"Do you think I deliberately lost to Dumbledore?" Grindelwald asked, displeased. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not questioning the authenticity of that duel back then," Wade said calmly. "I'm just curious, can a spell like Flame God really be blocked?"
Grindelwald looked at those calm, gray eyes and realized he had overreacted. His anger instantly vanished.
Mainly, ever since his return, some people eager to curry favor with Grindelwald had tried to whitewash his defeat, turning that duel into a conspiracy.
According to them, it was as if Dumbledore had used some underhanded tactics before the duel, secretly harming the upright and noble Grindelwald.
And then there were those who vaguely knew about their past, who described the duel in an even more vulgar way—though they considered it romantic—as if the two had merely exchanged greetings, and Grindelwald had produced a white handkerchief from his Wand tip, admitting defeat.
In this version, Grindelwald was an incorrigible romantic, willingly elevating Dumbledore to a deity while he himself voluntarily walked into a dark, sunless prison.
In Grindelwald's view, both narratives not only shamed Dumbledore but also seriously shamed him—
It was as if, in some people's eyes, he, Grindelwald, was a fool, an idiot, a love-struck romantic who would abandon his ideals and betray himself and his followers for one person.
Grindelwald had been so angry about this that he'd cast countless Crucio spells, until no one dared to question him about anything. That's why, upon hearing Wade's question, he had suddenly flared up in anger.
Seeing only pure curiosity and caution for magic in Wade's eyes, Grindelwald controlled his temper and explained, "My fifty years in prison weren't spent idly sleeping all day."
Wade asked in surprise, "Did you create Flame God yourself?"
The admiration in the young man's eyes made the old man particularly pleased. His eyebrows unconsciously raised, and his wrinkles smoothed out a bit.
He cleared his throat and said, "I did draw on some ancient spells, and creating and inventing new spells is a basic ability of excellent wizards… it's nothing special."
"If you want to learn from me, you'll need to take time to learn several ancient wizarding languages, as well as the languages of various magical creatures…"
Before he could finish, both of them heard a sharp, clear sound of breaking glass.
Wade abruptly turned to look, only to see that a section of the barrier had shattered. Immediately after, the entire barrier cracked and splintered into tiny specks of light that melted into the darkness.
There had been over a dozen giant trees before, but now only three to five remained, most of their branches and leaves burned away by Fiendfyre. Thus, neither Grindelwald nor Wade felt anxious about it.
Even Mihail had reined in the rampaging Fiendfyre, lest the wizards facing the giant trees also be ignited.
Then, several Alliance members were flung away by the tree branches, letting out miserable screams as they flew off in parabolas.
Several other wizards shouted and chased after them, continuously casting Levitation Charms, hoping to catch them.
The cunning delight and smile on Grindelwald's face vanished. His face darkened. He didn't know how many times he'd been so angry at the new generation of Alliance members that his liver ached.
While casting spells from a stationary position, they looked competent enough. But faced with unexpected attacks, the young people immediately started acting foolish.
Fortunately, not everyone disappointed their leader. Many of them dodged the first wave of attacks from the giant trees, uniformly pointing their Wands at the opponent and reciting the spells they had already prepared.
The charred Spruce Tree sank into a deep swamp. No matter how it twisted and struggled, its heavy roots continued to sink;
The thick Beech Tree thrashed its branches and trunk wildly, but it moved with great difficulty as if its limbs were bound. As the light of spells landed on it, its trunk continuously exploded;
And one unlucky Oak Tree, burned down to only half a trunk, was actually hung upside down by a dozen wizards. No matter how its roots writhed, it couldn't move and could only be swallowed by the fire spell.
Of course, there were also failed spells. Some genius cast a Tarantallegra on a Yew Tree, and the spell's power was quite impressive.
So the previously clumsy giant tree began to jump wildly, knocking away the surrounding wizards. The others had to expend several times the effort to subdue it.
But in any case, the area around the camp gradually quieted down.
The injured were treated, and their flung companions were recovered. The massive tree roots still burned in the flames, estimated to burn for several more hours.
In the increasingly dense night, the firelight flickered continuously, and sparks flew like fireflies. When the surroundings suddenly fell silent, Wade noticed people silently watching him.
Grindelwald gently pushed his shoulder, prompting him to take two steps forward.
Then, some wizards approached him. As they got closer, they removed their wide hoods.
"I'm Castor Bank." The thin, pale man smiled. "It's a pleasure to be your companion, Braun."
"Hello." Wade shook his hand. The man's hand was unusually cold.
"Octa Nott." The young, high-cheekboned brunette witch had a burn scar at the corner of her mouth. She waved the Master Mirror in her hand and laughed, "I recorded it all. Can I air it?"
"Yes."
"Oh." The witch tilted her head and smiled. "It seems this isn't your true face… but it doesn't matter, I acknowledge your power."
"Don't mind her, she's always trying to pry into other people's privacy." A gloomy wizard extended his hand and said, "My name is Von Rosen."
Wade also shook his hand, his eyes scanning the bleeding wound on the man's arm.
"Serafina Lamb." This was a serious-faced witch with a smooth bun, who always reminded Wade of Professor McGonagall. She said, "I'm sorry you had to witness the disgraceful behavior of some of these fellows."
"Alberic Neil." The husky, grey-bearded man said in a raspy voice, "I imagine you've figured it out, I'm a Werewolf."
Not everyone came over to shake "Braun's" hand, but those who had performed most prominently just now all did.
The burning pine resin crackled, and the firelight illuminated their silent faces. Grindelwald's gaze drifted into the distance, and a mysterious smile reappeared on his lips.
...
Inside the stadium, Barty Crouch stood in the corridor behind a certain box, unable to resist looking down at his watch again.
Logically, the animated giant trees should have burst in and caused widespread destruction by now. Why was the stadium not yet in chaos?
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