Hogwarts Great Hall, Center Court.
Where the long tables usually sat, there was now a massive Alchemical Round Table, reinforced with seventeen layers of Protego charms.
Standing on either side of the table were two men who made the entire wizarding world tremble.
On the left was Gellert Grindelwald. He had shed his trench coat to reveal a tight black tank top underneath. His biceps bulged like boulders, and he was casually rotating two iron walnuts in his hand.
On the right was Albus Dumbledore.
He was still rocking the "Peak Grindelwald" physique template—eight-pack abs, V-line—except for leverage, he was wearing a pink apron around his waist (he forgot to take it off after cooking earlier).
"Albus," Grindelwald cracked his knuckles, the sound crisp and loud. "Haven't seen you in decades. Has all your muscle turned to fat? I see you've been enjoying those Chocolate Frogs a little too much lately."
"Right back at you, Gellert." Dumbledore sneered, his white beard trembling along with his flexed muscles. "Your hairline certainly retains the legacy of your reign—receding further every day."
"Cut the crap!" Grindelwald slammed a hand onto the table. "Old rules. If I win, you hand over the deed to Hogwarts. I'm turning it into the 'Grindelwald Fitness Chain Headquarters.' If you win... name your price."
"If I win," Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, a glint of cunning flashing through them, "you leave the tank, and you run three laps around the Forbidden Forest in drag."
"Deal!"
Two hands clasped together.
In that instant, the air seemed to solidify.
Cracks began to appear in the stone floor beneath their feet, spreading outward like a spiderweb.
"Start!" Ivan acted as the referee, holding a whistle (actually the cap from a bottle of Snape's hair tonic), and blew it hard.
BOOM!!
No testing the waters. Both men unleashed their full power instantly.
Black Fiendfyre instantly ignited on Grindelwald's arm, attempting to scorch Dumbledore's hand.
Dumbledore huffed coldly, and a thick layer of ice armor covered his arm, not only blocking the fire but freezing Grindelwald's sleeve solid.
"RAAAH!!"
Both men let out low, beast-like roars simultaneously.
The table began to vibrate violently, the water cups on it hopping around like they were dancing.
"Place your bets! Place your bets!" Ivan ran around the perimeter with a megaphone. "Odds on Grindelwald 1:1.5! Odds on Dumbledore 1:2! Odds on a Draw 1:100! Place your bets now, no more bets after the bell!"
"I bet on Mr. Grindelwald!" Lucius Malfoy shouted, slamming a bag of gold coins into Ivan's hand. "He looks younger!"
"I bet on Dumbledore!" Ron bet a chicken leg. "The Headmaster eats more, so he's stronger!"
"I bet on a Draw!" Hermione pushed up her glasses. "According to mechanical analysis, their strength values are neck and neck, and the table's load-bearing limit is..."
CRACK!
Before Hermione could finish, the table reinforced with seventeen charms let out a scream of agony.
A leg snapped.
The table tilted, and their hands slammed together violently.
BANG!!
A visible shockwave exploded outward from the center.
The Great Hall's windows shattered instantly. Snape's hair tonic display rack was blown over, sending hundreds of bottles exploding into the air, creating a green rain.
The dust settled.
Grindelwald and Dumbledore remained in their arm-wrestling posture, both faces turning liver-purple, veins popping on their foreheads.
But the table had already been reduced to a pile of sawdust.
"A... draw?" Ron stared, dumbfounded.
"Doesn't count!" Grindelwald roared. "The table broke! This round is void! We compete in something else!"
"Compete in what?" Dumbledore panted heavily, glaring viciously at Ivan hiding behind a pillar. "It was that brat's doing! He carved a 'Fragility Hex' into the table leg!"
Ivan guiltily hid his carving knife up his sleeve. "Oh my, accident, pure accident. Since the table broke, let's call it a draw. According to house rules, the house takes all! Thank you, generous patrons!"
"House takes all?!"
The entire school let out a collective wail of despair.
"My pocket money!!" Ron squatted on the ground, clutching his head. "That was my Nimbus 2000 fund!"
Just as everyone was wallowing in grief, Grindelwald suddenly revealed a wicked grin.
"Since it's a draw, let's have a tie-breaker. A test of 'Endurance'."
He pointed at the pink apron on Dumbledore. "Albus, since you're already dressed like that, why don't we test 'Maid Basics'? Whoever succumbs to the shame first loses."
Dumbledore's face changed. "What are you planning?"
"Simple." Grindelwald snapped his fingers.
Professor Quirrell (or rather, Voldemort's accessory) wheeled out a garment rack.
Hanging on it was a... incredibly ornate, incredibly frilly, black Slytherin-style French Maid outfit.
And it was XXXL, clearly prepared for Hagrid, but Grindelwald had snatched it.
"Put it on," Grindelwald pointed at the dress. "Then pour me a cup of tea. If you can complete this action without using magic and without bursting the seams, you win."
Dumbledore looked at the outfit, then at the thousands of eyes staring at him (and the recording crystal ball in Ivan's hand).
"What if I refuse?"
"Then I flatten Hogwarts." Grindelwald shrugged. "And I'll spill all the Chocolate Frog cards you have hidden in your socks."
Dumbledore took a deep breath—the tragic breath of sacrifice for the greater good.
"Fine. I'll wear it."
Five Minutes Later.
The Great Hall was silent as the grave.
Everyone held their breath.
Dumbledore walked out of the changing room.
The black maid outfit on his exaggeratedly muscular frame created a visual impact that was utterly earth-shattering.
The buttons on the bodice were strained to the limit by his pecs, looking like they would shoot out like bullets at any second.
The skirt was so short it barely covered his upper thighs, revealing two hairy, incredibly muscular calves.
He was also wearing a black lace headband, which squashed his long beard into a weird shape.
"This... this is too intense..." Ron got a nosebleed.
The wand in Snape's hand snapped with a crisp snap.
Dumbledore, face black as thunder, carried a tray with a cup of black tea.
With every step, the floor groaned under the immense pressure.
Stopping in front of Grindelwald, Dumbledore gritted his teeth and squeezed out a sentence:
"Please... enjoy... your tea... Gellert."
Grindelwald took the teacup. Looking at this old lover whose muscles were bigger than his own, yet dressed in a maid outfit, his hand trembled slightly.
He had intended to humiliate Dumbledore, but now...
Why does my heart skip a beat?
"Drink it!" Dumbledore growled, his eyes murderous.
Grindelwald, as if possessed, took a sip.
The next second, Dumbledore acted like he'd been granted amnesty and turned to leave.
"Wait!"
Ivan suddenly jumped out, holding a contract. "Headmaster! Since you're already wearing it, why not sign this? It's the 'Hogwarts Brand Ambassador Agreement.' If you dance 'Meow Meow Meow' in the Metaverse wearing this, I'll give you a 10% cut!"
Dumbledore whipped around, the killing intent in his eyes even heavier than when facing Grindelwald.
"IVAN POTTER!"
"Present! Headmaster!" Ivan shrank back in fear but still extended the contract. "Look, Professor Snape's 'Potion Dance' made a fortune. Your look... this is called 'Macho Man Tears · Gap Moe.' It will go viral! There are already a hundred thousand people waiting in the livestream room!"
Dumbledore looked at the contract in Ivan's hand, then at the circle of expectant eyes (especially Grindelwald's half-smile).
He suddenly felt that being Headmaster was too exhausting.
"Fine." Dumbledore took the pen. The hand that had signed countless important documents now signed his name on the "Maid Ivan" contract.
He threw the pen aside, adjusted his lace collar, and revealed a 'nuclear' kind smile.
"If we're going to dance, let's go big. Ivan, fetch my bottle of 'Firewhisky.' Today, I'm going to show the wizarding world what 'Burning Pecs' really means."
Grindelwald watched this scene and suddenly felt the tank wasn't that interesting anymore.
He tossed the tank keys to Hagrid. "Can you drive?"
"Nope..." Hagrid answered honestly.
"Then learn!" Grindelwald adjusted his collar, walked up to Dumbledore, and naturally linked arms with him (though it was a struggle because Dumbledore's biceps were too huge).
"Since Albus is dancing," Grindelwald flashed his signature arrogant, cool smile at the camera, "I'll reluctantly be his backup dancer. Let's do... 'Love Potion No. 9' (Dark Magic Remix)."
Ivan watched these two "Old Boys," whose combined age was nearly two hundred, and grinned so wide his face hurt.
"This isn't Hogwarts," Ivan sighed at the camera. "This is clearly the debut stage of the 'Sunset Red Boy Band.'"
Just as the music was about to start.
Dobby's ghost projection popped up again, this time a red emergency alert:
> [WARNING! WARNING! Massive Theft at Gringotts Vault! Stolen Item: Professor Snape's Hair Tonic Reserve Fund! Suspects: An Old Bee in a Maid Outfit and a Blonde Thug!]
Ivan's smile froze.
He looked at Dumbledore and Grindelwald, who were doing warm-up stretches.
Dumbledore (Muscle Maid Version) was quietly stuffing a bag of gold coins into his socks.
Grindelwald was loading Galleons into the tank.
"Um..." Ivan asked tremblingly, "Headmaster, when you guys said 'loser hands over the deed,' you didn't mean... emptying Hogwarts' bank account, right?"
Dumbledore looked back and winked (which looked terrifying on his bearded face).
"Oh, Ivan. You know launching a boy band is expensive. This is called... Angel Investment."
Ivan's vision went black, and he fainted.