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Chapter 521: Taking a Stroll with Gellert Grindelwald
“Ireland has scored their sixth goal… Ireland has scored their seventh… Yes, cheer now—Ireland has struck again with their eighth! Ireland leads 130 to 10, and is utterly crushing Bulgaria. Is there still hope for Bulgaria?”
Ludo Bagman’s voice, raw and shouting, echoed through the air.
Little Barty Crouch, hidden in the shadows, waited another ten minutes, his frustration mounting. At last, he had to admit—his plan had failed.
The operation to awaken the cursed Giant Tree, trigger chaos in the stadium, and abduct Harry Potter had collapsed.
Furious and baffled, Little Barty Crouch searched for the cause of the failure. The Ministry of Magic had no reason to uncover his flawless plan—after all, their staff were notoriously lazy and half-hearted in their duties.
And in the afternoon, he had personally checked the forest. Every Giant Tree remained intact, dormant but ready to be awakened at a moment’s notice.
Could the spell itself have been flawed? Or was there some protective charm near the stadium—some barrier blocking the signal from reaching the trees?
The worst possibility, though, was that Dumbledore had discovered the truth. But that was impossible. Not in such a short time.
And Dumbledore couldn’t have many allies. In the compartment earlier, Little Barty Crouch had noticed: Dumbledore’s followers were watching the Death Eaters who had exposed their identities.
Even in the compartment where he had once been, the Weasley family members—Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny—had been subtly, deliberately keeping an eye on the Malfoy home. Their gazes weren’t filled with kindness, nor mere dislike.
No. That was suspicion. A guarded, wary alertness—like an Auror watching a Dark Wizard preparing a deal.
A flicker passed through Little Barty Crouch’s mind.
Could the traitors be trying to act… but Dumbledore’s people caught them first?
If so… that might actually be an opportunity.
He turned his head slightly, glancing coldly at the compartment door behind him, then descended the stairs.
He had to verify—what exactly had gone wrong with the Giant Trees he had awakened?
Ten minutes later, Little Barty Crouch stood at the forest’s edge, staring at the massive wound in the earth. His face paled. His body trembled. Anger burned in his chest, yet beneath it surged a cold, creeping fear.
He tightened his Invisibility Cloak and carefully stepped around the smoldering stumps of tree roots. He skirted the dark, magical swamp, following the fan-shaped pattern of scorched earth.
The ash beneath his feet was thick and soft, offering almost no resistance. His shoes sank in, instantly buried under dust.
No trees. No weeds. No crawling insects. Only a vast, white expanse of ash, still gently drifting down from above.
Little Barty Crouch crouched, brushing aside a layer of ash with his hand. Beneath it, the ground revealed a glassy, vitrified surface. A chill shot through him.
Who… or what… did this?
What magic was used?
Could it have been Dumbledore?
He shook his head. No—this wasn’t Dumbledore’s style. He refused to entertain the thought.
Then another name surfaced in his mind: Gellert Grindelwald.
Though the old Dark Wizard had never set foot in Britain, what if?
A vision formed in his mind: Gellert Grindelwald Apparating into this camp—whether to watch the match or for some other purpose—only to be met by a storm of Giant Trees charging from the forest.
Naturally, Grindelwald would see it as an attack. A challenge.
With a single, overwhelming spell, he reduced the entire forest to ash, then vanished.
If that was Grindelwald’s doing… then his power surpassed even his master’s estimates.
But a dying old man was still a far better enemy than an unknown one.
And if Grindelwald had used such a spell, his body might not have endured it—perhaps he had already returned to his secluded sanctuary to recover.
Little Barty Crouch pondered.
If my theory is correct… then the plan to abduct Harry Potter still has a chance.
As he left the forest, the wizard erased his presence.
A gentle, invisible wind curled around the ash, scattering it. When it settled again, every trace of his footsteps was buried—completely hidden.
…
After the members of the Wizard Purity Party Apparated away, Gellert Grindelwald remained behind.
"Wade," he said, "come walk with me."
Dreian and Antoine understood instantly. They slowed their pace, creating distance. Wade heard Antoine grumble about missing the match.
Then, the two figures walked side by side through the camp.
Though the night was dark, lanterns of various sizes hung along the path, stretching and shortening their shadows with each step.
"Tell me, Wade," Gellert Grindelwald said, his voice calm. "After you released that spell—how did it feel?"
Wade remained silent for a moment. Then: "...I think I finally understand why pride is the first of the seven deadly sins."
Power to overturn the world—such a gift could easily breed arrogance, blindness. To see others as tools, as weeds to be uprooted. To justify one’s own acts of plunder, oppression, and cruelty as nothing more than 'survival of the fittest.'
Gellert Grindelwald let out a cold laugh.
"Child, I won’t deny Dumbledore taught you many useful things. But you’ve also caught his flaws—ridiculous, sentimental ones."
"You’re too passive, Wade Gray!"
"Regardless of war, the world is a battlefield of cruelty. A war where one dies and the other lives—this is everywhere. Fear doesn’t equal power. But—"
"Binding your power with fear? Hiding your ambition? Afraid to master your own strength?"
"Do you know what that approach is called? It’s foolish self-deception. Hypocritical. Childish. Weak."
"And you still believe some fools can preserve peace? That a decaying, incompetent Ministry of Magic can bring justice? That you’d rather not make the correct choice?"
"When you can erase your enemies with a flick of your wand—why tolerate clowns stepping on your head?"
Wade had been listening quietly, his head down, a faint stirring in his chest. But the more he listened, the more something felt… off.
It wasn’t him Gellert Grindelwald was scolding. Not really.
His heart skipped a beat. His throat tightened.
Could Dumbledore be nearby?
He glanced around instinctively—only tents, rising and falling in the dark.
"Remember this," Gellert Grindelwald suddenly stopped mid-step, turning to face Wade. His voice dropped to a low, solemn tone.
"Silence can be a strategy. But never a habit. Otherwise, even with the strongest power in the world, you’re no more than a puppet in chains—controlled by others."
He locked eyes with Wade, his gaze flickering—almost as if scanning the darkness beyond.
"You know what I expect of you, Wade. But remember this: do not let your morality become a shroud for your companions."
(End of Chapter)
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