Chapter 438: A Descendant of Grindelwald?
Chapter 438: A Descendant of Grindelwald?
In the past, Vide had also wondered if Muggle weapons could directly kill powerful wizards like Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Grindelwald, who possessed top-tier magical abilities.
No matter how strong a wizard is, they all have weaknesses, with some being more adept at offense than defense.
Take Professor McGonagall, for example, a highly skilled wizard in Transfiguration, who later became the headmaster of Hogwarts. Yet, she was almost taken out by four Stunning Spells.
As for the three mentioned above, no matter how powerful they once were or how many formidable spells they mastered, they all ultimately met their end through the Killing Curse.
Especially Voldemort, who died twice—both times by his own rebounded Killing Curse.
According to Vide's initial plan, high-intensity, blanket-style fire from modern weapons would force targets to abandon their calm and Apparate, making it highly likely to kill wizards at the top of the pyramid.
However, he never expected that the first time he witnessed such an imagined barrage of fire, it would be at the hands of Grindelwald.
The walls were flattened, beautiful and tall buildings were reduced to ruins, and countless lives seemed to melt away like dew under the scorching sun. Perhaps due to not directly seeing corpses and blood, Vide didn't find the scene bloody or cruel; instead, he felt it was spectacularly dazzling.
What's the difference between this and a small drone swarm carpet bombing? Vide wondered if anyone could survive such an attack unless they had already hidden in a solid underground room.
Hearing Grindelwald's words about Muggle weapons, Vide fell silent for a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him. "So many paper planes... Did you start preparing them a long time ago?"
This wasn't just a simple folding job; these paper planes could carry objects far beyond natural buoyancy, and some could even dodge bullets nimbly, undoubtedly incorporating Alchemy.
Even if it was simple, not everyone could master it.
If this was a case of "ten years to sharpen a sword, one sword to shock the world," then it would be fine—the Wizengamot only had so many Alchemy apprentices to do the heavy lifting, and these planes would take them a long time to make, and they were all disposable, with no possibility of recycling.
However, Grindelwald's lips curved into a slight smile, and he countered, "Vide, how do Muggles mass-produce identical items in large quantities?"
Vide hesitated for a moment before answering, "Assembly line work?"
Azlan's magic workshop adopted this method, allowing them to produce enough products to quickly occupy the market and promote new releases worldwide.
Grindelwald nodded and said, "We do the same. These adorable little guys don't take as much time as you might think."
What is assembly line work? Drellen wondered but didn't ask aloud, instead quietly noting the term to look up later.
He was a typical pure-blood, always hoping for wizards to rule over Muggles but disdaining to truly understand the other group.
But at this moment, seeing that the person he admired had learned Muggle knowledge, and that paper planes, originally used for communication, could create such a terrifying scene when equipped with Muggle weapons, he quietly changed his mind.
Suddenly, Grindelwald laughed and said, "It seems those rats can't hide anymore... Gunter, go deal with them!"
As the paper planes were expended, those who had been hiding finally emerged—black vehicles emerged from underground, rumbling as they attempted to surround the wizards from both sides, with cylindrical gun barrels extending from the sides, emitting a faint buzzing sound.
Drellen's eyes sharpened instantly, and he issued commands by pressing his left ear, Apparating to the front to face the iron beasts, wand raised.
Vide discovered that almost every member of the Wizengamot was equipped with Telegraph Beans, and they quickly dispersed to find their corresponding targets.
"Boom!"
The gun barrels on the vehicles roared, spraying out large amounts of gold dust that glistened in the firelight.
The Hwigus Bells on the wizards' bodies synchronized, emitting a soft glow and gently swaying.
As Vide watched the battle, he suddenly heard someone beside him ask, "Have you learned the Huo Shin Bao yet?"
He turned abruptly to face Grindelwald.
Although he had long suspected the reason for the magic book's appearance on the shelf, Grindelwald's direct question still caught Vide off guard.
He paused for a moment, then decided to seize the opportunity, saying, "Actually, there are still a few things I don't quite understand."
"Oh? Tell me," Grindelwald said calmly.
In the battlefield not far away, the gold dust seemed to have transformed into mini tornadoes, swirling into the bells hanging on the waists of numerous wizards.
Aside from a handful of unlucky ones who accidentally inhaled the gold dust and collapsed, most were unaffected. They marched towards their enemies while casting spells.
It wasn't that the wizards didn't want to run; this quick-paced walk simply ensured the accuracy of their spells.
Some vehicles were overturned by rapidly expanding stones, while others sank into suddenly appearing swamps during their high-speed chases. There were also drivers who suddenly fell under the control of Confundus Charms, crashing their vehicles head-on into others.
Vide withdrew his gaze from the battlefield and asked, "Aside from the Expecto Patronum, I've never seen a spell that can distinguish between friend and foe on its own... It's a protective spell, but also a deadly flame that brings death."
"But what determines the distinction? Is it the thought at the moment of casting, a comprehensive consideration, or a subconscious idea?"
Grindelwald laughed, "If we were to follow our own subconscious, which we don't even understand, there might not be many people left by my side after the spell."
He stared emotionlessly at some clumsy wizards who were waving their arms wildly and shouting spells to release their magic. "You've learned Occlumency, but you've only learned to close your mind. You haven't learned how to create false memories."
"As long as you clear your mind and leave the most distinct thought in your mind, that's the direction your flame will burn towards."
Vide was taken aback, then realized something, his eyes twitching slightly. He held back a retort with great effort.
—How do you know I've learned Occlumency?
—So, old man, have you tried Legilimency on me when I wasn't paying attention?
He felt relieved that he had learned Occlumency early on and always cleared his mind before sleep. At the same time, he once again clearly recognized the difference between this dark wizard and Dumbledore.
This dark wizard had become so powerful, yet he seemed to have no concept of "bullying children is immoral."
After a pause, Vide skipped the questioning and asked, "Is Huo Shin Bao Hu, like the Killing Curse, a dark magic that's difficult to control?"
"Even without sustaining the spell with magic, the flames will devour those around you, thus strengthening their own power... So once out of control, it will undoubtedly cause massive casualties."
"How can I completely control or restrain it?"
Grindelwald gave him a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "Forget about controlling it... Do you also want to learn how to restrain my flames?"
Vide's gaze wavered slightly, feeling a bit embarrassed, but he persisted, "Can I learn it? If not, it's fine."
"If I'm going to teach, I'll teach the whole set," Grindelwald said. "The secret to control lies in courage and determination—you must not fear your own flames, nor waver."
"Even if you see your once-trusted comrades turn to ashes in the fire, you must always believe—it's not your fault, nor is it your spell. Since you've made the decision, those consumed by the flames are enemies, and that's all there is to it."
As Vide looked at Grindelwald's cold profile, he couldn't help but wonder if he had experienced such moments himself.
He had watched familiar people, full of confidence, walk into his flames, only to realize that they were not his companions as they screamed, begged, and died.
In the distance, Drellen smashed a few bottles, and an ominous green smoke, like rapidly expanding clouds, engulfed an entire vehicle.
The people inside screamed as they rushed out, their skin quickly rotting and covered in blisters. They frantically scratched their faces with their hands, and within a short while, they lost their breath.
Drellen, who looked like an elite warrior, turned out to be a master potion maker.
Several vehicles rose into the air under the control of the Floating Charm, then fell heavily, suddenly shattering into pieces, revealing the dazed soldiers inside.
Those who had ridden in the vehicles finally realized that their steel-plated vehicles couldn't provide protection; instead, they had become accomplices in the enemy's slaughter. They rushed out of the vehicles.
(Chapter End)
The soldiers who fired their weapons were themselves astonished—why had the missiles and machine guns been ineffective, yet these weaker bullets had killed the enemy?
They quickly realized that not all wizards were as monstrously powerful! The spell that deflected bullets was less effective when the wizards dispersed!
More gun muzzles erupted with flames.
But the cries and sacrifices did not disturb Grindelwald's teaching enthusiasm. He coldly watched his followers die, and those who survived grew rapidly under immense pressure.
As the leader of the Wizengamot, he was not their nanny, uninterested in using his aging, weary body as a wall to protect the members like infants.
Nor did he ponder Vide's thoughts; instead, he continued, "When you doubt and resent magic, it will betray you—all magic is like this, but the backlash of Huo Shin Bao Hu is crueler."
"As for how to restrain it... there's actually only one way..."
The surroundings were noisy, and Grindelwald lowered his voice, causing Vide to instinctively move closer to hear more clearly.
...
On the hillside, if not for the baby's weak body, Voldemort might have been startled enough to jump several times.
Fortunately, each time he was about to do so, his soft bones forced him to interrupt his thoughts, and his immobile posture appeared calm and steady.
The young Barty Crouch beside him was different; he broke out in cold sweats, his face growing paler, and his wand-holding hand trembling slightly.
Watching the battlefield below, he unconsciously imagined himself on the attacked side, only to realize that survival in such a meat grinder was nearly impossible.
The initial hail of bullets could have turned someone into a sieve... Weren't the paper planes just toys purchased by the Ministry of Magic? How could they be so powerful... Why hasn't it ended yet, how many paper planes do they have?
What was that gold dust... The Muggles looked confident, but it had no effect...
If, while protecting his master, someone shot him in the back, how many times could he withstand the bullets? The Wizengamot wizards avoided large-scale casualties because they had companions around them, guarding each other's blind spots, making the effect of their spells greater than the sum of their parts.
But in the past, young Barty Crouch had no close friends on either side due to his personal stance and his father's identity.
He hadn't thought much of it before, as his idol, Voldemort, had proven that with sufficient strength, one needed no friends, and everyone would bow down.
But now it seemed that having a comrade was also important when one wasn't so powerful, especially when facing the Muggles' formidable and insidious weapons...
"Barty," Voldemort suddenly said.
"Master?"
"Look at that man, the one standing next to Grindelwald."
Baby Voldemort pointed with his wand.
Young Barty Crouch quickly found the person he was referring to—Grindelwald, without his hood, stood out with his white hair among the sea of dark-robed wizards.
The man wasn't tall, but he stood close to Grindelwald, indicating a very intimate relationship.
Moreover, he hadn't cast any spells, which clearly wasn't because his status was higher than Grindelwald's; it was likely that his magical abilities weren't as powerful, so he was being protected.
"He seems to be a descendant that Grindelwald values," Barty Crouch speculated. "Not tall... perhaps not very old either."
"Yes, remember this," Voldemort said. "If we need to deal with the Wizengamot in the future, this could be a breakthrough point."
"Yes, master."
Young Barty Crouch responded and glanced at the cloaked figure.
Although he couldn't see the person's face, if he encountered the Wizengamot again and saw a young wizard of similar height being highly regarded, he could probably confirm his identity.
If Grindelwald wanted his descendant to be his heir, he couldn't keep him hidden forever...
...
On the battlefield, Vide, who had been comfortably casting spells, suddenly clenched his fists, his expression tensing, and his scalp feeling like it was about to explode.
After asking his main questions, Grindelwald suddenly pressed down on Vide's shoulder and asked, "Vide, are you planning to escape today?"
(End of Chapter)
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