https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-434-Old-Clothes-and-New-Garments/13685453/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-436-The-Behind-the-Scenes-Black-Hand-Gray-/13685455/
Chapter 435: Why Did We Fail?
The Golden Bell hung in midair, swaying slightly—its center empty, no clapper within.
Dreian raised his wand, and the floating Crystal Vial shattered with a sharp crack. Golden powder cascaded toward Mor like a storm, swirling violently.
Mor instinctively held his breath, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. He watched as the scattered gold particles spiraled upward, drawn toward the Bell hanging from his wrist, forming a tiny vortex in the air. He shook his arm, and the powder danced with the motion—until, within moments, every speck had vanished into the Bell’s hollow core.
“Antoine,” Dreian asked, “are you feeling any discomfort?”
Mor flexed his arm and shoulders. “No, everything’s fine. I’m not dizzy or disoriented at all.”
Gellert Grindelwald flicked his fingers, and an empty chair beside him tumbled end over end through the air before landing squarely in the center of the room.
“Break it,” he said.
Mor pointed his wand. “Thunder Explosion!”
The spell struck the chair with a thunderous crack. Splinters exploded outward, hot air surging from the impact.
“Exactly as before,” Mor affirmed. “That gold powder didn’t affect me in the slightest. I thought this Mystery Magic would be more dangerous.”
“Powerful things are often fragile,” Gellert Grindelwald replied. “Time Magic is terrifying—but once crystallized into powder, even a tiny container can contain it.”
“But one isn’t enough,” he added. “Wade, Wovilet— I need more… uh, what’s the name of this thing?”
“Dust-Collecting Bell,” Wovilet said proudly. “Wade named it.”
“Oh,” Gellert Grindelwald murmured, eyeing Wade with a faint smirk. “Just like your Communication Pea. You’re as careless with names as a child playing alchemist. How can you expect to build something meaningful with such random naming?”
Wade shrugged. “Simple and clear is better. You know exactly what it does the moment you hear it.”
Gellert Grindelwald exhaled, then paused, considering. “Shivangis… that’s the name. I’ll need at least 180 of them. How long will it take you two to prepare?”
“180?” Wovilet glanced at Wade, mentally calculating their pace. “Two days, maybe.”
As a mature Alchemist, Wovilet could run multiple processes simultaneously—each of his apprentices handled basic tasks like material refinement and shaping. With two working at full efficiency, even accounting for rest, two days was generous. They could easily finish sooner.
“Then we’ll begin the next operation in three days,” Gellert Grindelwald declared. He turned to the young wizard. “Wade Gray… you’ll be joining us this time.”
…
“Ugh…”
Back in the Alchemy Chamber, Wovilet sighed for the third time. His grim expression was so palpable that even Wade, who hadn’t planned to speak, couldn’t help but react.
“It’s fine,” Wade said, trying to reassure him. “Last time, Gellert Grindelwald kept me close the whole time—no one was safer than me.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Wovilet said quietly. “If Gellert doesn’t want you hurt, you won’t be. I’m worried about… well, I can’t say.” He let out another long, heavy sigh.
Wade knew what he meant—but he couldn’t change Gellert Grindelwald’s mind. He simply pretended not to know.
Last time, he’d been nothing more than a safe observer. But this time… it wouldn’t be so easy.
He hadn’t even turned fourteen. At that age, no matter how powerful a wizard, it was too soon to face a battlefield, to kill, or even to stare into the raw cruelty of such a Dark Lord. Even Wovilet, a Dark Wizard himself, thought it was too early.
Night fell. The two tidied the lab with minimal effort, then headed to eat. The house-elf had already set dinner on the table—simple, but far tastier than it looked. The vegetables in the salad had a freshness that even the most basic Hogwarts meal couldn’t match.
Wovilet sat in silence, face dark with worry. Every bite of tomato made him think of blood spilling across stone. The roasted chicken reminded him of a human being, alive one moment, reduced to charcoal the next.
He’d seen such horrors before. But this time was different.
In every image that flashed in his mind, there stood Wade—pale, trembling, forced to raise his wand under the cold, merciless gaze of a Dark Lord.
Before the meal ended, Wovilet shot to his feet. “No! I can’t let this happen!”
Wade blinked in surprise.
Then he watched as Wovilet darted into his bedroom, rummaging frantically through drawers. Moments later, he pulled out a… Soft-Light Badge?
It was one of Wade’s own creations—magical cosmetic filters that enhanced a person’s natural beauty in subtle, pleasant ways. Its only flaw was its short lifespan, but since its release, it had been wildly popular—even among members of the Wizard Purity Party.
“What’s this for?” Wade asked, bewildered.
Wovilet beamed as he pulled the badge from his hands. “Recognize it? Young people love beauty. Anyone wearing this looks perfectly normal—no one would think it odd. Even an old man like me bought a few.”
He fastened the badge to Wade’s chest, then adjusted his collar. Leaning close, he whispered:
“I made a little modification. It’s now a Portkey—pointing directly to this castle. If anything goes wrong… if Gellert tries to harm you… just return immediately.”
“Don’t worry about the fallout,” he added. “I’ll handle it. Whatever he asks—say it was my idea. I still have some influence, you know.”
…
A soft knock came at the door.
“Guests,” the waiter said, “your dinner is here.”
The door opened. A man with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck—his scalp nearly bald—accepted the tray with a calm, steady gaze. He looked at the waiter and said simply, “Thank you.”
The waiter froze, then managed a polite smile as the man closed the door behind him.
What a strange contrast, he thought. His face looks like a thief’s, but his eyes… they’re like a soldier’s soul trapped in a thief’s body.
But then—who says a man with a disheveled appearance can’t carry dignity? Maybe he’d once lived a life of grand upheaval, only to be broken by fate.
The waiter pushed his cart toward the next room, still haunted by the image of those piercing eyes.
“Dinner’s here, Miss Mabel.”
Peter Two placed pancakes, grilled sausages, fruit, and a large jug of sweet milk on the table.
“Thank you,” Mabel said, stepping out of the bathroom, steam still rising from her skin. She sat down, wrapped a pancake around a sausage, and hesitated. “You really don’t want to eat? Not even a bite?”
“We don’t need to eat, Miss Mabel,” Peter Two replied, shaking his head.
She’d heard this before—but it still felt odd.
They looked human. Spoke like humans. Yet, beneath the surface, they were no different than the Rubik’s Magic Puppet or a broomstick. Sometimes, the thought sent a shiver down her spine.
But over time, Mabel realized: Peter Two, despite his grotesque appearance, was quiet, reliable, and kind—a good Magic Puppet.
When she’d first joined the group, she’d expected to wander the countryside, sleeping under the stars, struggling to survive. She’d even worried about what she’d do if she got sick.
But now, she was living better than ever.
They rode on broomsticks during travel. The Rubik’s Magic Puppet unfolded a shield-like panel to block the wind. Mihal flapped his wings nearby, stirring warm currents that banished the cold of high altitude.
The Magic Puppets also respected her need for rest. Each evening, they stopped at a high-end hotel entrance. Peter Two, posing as an adult, handled check-in—complete with official documents and registration papers, though Mabel had no idea how he’d obtained them.
The Rubik’s Magic Puppet transformed into a suitcase, quietly carried into the room. Then, cloaked in invisibility, Mabel slipped through the window on her broomstick.
Inside, the hotel offered delicious food and hot baths. Safety was never a concern. At night, she slept on a soft bed, and sometimes, when she woke in the dark, she’d find several Magic Puppets silently waiting by the window or the door.
By day, they tracked the Wizard Purity Party’s movements, but never approached—only watched from afar. Sometimes, the broomsticks disguised themselves as ordinary flying brooms, eavesdropping on conversations.
But two days ago, their blind search finally yielded a breakthrough.
A wizard had begun reaching out—providing intelligence.
His name was Machionni, a merchant. According to rumors, he was Wade Gray’s business partner.
“That man’s trustworthy?” the broomstick muttered. “My mind says: no business is honest. These clever merchants will do anything for profit.”
Mabel glanced at its slender, twig-like body. Mind? Where’s its brain?
“Perfect,” Peter Two said. “Rescuing Master is exactly what benefits him.”
“Whether he’s trustworthy is Master’s call,” the Rubik’s Magic Puppet replied. “I only care if the intelligence is useful.”
“Does he know you’re Magic Puppets?” Mabel asked.
“Yes,” it said. “He even took Wade’s Book of Friends when we left—just in case we wanted to send messages.”
But through the parchment, no one could trust their identity. Everyone remained cautious.
Only Dumbledore had ever invited them to join.
Then, after days of silence, Machionni had sent a stream of intelligence.
In the video feed, none of the Wizard Purity Party members showed their faces. But Machionni had analyzed the boot materials and patterns, narrowing down their possible hideout.
If I’m not mistaken, their base is somewhere in southwestern Sweden. Head inland. Look for old castles—places with a history of magic.
The man was imprisoned at sea for 48 years. The cold, damp climate must have ruined his health. He’d avoid coastal areas now.
That message had arrived two days ago.
Sweden had fewer than 300 castles. After eliminating coastal ones, and those turned into tourist attractions, the search would be manageable.
The only fear? Gellert Grindelwald might hide the castle completely.
But they had Mabel.
Born from hatred of magic, the Silent Shadow had an extraordinary sensitivity to magical power.
After dinner, Mabel marked off the places they’d searched today. She discussed tomorrow’s plan with the Magic Puppets, preparing to rest—when suddenly, the Rubik’s Magic Puppet spoke:
“Machionni sent another message.”
It opened the Book of Friends. A new name appeared.
“John Adler? An ordinary man who can’t use magic… might be the next target of the Wizard Purity Party. Have any of you heard of him?”
Everyone in the room—creature and non-creature alike—shook their heads.
“What should we do?” Mabel asked, tracing the map with her finger. “Keep searching castles… or go after this Adler first?”
The Rubik’s Magic Puppet stared at the parchment, where words appeared one by one. It fell into deep thought.
…
“Changed the badge into a Portkey?”
Gellert Grindelwald repeated the words, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
“Yes,” the house-elf in the gray pillowcase replied, repeating Wovilet’s words exactly.
The creature’s large, flexible ears swiveled independently—hyper-sensitive to sound. Most wizards ignored them instinctively.
But Gellert Grindelwald, a man who had lived through war, had never underestimated them. His study, bedroom, and meeting room were all warded. Even a house-elf outside couldn’t hear anything but a low, buzzing hum.
Wovilet didn’t know this. Gellert Grindelwald hadn’t shared his knowledge with others.
Now, after hearing the elf’s report, Gellert Grindelwald said nothing—then turned to Dreian, who stood silently by.
To Dreian’s shock, the Dark Lord didn’t rage. Instead, he laughed—softly at first, then louder, his thin frame trembling like a drum.
Dreian watched nervously. He feared Gellert would collapse again, as before.
Then, the laughter stopped. The Dark Lord exhaled, his expression solemn.
“Gunter,” he said, “have you ever thought… why our cause failed?”
(End of Chapter)
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