The Price

"A few days ago, I got something."

"What?"

"After things ended in Berlin, you all left," Grindelwald said, shaking his head. He took a Small Silver Ball from his robes and tossed it to Tom. "The villains of Nurmengard weren't qualified to share in your grand undertaking, Riddle. You've been at peace too long. You don't know that clearing the battlefield has always been the second most important part of war."

"What is this?"

Tom caught the Small Silver Ball, felt the familiar button on it, and pressed it lightly. But it did not open as he had expected. Instead, a red beam shot out and struck him square in the chest. With a tremendous boom, Tom flew backward amid cries of alarm, shot through the church doors, smashed through the stained glass behind the holy statue, traced a perfect parabola, and dropped straight off the cliff, flung toward the foot of the mountain.

The flying Tom stirred up a gust of wind that lifted Grindelwald's disheveled hair. Grindelwald turned his head and looked at the empty space beside him. The Small Silver Ball that had slipped from Tom's hand fell to the ground and bounced against his teaching cane. He picked it up, froze for a moment, and said to the air, "Sorry. It may not be quite what you imagined."

"Damn it!" Tom's figure squeezed out of the distorted air. "What did you do?"

"Oh... I once studied a similar kind of storage item, but I felt it wasn't very safe." Grindelwald fiddled with the Small Silver Ball and opened it easily. A gleam of silver was revealed. He hooked the silver light with the Elder Wand and tugged hard. "If that was a suitcase, then the thing I made is a safe."

He raised his arm, and