Early morning, Wade pushed open the window, and the cold air rushed in, dispelling the stale stuffiness that had accumulated in the room overnight.
He looked up at the sky, seeing a few faint stars still hanging there. The distant mountains were shrouded in darkness, only their snow-capped peaks reflecting the starlight were faintly visible.
The Alliance had chosen a very early time for their operation; it was still two hours before dawn. Candlelight began to appear in rooms throughout the castle, and footsteps could be heard in the corridors.
Hogwarts had been in session for two days, but at such an early hour, probably only the House-elves were busy preparing breakfast; the students were undoubtedly still deep in slumber.
Wade sighed softly, suddenly feeling a bit nostalgic for school life.
Accompanied by the scent of burning pine wood in his bedroom, Wade washed and dressed, donning a cloak that obscured his appearance. He then hung several anti-curse items he had made in his spare time on his person.
Turning around, he saw the Magic Books stacked high on the shelves.
Due to the language barrier, Wade, a beginner in German, read very slowly. He had only skimmed the table of contents and then selected a few of the most interesting books to read carefully.
But Wade didn't abandon the other books; he used the Duplicating Charm to copy all of them. He also cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on his clothes pockets, stuffing all the copied books inside.
This outing was an opportunity to escape. Even if that Adler Manor had anti-Apparition charms, Wade could first transform into a Peregrine Falcon to get out of the charm's range, and then Apparate away.
The key was to get out of Grindelwald's sight.
Wade had pretty much figured out the Alliance's skill level. Unlike the legendary invincible, ruthless Dark Wizard army, most of the current Alliance members were actually similar to the wizards at the Ministry of Magic.
Simply put, over half of them had recently been relearning the Shield Charm, three-quarters of them faked their Nonverbal Spells by muttering them softly, and many relied on luck for hitting targets when throwing spells while running.
Compared to the Ministry of Magic, these people's advantage was their ability to unhesitatingly use highly destructive Dark Magic, and the injuries caused by such spells were often difficult to heal.
Moreover, combat was the best catalyst; from the videos, it seemed the Dark Wizards' skill levels were generally improving rapidly.
But at their current level, most of them lacked both the awareness and the equivalent strength to stop a small Peregrine Falcon in a chaotic battlefield.
Life in the castle had actually been quite pleasant, but Wade had never been out of contact with his parents for so long, and they must be very worried.
And for learning magic, the Hogwarts Library was much more accommodating for him. At least he didn't have to constantly flip through dictionaries, ask people for grammar help, or worry about mispronouncing words causing danger, making him hesitant to try new spells.
That wizard who was almost trampled to death by a cow kept reminding Wade how dangerous it was to use the wrong spell.
When he left the room, his bedroom remained as it usually was—unfinished notes on the desk, and two changes of clothes hanging by the bed.
If he couldn't find an opportunity to escape this time... Wade could pretend nothing had happened and continue to maintain the current harmonious and friendly atmosphere.
...
The morning mist hung thick. A thin branch snapped under a black boot, making a soft crunch.
Immediately after, a large, thick-bodied snake slithered behind, winding its way over dead branches, fallen leaves, and snow, making rustling sounds.
The wizard in the gray cloak was almost one with the mist, trudging through the dark woods along a winding forest path.
Finally, he stopped on the hillside, pulled out his Wand, and waved it gently. Thick mist swirled around him, blurring his figure until he almost merged with his surroundings.
The wizard then tapped a nearby tree stump with his Wand, transforming it into a tall, soft seat. Only then did he throw back his cloak, revealing a baby with a snake-like face.
The baby, holding onto the wizard's neck with its thin arms, was now placed on a chair at the same height as him. Several more flames appeared nearby, warming the entire area.
The large snake enjoyed the warmth. It coiled around the chair and climbed up, finally resting its head on the armrest, flicking its tongue softly.
"Master," the wizard said, lowering his head, "that Muggle manor is just below the hill."
The baby opened its narrow eyes, revealing blood-red pupils. Its soft, weak hands rested on its stomach, one of them holding a Wand almost as long as its body.
"Wait," the baby said in a cold, sharp voice. "We'll probably see a good show today."
"Yes."
The wizard turned his head, revealing a pale, gaunt face beneath the cloak, with light yellow hair falling across his forehead and freckles. He looked to be in his thirties, with a delicate beauty.
"How is your father lately? Is he still looking for you, Barty?"
The baby—Voldemort—asked softly.
What sounded like a casual greeting from his lips carried an indescribable danger.
Little Barty Crouch heard that name, and a look of involuntary disgust appeared on his face. He frowned and said, "No, he's returned to work and has been swamped lately—"
After a pause, he added, "But I don't think he'll completely forget me. That man is as stubborn as a rock. If you need me to, I'm ready to kill him at any time!"
"No need," the baby Voldemort said contentedly. "He's still useful to us; maintaining this state is just right. The spell in the Brain Room was successful, so don't worry about him exposing us."
Little Barty Crouch looked at the snake-faced baby beside him with admiration and whispered, "They say even the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries dare not use the Brain Room to alter the consciousness of wizards, yet you know how to use it... If Grindelwald were as knowledgeable and fearless as you, perhaps he wouldn't have failed time and again."
The baby Voldemort chuckled, saying, "Grindelwald's cause back then was built on the Muggle war. When the Muggle governments allied with him declared defeat, his cause was inevitably doomed—even the Brain Room couldn't change that."
The distant manor was extremely quiet at this moment, looking like a still painting. The waiting period was too boring, and the baby Voldemort didn't mind chatting a bit more with his most loyal subordinate.
"You know, Barty, when I was young, I worked at Borgin and Burkes. Although it wasn't a respectable job, it allowed me to come into contact with many hidden, ancient secrets."
"Some noble descendants whose families had fallen on hard times even brought treasured Magic Books to sell for money. A precious research notebook ended up being sold for just 2 Galleons and 13 Sickles."
The baby Voldemort laughed mockingly, "Its owner was once an Unspeakable who researched the Brain Room and knew that place better than anyone. But among all those who came into contact with that notebook, only I... saw its value."
Little Barty Crouch listened attentively to Voldemort's past narration. Neither the fact that he had once been a humble shop clerk nor that he had acquired priceless notes for a very low price changed his expression in the slightest.
Unlike those who became Death Eaters out of a desire for violence, fame, wealth, status, or a craving for destruction and slaughter, Little Barty Crouch's loyalty to Voldemort was pure.
Even when Voldemort transformed into his current weak and ugly form, revealing a malicious inner self as vile as his appearance, this extreme loyalty remained unshaken.
The baby Voldemort shifted his sitting position and said, "The Brain Room can subtly alter a person's consciousness, but it cannot too greatly contradict an individual's will."
"If Grindelwald tried to use the Brain Room to make all wizards worldwide loyal to him, it wouldn't have any effect. In fact, he'd end up a mindless shell."
"It can only be used to subtly, imperceptibly alter thoughts—for example, making everyone unconsciously ignore two people publicly believed to be long dead."
He flashed a smug smile. "So, while these fools are fighting tooth and nail, we can leisurely watch the show. That is, until we've made all the preparations for my resurrection, and my loyal subordinates have returned to my side. By then…"
Voldemort didn't finish, merely smiling and reaching out to stroke Nagini's head beside him.
Barty Crouch Jr. looked at Nagini with envy, but then, remembering it was just a mindless beast, he regained his composure.
"I will bring Harry Potter to you, Master."
Barty Crouch Jr. said calmly, "—No matter the risk."
—And then kill all those traitors and cowards!
Harry Potter belonged to his Master, but what Barty Crouch Jr. hated most were the scum who had never even tried to find the Dark Lord.
When Barty Crouch Jr. was imprisoned by his father, lost in a daze and unaware of the passing days, every brief moment of clarity was filled with an eager longing to return to the Dark Lord's side.
But what about those who escaped legal punishment? They still enjoyed comfortable, prosperous lives, never making the slightest effort for the Dark Lord, allowing their Master's soul to wander miserably in the forest, living a life worse than death.
"I won't let you take a fatal risk, my child. Your survival is incredibly important to me," the infant Voldemort said kindly. "Be patient, the opportunity will come…"
Suddenly, he sensed something and murmured, "They're here!"
Before he finished speaking, the space several hundred meters outside the manor seemed to suddenly warp, the air swirling in circles. Soon after, a large number of figures emerged.
A sharp, piercing alarm blared through the manor. People swarmed, countless individuals pouring out of the seemingly quiet houses.
"Looks like they couldn't pull off a sneak attack." Voldemort rested his chin on one hand, laughing gleefully. "The other side was prepared, and Dumbledore is on his way… Haha, this is much more interesting."
*BOOM!*
Amidst a deafening roar, a missile, accompanied by a whistling sound tearing through the air and a blazing tail flame, streaked towards where the Alliance had gathered.
…
*BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—*
Huge fireballs erupted above the manor, hot air blasting in all directions. Some charred objects could faintly be seen flying away.
Machine guns sprayed bullets like rain, but the leading Dark Wizard slammed his Wand into the ground, conjuring a massive transparent barrier out of thin air that protected all his companions.
Wizards who were a step late in using their Portkey also appeared. Outside the manor, a dense mass of figures gathered, like a flock of funeral crows.
John Adler watched the sky instantly turn red, his face pale, his forehead slick with cold sweat.
"They were prepared!" Adler stammered. "Aren't you wizards all medieval relics? How can you deal with missiles?"
It had been a confident attack, expecting to inflict heavy casualties, but it had almost no effect whatsoever.
Compared to spells that wizards could cast instantly, missiles flew too slowly. The Alliance appeared to have suffered very few casualties, and even bullets hitting them had little impact.
A simple Shield Charm might not be enough to block bullets, but when wizards cooperated, an Impediment Jinx combined with an Shield Charm could produce miraculous results. And an Shield Charm cast on a dragon-hide cloak was as effective as a bulletproof vest, though the spell's effect didn't last long.
Having lived through the World Wars, Grindelwald possessed many similar little tricks. Although he had been isolated for many years, his familiarity with Muggle weapons still surpassed most wizards, and even most Muggles. After escaping prison, he hadn't forgotten to update his knowledge in this area.
Faced with Adler's questioning, Abigail, standing beside him, simply said, "It's too early to be afraid. Our attack has only just begun."
The next second, both their expressions changed dramatically.
Among the wizards, countless paper airplanes suddenly soared into the sky, with familiar-looking bombs hanging beneath them.
"Get down—bombs—"
Screams of agony filled the manor, yet countless people just stared blankly up at the overwhelming flood of white paper airplanes, too terrified and desperate to react.
Gun muzzles turned skyward, intercepting some of the paper airplanes, adding a touch of brilliant color to the sky. But more airplanes nimbly swooped down towards the crowds below.
Whether they were ordinary soldiers with loaded guns or tough-skinned Werewolves, they were like paper in the face of such firepower.
Only some Vampires transformed into bats, flying up in time, and despite the pleading gazes of their companions, they flapped their wings higher.
However, as the thunderous explosions echoed into the distance, the flight paths of some bats suddenly became erratic, even plummeting straight into the heart of the fire!
"How could this be… they didn't show this kind of ability before…"
Adler muttered, then suddenly jumped up, grabbing Abigail's arm and shouting, "Get me out of here! Now! Immediately! I want to leave this damned place!"
Another male wizard from the organization said disdainfully, "What a coward! These guys were just cannon fodder sent to die. You'll see our true power when the Alliance steps into the manor…"
"You scoundrel! Do you know how much funding I provide you every year?!"
Before the male wizard could finish speaking, Adler's finger was practically poking his nose as he roared furiously:
"I spent so much money not to stand here as bait! I don't care how many backup plans you have, just get me out of here now!"
The male wizard's expression turned cold, but Abigail stopped him, stepping forward two paces and saying:
"Mr. Adler has a point. Since the Alliance is already here, he indeed doesn't need to stay. You all continue watching, I'll escort him out."
The male wizard snorted, saying nothing more.
Adler didn't bother to argue about his attitude. He picked up his important briefcase and followed Abigail, promising her as they left:
"My life is more important than anything. As long as you can protect me to a safe place, I'll give you an amount of money you could never earn in your lifetime…"
Abigail said nothing, holding her Wand like a loyal guard.
...
Grindelwald put away his wand and waved his hand.
Several of Wawerlett's Alchemy apprentices opened the cases they were carrying, and an endless stream of paper airplanes flew out, like an overwhelming, boundless white tide.
The paper airplanes, carrying bombs many times heavier than themselves, flew fearlessly towards the enemy's position, their light frames like letters sent by the grim reaper.
Even many members of the Alliance hadn't anticipated this sight. They looked up in shock, mouths agape, unable to speak.
"Do you see? Although we are wizards, we are not limited to using only magical means."
Grindelwald lowered his head and coughed twice, then said, "The biggest problem with Muggle weapons is that the killing machines they invent often end up being used against themselves."
-----------
Machine Translation by: https:// randomtranslator.com/
Read ***+ original & fanfic translations in English, Español, Português, Deutsch, Français, or Русский
Or Translate for free at : https:// randomtranslator.com/translate
Join our Discord: https:// discord.com/invite/XXUR9nkjwa
-----------