Chapter 437: Grindelwald's Paper Planes

Chapter 437: Grindelwald's Paper Planes

In the early morning, Vide pushed open the window, and the cold air outside rushed in, dispelling the stale air that had lingered in the room overnight.

He looked up at the sky and saw some faint stars still hanging in the sky. The distant mountains were hidden in darkness, and only the silhouettes of the snow-capped peaks reflecting starlight could be vaguely discerned.

The Wizengamot had chosen to act very early this time; there were still two hours until dawn. Candles gradually lit up in the various rooms of the castle, and sounds of movement echoed through the corridors.

HOGWARTS had already started two days ago, but at this early hour, only house-elves would be busy preparing breakfast. The students were undoubtedly still deep in their dreams.

Vide sighed softly, suddenly feeling a bit nostalgic for school life.

As the scent of burning pine filled his bedroom, Vide washed up, got dressed, and draped himself in a cloak that obscured his features. He then attached several anti-spell items he had made in his spare time to his body.

Turning back, he saw the shelves filled with magical books.

Due to the language barrier, Vide, who had just started learning German, read at a slow pace. He had only skimmed through the table of contents and then carefully read the most interesting books.

However, Vide did not give up on the other books. Instead, he used the Replication Charm to copy them all and cast the Invisibility Stretch Charm on his pockets, stuffing the replicated books inside.

This outing was an opportunity to escape. Even if Adler Manor had Anti-Apparition Jinxes, Vide could first transform into a falcon and escape the spell's range, then Apparate away.

The key was to get out of Grindelwald's sight.

Vide had a good understanding of the Wizengamot's capabilities. Unlike the legendary invincible and ruthless dark wizard army in the rumors, most of the current Wizengamot members were actually similar to the wizards in the Ministry of Magic.

In simple terms, more than half of them had recently been relearning the Iron Armor Charm, and three-quarters of them were whispering spells instead of casting them properly. Many cast spells while running, relying on luck to hit their targets.

Compared to the Ministry, their advantage was their willingness to use powerful dark magic without hesitation. The injuries caused by such curses were often difficult to heal.

Moreover, battle was the best catalyst. Based on the videos, the dark wizards' skills were rapidly improving.

However, at their current level, most of them lacked the awareness and ability to intercept a falcon of that size in a chaotic battlefield.

Life in the castle had been relatively pleasant, but Vide had never been out of touch with his parents for so long. They must be very worried by now.

Furthermore, when it came to learning magic, the HOGWARTS library was more accommodating. At least he didn't have to constantly consult dictionaries, ask others for grammar help, or fear casting the wrong spell and causing danger, which made him hesitant to try new spells.

The wizard who had almost been trampled by a cow constantly reminded Vide of the dangers of using the wrong spell.

When he stepped out of the room, his bedroom remained as it usually was—with unfinished notes on the desk and two sets of clean clothes hanging by the bed.

In case he couldn't find an opportunity to escape this time, Vide could pretend that nothing had happened and continue maintaining the current harmonious atmosphere.

...

The morning mist was thick, and a thin branch was snapped by a black boot, emitting a crisp crack.

Following closely behind was a large serpent with a thick body, slithering through the dry branches, fallen leaves, and snow, making rustling noises.

The gray-robed wizard blended almost seamlessly with the mist as he trekked along the rugged forest path in the dark woods.

Finally, he stopped on the hillside, drew his wand, and waved it gently. The thick mist surrounded him, making his figure blurry and eventually merging with the surrounding environment.

The wizard then tapped a nearby tree stump with his wand, transforming it into a tall, soft chair. He lifted his cloak, revealing an infant with a snake-like face.

The infant wrapped its thin arms around the wizard's neck, and he placed it on the equally tall chair beside him. Several flames appeared nearby, warming the surroundings.

The serpent enjoyed the temperature and coiled around the chair, eventually resting its head on the armrest and gently puffing smoke.

"Master," the wizard said, looking down: "The Muggle's manor is down the hill."

The infant opened its narrow eyes, revealing blood-red pupils. Its soft and weak hands rested on its belly, and in one hand, it held a wand almost as long as its body.

"Wait," the infant said in a cold, sharp voice: "Today, we might get to watch an exciting show."

"Yes."

The wizard turned, and beneath his cloak was a pale, gaunt face. Pale yellow hair fell across his forehead, and his face was freckled, giving him a delicate beauty despite appearing to be in his thirties.

"How's your father doing lately? Is he still looking for you, Barty?"

The infant—Voldemort—asked softly.

It sounded like a casual greeting, but coming from his mouth, it carried an indescribable sense of danger.

Barty Crouch Jr. heard the man's name and unconsciously wore a look of disgust, frowning as he said, "No, he has returned to his post and has been extremely busy lately—"

After a pause, he continued, "But I don't think he will completely forget about me. That man is as stubborn as a rock. If you need me to, I'm ready to kill him at any time!"

"No need." Baby Voldemort said contentedly, "He's still useful to us, and maintaining this state is just right. The spell in the Hall of Prophecy was successful, and we don't have to worry about him exposing us."

Barty Crouch Jr. looked at the snake-faced baby beside him with admiring eyes and said in a low voice, "It's said that even the Mutes of the Department of Mysteries dare not use the Hall of Prophecy to alter the consciousness of the wizarding community, but you know how to utilize it... If Grindelwald were as knowledgeable and fearless as you, he might not have failed time and time again."

Baby Voldemort laughed and said, "Grindelwald's past endeavors were built upon the Muggle warfront. When the Muggle government he allied with declared defeat, his cause inevitably headed towards a dead end—even the Hall of Prophecy couldn't change that."

The distant manor was incredibly quiet at this moment, resembling a still painting. As the waiting time grew tedious, Baby Voldemort didn't mind chatting a bit more with his most loyal subordinate.

"You know, Barty," he began, "when I was young, I used to work at Borgin and Burkes. Although it wasn't a respectable job, it allowed me to come into contact with many hidden, ancient secrets."

"Some impoverished noble descendants even sold off their cherished magic books for money. A precious research notebook was exchanged for a mere two Galleons and thirteen Sickles."

Baby Voldemort laughed mockingly, "Its owner was once a Mute who studied the Hall of Prophecy, and his understanding of that place surpassed anyone else. But among all those who came into contact with that notebook, only I..." he paused, "...recognized its value."

Barty Crouch Jr. listened intently to Voldemort's narrative of the past, and neither the man's former lowly position as a shop assistant nor the meager price he paid for the invaluable notebook caused any change in his expression.

Unlike those who chose to become Death Eaters out of a thirst for violence, a pursuit of fame, wealth, and status, or a desire for destruction and slaughter, Barty Crouch Jr.'s loyalty to Voldemort was purely genuine.

Even though Voldemort had transformed into this weak and ugly form, revealing a malicious inner self to match his current appearance, this extreme loyalty remained unwavering.

Baby Voldemort shifted his sitting position and said, "The Hall of Prophecy can alter people's consciousness silently, but it cannot go against personal wishes too much."

"If Grindelwald wanted to use the Hall of Prophecy to make all wizards in the world pledge allegiance to him, not only would it be completely ineffective, but he himself would become a mindless husk."

"It can only be used to alter some subtle, unnoticeable thoughts—for instance, making everyone unconsciously ignore two individuals believed to be long dead."

A smug smile appeared on his face as he said, "So, while these guys are fighting for their lives, we can leisurely watch the show. Until we've made all the preparations for my resurrection and gathered my loyal followers by my side. By then..."

Voldemort didn't finish his sentence; he just laughed and reached out to pat Nagini's head beside him.

Barty Crouch Jr. glanced at Nagini with envy, but remembering that she was just a brainless beast, he regained his composure.

"I will bring Harry Potter to you, Master," Barty Crouch Jr. said calmly, "no matter the risk."

—And then kill all those traitors and cowards!

Harry Potter belonged to his master, but what Barty Crouch Jr. hated the most were the scum who had never even tried to find the Dark Lord.

When Barty Crouch Jr. was locked up by his father, living in a daze and losing track of time, every brief moment of lucidity was filled with a fervent desire to return to the Dark Lord's side.

But what about those who had escaped legal punishment? They continued to enjoy a comfortable and wealthy life, never making the slightest effort for the Dark Lord, allowing their master's soul to wander pitifully in the forest, living a miserable existence.

"I won't let you take deadly risks, my child," Baby Voldemort said in a warm tone. "Be patient, opportunities will come..."

Suddenly, he sensed something and whispered, "They're here!"

Before he finished speaking, the space hundreds of meters outside the manor seemed to distort, and the air formed swirling circles. After a while, numerous figures emerged.

The manor was filled with a sharp, piercing alarm, and people crowded together as countless individuals poured out of the seemingly quiet houses.

"Looks like they can't launch a surprise attack," Voldemort said, propping his head up with one hand and laughing with malicious glee. "They were well-prepared, and Dumbledore is on his way... Ha-ha, this is going to be more interesting."

"Boom!"

Amidst the deafening roar, a missile soared through the air, trailing a piercing shriek and a blazing tail flame, hurtling towards the gathering place of the Wizengamot.

...

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Massive fireballs erupted above the estate, spewing scorching currents in all directions. Charred objects could be seen flying through the air.

Machine guns rained bullets, but the leading dark wizard suddenly plunged his wand into the ground, summoning a gigantic transparent barrier out of thin air, shielding all his companions.

More wizards, who were late in using their portal keys, appeared, and the perimeter of the estate was swarmed with dark figures, like a flock of crows at a funeral.

John Adler's face turned ashen, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, as he gazed at the sky that had instantly turned crimson.

"They were prepared!" Adler trembled, "Aren't wizards all medieval relics? How can they deal with missiles?"

Confident in their attack, they had expected to inflict heavy casualties, but it seemed to have little effect.

Compared to the instantaneous spells unleashed by wizards, the missiles' speed was still too slow. The Wizengamot appeared to have suffered only minor casualties, and even the bullets had little impact on them.

A simple Iron Armor Charm might not be enough to stop the bullets, but the wizards worked together, combining the Obstruction Charm with the Iron Armor Charm for remarkable results. When the Dragonhide Cloak was enchanted with the Iron Armor Charm, it became as effective as a bulletproof vest, although the spell's duration was limited.

Grindelwald, having experienced world wars, possessed numerous such tricks. Despite his seclusion for many years, his familiarity with Muggle weaponry surpassed that of most wizards and even most Muggles. After his escape, he hadn't forgotten to update his knowledge in this regard.

In response to Adler's questioning, Abigail, standing beside him, merely said, "It's too early to be afraid. Our attack has just begun."

The next second, both their faces changed dramatically.

Among the wizards, countless paper planes suddenly took flight, each dangling what appeared to be familiar bombs.

"Get down! There are bombs!"

Heart-wrenching screams echoed throughout the estate, but countless people simply stared blankly at the overwhelming white paper planes, paralyzed by sheer terror and despair.

Gunfire turned towards the sky, intercepting some of the paper planes, adding a splash of color to the sky, but more planes nimbly dove towards the crowd below.

Both armed Muggle soldiers and thick-skinned werewolves were like paper in the face of this onslaught.

Only the vampires, transforming into bats, managed to fly away in time, flapping their wings higher amidst the pleading gazes of their comrades.

However, as the thunderous explosions reverberated into the distance, some bats' flight paths became erratic, even plunging into the heart of the flames!

"How could this be... They didn't show such abilities before..." Adler murmured, then suddenly jumped up, grabbing Abigail's arm and shouting, "Take me away! Now! Immediately! I want to leave this damned place!"

Another male wizard from the organization scoffed, "What a coward! These guys were sent to their deaths as cannon fodder. You'll see our true power when the Wizengamot arrives..."

"Damn you! Do you know how much funding I provide you every year?"

Before the wizard could finish, Adler's finger was nearly at his nose, and he roared in anger, "I didn't spend all that money to stand here as bait! I don't care how many tricks you have up your sleeve; take me away now!"

The wizard's expression turned cold, but Abigail stopped him and stepped forward, saying, "Mr. Adler makes a valid point. Since the Wizengamot has arrived, he indeed doesn't need to stay here. You continue watching; I'll escort him out."

The wizard hummed and fell silent.

Adler, too anxious to care about his attitude, picked up his valuable briefcase and followed Abigail, promising her as they left, "My life is more important than anything. If you can get me to safety, I'll give you a sum of money you'll never earn in your lifetime..."

Abigail remained silent, her wand in hand, like a loyal guard.

...

Grindelwald retracted his wand and waved his hand.

Several of Volvaret's alchemy apprentices opened the boxes they were carrying, and an endless stream of paper planes emerged, forming a white tide that never ceased.

The paper planes, burdened with bombs many times their weight, flew fearlessly towards the enemy's position, their light bodies resembling letters from the Grim Reaper.

Even many of the Wizengamot hadn't anticipated this scene. They looked up in awe, mouths agape, unable to speak.

"See that? Even though we're wizards, we're not limited to magical means."

Grindelwald coughed softly and said, "The biggest problem with Muggle weapons is that the killing machines they invent often end up being used against themselves."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end