https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-425-Wade-He-Should-Be-Repenting-in-Hell/13685439/
Chapter 424: Wade: Origins Have Nothing to Do with Me
Wade didn’t know how many people were already on their way to rescue him, nor did he place any hope in others.
In Wade’s mind, the greatest danger had come in the first few moments after waking—though the threat hadn’t come from the cat, but from Gellert Grindelwald’s demeanor.
If the dark wizard, infamous for his bloodstained deeds, decided to take the simplest route—controlling him, stealing the magical knowledge he now mastered—using the Imperius Curse, a Love Potion, or even erasing his memories—then Wade would have no choice but to fight to the death.
But he also knew his greatest value wasn’t in being exceptionally talented compared to other children. It lay in his unique alchemical expertise.
Magic that manipulated minds or emotions—Potions, spells, curses—usually damaged intelligence. So if Grindelwald had any real interest in him, he’d be relatively safe.
Wade had realized this back during his last encounter with the Organization’s kidnapping attempt.
Alchemy differed from most magical systems. It required a wizard to maintain a clear mind and sharp memory—like a scientist conducting experiments. You couldn’t function in a fog of confusion, nor could you be consumed by obsessive love.
And unlike technology, which could be replicated with a set procedure, even the most skilled alchemist faced frequent failures. Magic was deeply tied to the wizard’s inner strength—mind, will, spirit.
Without genuine cooperation, an alchemist could become nothing more than a giant, wasteful machine—devouring resources, producing nothing of value.
Since Grindelwald hadn’t used coercion or threats during their first meeting, the greater Wade’s value became apparent, the less likely the dark wizard would suddenly turn on him.
Unlike Voldemort, who prized bloodline above all, Grindelwald valued talent. He was an elitist, and even a notorious dark wizard could be warm and enthusiastic toward those with true ability.
So when crafting the tool to breach the Streaming Mirror, Wade didn’t pretend to fail or stall for time. He spent two hours designing it, and as soon as the materials arrived, he began working immediately.
This time, he didn’t rely on his unique vision. He completed the entire process using only his current mastery of alchemy.
Grindelwald had sent an elderly alchemist with silver-white hair to assist him—Wovilet, as he was called. The two worked side by side, discussing ideas, and Wovilet was openly impressed by Wade’s flawless Transfiguration, solid magical foundation, and original thinking. In turn, Wade picked up some German alchemical techniques from the older wizard.
After three failures, on the fourth attempt, they finally saw the first light of success.
Wovilet brought out a Streaming Mirror for testing. The image shifted seamlessly, and the voice transmission was crisp and clear.
“Good heavens,” Wovilet breathed, eyes wide as he turned to Wade. “I thought this couldn’t go so smoothly—or so fast!”
Wade smiled faintly, neither confirming nor denying.
Wovilet already had his answer in mind, and he didn’t mind the silence. He circled the radio-like device, then said:
“This is your creation. Give this little one a name.”
“Uh…” Wade paused, then asked: “How about Zero-Day Squirrel?”
Zero-day—in computing, it referred to an undisclosed vulnerability, one that could be exploited before it was known. As for squirrel, it was nature’s little thief.
“—Zero-Day?” Wovilet frowned slightly, not quite understanding the reference, but liking the sound of it. He nodded. “Perfect. I hope this little squirrel brings us more magical nuts.”
The core structure of the Zero-Day Squirrel was complete. Only minor refinements remained.
“Mr. Wovilet,” Wade asked casually while crafting a small part, “did you graduate from Durmstrang?”
“Ah, yes,” Wovilet smiled. “I studied there.”
“Though Durmstrang has a reputation for tolerating Dark Magic,” he continued, “it’s not quite what people think. Students were serious and dedicated in class, but on weekends? They danced, sang, lived.”
“Does Durmstrang teach the three Unforgivable Curses?” Wade asked curiously. “Do students ever test Imperius or Cruciatus on each other?”
“Certainly not!” Wovilet said firmly. “Durmstrang holds the same stance on certain spells as every other school—including—”
His voice cut off abruptly. He glanced toward the entrance, wary of Grindelwald suddenly appearing.
Then he leaned in, voice lowered:
“—including Gellert. You know, he was expelled from the school. Too dangerous, even though he was talented.”
Really? Wade wasn’t convinced.
He remembered the Triwizard Tournament. The Durmstrang champion, Krum, had been under the Imperius Curse, using Cruciatus on Cedric.
The Imperius Curse could control a person—but it couldn’t force a spell into someone’s mind if they hadn’t mastered it.
Wade didn’t argue. But Wovilet, stirred by the topic, grew animated.
“Ah… back then, Gellert was truly magnetic. I was a few years below him, but even reading about him, I wanted to follow him,” he said, eyes distant. “He may have dabbled in dangerous magic. He may have made mistakes. But his intentions—his dream—was to build a magical utopia. He cared about the wizarding community’s future.”
“Your Headmaster, Dumbledore, refuses to sacrifice anyone. He’s hailed as a saint. But I think that’s hypocrisy. Don’t frown, child. If you read more history—Muggle history—you’ll learn: no real change comes without bloodshed.”
“Dumbledore is weak. Only Gellert—only his vision—can truly change how wizards live, hiding and afraid. Even if he fails, I’ll still say it. I’ll always believe in him.”
“Thank you, John,” Wade’s voice came from the doorway. “Thank you for your trust… and your praise.”
Gellert Grindelwald stepped inside, smiling at the two. “So, the item is nearly done?”
“Actually,” Wovilet said, patting the machine, “the Zero-Day Squirrel is complete! A genius design. We’re just adding protective layers now to prevent damage during use.”
Grindelwald’s eyes lit up—genuine surprise. “Excellent. Then our plan can move forward a few days ahead of schedule.” He turned to Wovilet. “The rest of the work can be yours?”
“Of course—” Wovilet suddenly hesitated, glancing at Wade. “But there are still some parts I don’t fully understand. I’d really need Mr. Gray’s wisdom to finish.”
“Then I’ll borrow Wade for a moment,” Grindelwald interrupted, placing a hand on Wade’s shoulder. He smiled warmly. “We have some things to discuss.”
“Gellert, Mr. Gray is an extraordinary alchemist. I’ve never seen a child his age with such deep knowledge!” Wovilet’s voice trembled slightly. “He’s still young. Even if you disagree—please, don’t—don’t—”
“Ha-ha, John,” Grindelwald laughed. “You’re thinking too much. We’re just going to talk. Literally.”
Wovilet exhaled in relief, watching them leave. Then he sighed, heavy with worry.
He’d chosen to follow Grindelwald… but the man’s ruthlessness was terrifying when he wanted to be.
And he knew—Grindelwald could be impulsive, unpredictable, quick to change mood. What if the fiery young Wade Gray dared to speak back?
The more he thought, the more anxious he became. Without a word, he set down his wand and began pacing the room, waiting for the outcome of the “talk.”
In Wovilet’s mind, Grindelwald would surely try to recruit Wade—offer power, status, a place in the Wizard Purity Party.
But Wade clearly admired Dumbledore. He felt deep loyalty to Hogwarts. Such bonds weren’t broken by a few words.
If rejected, Grindelwald would likely use Cruciatus to “persuade.” Most would break under such pain. But some—like Wade—might only grow fiercer in resistance.
Yet the reality was far different.
Grindelwald wasn’t interested in allegiance.
He sat comfortably in an armchair, signaling Dreian to pour Wade a cup of tea. Then he asked:
“Child, do you know your origins?”
Wade blinked. “Of course I know my parents.”
“No,” Grindelwald corrected, “I mean your grandparents, great-grandparents, your grandmother, your great-grandfather.”
Wade paused.
He’d heard fragments from his parents, but there was no family tree, no photos. He’d never asked.
To him, abandoning two children without magical ability during a time of chaos—then cutting all ties—was abandonment.
Even if it was a tradition in the wizarding world—Weasley Family followed it too—it was still a failure as parents.
Wade had never considered claiming any bloodline. At school, he’d always said he came from a non-magical family.
Ferdinand and Fiona were his parents. They raised him with love. They were his only relatives.
Others? Could mere blood tie bind him like a chain around his neck?
Impossible.
Grindelwald seemed to interpret Wade’s silence. He casually shared the results of his investigation:
“I assumed your parents were Muggles. But we discovered they’ve been entering Diagon Alley since you started Hogwarts.”
Wade’s eyes sharpened, locking onto Grindelwald with a cold stare.
“Relax,” Grindelwald said, swirling his tea. “I’m not going to threaten you with them. I just realized—someone who can see The Leaky Cauldron but has no magic? Your parents are Muggle-born.”
“And my ancestors?” He continued. “It was hard to find records, but luckily, the Ministry has a diligent young man eager to help…”
He looked into Wade’s gray eyes. “Your grandmother was Rosie Black. Her father, Marius Black. You’ve been to the Black family mansion, but you probably never saw that name—Marius Black was disowned because he was Muggle-born.”
Wade’s expression flickered—but not in surprise.
He knew the Black family hadn’t always been so small. Once, like the Weasleys, they’d been sprawling, with branches connected to every great wizarding house—Potter, Weasley, Malfoy, Crabbe, Longbottom.
And he’d long noticed—his face bore a faint resemblance to Sirius Black. But their blood ties were distant, barely a thread on the family tree.
“And your great-grandfather,” Grindelwald added. “Joseph Bones. Your grandfather, Andrew. Your grandmother, Carla. The Bones family produced many outstanding wizards. You know Amelia Bones, don’t you? She’s the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Your distant aunt.”
Wade leaned back slightly, studying Grindelwald. “So? What’s the point of telling me all this? You’re offering me a family reunion?”
Grindelwald rested his chin on his hand, smiling. “I’d love to help you build connections in the wizarding world. But… unfortunately—”
He sighed softly. “Both your maternal and paternal families were murdered by Voldemort or his Death Eaters.”
“Originally, you should’ve been taken in by the Bones family after Hogwarts accepted you. But since your grandparents were gone, you stayed in the Muggle world. Amelia Bones didn’t even know her Muggle-born cousin was still alive.”
As he spoke, Grindelwald watched Wade closely.
Most people, upon learning of long-lost relatives, would show emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, longing. Any reaction was understandable.
But Wade?
He listened like he was hearing a story about strangers. His eyes didn’t flicker. His expression didn’t change.
Grindelwald could sense it. Not feigned calm. Not suppression.
True indifference.
No matter how powerful or broken those old families were, it meant nothing to him.
A faint smile appeared in the depths of Grindelwald’s eyes.
“Not knowing is fine,” Wade said, shifting in his seat. “I’m used to the name Gray. I have no intention of changing it.”
“Thank you for the information,” he added. “Though I really don’t care.”
Grindelwald tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, thoughtful. “But I wonder—what do you think, child? You were meant to grow up in the magical world… but ended up in the Muggle one. How do you see the relationship between wizards and Muggles now?”
Wade’s gaze lifted.
He realized this was the real question.
If Wade were just a Muggle-born, this wouldn’t matter. But with blood ties to two prominent wizarding families—this question carried weight.
Even his parents weren’t truly Muggles.
Muggle-borns might sit at the bottom of the magical hierarchy, but they were still part of the world.
After a silence, Wade said:
“There’s something you might not have noticed—”
He paused.
“I’m thirteen.”
Age was his weakness. But age was also his shield.
Grindelwald smiled. “Yes… I suppose I was too eager.”
He stood. “Back to rest. You’ll have many thoughts tonight. But get some sleep. Tomorrow, we may need to go out. You’ll come with us.”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
