1991, July, Austria.

A large old villa stood by Lake Mond. Its blue-black walls and detailed carvings told stories of its long history.

Sunlight streamed through a window, lighting up the face of a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He held a strange book in one hand that gave off a blue and black mist, and in his other hand was a wand with unusual ridges.

As a flash of green light flickered, a smile spread across his face.

[Congratulations to the host for mastering black magic: the Imperius Curse, and obtaining the achievement: Candidate for Azkaban.]

[Achievement point reward: 100.]

"System, check the talent panel!" The young man's clear voice rang out. The next second, a virtual data panel materialized before his eyes.

[Charms: 100]

[Potion Science: 100]

[Black Magic: 99]

[Transfiguration: 100]

[Alchemy: 100]

[Divination: 100]

[Current remaining points: 112 (Achievement points can be used to redeem talents or for a random draw. Talents above 95 points require 100 points each.)]

[Points can be earned by achieving accomplishments or completing system tasks.]

Hearing the system prompt, the young man sighed in relief. "After six years... I'm finally about to max out my talent points!"

This young man's name was Dyroth, Dyroth Grindelwald.

Strictly speaking, Dyroth didn't come from this world. He had been just a baby when he traveled to this world and was abandoned outside an orphanage.

At first, he thought he had merely been reborn, but when his magical powers surged on his fifth birthday, activating the system, the Saints found him and brought him to Gellert Grindelwald.

Only then did Dyroth realize the truth: he hadn't just traveled to the world of Harry Potter, but had also become the last orphan of the infamous Grindelwald family.

In his previous life, Dyroth had been captivated by the wonders of the magical world and its amazing spells. However, once he became part of it, he swiftly understood that the truth was far grimmer than the fantasy—especially as a descendant of Grindelwald.

The Ministry of Magic, the Saints, the International Confederation of Wizards—all eyes were on him. If not for the fear of Gellert's wrath, Dyroth would have faced death countless times.

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Unlike many time-traveling protagonists, Dyroth didn't rush to show off his knowledge or power. Instead, he kept a low profile, quietly accumulating points through various means—until today.

"System, exchange for Black Magic talent!"

[Added successfully. Host's Black Magic: 100.]

Just as he added the points, another notification appeared.

[The host's talents are maxed out. Achievement unlocked: Future Master of Dark Magic.]

[Achievement unlocked: Perfect Magic Genius.]

[Achievement point reward: 200.]

"It's time to make a move. But before that… let's complete my first-ever lottery draw."

Opening the lottery interface, Dyroth watched as countless card packs floated in front of him. He selected two at random, and after a flash of white light.

[Congratulations! You've received: Magic Curse - Legilimency (Level 2).]

[Congratulations! You've received: Black Magic - Fiendfyre (Level 3).]

"Legilimency and Fiendfyre, huh?" Dyroth smirked. "These could be useful..."

...

Outside the room, A loud footsteps echoed.

An elegant woman in a dark green robe approached. Vinda Rosier, known as the Black Rose of France, was celebrated for her beauty and formidable strength. Ageless in her grace, she possessed jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a regal demeanor that had captivated many. Her true power, however, lay in her formidable magic. Even at over ninety years old, she maintained the youthful appearance and poise that had enchanted all who met her.

"What is it, Aunt Vinda?" Dyroth lowered his wand and looked at her.

Vinda Rosier's expression was laced with concern. "Dyroth, you've forgotten—it's your eleventh birthday today!"

"My birthday?" Dyroth blinked in surprise.

When Grindelwald adopted Dyroth, he announced to the Saints that on Dyroth's eleventh birthday, he would assume leadership of their group. However, in recent years, Dyroth's low-profile demeanor had led many among the Saints to mock his lack of ambition.

Now, the day had arrived, and it was evident that the Saints were reluctant to accept Dyroth as Gellert's successor. Despite being Grindelwald's adopted son, their loyalty had always been to Gellert himself. In their hearts, only Gellert was fit to lead them toward the "Greater Good."

Some saw Dyroth as too young, while others simply held a personal dislike for him.

Sensing the tension, Dyroth's expression turned serious. "Aunt Vinda, you have something you want to say, don't you?"

Vinda sighed deeply. "Abernethy and I have discussed it. The Saints are divided, and they don't view you favorably. Reuniting them won't be easy."

"You're suggesting I should give up, aren't you, Aunt Vinda?" Dyroth interrupted. "I understand you mean well, but I refuse to back down."

Vinda's face went rigid, surprised by his determined response.

"I am a Grindelwald by blood. You and Gellert personally trained me. The unfinished cause you both entrusted to me rests on my shoulders."

Dyroth stood tall, his voice firm. "If I retreat now, I will not only lose the faith of the Saints but my own resolve. I will never have another chance to claim my rightful place."

Vinda hesitated before speaking slowly. "But you realize that this gathering will attract attention. The Ministry of Magic won't miss this chance to strike. I fear for—"

"Trust me, Aunt Vinda." Dyroth's confident smile cut her off, his gaze unwavering. "Even a bird must leave its nest someday. And if I can't handle this challenge, how could I face even greater ones?"

After a long silence, Vinda Rosier looked at the young man. In that moment, the lines between past and present blurred. His blond hair, his confidence, his undeniable talent—it was as if Gellert himself stood before her once more, a young revolutionary ready to set the world ablaze.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was softer. "Don't let me down, little Grindelwald."

Outside, in the distance, black flags fluttered in the wind.

An elegant smile crossed Dyroth's face as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed.

"For the Greater Good."