Marvel, start by marrying the Scarlet Witch

"Save me? Who sent you to save me?"

Grindelwald studied Carl with a curious glint in his eye. Carl had disguised himself as a strikingly handsome young Englishman—sharp features, cold blue eyes, and an aura of quiet confidence.

"No one sent me," Carl replied calmly. "I just think the Statute of Secrecy is outdated. You shouldn't be rotting in here like this."

As he spoke, Carl bent down, picking up an Auror's fallen hat. Without warning, he slowly tossed it toward Grindelwald.

Sizzle!

A brilliant circle of red runes immediately lit up around Grindelwald. A shimmering red barrier sprang up, incinerating the hat as soon as it touched the boundary—only ashes remained.

"Hmm. That's going to be a problem," Carl muttered, examining the glowing sigils on the ground. They were masterfully crafted—complex, ancient, and deeply embedded into the prison floor. With his current magical knowledge, dismantling such an enchantment directly was out of reach.

"Guess I'll have to take the crude route."

Carl's hands began flashing through a rapid series of seals—Earth-style hand signs he'd learned in the shinobi world. Then, with a sharp motion, he slammed his palms against the cold stone.

"Earth Style: Mud Mage!"

A wave of chakra surged from his hands into the ground. The floor cracked, softened, then turned to churning mud. As the earth lost its form, the runes collapsed, fading into useless fragments.

Grindelwald raised an eyebrow in fascination. "Gesture casting… at that speed?"

To him, it resembled a kind of non-verbal Transfiguration—but it was done through hand signs and without a wand. It reminded him of the African magical traditions, where witches and wizards used gestures rather than wands, but even they couldn't perform at this speed.

Grindelwald's interest deepened. "You don't use a wand," he noted. "Yet your casting is faster than most wand-wielders I've seen."

Carl gave a slight smile but said nothing.

"Well," Grindelwald said as he stood, "I intended to stay a few more days and observe. But since someone's come to fetch me, I suppose it's time to go."

Suddenly, blue flames erupted around Grindelwald's wrists and ankles. The enchanted shackles that had bound him crumbled into ash. It was a silent Fiendfyre variant—wandless, wordless, and terrifyingly efficient.

Carl narrowed his eyes. Just as he suspected—Grindelwald had allowed himself to be captured. He had never used any of the dangerous, area-wide spells during his arrest.

"So," Carl said cautiously, "even if I hadn't shown up, you could've broken out."

Grindelwald chuckled. "Eventually, yes. But you've saved me the effort. For that, I thank you." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Are you interested in joining me, Carl? Standing in the light with me?"

Carl hesitated, then gave a sly smile. "Let's escape first. I'm guessing we'll have company soon."

"Practical," Grindelwald approved. "Let's find somewhere quiet to talk."

He summoned an Auror's wand from a corpse with a flick of his wrist.

Just then, a piercing alarm rang out through the building, echoing off the enchanted stone walls:

"ALERT! Grindelwald has escaped! Repeat: Grindelwald has escaped from the lower levels!"

In the Chairman's office, Seraphina Picquery had been mid-discussion with her advisers about whether to hand over Grindelwald to the International Confederation of Wizards, when the alarm blared. Her face went pale.

"Damn it! Not again!"

Panic broke through the chamber as the council scrambled. If Grindelwald managed to escape, the Magical Congress of the United States would become a laughingstock before the International Confederation of Wizards.

"Mobilize everyone! Aurors, clerks, even messengers—if they can hold a wand, send them to the lower prisons. Stop him at all costs!" Picquery's voice boomed through the halls, magnified by a sonorus spell.

As Carl and Grindelwald approached the main corridor, they came face to face with more than two hundred armed wizards led by Picquery herself.

Carl immediately spotted Tina Goldstein among them—the new Director of the Auror Office, her wand already raised.

"Mr. Grindelwald!" Picquery shouted. "Drop your wand, return to your cell with your accomplice, or you will be killed on the spot!"

She turned to her officers. "Anyone who knows the Killing Curse—use it! Everyone else, hit them with your strongest spells!"

This was the Capitol building. Apparition was blocked by ancient spells . Even Grindelwald couldn't withstand a hundred Killing Curses at once.

But while all eyes were locked on Grindelwald, Carl leapt into the air, hands blurring into a complex string of seals.

"Water Style: Great Waterfall Technique!"

A roaring torrent exploded from Carl's mouth, sweeping down the stone corridor in a violent surge. Water flooded the entire hallway, crashing into the crowd of assembled wizards.

Chaos erupted.

Many civilian wizards who had been pulled into duty barely knew defensive magic. Screams echoed as they were swept away, tossed like ragdolls by the deluge. Others tried shielding spells, but weak incantations shattered against the force of the waterfall.

Only battle-hardened Aurors and former dueling champions managed to stay upright. Tina and Picquery held their ground, summoning strong enough Protego spells to deflect the surge—but most of the force was already through.

Carl didn't wait. From a small enchanted pouch on his belt, he pulled out a folded magic carpet—bought days earlier on a tip by the house-elf.

"Shall we?"

He leapt aboard, grabbing Grindelwald's arm and soaring upward into the domed ceiling.

"Goodbye!" Carl shouted cheerfully, saluting the drenched mob below.

By the time Picquery and her remaining Aurors regained their footing and reached the elevator, Carl and Grindelwald had already burst through the upper levels. A moment later, a flash of Apparition rippled through the air—and they were gone.

Vanished into the night.