Hogwarts: Not Even Voldemort Can Stop Me From Learning Chapter 547: For a Greater Goal - Novel Cool

Chapter 547: For a Greater Goal

"I can do it—just a small favor, really," Wade countered. "What harm could there be in helping a classmate improve their Spell Proficiency by a few points?"

Hearing this, Gellert Grindelwald's tone softened.

"Don't be so prickly, Child. Listen to a veteran's advice—it never hurts. You acted out of emotion, but consider it rationally too. Ask yourself: what does this action gain you?"

Wade sat by the window, the wind howling like a storm-lashed pipe organ, lashing rain against the glass. His head lowered as he idly spun a feather quill between his fingers, the voice of Gellert Grindelwald echoing in his mind.

"If you agreed only because you couldn't say no to a plea, then I’d advise against wasting your time on the mediocre."

"But if you're cultivating followers—filtering for those truly worth your effort—then setting a modest challenge is perfectly reasonable. Those who persist through it will prove themselves worthy wizards."

"Consequently, your teaching style, your words, your every gesture must be deliberate. You must not only train their magic—you must shape their minds. Master the balance between kindness and discipline. Never be blindly generous, nor coldly cynical."

"But if you're truly just trying to help..."

A faint chuckle came from the other end of the line—old, almost mocking. Then, the voice continued:

"Then do it properly. Don’t half-ass it. That half-hearted approach wastes time and energy, and leaves no one truly grateful."

"Do you understand? Time is a precious resource. Don’t squander it on meaningless acts. If you commit to something, ensure it serves a greater goal."

After the call ended, Wade sat in silence for a long while, seriously reflecting on his reason for taking on this burden.

Perhaps because he wasn’t the “boy who lived,” and because his interference had spared Harry from the endless misunderstandings and doubts of the original timeline, he found most of his schoolmates fairly easy to get along with.

Even in Slytherin—after Draco Malfoy had lost interest in stirring trouble—the Serpent House students mostly just ignored others, occasionally whispering sarcastic remarks behind his back about blood purity. To Wade, it wasn’t a real conflict.

Compared to the deaths he’d witnessed, compared to Mabel’s past pain, petty classroom squabbles were nothing.

And in Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein was a genuinely kind soul—ever since入学, he’d looked out for fellow Ravenclaws, including Wade, often reminding them of deadlines or what to bring to class.

So when Anthony asked for help, Wade naturally agreed.

At the time, there was also a vague thought in the back of his mind: with the Quidditch League approaching, if team projects were assigned in groups of three or five, he’d need reliable teammates. Might as well start observing and nurturing them now.

Besides, with a Time-Turner at his disposal, he had plenty of time to spare for such side tasks.

But after the conversation with Gellert, Wade’s thoughts shifted.

"...Your advice is sound," he told Michael. "But we can first select candidates through Anthony’s recommendations, and clearly define boundaries and rules for the tutoring sessions—rather than shutting people out with impossible conditions from the start."

"Five a.m. bed time isn’t that hard," Michael muttered. "I remember you used to wake up at four every morning during your Animagus training."

He was referring to the period when Wade had practiced transforming with the sunrise and sunset, chanting every day.

"I have more time," Wade replied calmly. "But others don’t. Yes, I have many classes, but their schedules aren’t light either. On the same coursework and assignments, most people take longer than I do."

"Even you—after fourth year, the pressure only grows. You’re not getting to bed early. If you have to wake up at five, when do you rest? It’s not healthy."

Michael fell silent. Then, as they walked toward the Potions classroom, he suddenly asked:

"Wade… sometimes… do you ever wonder… if I’m a bit like a Slytherin?"

His voice was hesitant, unusually uncertain.

"No," Wade smiled. "You’re just thinking from my perspective. I agree with your idea—it’s good. If someone pressured me to help, I’d do exactly as you said."

He paused, then added:

"But since I’m choosing to do this myself, I must start from the mindset of wanting to do it well. That way, even if I can’t sustain it long-term, I can still look myself in the eye and say I gave it my all."

...

"He’s been too deeply influenced by Dumbledore," Gellert Grindelwald said to the figure beside him. "He’ll push himself to the limit to fulfill any promise he makes."

Antoine hesitated. "Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that what you hoped for—teaching him to build his own following?"

Gellert Grindelwald remained silent in response to such a simple question.

He held a Prophecy Ball in his hand, its thin mist swirling within.

After a long pause, he spoke.

"When I was young, at Durmstrang, I had no friends. No rivals. I didn’t need sycophants. When I left school, my classmates were celebrating."

"Voldemort’s approach is another kind of stupidity. He gathers followers through fear. Now, would he dare reach out to his old friends for help?"

"Dumbledore..." Gellert paused. "...I heard he once had a few close companions. But they were too slow, too blind. They couldn’t keep up with his vision, couldn’t grasp his mind."

He turned toward the dark, endless night.

"Wade’s choosing a different path. Not to create slaves. Not to gather disciples. But to find friends—companions who walk beside him."

"Before the outcome is clear, it’s too early to call it right or wrong. But as long as he doesn’t walk alone forever, and doesn’t drown in self-admiration, he has a chance to go far."

"Failure is inevitable. Whether the result is good or bad, it teaches. A true leader doesn’t stay on the mountain, looking down on everyone. They come down, walk among the people."

"But… giving without expecting anything in return? That’s foolish."

Gellert patted Antoine’s shoulder. "Remember to teach those naive children to appreciate gratitude. Don’t let them think they can take advantage—without giving something back."

Antoine smiled. "I understand."

(End of Chapter)

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