Chapter 422: Gellert Grindelwald: Investigate Him
A少年 Wizard, slightly taller than a cigarette box, stood on the vast bed, pondering why his Magic had turned into something as trivial as a toy trick. Suddenly, he heard the soft purring of a feline creature.
The cat prowled, circled, then lunged forward with the suddenness of thunder and the speed of a gale. Its fluffy fur billowed wildly as it sprang. With outstretched claws and a wide, silent snarl, it seemed to roar in the air.
The young Wizard spun around instantly, jabbing his wand—thin as a toothpick—toward the beast.
“Fresh Water Spring!”
Pfft!
A powerful jet of water slammed into the cat’s nose. Startled, it yelped in pain, leapt high twice, and tumbled onto the bed, rolling and clawing at its snout in distress.
Fortunately, the spell released only a small amount of water. After a few moments, the cat shook itself dry. It stared up at the tiny human with wide, terrified eyes, pupils dilated with fear.
—Damn it!
Even though this human had shrunk, he had mastered its greatest weakness!
The cat locked eyes with the boy, but instead of fear or hesitation, the human showed no sign of unease. He raised the toothpick wand again.
“Meow—!”
The cat yowled, crouched, then launched itself forward—only to abruptly veer sideways, darting like wind into a narrow crack behind the cabinet. It forced its plump, round body through with a powerful kick of its hind legs.
The entire scene played out clearly on a smooth, silver-white liquid surface. Watching the cat twist and curl into the tight space, Gellert Grindelwald couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well then, it seems Ursula’s efforts are at an end.”
The young man behind him lowered his head, as if the failure had embarrassed his master.
…
Wade wasn’t smug about having intimidated a cat afraid of water. He was already turning to test whether the Unlocking Charm could open the door lock—when the latch turned of its own accord. Two strangers stepped inside.
An old man and a young one.
The elder looked frail and exhausted; the younger was broad-shouldered and powerfully built, his muscular frame evident even beneath his Wizard robes.
Wade’s gaze swept across them, then settled on the gaunt old man.
His hair was nearly all white. His blue eyes were sharp, piercing. Though emaciated to the point of looking like bones wrapped in skin, there remained an otherworldly elegance—so striking that he seemed capable of strutting down a runway at two hundred years old.
Wade fell silent.
—Impossible… Just out of prison, and already tracking me to London with pinpoint precision?
Then it hit him: the prison where this man had been held—Nurmengard—had been his own creation.
He hadn’t escaped because he couldn’t. He simply hadn’t wanted to.
It made perfect sense that the prison’s overseers were all loyal to Gellert Grindelwald. Whether they’d passively or actively helped conceal the escape plan for days… that was hardly surprising.
Wade remained quiet, but the man didn’t.
Gellert Grindelwald entered the room and settled into the only chair with calm, effortless grace. A golden-haired man stood behind him, hands clasped behind his back.
“Please, have a seat, my little guest,” said Gellert Grindelwald, gesturing with a smile. “I hope Ursula didn’t frighten you.”
“I’m sorry,” Wade replied. “Actually, I think I frightened her.”
“And we have no custom of having guests stand on beds while speaking,” he added.
“Hahahaha!”
Gellert Grindelwald laughed, his throat rasping slightly—evidently damaged by some old wound.
“My apologies. That was indeed our lapse in manners.”
As he laughed, he waved a hand. The golden-haired wizard stepped forward, withdrew a small vial, and used his wand to draw a few drops of potion into the air. The liquid landed on Wade’s body.
His form shot upward instantly. The golden-haired wizard simultaneously reversed the shrinking charm on Wade’s clothes. Within seconds, Wade stood at his full height once more.
He stretched his arms with relief, feeling the familiar surge of his own power and Magic return. He was finally himself again.
Then he reached for his wand—and froze.
It was still the size of a toothpick, fragile and pitiful in his fingers.
“Oh, right,” Gellert Grindelwald chuckled again, pulling out another wand from his pocket. “This is your real wand. The other was just a borrowed toy from a little friend.”
Wade: …
A vein throbbed faintly at his temple. But he also realized: this casual, almost friendly demeanor was working in his favor.
Or rather, when he’d woken up on the bed, unshackled and unharmed, he’d already known his life wasn’t in immediate danger.
He just didn’t know what the man wanted from him—or how long this kindness would last.
Quietly, Wade set down the toothpick wand and picked up his own. He casually cast a Scourgify spell.
Magic flowed smoothly, naturally. The cabinet in front of him instantly became spotless—so clean it gleamed like a mirror.
That was the spell he knew.
As he placed the toothpick wand on the table, a tiny Sprite dropped from the chandelier. It seized the wand in both hands, glaring at the group with furious, buzzing shouts—though the words were incomprehensible, the venom was clear.
After several angry outbursts, it grumpily flew back up to the chandelier, scattering golden sparks behind it as it went.
Wade: …
So that was the Sprite’s wand after all…
Was Gellert Grindelwald really such a dog?
He glanced down, then pointed his wand at a nearby blue banana plant, conjuring a soft, comfortable chair for himself. Once seated, he asked:
“You’ve invited me as a guest. I appreciate the gesture. But I’m rather busy at the moment—unsuitable for long absences. So, please, get to the point.”
Gellert Grindelwald coughed twice, then smiled.
“You know who I am?”
“I guessed,” Wade answered without pretense. “Few children your age would recognize me.”
“Ah,” Gellert leaned back, amused. “A rare one, you are, Wade Gray. Clever child. So tell me—why do you think I’ve summoned you?”
Wade paused, then asked:
“Is it about the Magic Puppet technology?”
“Hmm? Someone inside is after your door mechanism?” Gellert guessed, reading the answer in Wade’s expression. He shook his head. “I don’t believe in things that think for themselves.”
“Then…?” Wade sifted through his inventions in his mind. “—Is it the Streaming Mirror?”
“Precisely,” Gellert said, grinning. “I’ve heard every Wizard family now owns at least one. They’re on constantly—day and night. Usage is higher than Muggle television. All content comes from that Aslan Magical Workshop, correct?”
“Not entirely,” Wade cautioned. “Aslan is negotiating with Ministries worldwide. Eventually, each country will get its own broadcast slot—airing news from the magical world.”
“And some stubborn Wizards still believe the mirrors are surveillance devices, invading privacy, threatening safety. They refuse to accept the invention.”
“Just a few fools,” Gellert said. “When I was young, many believed cameras stole souls. Now, no one thinks that way.”
“You’re right,” Wade replied casually.
He already knew the man’s goal. He was weighing the risks—carefully.
But Gellert Grindelwald didn’t give him time.
“As the inventor,” he said, “can you bypass the workshop and force every Streaming Mirror to display a message of our choosing?”
Wade looked up at him.
He’d heard rumors that an organization with deep ties to the Muggle world coveted the Magic Puppet tech. But Gellert Grindelwald—once imprisoned for nearly fifty years—had immediately grasped the power of controlling magical public opinion.
Silence stretched.
Finally, Wade asked:
“And if I say no?”
“You think I can’t tell when a child lies?” Gellert tapped his eye. “I know you can, child. I’ve seen it.”
Wade remembered: this man had eyes that could see the future. A true seer.
Had he seen images of the future tied to Wade?
He wasn’t sure.
But one thing was certain: unlike Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald had no patience for mercy. Though he smiled now, he would show no hesitation if he turned.
Wade exhaled slowly.
“I’ll need materials.”
…
After leaving the room, Gellert Grindelwald handed the parchment—covered in magical ingredients—to the golden-haired man.
“While he’s working, have one of our people keep an eye on him.”
“Understood… You want to learn his crafting techniques?” Dreian asked, making sure he understood. “To replicate the process?”
“Keep watch,” Gellert said. “Don’t let him build anything too powerful—something that could destroy our base and escape.”
Dreian hesitated. A child couldn’t possibly do that… But he nodded anyway.
“Yes, sir.”
“Also…” Gellert paused, then added, “Look into Wade Gray. Even if he’s Muggle-born, I want to know everything: his parents, his school performance, his views on Wizard bloodlines, non-human magical creatures—anything. The more detailed, the better.”
“Yes, sir,” Dreian replied.
The Wizard Purity Party was no longer the dominant force it once was. But Wizards lived far longer than Muggles. Fifty years had passed, yet many old allies still lived—now raising their own children, active across the magical world.
And as Muggle society advanced rapidly, the magical community felt increasingly squeezed. Some younger wizards sensed the threat and flocked to the Purity Party, their views and actions often more radical than those of war-worn veterans.
The Wizard Purity Party was like the deep water beneath floating ice—still holding a massive, hidden power. Gathering intelligence? That was child’s play.
And ahead of him, Gellert Grindelwald’s eyes gleamed with interest.
—A mere thirteen or fourteen-year-old child… yet his mental defenses were remarkably strong. Even Gellert himself hadn’t managed to sneak into his memories unnoticed.
When did learning books at school require mental defense magic? Hogwarts wasn’t Durmstrang…
Had Dumbledore given him special training?
Of course, with a wand, a barrage of high-level Dementor’s Kiss spells could force the memories out. But it would shatter the boy’s mind irreparably.
So Gellert Grindelwald preferred to wait—let his agents do their work.
…
An Owl soared out, circled once, then returned.
Harry untied the scroll from its claw. It was the same letter he’d sent—again. The disappointment and worry overwhelmed him completely.
Michael leaned on the windowsill beside him.
“I told you, Owls won’t help. If Dumbledore’s team could find him, they would’ve already.”
The white Owl—Hedwig—snapped at Michael’s hand in anger and shot back out the window.
Michael’s parents were abroad, staying in a remote cottage for safety. The Weasley household was overcrowded. To make room for the two boys, Ron had to move into his older brother Percy’s bedroom.
Percy was furious. He thought Ron would disrupt his NEWTs exam prep. Ron looked like he’d been sentenced to a fire pit.
“Staying with Percy for the whole Christmas holiday is bad enough,” he groaned, mimicking Percy’s tone. “Ronald, take your socks off my bed! Ron, stop making noise—I’m reading an advanced Transfiguration essay!”
Harry knew he should smile, but he couldn’t. Instead, his heart sank.
When Ron finally finished packing, Harry tried writing another note and sending it with Hedwig.
The Owl returned empty-handed.
They stayed at the window, silent and exhausted, long past midnight. Neither wanted to sleep.
Suddenly, they heard the flutter of wings.
Both turned, hearts leaping with hope.
One Owl after another flew through the window, dropping boxes of all sizes, then darting away immediately.
“Ah,” Michael said flatly. “Christmas gifts. I’d forgotten it was today.”
They stood there for a moment. Harry bent down and picked up one box—just as the Dursleys had sent him: a plastic bag, likely grabbed by Aunt Petunia on impulse.
Harry felt no surprise, no anger. He simply set it aside.
Then he picked up another.
And froze.
“Michael…”
His voice trembled.
“What?” Michael asked.
“Look.”
Harry flipped the gift box over, showing the name tag to him.
“…It’s from Wade.”
(End of Chapter)
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