Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

”Do you think I intentionally lost to Dumbledore?” Grindelwald asked displeasedly, ”What are you suspecting?”

”I’m not doubting the authenticity of that duel,” Vid said calmly, ”I’m just very curious, can a spell like the Flame God be blocked?”

Grindelwald looked into those calm grey eyes and realized he had overreacted, his anger instantly dissipating.

It was mainly because since his comeback, some people trying to curry favor with Grindelwald were always attempting to embellish his failures, turning that duel back then into a conspiracy.

In their words, it seemed as if Dumbledore had used some despicable means before the duel, secretly harming the upright and noble Grindelwald.

Some who vaguely knew about the two’s past even depicted that duel as particularly sordid—though they fancied it romantic— as if the two had simply exchanged greetings, and Grindelwald conjured a white handkerchief at the tip of his wand, surrendering.

In such narratives, Grindelwald was an incorrigible romantic, willingly elevating Dumbledore upon a pedestal while willingly walking into a dark, sunless prison.

To Grindelwald, both accounts not only insulted Dumbledore but severely humiliated himself—

It was as if, in some people’s eyes, he, Grindelwald, was a fool, an idiot, driven by romance to the point of forsaking his ideals and beliefs, betraying himself and his followers.

For this, Grindelwald had thrown countless Cruciatus Curses, until no one dared question anything in front of him. So upon hearing Vid’s question, his anger surged.

Seeing only pure curiosity and caution towards magic in Vid’s eyes, Grindelwald controlled his temper and explained, ”I didn’t spend all my fifty years in prison just idly sleeping away.”

Vid asked in surprise, ”You created the Flame God spell yourself?”

The youth’s admiration made the old man particularly satisfied, unconsciously raising his eyebrows and smoothing out the wrinkles a bit.

He coughed and said, ”I also borrowed some ancient spells, and creating and inventing new spells is originally a basic skill of an excellent wizard... it’s nothing much.”

”If you wish to learn from me, then you’ll need to find time to learn some ancient wizard languages, as well as various magical creature languages...”

Before he could finish speaking, they both heard a sharp, crisp sound of shattering glass.

Vid abruptly turned his head, seeing that a section of the barrier had shattered, then the whole barrier cracked with snapping sounds, turning into glowing fragments dissolving into the darkness.

The dozen or so giant trees had now been burned by fierce flames to just three to five, most of their branches and leaves burned clean, so neither Grindelwald nor Vid felt tense about it.

Even Mikhail withdrew his raging flames lest the wizards facing the giant trees also got ignited.

Then, several members of the Witch Pure Party were swatted away by tree branches, emitting wretched screams as they flew far away in an arc.

Other wizards chased after, shouting and continuously casting Levicorpus, hoping to catch them.

Grindelwald’s sly smugness and smile disappeared, his face dark, not knowing for the nth time how furious he felt at the new generation of the Witch Pure Party, causing liver pain.

While casting spells standing in place, they looked decent enough. But faced with unexpected attacks, those young people immediately started acting foolishly.

Fortunately, not everyone disappointed their leader, as quite a few quickly dodged the first wave of the giant tree’s assault, uniformly pointing their magic wands at their opponents, reciting the prepared spells.

The charred spruce fell into deep swamps, no matter how it twisted and struggled, the heavy roots continued to sink;

The sturdy beech swung its branches and trunk wildly, yet like bound hand and foot, it moved with difficulty, the glow of the spells landing upon it, and the tree continuously erupted;

Another unlucky oak tree, burnt to just half a trunk, was hoisted upside down by over a dozen wizards, unable to move no matter how the roots flailed, only to be engulfed by the Flagrante Curse.

Of course, there were also failed spells. Some genius cast Tarantallegra on the yew tree, and the spell’s power was rather formidable.

Thus the previously clumsy giant tree began to jump wildly, knocking surrounding wizards into the air, forcing the others to expend multiple times the effort to subdue it.

But in any case, the area around the camp finally gradually settled down.

The injured received treatment, the companions who were flung away were found, the giant roots continued to burn in the flames and estimated to take several more hours to burn out.

In the increasingly dense night, the firelight flickered non-stop, sparks danced and scattered like fireflies, and as silence suddenly descended upon the surroundings, Vid found people were silently observing him.

Grindelwald gently nudged his shoulder, pushing him forward a couple of steps.

Then, some wizards came over, removing the wide hoods from their heads as they got closer.

”I’m Castor Bank.” The slender, pale man smiled at the corner of his mouth, ”Pleased to become your comrade, Braun.”

”Hello.” Vid shook hands with him, the man’s palm unusually cold.

”Octa Note.” The young witch with high cheekbones and brown hair, with a burn scar at the corner of her mouth, waved a Mother Mirror in her hand and smiled, ”I’ve recorded it all, may I broadcast it?”

”You can.”

”Oh.” The witch tilted her head and smiled, ”Seems that’s not your true appearance... but that’s okay, I recognize your power.”

”Don’t mind her, always trying to pry into people’s privacy.” A gloomy-looking wizard extended his hand, saying, ”I’m Von Rosen.”

Vid shook hands with him too, his eyes sweeping over the still-bleeding wound on the man’s arm.

”Serafina Ram.” A solemn witch with a slicked-back bun, always reminding Vid of Professor McGonagall, said, ”Sorry you had to witness some unsavory displays.”

”Albaric Neil.” The burly gray-bearded man rasped, ”I suppose you’ve noticed, I’m a werewolf.”

Not everyone came over to shake hands with ”Braun,” but the ones who performed best did so.

The burning resin cracked and snapped, the firelight illuminating the silent faces, while Grindelwald gazed into the distance, another mysterious smile crossing his lips.

…

Inside the sports arena, Barty Crouch Jr. stood in a passageway behind a certain box, unable to resist checking the time again.

Supposedly, the animated forest of giant trees should have already stormed in to wreak havoc, so why was the sports arena still not in chaos?