A golden bell, missing its clapper, swayed gently in the air.
Drayne pointed his wand, and the crystal vial floating in the air shattered, sending golden powder swirling towards Morrow.
Morrow instinctively held his breath, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. He then watched as the scattered gold dust converged on the bell hanging from his wrist, even forming a small vortex in the air.
He shook his arm a few times, and the gold dust swung with it, before being completely absorbed by the bell in a short while.
"Antoine, do you feel any discomfort?" Drayne asked.
Morrow moved his arms and shoulders, saying, "No, everything's fine. I don't feel disoriented either."
Grindelwald flicked a finger, and a nearby empty chair tumbled into the center of the room.
"Break it," he said.
Morrow pointed his wand at the chair: "*Confringo!*"
The spell hit its target, wood splinters exploded, and even a burst of heat diffused with the airflow.
"No different from before," Morrow affirmed. "That golden powder really didn't affect me—I thought mysterious magic would be trickier!"
"The more powerful something is, the more fragile it becomes," Grindelwald said. "Time magic is indeed terrifying, but condensed into powder, a small container can contain it."
"But one isn't enough. Wade, Wawerlett, I need more… er, does this thing have a name?" Grindelwald asked.
"Dust-Collecting Bell," Wawerlett said with a proud smile. "Wade named it."
"Oh."
Grindelwald looked at Wade, disdainfully saying, "That's truly on par with your Communication Pea. Creations are like an alchemist's children; how can you name them so casually?"
Wade shrugged indifferently, "Isn't simple and easy to understand good? You know what it does just by hearing it."
Grindelwald sighed, and after a moment of thought, said, "Sivangis… that's what we'll call it. I need at least one hundred and eighty of them. How long will it take you to prepare?"
"One hundred and eighty, huh…" Wawerlett estimated their progress and said, "About two days."
A skilled alchemist can mold multiple sets of materials simultaneously; one alchemist is equivalent to a small factory.
Wawerlett also had several apprentices who could handle basic tasks, such as material refining and shaping.
Two days, that was even considering their normal rest. In reality, it could be faster.
"Then, in three days, we'll proceed with our next operation. Wade Grey…" Grindelwald looked at the young wizard, saying, "Get ready, you'll be participating this time."
...
"Sigh…"
Back in the alchemy lab, Wawerlett had sighed for the third time, his distressed expression making even Wade, who hadn't intended to speak, unable to bear it.
"It's alright, don't worry," Wade comforted him. "Last time, Mr. Grindelwald kept me by his side the whole time. There was no one safer than me there."
"I'm not worried about that. If Gellert doesn't want to, he certainly won't let anything happen to you… I'm worried about…"
Wawerlett trailed off, letting out another long sigh.
Wade knew what he was troubled about, but he couldn't influence Grindelwald's thoughts, so he simply pretended not to know.
Last time Grindelwald took him out, he was merely a safe observer. But this time… it probably wouldn't be so easy.
He hadn't even had his fourteenth birthday. At this age, whether it was going to war, killing, or simply facing such cruel scenes, even for Wawerlett, a Dark Wizard, it felt too early.
As night fell, the two of them quickly tidied up the alchemy lab, then went to eat.
The House-elf had already served dinner on the table. While it couldn't compare to the lavishness of Hogwarts, even a simple vegetable salad tasted more delicious.
During dinner, Wawerlett remained troubled. Forking a tomato, he'd imagine scenes of flowing blood; picking up a grilled chicken cutlet, he'd picture living people being roasted into charcoal.
He had seen such sights many times before, but this time was different.
Next to every image he imagined, there was a pale, trembling Wade, forced to raise his wand under the terrifying gaze of the Dark Lord.
Before finishing dinner, Wawerlett suddenly stood up and declared loudly, "No! This can't happen!"
Wade was startled by him, blinking blankly.
Then he watched Wawerlett quickly duck into his bedroom, rummaging through everything, and emerging with a… Softlight Badge?
This was also Wade's creation, capable of applying a magical beauty filter to people in natural environments, making their appearance more pleasing to the eye. Its only drawback was its short duration, but it had sold very well since its inception, even gaining popularity among the Alliance.
—What was Wawerlett doing with this thing?
Wade looked confusedly as the old man happily came out with the badge, saying:
"Looks familiar, doesn't it? Young people love beauty, and it wouldn't look strange for anyone to wear a badge like this, even an old man like me couldn't resist buying a few."
He personally pinned the badge to Wade's chest, then straightened his clothes, whispering:
"I made a small modification to this badge; it's now a Portkey to this castle. If… if Gellert gives you trouble, come back immediately."
"Don't worry about them bothering you afterward, I've got your back! No matter what Gellert asks, just say it was all my idea… I still have that much influence…"
...
The waiter gently knocked on the door and said, "Sir, your dinner has arrived."
The door opened, and a man with a scarf and a nearly bald head took the tray. His gaze calmly swept over the waiter, and he said, "Thank you."
The waiter was momentarily stunned, watching with a maintained smile as the door closed again, a quiet wonder in his heart.
This guest's appearance completely clashes with his eyes, like a soldier's soul stuffed into a thief's body.
But...
Who says someone with a disheveled appearance can't possess a noble aura? Perhaps he'd been through a tumultuous experience, only to be beaten down by fate, leaving him unkempt...
The waiter mused over a plot worthy of a movie, pushing the dining cart towards the next room, those unique eyes seemingly still flashing before him from time to time.
"Dinner is served, Miss Mabel."
Peter Two placed the pancakes, roasted sausages, and other dishes, along with a plate of fruit and a large jug of sweet milk, on the table.
"Thank you."
Mabel, fresh from the washroom and still steaming, sat down at the table. She picked up a pancake, rolled a sausage in it, and said a little shyly, "Are you sure you won't have some?"
"We don't need to eat, Miss Mabel," Peter Two replied, shaking his head.
It wasn't the first time Mabel had heard that answer, but it still felt a bit strange.
They looked completely human, and their speech showed no discord, yet at their core, they were the same as the Rubik's Cube Golem or the broomstick beside them. Sometimes, thinking about it made it seem a little terrifying.
But after spending more time with them, Mabel discovered that the outwardly ugly Peter Two was actually a reserved, quiet, and reliable good person... a good Magic Golem.
When Mabel left with the group of Magic Golems, she had assumed they would have to rough it, camping out and searching everywhere, and she'd even worried about how to handle it if she fell ill.
In reality, she was living better than ever before.
When traveling, she rode a Flying Broomstick. The Rubik's Cube Golem would unfold a shield-like barrier to block the cold wind, and Mihail would flap its wings nearby, generating warm air, making the high altitude cold completely unnoticeable.
The Magic Golems also considered her need for food and rest, stopping each evening at a high-end hotel in the local area.
Peter Two checked them in as an adult. He could even provide various legitimate registration information and documents, though Mabel had no idea how he acquired them.
The Rubik's Cube Golem transformed into a suitcase, quietly carried into the room by Peter Two.
Afterward, Mabel, cloaked and invisible, flew in through the window on her broomstick. The hotel offered a variety of delicious foods and hot showers.
Safety was no longer a concern. At night, Mabel slept in a soft, large bed, occasionally waking up in the middle of the night to see several Magic Golems quietly standing guard by the window or the door.
During the day, they tracked several locations attacked by the Alliance but couldn't get close, only watching from afar as the wizards handled the aftermath. The broomstick would sometimes disguise itself as an ordinary Flying Broomstick to eavesdrop on their conversations.
But starting two days ago, this aimless searching finally made significant progress—a wizard began actively contacting them and providing information.
He was a merchant named Marchioni, reportedly a partner of Wade Grey.
"Is that guy trustworthy?" the broomstick grumbled. "I have a saying in my mind: 'No merchant is honest.' These cunning individuals will do anything for profit."
Mabel subconsciously looked at its slender body and flattened twigs.
In its mind? Where is its brain located?
"Isn't that perfect?" Peter Two said. "Saving the master aligns with his interests."
"Whether he's trustworthy is a question for the master to judge. I only care if the information he provides is useful," the Rubik's Cube Golem said.
"Does he know you're Magic Golems?" Mabel asked curiously.
"He does," the Rubik's Cube Golem replied.
When it left, it had also brought the Book of Friends Wade had left at home, intending to use it occasionally to gather information.
But through the parchment, others likely couldn't trust their identities, and they were very cautious not to make contact. Besides Dumbledore, who had once invited them to meet him, only Marchioni, after a few days of silence, actively sent various pieces of information.
None of the Alliance members showed their faces in the Streaming Mirror videos, but Marchioni analyzed the material and patterns of their boot soles, helping the Magic Golems narrow down the general search area.
If I'm not mistaken, their base should be in the southwestern part of Sweden. You'd best search inland, looking for ancient castles that have witnessed magic.
That person was imprisoned in a sea prison for forty-eight years. The cold, damp climate must have caused significant damage to his body, so his current residence will certainly be far from the coast.
—This was the message Marchioni sent two days ago.
There were only over 300 castles in all of Sweden. Excluding those along the coast, and then those that had already become tourist attractions, searching through the rest wouldn't take long.
The fear was that Grindelwald might completely conceal the castle.
But their team also had Mabel.
The Obscurus, born from a hatred of magic, possessed an extraordinary sensitivity to magical power.
After dinner, Mabel crossed off the places they had searched today on the map and discussed tomorrow's itinerary with the Magic Golems. Just as she was about to rest, she heard the Rubik's Cube Golem suddenly say:
"Marchioni sent another message..."
It opened the Book of Friends and saw an unfamiliar name written on it.
"John Adler? An ordinary person without magic... he might become the Alliance's next target... Have any of you heard this name?"
Including Mabel, all the living and non-living beings in the room shook their heads.
"So what do we do?" Mabel asked, pointing and drawing on the map. "Do we continue searching castles, or do we go find this Adler first?"
The Rubik's Cube Golem looked at the words appearing one by one on the parchment, falling into contemplation.
...
"The badge has been changed into a Portkey?"
"Yes," Grindelwald repeated, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.
"Yes," the House-elf, dressed in a grey pillowcase, bowed its head and repeated Wawerlett's words verbatim.
These creatures have large, flexible ears that can rotate independently, giving them incredibly sharp hearing, and most wizards unconsciously ignore them.
However, Grindelwald, having experienced war, did not overlook the power and unique role of these creatures. His study, bedroom, and meeting rooms were all enchanted, so even a House-elf outside the room would only hear a buzzing noise.
But Wawerlett lacked this awareness, and Grindelwald had not passed on his experience to others.
At this moment, after hearing the House-elf's words, Grindelwald had not yet spoken, but Drayne, standing nearby, already looked furious.
"Sir," he bowed and said, "Wawerlett is showing signs of betrayal. Should I…?"
Grindelwald raised a hand to stop him mid-sentence and told the House-elf, "I understand. You may return to your duties."
"Yes."
The House-elf vanished with a pop.
Only then did Grindelwald look at Drayne, but instead of getting angry as Drayne had expected, he chuckled:
"Although Antoine didn't say anything, he probably shares the same concerns as Wawerlett. What about you, Günther?"
"What do you think about me bringing Wade Grey along for the next operation?" Grindelwald asked.
"Wawerlett and Antoine are blinded by personal feelings and haven't grasped your profound intentions," Drayne said without hesitation. "Wade Grey possesses the bells… he knows how to make Sivangis. If he harbors ill intent, it could lead to immense losses for us."
"Bringing him with you is to ensure everyone's safety; it's a prudent and cautious strategy!"
He spoke with great sincerity, devoid of any flattery or insincerity, because that was genuinely what he believed.
However, upon hearing this, Grindelwald burst into laughter, his frail chest shaking like a drum.
Drayne watched him worriedly, afraid he would laugh until he couldn't breathe, as he had last time.
Then, he saw the monarch he had chosen compose himself, his laughter subsiding, and he sighed, "Günther, have you ever considered… why our past endeavors failed?"
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