Chapter 657: The Transformation of the Dark Wizard
“We’ve had some of our half-blood youth conduct market investigations in the Muggle world—hair growth, beauty treatments, weight loss… and—” Dreian took a sip of coffee, a sly smile curling at the corner of his lips. “—erectile enhancement. Demand for these products among Muggles has far exceeded expectations. With them, we can easily siphon off vast amounts of wealth.”
“And Muggles have long since mastered the art of exploitation,” Dreian continued, his tone casual. “Money speaks louder than force. They’ve used ‘economics’ as their weapon—something even the Killing Curse and Imperius Curse could never achieve—turning entire societies into willing self-domesticated subjects.”
Wade frowned slightly, his fingertip tracing the rim of his cup. “Don’t get complacent. Their legal system is incredibly complex, with patent laws and anti-monopoly regulations. Step on the wrong line, and they’ll legally strip any emerging enterprise of every last cent.”
Dreian’s lips curled. “You forget who we are, Wade. Within the rules, magic gives us an edge Muggles can’t match. And outside the rules…” He let the sentence hang, smiling without finishing it.
There were indeed wizards who respected the law and restrained their power—but not a single one existed in the Wizard Purity Party.
“Wait!” Antoine, who had been lounging nearby snacking on small treats, suddenly sat up. “Beauty potions—fine. But what about weight-reduction potions? If Muggles take them, wouldn’t they die?”
Dreian and Wade exchanged a glance, both surprised by Antoine’s unusually slow reaction time.
“If taken directly, yes,” Dreian admitted, “there is some risk. But by substituting ordinary ingredients and diluting the potency, we’ve achieved a relatively safe standard—verified through testing.”
The process wasn’t as simple as it sounded, but the Wizard Purity Party boasted some of the finest potion masters in existence—several of them veterans of the last world war, whose experience in potioncraft was unmatched.
Wade, however, caught the implication. A subtle twitch at the corner of his brow. “Relatively safe?”
Dreian remained calm. “There’s some harm—yes. But nothing worse than what they consume in their daily diets, like ham and cheese. Stop taking it for a while, and the body heals itself naturally.”
Wade stared at him, utterly unimpressed. He hadn’t expected Dreian to play straight man on such a dark joke.
Just two years prior, a wave of listeria contamination had tainted a batch of ham and cheese, killing dozens. Even The Daily Prophet had reported it, warning wizards to be cautious—after all, some of them still shopped at Muggle stores.
Wade fell silent for a moment, then asked, “You’ve conducted human experiments on Muggles?”
Antoine stiffened slightly. He looked at Wade, then at Dreian.
“Human trials are an essential part of drug development,” Dreian said, unfazed. “Without them, our potions would be far more dangerous. But don’t worry—we didn’t kidnap innocent people. The ‘materials’ we use are Muggles who’ve already lived lives so corrupt, their deaths would be a mercy.”
He paused, eyes glinting. “If I told you everything they’d done, you’d think they died too easily.”
Wade exhaled slowly. “Sorry. I… I’m just sensitive to this kind of topic.”
He’d always known the Wizard Purity Party operated with ruthless efficiency. The fact that they didn’t randomly sacrifice ordinary people for experiments was enough to earn Wade’s approval.
As for the rest—well, even Muggle pharmaceutical development relied on human trials. Their so-called “humanitarian spirit” simply meant paying volunteers to “consent” to risk.
“Understood,” Dreian nodded slowly. “I know you once visited that island—the one that birthed the Silent Shadow.”
A silence settled over the group, each lost in memory. The coal stove crackled, flames dancing. The kettle on top hissed, releasing a thin wisp of steam into the warm, damp air of the tent.
After a pause, Wade asked, “Have there been any recent reports of Muggles experimenting on underage wizards?”
“Not in half a year. But Mr. Grindelwald suspects such facilities still exist—only they’re more secretive now, known to only a few in Muggle high society. That’s how they’ve managed to stay hidden from us.”
Dreian paused. “And you know… some regions remain beyond our reach.”
The boy nodded, his gaze still lowered.
Outside the tent, fireworks burst overhead, their bright flashes mingling with the laughter and screams of people inside.
Wade steered the conversation away from the uneasy topic. “I’ve been thinking—maybe the next generation of potions would be better suited as cosmetics.”
“Cosmetics?” Antoine tilted his head. “Won’t that exclude most men from your customer base?”
Dreian chuckled at the suggestion.
“Not at all,” he said smoothly. “As long as they work, both men and women will fight to buy them. Human desire is limitless. It can’t be confined by simple definitions. If something benefits them, Muggles will invent new rules to justify it.”
“And,” he added, looking at Wade with quiet understanding, “anything applied to the skin—no matter how toxic—causes far less harm than swallowing it directly. Isn’t that what you’re thinking, Wade?”
“More than that,” Wade said objectively. “If you’d studied Muggle law, you’d know that obtaining a pharmaceutical license is far stricter and more complex than for cosmetics. Most cosmetics don’t require clinical trial data, can use a wider range of ingredients, and even if something goes wrong, the penalties are far lighter than for drug failures.”
Dreian nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been reading Leviathan and Capital lately. Maybe I should pay more attention to Muggle laws.”
Wade smirked. “You should also look at Muggle prices. Some cosmetics sell for astronomical amounts—even if a single unit contains only a grain or two of product. If a medicine cost that much, it’d spark outrage across Muggle society.”
“Ah, you scoundrel!” Antoine widened his eyes, mouth twitching. “No wonder Aslan Magical Workshop is so profitable. I thought it was all Machionni’s tricks. Turns out, you’ve been contributing plenty too.”
Wade blinked innocently. “Me? Mr. Machionni has exceptional talent in business. Such a suggestion is an insult to him.”
Antoine rolled his eyes upward, scoffing. “Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when pigs fly.”
Dreian sighed, tapping the table with his knuckles. “Antoine, are you really just now realizing who Wade is?”
How could he still ask such a foolish question?
If Wade Gray were truly naive, innocent, and generous, why would Mr. Grindelwald value him so highly?
Dreian shot him a withering look, then turned back to Wade. “Mr. Grindelwald plans to send ‘Braun’ to some upcoming events. Any advice for him?”
Among the ranks of the Wizard Purity Party, there was now a second “Braun”—a magical puppet dispatched by Wade, serving as his public face.
When Wade had first sent the puppet into the world, he’d discussed its purpose with Dreian: to shield Wade’s identity, ensuring that the schoolboy “Wade Gray” and the public figure “Braun” would never be linked in people’s minds. That way, even if Wade’s cover were ever compromised, no one would make the connection.
Originally, the puppet was meant to appear only once—perhaps during the Triwizard Tournament—just enough to establish its existence.
But now, it sounded like Gellert Grindelwald intended for it to play a more significant role.
Wade hesitated, then shook his head. “Leave it to the situation. I have nothing to add.”
Hogwarts was a fortress of stone, its ancient walls shielding him from wind and rain. But they also kept him isolated—cut off from the world’s transformations.
How could he make sound decisions without full knowledge of events? Better to stay silent and let others decide.
Dreian narrowed his eyes. “You truly trust that puppet? A thinking magical construct is far more dangerous than a lying human.”
Wade smiled. “Is there anything in this world more dangerous than a human?”
He paused, then asked, “You have issues with it, don’t you? Did it offend you?”
“No,” Dreian said, voice low. “But… it’s too human. It makes me uneasy.”
“—Terrifying?” Antoine blurted without thinking.
Dreian didn’t deny it.
After a long silence, Wade said, “It reminds me of some Ministry of Magic officials.”
“Because a few house-elves betrayed their masters, people began to assume all house-elves were untrustworthy—forgetting their loyalty, their very selves. You know the story—Cedric’s father, Amos Digory. At the World Cup final, he insisted the Dark Mark was released by Crouch’s house-elf, Shiny, ignoring every reasonable argument.”
Wade paused, then continued. “But think about it—how many house-elf betrayals have there been, versus human traitors?”
“Or is it precisely because most people assume house-elves are loyal that one or two betrayals seem so shocking? That’s when prejudice blinds you—making you deny the loyalty of an entire race.”
“The same applies to magical puppets. They’re created with one command: obey their master, protect their master’s interests. If a puppet ever betrays, it won’t be because it thinks—it’ll be because the master failed.”
“Dreian, if you stop seeing them as tools and start seeing them as colleagues—people—you’ll realize they’re far more reliable than most humans.”
Dreian stayed silent for a long time. Then, quietly, he laughed. “So you treat them like people… That’s your thinking, huh? Fine. Now I believe your puppet won’t betray you.”
But in that moment, he was even more certain: he would never, under any circumstances, buy a magical puppet as a pet.
Their creators had, unconsciously, seeded them with the very spark of thought. Whether Wade realized it or not, that spark might one day ignite.
And if a puppet ever awakened to that consciousness—could a master who ignored, abused, or exploited it truly expect loyalty?
Dreian’s eyes gleamed with amusement. The idea fascinated him—almost like a quiet anticipation.
Yet Wade’s attitude had also relieved his doubts.
He could now think of Braun as just another non-magical colleague. If it ever did something inappropriate, simply remove it. That was simpler.
He raised his coffee cup. “I’ll pass your thoughts on to Mr. Grindelwald. To the new wizarding era. To my goal—cheers?”
Wade smiled, raising his cup in return. “Cheers.”
The firelight danced in their eyes, casting soft glimmers across their faces, their lips curled in quiet, shared smiles.
Antoine: ……
He glanced down at his empty coffee cup, hesitating—should he pretend to drink? But the two had already drained their cups.
Antoine: ……
Well, I’ll just pretend I don’t exist.
Outside the tent, twilight had settled over the village. A cool night breeze brushed against their faces, carrying the scent of grass and flowing water, washing away the stale air of the tent.
The campsite bustled with students and visitors, as lively as ever. Campfires flickered. Laughter, vendor calls, haggling voices, and distant music filled the air.
All of it—the ordinary, the mundane—felt like home.
Antoine spoke with quiet surprise. “Mr. Grindelwald used to believe Muggles needed to be ruled—or wiped out. Now he’s accepting your ideas. He really values you, Wade.”
Wade stared at the distant lights. “The world is changing, Antoine. Mr. Grindelwald just saw it earlier than most wizards. Forceful suppression? That only backfires now.”
“And if not for you,” Antoine began, then stopped. “You know… I only just learned you wrote that letter to Dreian.”
He wanted to tell Wade how dangerous that letter had been—how, in the old days, Dreian might have been the one to execute him, even the two of them.
But the words died in his throat.
Wade’s standing with Mr. Grindelwald and the Wizard Purity Party was growing stronger—like a honeymoon. If the master learned that Antoine had “sowed discord”…
Truth be told, despite having followed Gellert Grindelwald longer, Antoine had never felt the same level of trust or leniency in the man’s presence as Wade did.
He still remembered that cold, piercing gaze—and the flicker of cruelty in the eyes.
Antoine paused, shifting tone. “By the way, Lucius Malfoy came back completely intact. No missing limbs, no death. A lot of people were disappointed.”
“And no one knows why, but ever since his return, he’s turned his wand against his old allies. Several pure-blood families are struggling now.”
Wade’s lips curved upward. “So you know what happened?”
Antoine leaned in, lowering his voice. “When you helped little Malfoy… did you foresee this?”
Wade laughed. “Why Lucius Malfoy changed sides? That’s something you should ask Dumbledore.”
After all, by the story’s logic, he should have no idea that the toad brought from the Forbidden Forest was Lucius Malfoy himself.
Antoine snorted, mimicking the same tone. “You think I believe that?”
(End of Chapter)
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