly. He watches over his Second Army as the sun rises over their new military encampment, the memory of Alina’s body pressed against his during apparition still burning under his hands.