https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-437-Gellert-Grindelwald-s-Paper-Airplane/13685456/
Chapter 436: The Behind-the-Scenes Black Hand—Gray?
“Because of Dumbledore’s Obstacle,” Dreian paused, then added, “and because so many foolish people simply can’t comprehend your great strategy and vision.”
“Dumbledore?” Gellert Grindelwald murmured slowly. “The moment he avoided meeting me, my cause had already begun to show signs of failure.”
“The whole world believed my power was unstoppable. Only I knew—everything had strayed so far from our original ideals…”
He closed his eyes, as if transported back to the narrow, freezing prison cell. Again and again, he fed on his own failures, chewing on them, regretting—
If, in the duel, he hadn’t been so obsessed with the Elder Wand’s power…
If he’d taken the time to hone his skills…
Perhaps he wouldn’t have lost to Dumbledore.
If he’d shown even a little more mercy toward Muggles…
Perhaps his subordinates wouldn’t have quietly betrayed him.
If he’d killed all the Hippogriffs from the start, not entrusted the election to creatures he could never control…
If he’d succeeded in securing Cleddens Baribown, making that simple-minded boy willingly charge into battle for him…
If he hadn’t underestimated Newt Scamander just because he looked foolish—had killed him early…
Even earlier—had he been patient with Aberforth and Ariana, understood how vital those two burdens were to Dumbledore…
Maybe everything would have been different.
But counting it all, Gellert Grindelwald realized: the number of turning points he’d needed to change was overwhelming.
The empire didn’t collapse overnight. Countless mistakes led to his downfall. Looking back, it seemed every time he stood at a crossroads, he’d chosen the wrong path.
In the long, winding recollection, Gellert Grindelwald finally understood: he hadn’t failed because of Dumbledore. He’d failed because of himself.
He’d made the wrong decisions from the beginning—ruling through brutality and extremism, turning himself into the enemy of the entire world. No matter how powerful his position, it was like fire on oil—burning fiercely, but when it died, there was nothing left beneath.
He wasn’t fighting Muggles. He wasn’t challenging the cowardly avoidance mindset of wizards who’d lived in peace for centuries. He was challenging the world’s fundamental order, the core interests, and the moral fabric of those who lived within it.
“I didn’t lose to Dumbledore. I lost to myself… I lost to my own arrogance and ignorance in youth.”
Gellert Grindelwald repeated it again, gazing at his loyal subordinate with a calm, peaceful smile—the long-held truth, finally admitted after years of reflection.
“Brutal rule cannot last, Gunter. No matter how bright the future, it can’t outweigh the pain that’s right in front of you.”
“Fifty years ago, we made enemies everywhere. Isolated, without allies. We seemed strong, but our own ranks were torn apart by contradiction and conflict. Countless people questioned us, rebelled.”
“To silence dissent, we eliminated every voice that opposed us—those who had once been comrades, relatives… even those who were right.”
“That was wrong,” Gellert Grindelwald sighed deeply. “Conflict and problems always exist. The real danger is silencing others—shutting their mouths.”
“Are those who share our ideals only our allies? Must anyone with a different view be our enemy?”
“Look,” he said, “I once killed many without gaining understanding. Now, after killing so few, I’ve already earned it.”
He extended a finger and tapped the pile of newspapers resting on the table. Thick, heavy stacks, each filled with different texts, still smelling faintly of ink.
These were intelligence reports gathered from across the magical world—compiled by his subordinates. Before they reached Gellert Grindelwald, Dreian had already scanned them, ensuring no offensive language remained.
But unexpectedly, he noticed: many articles praised the Wizard Purity Party’s recent operations, reiterating the threat Muggles posed to the magical world. Such talk had been rare before—only the Wizard Purity Party had spoken of it.
Of course, some pieces still analyzed Gellert Grindelwald’s conspiracy, trying to awaken wizards’ memories of the party’s bloody past.
But those who had lived through the darkest days were now a minority. Most wizards now viewed the situation with optimism, even support. Many believed Gellert Grindelwald had already suffered enough in prison, that he had repented and changed his ways.
“Those who made mistakes are better suited to rule than those who were always right—they know what choices are wrong,” was a phrase now circulating.
The Wizard Purity Party had killed without hesitation—but now, public opinion had unexpectedly shifted for the better.
“Think of the people around you, Gunter,” Gellert Grindelwald said. “Do they feel pain or pride from the bloodshed? After the operation, do they feel hollow and lost from releasing their frustrations… or do they feel stronger in their identity, more proud?”
“Similar actions, differing only in the smallest way—yet the outcomes are vastly different. That’s what determines victory.”
Gellert Grindelwald spoke with a certain disjointedness. Dreian felt as if he understood, yet remained confused.
“Sir… I don’t understand,” he said, dropping to one knee, looking up. “Are we supposed to act like Dumbledore… protect Muggles? The very ones who’ve persecuted us? Are we to become the secret Ministry of Magic—some kind of righteous enforcers?”
Dreian looked like a lost lamb, whispering, “Then… does that mean we abandon the dream of a wizard-led global order? The ideals of the Wizard Purity Party? The greater good?”
“Abandonment?” Gellert Grindelwald smiled faintly. “No. We simply need to find a winding, twisting path—one that will surely lead us to our goal.”
He gently touched Dreian’s head. “Don’t follow me—don’t rely solely on extreme violence. And don’t follow Dumbledore, paralyzed by sacrifice, imprisoned by morality and law.”
“Then… what should we do?” Dreian asked. “What should I do?”
“Become the one who brings light into darkness,” Gellert Grindelwald said. “The one who gives hope to the hopeless. Learn to serve the interests of the many—not bring death. Learn to solve problems, not create them.”
“You must never lay down your wand. But always stand on the side of reason and right.”
“Gunter, go watch the latest videos streaming in the Mirror. The editing—how they’re cut—those are Wade’s choices. He’s young, yes, but he already understands these truths.”
“That child knows both the wizard and Muggle worlds. Most importantly, his mind is clear. He learns from the past, refuses to be bound by simple notions of good and evil. Talk to him. Listen to him. You’ll learn much.”
“Dumbledore truly taught him well…” Gellert Grindelwald murmured, his face etched with deep weariness.
Seeing that, Dreian, though still lost in turmoil, arranged for Gellert Grindelwald to rest properly.
As he left the bedroom, Dreian walked through the empty corridor. Suddenly, he realized—though Gellert Grindelwald had spoken so much, he had never revealed the true reason he brought Wade along.
Yet no matter how he looked at it, it couldn’t have been to forcibly drag the boy onto the Wizard Purity Party’s ship, nor to threaten him not to interfere with the Bell operations.
And now, “communicate” with the child… about what? Alchemy? Video editing?
Dreian felt his mind racing, unable to focus.
Gellert Grindelwald’s confession had all but erased his own life’s meaning, and shattered Dreian’s decades-long ideals. He no longer knew where to go.
Unconsciously, he reached the Great Hall.
Ten or so people remained—some too drunk to return to their rooms, others gathered around the fireplace, whispering softly.
Dreian leaned against the curtains, watching them. Then, suddenly, it hit him.
Compared to when the Wizard Purity Party first formed, more people were voluntarily removing their hoods, smiling more freely.
The two witches who had once prepared clothes for the operation—Dreian remembered them, always tense, quiet, as if afraid that every shadow might be a monster—were now sitting with the two wizards who had participated in the mission.
They worked on their needlework, listening intently as the wizards recounted their tales—how they’d broken through Muggle soldiers’ seals, rescued several Muggle children who’d nearly been drained of blood. They gasped in awe, their faces naturally showing sympathy, outrage, admiration.
The two wizards, whose wounds should have healed long ago, still wore bandages. Yet they strutted proudly, showing off how they’d taught those Muggle aristocrats a lesson—earning cheers from their companions.
Of course, some wizards at other tables jeered, but they ignored them, even more proud.
The atmosphere was light, natural—nothing like the solemn, intense, fiery energy Dreian had expected.
It was as if, instead of arranging the Great Hall with long tables for a formal banquet, Gellert Grindelwald had turned it into a street-side inn.
Suddenly, Dreian understood.
Cruelty divides even allies. But when justice, salvation, honor, and mission are added—no need to constantly reinforce belief—people still gather around.
Wade Gray… this boy, so young… why did Gellert Grindelwald believe he could grasp such truths?
Wade, meanwhile, had no idea Gellert Grindelwald had just promoted Dreian to a new level in confidence. He only noticed that Dreian had begun appearing frequently around him—always watching, with a piercing, observant gaze.
Not malicious, but unsettling.
Two days passed in a flash. After the final Shivangis Bells were completed, Wade stretched his body. The time was still early, so he decided to head back to his room to read more books.
Yesterday, he’d found a MagicNotes book on the shelf—filled with several advanced spells, including the powerful Fire Shield.
He remembered the cinematic image of the blue gas stove burning Paris. In the last operation, he’d seen Gellert Grindelwald use that spell alone to suppress Muggle firepower, leading a generation of young wizards in the Wizard Purity Party.
He didn’t question how the book had ended up on his shelf. He simply memorized every line, then turned it over in his mind again and again.
If he could keep finding books like this every day, Wade thought, he’d never want to go back to school.
But as he stepped out the door, he ran into Dreian.
“Finished?” The serious wizard asked.
“Yes,” Wade replied.
“Walk with me?” Dreian glanced sideways, signaling.
Wade hesitated for a moment—then agreed.
“We’ve taken down another Muggle celebrity’s private villa today,” Dreian said after walking a short distance. “The man didn’t take part in those vile experiments. Instead, he imprisoned over a dozen young girls, forcing them into prostitution.”
Wade didn’t ask about the man’s fate. Instead, he asked, “What about the girls?”
“We used a Forgetting Charm to erase their memories, then sent them to a nearby Muggle hospital,” Dreian said. “A small portion of the money from the man’s safe was enough to cover their medical bills.”
Wade felt a sudden wave of emotion.
In the past, the Wizard Purity Party had simply abandoned victims, leaving them to become a burden for the Ministry of Magic.
And the Ministry? It would treat those injured by magic—send them for healing. But ordinary injuries? They’d be dumped on local Muggle governments.
As for what happened afterward? The Ministry, which always claimed to protect Muggles, didn’t care.
But now, the Wizard Purity Party finally understood: healing for Muggles was a long, painful process. The cost of medical care could break ordinary families—but for wizards, it was a small thing.
They’d even learned a new use for the Forgetting Charm—not just to hide the magical world, but to help victims forget the pain, to reclaim hope.
That last part wasn’t Wade’s idea. It came from a few wizards who had seen survivors attempt suicide immediately after rescue, and decided to act.
Wade said softly, “You’ve changed so many lives—though they won’t remember, the honor remains.”
“Honor…” Dreian repeated, then suddenly asked, “Is that what you wanted to see, Wade Gray?”
“…What?” Wade’s heart skipped. He looked up, confused.
“Lately, I’ve been wondering—did you join us out of necessity… or are you using us to achieve your own ends?”
Dreian spoke calmly. “You wanted those men dead too, didn’t you?”
“The darkest side of human nature was laid bare in those Muggles. But under the shield of power and money, Muggle law can’t touch them.”
“To protect the magical world—neither the Ministry of Magic nor Dumbledore could bring them to justice. Only we… only we aren’t afraid to kill.”
Dreian stared straight into Wade’s eyes. “So it wasn’t us who chose you. It was you who chose us. Wasn’t it?”
Wade took a deep breath, sighing with helpless resignation. “Did I force you to kidnap me?”
“I just thought those men were monstrous, immoral. So I did my job thoroughly. Is that not enough?”
“Or… should I have done the opposite—slacked off, sabotaged behind the scenes, only cooperating after being tortured by a Cruciatus Curse? That’d be more ‘just,’ right?”
Dreian shrugged, as if saying, You decide. He turned away, then handed Wade a piece of parchment.
Wade stared. “Book of Friends?”
“The newest model. Messages last for a long time—disappear only after being read.”
“Take it,” Dreian said. “Even if you return to Hogwarts, and face the same situation again—you can still reach out to me.”
“Why?” Wade asked, surprised.
Wovilet and Mor had offered help—fine. But Dreian had barely communicated with him. If anything, he’d seemed to suspect him of being the mastermind behind everything. And yet now, with no smile on his face, he was acting so generous.
“Gellert Grindelwald asked me to talk more with you,” Dreian said honestly. “I don’t mind being used. But I want to know—what makes a child like you worthy of his attention?”
(End of Chapter)
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