https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-186-Dumbledore-and-Gellert-Grindelwald/13685010/
Chapter 185: Gellert Grindelwald
Wade couldn’t refuse. He took Dumbledore’s hand.
The aged Fawks let out a sudden, clear cry.
Wade heard the ticking of a needle, the rustle of pages flipping through books, and then—like a kaleidoscope spinning wildly—the world around him dissolved into shifting, dreamlike fragments. It felt like Apparition, but without that suffocating sensation of being squeezed into a narrow tube.
In an instant, Wade staggered. The scenery steadied.
They stood in a strange, unfamiliar building. Thick stone walls, scarred and worn, were lined with torches that flickered and hissed as they burned. The air was bitterly cold—though Wade didn’t feel it himself, he saw the people passing by wrapped in heavy fur coats, their breath puffing out in white steam.
Yet their faces remained blurred, like poor-quality surveillance footage.
“What kind of magic is this, Professor?” Wade asked.
“A form of Memory Magic… a rather complex application,” Dumbledore replied.
“So… they’re all memories of someone?” Wade scanned the crowd.
“More accurately,” Dumbledore said, “I witnessed the memory of a person—then reconstructed it in this dramatic form. I could have used the Pensieve to take you directly into the real memory, but that would have been far too long.”
He knew that memory fragments were full of tedious details—useless information, dull conversations. Even if stitched together in small, five-minute segments, they’d stretch on endlessly. He doubted Wade would be willing to spend hours on such a chore.
And frankly, that wasn’t what Dumbledore wanted him to see.
As they spoke, the two followed several figures in crimson robes—professors and students—down a dim, winding stone corridor. They turned corner after corner, descended stair after stair, until they finally stopped before a wooden door.
Carved into the door was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows: a circle, a triangle, and a vertical line.
The lead wizard—a stern-faced wizard—pointed his wand at the door. With a thunderous crack, the wood exploded inward, and the crowd surged through.
Inside the room stood a handsome young man with golden hair and pale skin, his eyes a startling blue, like flawless gemstones.
Among the hazy, indistinct figures, he was the only one with sharp, vivid detail—like he existed on a different layer of reality.
He stood with his back to the entrance, swaying slightly as he moved his wand in slow, graceful motions, as if dancing.
He turned at the sound, his expression shifting from surprise to annoyance. Then he frowned.
Before him, on shelves and tables, were rows of bottles—some filled with writhing, distorted shapes, others emitting black smoke that seemed to scream. Just glancing at them made Wade’s stomach churn.
On a table lay an open book, its illustrations grotesque: figures being tortured in ways that defied reason.
“Gellert Grindelwald!” a voice rang out coldly. “Someone inside reported you were conducting forbidden experiments at school. I thought it was a lie—but now I see it’s true!”
The golden-haired youth—Gellert Grindelwald—gave a half-smile, his eyes flicking toward a student in the crowd. The student flinched, shrinking behind a professor.
The student was dragged roughly from the room, and someone shouted, “You’ll be expelled! Even here, such actions are forbidden!”
“Oh, really?” Gellert scoffed.
He laughed—then, as someone lunged for his wand, he reacted instantly. A burst of blinding light erupted from his wand, slamming the attacker backward.
Blood splattered across the stone floor. Someone screamed. A violent fight broke out.
Others scrambled to escape—clearly rushing to fetch help.
Blue flames roared to life. A student rolled on the ground, writhing in pain. Gellert flew backward, crashing into a shelf. Bottles shattered, scattering across the floor in a rain of glass and foul-smelling liquids.
He lifted his head.
Blood, red and glistening, streamed from his eyes and down his nose. Yet even in that state, he was breathtakingly beautiful—striking, undeniable.
There was a raw, overwhelming beauty about him—unaffected by gender.
Then, suddenly, he raised his hand. A crimson beam shot forth, striking the nearest figure.
Wade felt his vision twist. For a moment, it was as if he’d been struck himself.
The world snapped into a new scene.
The golden-haired boy, face still bruised, stood clutching a box. He glanced back at the imposing, icy fortress of Durmstrang—its spires like a dagger piercing the black mountain peak.
Without hesitation, he turned. With a swift motion, he carved a symbol into the wall—and then strode away.
Wade and Dumbledore followed. After only a short while, they seemed to pass through endless distances.
They emerged in a valley bathed in golden sunlight, lush green grass stretching as far as the eye could see. Two young boys walked side by side.
“…And that’s how I got kicked out,” Gellert Grindelwald said, shrugging with defiant nonchalance. “Stupid school. I thought Durmstrang would be more open-minded. But they’re just a bunch of cowards.”
Beside him walked a red-haired boy, his features slightly blurred, but unmistakably striking—his blue eyes bright as stars.
Wade glanced at Dumbledore. The old headmaster’s half-moon glasses caught the light, hiding his expression.
Wade didn’t pry into the thoughts of a man over a century old. He turned back to the two boys.
The red-haired boy listened with a quiet smile, his gaze fixed and intense.
Gellert spoke again, his voice firm, passionate.
“We wizards are born with power. Why should we hide like rats in the dark? The Confidentiality Act is laughable!”
“It makes us feel like thieves just for using our gifts—living in fear every day. Albus, your sister was harmed by Muggles. Your father fought back. What was wrong with that? Yet he was locked away—by fools who couldn’t tell right from wrong!”
“We should claim our rightful place. Wizards should rule Muggles. Rule the world. Not be driven into hiding by ever-growing numbers of Muggles. If necessary—we should use force. It’s our birthright.”
The red-haired boy’s smile faded. He pressed his lips together, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod—as if truly understanding.
(End of Chapter)
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