Chapter 33 — Edmund Grindelwald
"Albus!" Gale Depp shouted urgently. "Audrey's condition isn't good. I'm taking her inside first. Come in as soon as you're done here."
With a sharp whoosh, Depp vanished from the lawn.
Dumbledore turned back to Barty Crouch, his expression grave.
"Mr. Crouch… I remember you from school," he said quietly. "You were once an outstanding student."
He shook his head slowly, his white beard swaying, his voice heavy with disappointment and sorrow.
"But look at what you've become. For the sake of your own ambition, you've cast aside all restraint and decency."
Barty Crouch's lips trembled, opening and closing several times—yet not a single word came out.
He knew perfectly well that Hydras Lestrange had been framed by the Grey family. It was they who had relentlessly hunted her, coveting the vast fortune of the Lestrange vaults.
The two who ultimately died… had only themselves to blame.
But from the very beginning, his thirst for power and recognition had led him astray. As Dumbledore said, ambition had blinded him.
"Professor Dumbledore, I…"
His thoughts were in chaos. At last, he swallowed his pride and pleaded,
"Could you… could you not report this to the Department? I will find a way to compensate Miss Astley. I swear it."
"Compensate?" Dumbledore's voice turned cold. "Do you have any idea how much damage Mentore metal powder causes to a wizard's body? What compensation could possibly make up for that?"
He raised the Elder Wand, and the battlefield-scarred lawn instantly returned to its original pristine state.
"You may go," Dumbledore said calmly. "I have no authority to judge you. What happens next… will be decided by Audrey herself."
Had time allowed, Dumbledore would not have minded personally escorting Barty Crouch to the Ministry to explain everything. But now, far more urgent matters demanded his attention.
Barty Crouch left in a daze, unease gnawing at him.
Would she report him to the Ministry?
Would she sue him?
…
…
Inside Audrey's room.
Hydras's face was flushed, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her magic was in complete disarray, and she could no longer maintain the Magus disguise. Her true appearance had already returned.
Grindelwald gently laid her on the bed and sat down beside her, frowning deeply as he searched for a solution.
Edmund crouched silently on the windowsill, golden eyes fixed on Hydras, worry unmistakable in his gaze.
Mentore poisoning syndrome was notoriously difficult to treat—especially for someone like Hydras, whose body relied almost entirely on magic.
Sizzle.
Dumbledore appeared inside the room.
"Well, Al," Grindelwald said coolly, "did you kill him?"
"No," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "You know me. I don't kill."
Grindelwald gave a cold snort.
"Then what do you intend to do now that Hydras has been poisoned by Mentore metal?"
"I'll seek help from Nicolas Flamel," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to come with me?"
"No," Grindelwald answered immediately. "You go. I don't like that old man."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Very well. Then stay here and take care of Hydras."
With another whoosh, he vanished.
Grindelwald sighed. With a flick of his wand, Hydras's features gradually shifted, transforming back into Audrey Astley's appearance.
Members of the GGA were all masters of Transfiguration. Such work was effortless for them.
"Edmund," Grindelwald said suddenly, turning to the golden cat at the window.
"Hydras's condition is extremely serious. We can't leave here. I need you to go to Croatia."
Edmund leapt down.
While still mid-air, the cat's body twisted and reshaped. By the time he touched the ground, he had already transformed into a tall, handsome young man.
Edmund Grindelwald.
Grindelwald's grand-nephew.
Finding this blood relative had not been easy. Ever since Grindelwald went to live with his great-aunt Bathilda Bagshot in England, his ties to the Grindelwald family had gradually faded.
It was only more than half a century later that he finally located the descendants of his father's illegitimate son.
There was no deep affection involved—but blood ties were strange things, impossible to fully explain.
Though they appeared to be grandfather and grandson, their relationship was closer to that of master and apprentice—and it worked remarkably well.
"Uncle," Edmund asked, "what am I going to Croatia for?"
"Find a Veela settlement," Grindelwald replied.
"I once heard that a Veela elder cured a wizard poisoned by Mentore metal. Go there and find a way to save Hydras."
Edmund nodded, a smile spreading across his face—eerily reminiscent of Grindelwald in his youth.
Instead of complaining about the journey, he joked lightly:
"Well then, it seems the princess really has become Sleeping Beauty."
Turning to Grindelwald, he grinned.
"If I manage to save her, do you think she'll be so touched that she offers herself to me?"
Grindelwald rolled his eyes.
"Stop spouting nonsense and get to Croatia."
Edmund laughed, bowed theatrically, and spun on the spot.
Sizzle!
…
…
Croatia.
Susak Island.
A small island facing Italy across the sea.
Fewer than two hundred Muggles lived here. The island stretched only three kilometers long and one and a half kilometers wide.
Along its roughly ten-kilometer coastline lay a peculiar stretch of shore.
The island's residents never ventured near it—almost as if that area did not exist at all.
Edmund Grindelwald appeared there.
"Uncle, you really should've explained this better," he muttered. "Croatia's huge. It took me forever to find this place."
He looked toward the region covered by a permanent Muggle-Repelling Charm.
This must be it.
Though Croatia was the birthplace of Veela legends, most Veela had long since migrated to Romania and Bulgaria.
To locate this place, Edmund had called in countless favors and consulted many old acquaintances.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward.
As he moved, memories surfaced unbidden—of watching Hydras grow from a tiny, frail child into a breathtaking young woman.
Her body relied excessively on magic. Though powerful beyond measure, once her magic faltered, she was weaker than an ordinary person—her body even at risk of losing its most basic functions.
It was an extremely dangerous condition.
He had no time to waste.
Rounding a rocky outcrop, he saw a massive cavern entrance.
Seawater surged inside, waves crashing violently, the echoes sounding like howling beasts.
Edmund stepped onto the sea.
With every step, seawater froze instantly beneath his feet, forming solid ice platforms.
Inside the cave, he raised his wand, casting a soft illumination spell.
Less than a hundred meters in, he reached dry ground.
Do Veela really live here?
His doubts vanished when he noticed the bas-relief murals carved into the damp stone walls.
Beautiful young women… and ferocious, bird-bodied monsters.
Two utterly different forms.
Two sides of the same race.
He had found the right place.
Turning a corner, brilliant light flooded his vision.
An immense cavern of azure crystal spread before him, like a palace of glass.
A vast opening in the ceiling allowed sunlight to pour in, filtered through mist, casting soft light upon coral formations three to four feet tall—radiant, colorful, breathtaking.
Edmund did not stop to admire it.
He pressed on.
After passing through a long, narrow passage, he entered what appeared to be farmland—deep within the cave.
With magic, even the impossible could exist.
Yet this place had been abandoned for years. Plants had long since rotted in the damp air, reduced to moldy, soft humus.
"It seems no Veela live here anymore," Edmund murmured, disappointed.
"But perhaps there are books… records left behind."
With that thought, he moved deeper.
He had barely taken two steps when an aged voice echoed through the cavern.
"Young wizard. Beyond this point lies the territory of our clan. No man may enter without permission."
Edmund turned.
A translucent harpy hovered in mid-air.
A ghost.
Yet she bore the Veela's avian form—the shape they took when enraged or out of control.
"Madam," Edmund bowed respectfully, "forgive my intrusion. But I had no other choice."
The old Veela smiled knowingly.
"Someone needs healing, I presume? I can think of no other reason one would go to such lengths to find this forsaken place."
"Yes," Edmund replied. "A dear friend of mine has been poisoned by Mentore metal. Her condition is urgent."
He continued,
"An elder once told me that a Veela here cured a wizard suffering from the same poison. I came hoping to find a way to save her."
The old woman laughed softly.
"Hehehe… Then your elder was likely speaking of me. Seventy years ago, I did indeed save a wizard."
Her sharp beak stilled, her voice drifting into the distance.
"But I paid the price—this form, forever—just to save him."
Her gaze sharpened.
"So tell me, young man… what price are you willing to pay?"
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