https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-429-The-Person-in-the-Streaming-Mirror/13685443/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-431-The-Wizard-Purity-Party-s-Banquet/13685450/
Chapter 430: Remus Lupin: Do Not Walk Toward Darkness
Snap.
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black materialized in a barren, snow-covered forest.
The ground, once blanketed under thick snowdrifts, now bore a chaotic web of footprints—some trampled, others abruptly vanishing, just as their own had appeared.
“This must be it,” Sirius Black said, scanning the surroundings. “I’ve been here before with James Potter.”
“Hmm. Let’s go,” Remus Lupin muttered, adjusting his scarf, his face grim.
They stepped forward through the snow, their footprints sinking into the powder. At the far end of the clearing stood a sprawling manor, its high walls snaking around the base of a hill like a cage, enclosing an entire mountainside.
A vagrant loitering nearby instantly tensed. One hand remained buried in his coat pocket, the fabric’s folds betraying the slender outline of a wand.
Before he could speak, Sirius Black produced a parchment and waved it slightly. Ink-green cursive letters slowly appeared across its surface.
The man’s posture relaxed instantly. He took the parchment, glanced at it, and grunted.
“The Ministry of Magic of Britain?” His English carried a heavy Austrian accent, rough and blunt. “I’ve seen more of you today than I care to. Will Dumbledore be coming?”
“I don’t know,” Sirius Black said flatly. “Dumbledore has his own plans.”
“Of course, of course… it is Dumbledore, after all…” The vagrant mumbled, returning the parchment. “Go ahead. But don’t expect much. They’re all just pitiful Muggles.”
“Has any nearby Muggle discovered this place?” Sirius asked, slipping the parchment into his pocket.
“You tell me,” the man yawned, weary. “They’re everywhere—like cockroaches. The first one on the scene was a Muggle.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Luckily, a wizard lived nearby. He intercepted the Muggle before he could call the police. We’ve done our best—used Forgetting Charms on everyone who saw this place. But… who knows?”
He shrugged helplessly. “Nowadays, Muggles’ networks are so fast. Whether the message got out… no one can say for sure.”
Sirius Black muttered a thanks and turned toward the manor with Remus Lupin.
Behind them, the vagrant resumed pacing, ever watchful, ready to shoo any stray Muggle back into the shadows.
After walking a short distance, Remus Lupin asked, “An Austrian Ministry of Magic?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said. “You know how it is—they share jurisdiction over Nurmengard with the German Ministry. Since Gellert Grindelwald escaped, they’ve barely had a moment’s rest. The situation’s tense. If it weren’t for Kingsley pulling strings, I couldn’t have brought you in.”
Remus Lupin frowned at the expanding manor, at the flurry of foreign wizards bustling around the grounds.
The five locations Gellert Grindelwald had attacked weren’t in Britain at all—two were private islands in the sea, and the others lay in America, France, and Italy. This estate was in Italy, near the border with Germany and Austria.
Italian wizards were famously lax and slow-moving—job efficiency was practically nonexistent. And with the mastermind being the very same terror who’d once threatened the entire magical world, the Italian Ministry of Magic had done what it always did: avoid the spotlight. Citing the incident’s international nature, they’d pulled in the German and Austrian Ministries, then warmly invited the British Ministry to assist—while staying safely in the background.
So Remus saw almost no Italian wizards here—only Germans and Austrians, both speaking German, leaving Remus struggling to follow.
He said nothing, only listened and watched, his mind drifting back to the message he’d received before leaving—
> “I’ll be honest with you, Professor Dumbledore,” the FMC Director said, his face drawn. “The Streaming Mirror’s design includes three layers of encryption. Even with an identical Connection Charm, we couldn’t be easily hijacked.”
>
> “The only ones who could pull it off are either the alchemists at Aslan Magical Workshop… or Wade Gray.”
>
> “But the alchemists? Impossible. They’ve been working nonstop on Communication Pea prototypes—everyone inside is burning the midnight oil.”
>
> “And even if they could… each alchemist only masters a portion of the craft. To achieve this level of precision, you’d need at least three of them working together. And even then… it’s only possible. Because knowing how to build something doesn’t mean you can crack it.”
>
> The director looked both pained and bewildered—convinced that Wade Gray, so young, had become Grindelwald’s accomplice. He was worried, too, about the Wizard Purity Party soon mastering magical artifact production—especially the Streaming Mirror’s secrets. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions.
>
> “Actually,” Dumbledore said, frowning, “Wade Gray went missing a week ago. I’ve always suspected Grindelwald was behind this. Now it’s confirmed.”
After hearing the message, Sirius had quietly reassured him:
> “This isn’t your fault, Moony. Not entirely.”
>
> “Grindelwald himself intervened. Who could stop him? Even if he failed then, could you have kept the children locked away forever? If they were determined to take him… you couldn’t have stopped them.”
>
> “Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t notice anything sooner. Otherwise, I might’ve lost another friend.”
After the signal hijacking, Sirius had added:
> “The Ministries are all in chaos—but honestly, it’s a good thing. At least it proves Wade has unique value to that man. For now, he’s safe. No immediate danger.”
>
> “He’s smart, Remus. He’s like Wade… he’ll hold on. He’ll survive until we come for him.”
Remus knew Sirius was trying to ease his guilt—but he couldn’t even fake a comforting smile.
His pain ran deeper than failure. He was afraid.
Afraid that when they finally found a way to rescue Wade, the boy might choose to stay on the other side.
Unlike Sirius, who was loud and reckless, Remus had known Wade longer, spoken to him more often. He’d sensed it—something in the boy’s thoughts.
Not like Harry’s instinctive kindness, innocent and naïve. Wade seemed to have always seen the world from above, detached, even… cynical.
Look at the videos. The blood and fire. Compared to the Ministry’s slow, bureaucratic ways, Gellert Grindelwald’s approach—swift, decisive, brutal—was undeniably compelling. To a young mind, it was like modern Robin Hood: justice delivered by fire and sword.
Remus feared the boy wouldn’t want to come back.
Worse, he feared Wade might already be doing things in the Wizard Purity Party—actions that would sever his ties to this side. That would erase his safe haven.
The only comfort? Wade still had people here. His parents, his teachers, his friends. These bonds would pull him back—keep him from walking into darkness.
…
The signal hijacking wasn’t a one-time event. It happened at random intervals, bursting into broadcasts with a jarring, arrogant interruption—fifteen seconds of video, repeated over and over, glorifying the Wizard Purity Party’s latest actions.
They’d learned not to interrupt gripping TV moments. Instead, they inserted themselves into the brief gaps—between show openings and closings, or during Aslan’s ad breaks.
Now, nearly every wizard with a Streaming Mirror received the same signal. Beyond Ministry news, the world watched the same program. The Wizard Purity Party and Gellert Grindelwald were sparking fierce debate across the magical world.
But the backlash wasn’t nearly as strong as Remus had feared.
While nearby wizards trembled in fear, those farther away—those who felt no immediate threat from Grindelwald’s return—were mostly cheering.
Remus had exchanged Books of Friends with wizards from other nations. Messages poured in:
> “About time!”
>
> “Did you see those poor children? I can’t believe anyone could treat them like that!”
>
> “Muggles are stealing our land, defiling our image, even poisoning the air we breathe! I hope someone finally takes them down!”
>
> “I get it, Remus. But he only killed those who deserved it, didn’t he?”
>
> “Stay safe, my friends. Even if you join the Wizard Purity Party, I won’t judge. I think he’s… a compelling leader.”
Leader?
A man who kidnapped children?
Remus felt his anger boiling, but there was nowhere to direct it.
Gellert Grindelwald’s attacks on Muggle targets should have unified the magical world against him. But his stated purpose—eradicating those who sought magical power, rescuing the victims—gave him widespread understanding… and support.
Even more cunning: he danced on the edge of breaking the Confidentiality Act, but never quite crossed it.
Using magic in front of Muggles? Attacking them openly? In the magical world, such acts were unforgivable.
But the victims knew magic existed. And after the attacks, they were either dead… or too incapacitated to speak. The Ministry could then arrive, cast Forgetting Charms, and contain the situation—without ever letting the truth leak.
After every raid, the party would launch a massive firework into the sky. Muggles might see it, but they’d never think it was magic. Wizards nearby would notice. The Ministry would arrive swiftly.
They controlled the pace of the story. No panicked Muggles filming the scene, no viral videos, no front-page scandals. No massive, uncontrollable exposure.
Fifty years in prison hadn’t turned Gellert Grindelwald into a rigid old man. If anything, he’d grown sharper, more unpredictable.
From Dumbledore’s increasingly strained expression, Remus could feel it—even Dumbledore found this version of Grindelwald harder to handle than before.
…
“Ministry of Magic of Britain—Sirius Black and Remus Lupin?” A red-bearded German wizard checked the parchment again, speaking with a clumsy accent. “Your people are over there.”
He pointed. Remus looked. A group of British wizards were emerging from the manor’s entrance, escorted by two others.
At the front stood a man in his fifties, short gray hair perfectly combed, blue-black robes unwrinkled, spine straight, face serious. He spoke German with precision, directing those around him. Beside him, a short, stout Austrian wizard wore an unmistakable look of respect.
“That’s Barty Crouch,” Sirius said, his tone heavy.
Crouch had once been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—ruthless, cold, a fierce opponent of Voldemort. He’d been one of Sirius’s heroes.
But it was also Crouch who’d had Sirius thrown into Azkaban without trial.
Sirius didn’t blame him—he knew he’d brought it on himself. But the incident had deeply wounded Crouch’s reputation. Thousands had turned against him, accusing him of hypocrisy. His son, Little Barty Crouch, had been dragged back into the spotlight—the real Death Eater all along.
Since then, every meeting between them had carried an awkward silence.
Now, Sirius saw that Crouch looked older than before—worn down, clearly suffering.
He hesitated, then stepped forward. The mission came first.
They approached.
From ahead, Crouch said seriously, “Please understand, Franz… St. Mungo’s is under immense pressure. They’re having to move patients into the corridors…”
“Yes, yes—we understand,” the stout wizard said miserably. “But the number of injured is overwhelming. Most are Muggles. Our hospital can’t handle it. Leaving them untreated means death. There are even children from Britain and Northern Ireland inside…”
Crouch paused, then, almost accidentally, caught sight of Sirius. His expression flickered—just for a moment—before returning to stone.
“Here’s what I’ll do,” Crouch said to the Austrian. “Patients born in the British Isles can go to St. Mungo’s. Beyond that, we can take twenty more.”
“Fifty?” the man pleaded. “Fifty, please! St. Mungo’s healers are the best in Europe. Only they might save these poor children…”
“What’s going on?” Sirius grabbed a familiar Auror.
“The rescued victims,” the Auror said, sympathy laced with helplessness. “Most of them were transfused with magical creature blood. The changes… they’re… impossible to describe.”
“They can’t be treated in Muggle hospitals,” he added. “Even St. Mungo’s might not be able to help. Honestly… I’d say dying is kinder.”
Seeing the others weren’t paying attention, Sirius pulled the Auror aside.
“Tell me what you’ve found—your investigation results.”
Meanwhile, Remus slipped away, moving deeper into the estate.
He held his wand, passed through two layers of security checks—no one stopped him again.
He cast Detection Spells over and over, searching the scorched ruins of the building for even a whisper of familiar magic. A trace of Wade’s presence. A message left behind.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
(End of Chapter)
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