https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-425-Wade-He-Should-Be-Repenting-in-Hell/13685439/
Chapter 426: Gellert Grindelwald: Stay Close to Me
Lockhart and Garr said in unison: “Phoenix!”
Garr collapsed onto his knees, trembling with panic. “Dumbledore’s here?” he whispered, horrified. How could it be? What possible worth do we have that Dumbledore himself would come to arrest us?
Lockhart also fell, but he quickly realized something was off. “No… no, that’s not right. I’ve seen Dumbledore’s Phoenix at Hogwarts—it’s not the same.”
Mabel stared at the Firebird, a strange familiarity stirring in her chest. After a long moment of silent thought, she finally recalled its name.
“…Mihal?”
Mihal nodded, chirping twice, then turned and gestured with its wings.
Mabel asked, “Did Wade Gray send you? Where is he?”
Mihal didn’t answer. Instead, it flew forward, landing on the wall’s edge, then turned to look back at her.
Mabel understood.
Without hesitation, she yanked open the door.
Garr gasped. “Wait! What if it’s a trap?”
The words were out before he could stop himself. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with regret. Lockhart glared at him like a venomous snake.
Mabel paused at the threshold, turning back. Then, suddenly, she smiled.
“I’m off. Please thank Mr. Troke for his kindness.”
Her expression was utterly ordinary—light, carefree, like any other girl. The two men stared, momentarily stunned.
Then, with a flick of her skirt, she dashed out.
The Firebird flew ahead, pausing now and then, leading her onward.
The room fell silent.
…“Strange,” Garr muttered, rubbing his nose. “Why do I suddenly… feel a little worried about her?”
“Worry yourself,” Lockhart groaned, pushing himself up from the wall. “I only pray she never returns.”
He limped slowly toward the bedroom, each step a torture. Garr watched with quiet sympathy.
“Ah… humans are so fragile. Lucky for me, I’m a Vampire.”
He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with hunger. “Where should I steal some blood at noon? …Nah. Mabel just left. The Dementor’s still around. Better stay cautious…”
…
Mabel followed the Firebird through the city, running until she reached a crumbling, abandoned building. The sight sent a chill through her. The place was dark, dusty, and eerily still.
But Mihal didn’t go deep. It stopped quickly, landing on the second-floor railing, coated in dust.
“Um… Mr. Gray?” Mabel stepped inside cautiously, voice soft.
The building was vast and hollow. Her voice echoed back at her, hollow and cold.
Then, a voice spoke from behind a pillar.
“Forgive me, Miss Mabel,” said a figure stepping out from the shadows. “We couldn’t risk showing ourselves directly, so we sent Mihal to bring you.”
Mabel took a step back, alert. “You’re not Wade Gray! Who are you?”
Black fog surged from the ground, creeping up the pillars like living shadow.
Mihal on the railing flared its wings, flames blazing from its body. The fire lit the entire ruined hall, revealing the figure beside the pillar.
Mabel froze.
Before her stood a box—square, colorful, with two antenna-like eyes on top, thin metal arms on the sides, and wheels beneath. It looked like a bizarre, alien toy. Yet the voice came from it.
“No need to doubt,” the box said, stepping forward. “I am speaking.”
It turned toward Mabel. “Hello. I am the Rubik’s Magic Puppet. Wade Gray is my Master. He granted me life. The others—like Mihal—are in the same situation.”
It gestured. Mabel saw Mihal hovering, a broomstick floating midair, nodding. A cloak floated nearby, one arm raised in a waving motion. Beneath it, a shadowy figure seemed to stand—short and round.
She stared at the figure. It couldn’t be Wade.
“May I ask, sir,” she said, “who are you?”
“I am also a Magic Puppet,” the figure replied. “A humanoid one.”
Mabel nodded calmly, as if this were perfectly normal. In truth, her mind was reeling. She had read newspapers since her time in the magical world, and while she knew of Magic Puppets, most were shaped like small animals. She had never seen anything like this.
Humanoid Magic Puppets were extremely rare. Some wizards believed they threatened magical safety and ethics. There had even been calls in the press to ban them entirely, to outlaw their creation and sale. Though the motion failed, few people actually owned one.
“Why do you cover yourself with the cloak?” Mabel asked, curious.
“Because my face frightens people,” the figure said. “It causes chaos.”
—How ugly must one have to look to cause panic just by being seen? Mabel thought, bewildered. Why would Wade, of all people, choose to make something so strange and grotesque?
Then she remembered why she was here.
“Where is Mr. Gray?” she asked.
“That’s why we summoned you, Miss Mabel,” the Rubik’s Magic Puppet said seriously. “Our Master has been captured by a dark wizard. We need your power.”
Mabel’s expression flickered. “What happened?”
…
Wade had no idea his sense of style was quietly being mocked. He examined the cloak sent by Dreian—plain and black, sleeveless, with only the Wizard Purity Party insignia on the chest and back. The wide pockets could easily hide a wand, and there were hidden compartments on the side.
“Try it on,” said a serious woman with her hair tied in a bun. “Should fit you perfectly.”
Wade didn’t refuse. He slipped it on, pulled up the hood, and glanced into the mirror.
He was startled.
He couldn’t see his face.
The hood swallowed his entire head in shadow. Even under bright light, he couldn’t meet his own eyes. The cloak blurred his silhouette too—no hint of gender, height, or build. Wade now stood over six feet tall, but the cloak made him appear ageless, indistinct.
The woman stepped forward, grabbing the hood from behind and tugging hard. But the hood wouldn’t come off.
Wade pulled it down himself, staring at her.
“You see? No one else can remove it. Only you can take it off,” she explained. “The Wizard Purity Party isn’t what it once was. Concealing your identity is vital—this is a lesson we learned the hard way.”
She set aside her basket of fabric and needlework, sighing. Her eyes held quiet sympathy and pity.
“You’re so young… and already part of this. No matter what, follow that man—no matter what he asks, even if he tells you to walk into fire—never doubt him. Remember that.”
A knock came at the door.
She quickly composed her face, picked up the basket, and left.
Dreian stood in the doorway, looking at Wade. He nodded approvingly. “We’re leaving. He’s waiting.”
They pulled up their hoods and walked down the corridor.
This was the first time Wade had seen the place.
It was a fortress—massive, built of gray stone, its walls thick and ancient. The floor was covered in soft, beautiful carpet. Their footsteps made no sound.
High, narrow windows let in dim light. Candles flickered along the walls—each holder carved into twisted, lifelike human figures. Portraits hung on the walls, but none moved. They looked like Muggle paintings—still, silent.
As they walked, more figures joined them—dozens, then hundreds. All in identical black cloaks, faces hidden, silent. They moved like ghosts through the halls.
They entered the grand hall.
There, Gellert Grindelwald stood before a massive painting, gazing upward.
It depicted Hell—a layered, endless torment of souls. Above, in the brightest light, angels watched with cynical, mocking eyes. Even the little angels, meant to be pure and innocent, looked twisted, evil.
But Gellert Grindelwald wore no cloak. His face was bare.
The crowd stood behind him in silence.
Then, slowly, he turned.
“Hell and Heaven,” he said, “are separated by a single thread. We often confuse them. But here, on Earth, we hear the screams of souls.”
“I know some came here only because of their parents’ will. Some came with thoughts of destroying me. Others lost hope in life and seek meaning here.”
“Children… I don’t care why you’re here. But today, I will tell you why I remain.”
“While you have bread, jobs, Gobstones, and Quidditch—why do I still bring chaos? Why make people bleed?”
“Because wizards still lack freedom. Still lack dignity. You wear masks of peace, pretending your lives are good—yet you are nothing but beasts in a zoo, trapped in cages. You still fear. You still tremble. You still suffer.”
“When blood is not yours, can you pretend not to hear? When your kin aren’t killed, can you claim to have peace?”
“Wake up, wizards! The world hasn’t changed in fifty years. It’s still filthy. Still ugly.”
“Words are hollow. But today, I will show you the truth.”
With a sweep of his wand, the outer ring of the chandelier spun violently, expanding and descending. Wizards scattered. The ring settled in the center, spinning slowly.
Then Dreian stepped forward. He touched the ring—and vanished.
One by one, others followed. Fast. Faster. The hall emptied quickly.
Wade hesitated. Then he reached out.
His body was yanked upward, pulled through a blur of motion. He felt weightless, flying at impossible speed.
Then—thud—he landed hard.
Before he could steady himself, a force seized him.
“Boy,” said Gellert Grindelwald, “stay close to me.”
Wade didn’t know how the man had picked him out from the sea of identical cloaked figures. But as he looked around, he instantly cast layer upon layer of protective spells.
The Portkey had brought them to a strange place. White buildings loomed ahead—familiar in a way he couldn’t place.
Muggle soldiers were startled by the sudden intrusion. Someone shouted. They grabbed their guns and aimed.
Inside the building, weapons turned, pointing at the wizards.
The cloaked figures were imposing. But not everyone reacted fast enough. Some couldn’t even raise a Shield Charm.
Gunfire erupted.
Wizards fell, blood spraying, screaming in agony.
Gellert Grindelwald raised his wand.
Blue flame erupted from nowhere—expanding, surging forward like a tidal wave, leaping over the wizards, engulfing the panicked soldiers.
“Fire! It’s on fire!”
“Devils!”
“Shoot! Kill him!”
Chaos reigned. Some tried to run. Others fought back. But the flame reached them in an instant. Dozens, frozen mid-motion—running, shielding—turned to ash in seconds.
The rest dropped their guns and fled.
Weapons on the walls twisted and exploded under magic, crashing down in thunderous ruins.
Wade watched as some cloaked wizards were consumed by the flame. But others—those who marched forward without fear—walked through it unharmed.
Perhaps courage was born from the sight of comrades dying. Perhaps they were swept along, with no choice. Or perhaps they feared Gellert Grindelwald too much to stop.
One by one, the cloaked figures stepped through fire, casting spells at the fleeing soldiers.
Not everyone could kill like Grindelwald—but even a Stun Spell was no defense. The flame followed, consuming them all.
“I know you were involved in the recent operation,” Gellert Grindelwald suddenly said. “Do you recognize this place?”
Wade frowned. “Another base for that organization?”
“Research?” Grindelwald laughed softly. “No. This is a place of transformation.”
With a gesture, he commanded the blue flame—wild, monstrous, devouring everything in its path. The air itself seemed to burn. The heat was suffocating.
Wade followed behind, wand clenched tight.
He stared at the back of the man ahead—unprotected, open. His eyes flicked away.
With a flick of his wand, invisible armor blocked a bullet. Air rippled with translucent waves.
Boom!
The wall collapsed. The first wizard to enter froze, stunned.
He was one of Grindelwald’s most loyal followers—trained for years, strong-willed, unyielding.
Yet now, he stood frozen. His pupils dilated. He couldn’t move.
“What… what is this?”
Beyond the wall—hell itself unfolded before them.
(End of Chapter)
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