The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 593-602: The Great Wizarding Revolution 4

How could a wizard who has no love understand love, or care about love? Therefore, in Voldemort's heart, there was only deep scheming and manipulation.

Bella is a very useful tool, so he doesn't mind treating her gently.

"It is her honor to be able to give everything for me."

This was the truest thought behind dark magic, bordering on arrogance. When Voldemort pushed open the stone door, the Death Eaters in the corridor simultaneously knelt on the ground. No one dared to raise their head, no one dared to speak; only suppressed, heavy breathing echoed in the air.

Bellatrix stood at the very front of the crowd. Eyes blinked, darted, and stared at her, looking in different directions, yet all with the same devotion and fanaticism. The moment she saw Voldemort emerge, those eyes lit up simultaneously, emitting a dark red glow.

"Master." She knelt down, her forehead pressed against the cold ground, her voice low and hoarse, carrying an eerie resonance as if countless voices were superimposed together.

Voldemort walked up to her and looked down at her. His scarlet eyes were expressionless and emotionless, filled only with a cold, almost cruel calm.

"I've found Grindelwald's location," he said, his voice soft yet dangerous.

Bellatrix jerked her head up, and all those eyes turned to Voldemort. Those eyes held surprise, excitement, and an almost morbid longing.

"Where is he, master? Let me go. Let me go and kill him."

Voldemort raised his hand and gently placed it on the top of her head.

Those eyes closed simultaneously, as if enjoying their owner's touch. Her body trembled slightly, and dark red tears seeped from her tightly closed eyes, sliding down her cheeks.

"He's in Europe."

Voldemort spoke.

"A remote town. Severely wounded, weak, but still alive. I need you to confirm whether he is really there, and whether he is really as weak as I perceive him to be." He withdrew his hand, and Bellatrix opened her eyes, which were filled with piety and fanaticism.

"Yes, Master." She stood up, and all those eyes simultaneously turned to look at the Death Eaters kneeling on the ground.

Who should I take with me?

Voldemort's gaze swept over the trembling figures.

Because a large number of Death Eaters were captured last time, there aren't many who can be of use now. His self-illumination rests on a few people—all experienced, ruthless veteran Death Eaters, each stained with blood, and each absolutely loyal to him.

"Selwyn," Voldemort uttered the first name.

His gaze swept over the trembling figures. His eyes moved through the crowd, settling on a burly man...

On the body of a rugged-looking man.

Selwyn, kneeling in the crowd, trembled and quickly raised his head. His rugged face was full of tension and fear, but he quickly lowered his head again.

He answered in a trembling voice, "Yes, Master."

Voldemort's gaze continued to move, finally settling on a thin, middle-aged man with a goatee.

"Crawb," Voldemort uttered the second name.

Crabbe shuddered as well, his usually expressionless face now filled with fear, but he still lowered his head and answered in a hoarse voice, "Yes, Master."

"9

Voldemort's gaze swept across the crowd, finally settling on a young figure.

"Nott," Voldemort uttered the third name.

Nott, who was kneeling in the corner, suddenly raised his head, his young face full of shock. But without hesitation, he immediately lowered his head and answered firmly, "Yes, Master."

Bellatrix glanced at the three Death Eaters who had been named, a sinister grin spreading across her face. "That's all?" she asked.

"That's enough," Voldemort said. "Too many people will only give us away. The four of you are enough."

He paused, his three scarlet eyes sweeping over everyone, his voice growing even deeper: "Find Grindelwald, check his condition, and then—kill him."

Bellatrix's eyes blazed with intense light, blinking simultaneously as if in celebration. "Yes, Master."

She turned and walked towards the end of the corridor. Eyes swept over her, looking in different directions, as if searching for something, or perhaps simply enjoying the omnipresent sensations of this new body. Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott quickly stood up and followed her. Their faces were pale, some ashen, some trembling slightly, but none dared utter a word of dissent.

Voldemort watched their figures disappear at the end of the corridor, remaining silent for a long time.

Then he turned around and went back to the secret room.

The stone door slowly closed behind him, shutting out all light and sound. He walked to the stone platform, looked down at the empty crystal ball, and at the faint, bloodstain-like red marks on the inner wall.

"Go," he said softly, his voice echoing in the empty, secret room, "go and prove your worth."

When Bellatrix, accompanied by three Death Eaters, Apparated to the European continent, it was almost dawn.

They stood atop a small hill, overlooking the town shrouded in morning mist below. The town was small, with only a few dozen stone houses scattered along a narrow river valley. The church spire appeared and disappeared in the mist, and the distant, deep, and lingering sound of bells drifted in. A few wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, drifting away in the morning breeze.

"Is this the place?" Selwyn's voice was low and tense, his eyes filled with vigilance. He was a seasoned Death Eater who had participated in countless missions, but this time, his voice carried an undisguised tension.

Bellatrix didn't answer. Those eyes swept over her, scanning every corner of the town. She could sense Grindelwald was here. His magical energy fluctuations were faint, but undeniable, like an undercurrent buried deep underground—unseen yet palpable.

"He's here," she finally spoke, her voice low and hoarse, "in the gray house behind the church."

She raised her hand and pointed to the southeast corner of the town. All eyes turned in that direction, and a dark red light shimmered in her palm.

Crabbe followed her finger, his usually taciturn face now filled with seriousness. "Are you sure?"

Bellatrix turned his head, and all those eyes turned to him simultaneously. Those gazes held mockery, impatience, and a chilling murderous intent. "Are you questioning me?"

Crabbe immediately lowered his head, not daring to say another word.

Bellatrix withdrew her gaze and looked towards the town. "Grindelwald is seriously injured and weak, but his magic is still recovering."

We can't give him time; we must act as soon as possible.

She took out the mirror Voldemort had given her from her bosom—not the Mirror of Exile, but an ordinary mirror used for communication. Looking at the mirror, she whispered, "Master, we've arrived. Grindelwald is indeed here."

In the mirror, Voldemort's distorted face appeared. His voice was deep and hoarse, tinged with barely suppressed excitement: "Very good. Make your move."

Bellatrix put away the mirror and turned to look at the three people behind her. Their eyes blinked at her, their dark red light shimmering in the morning mist.

"Let's go," she said.

She began her descent down the hill. Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott followed behind her. Their steps were light and slow, each one deliberate. The morning mist drifted around them, church bells echoed through the town, and the distant barking of dogs could be heard.

Bellatrix walked along the cobblestone streets of the town, where eyes darted about, watching every window, every door, every alleyway.

She could sense that someone was watching them.

It wasn't Grindelwald, but the townspeople, those ordinary Muggles without any magic.

They peered at the uninvited guests from behind the curtains, through the cracks in the door, and from the attic window, their eyes filled with fear and curiosity.

"Ignore them," Bellatrix said softly. "Our only target is Grindelwald."

They walked through the town's main street, past the church, past the cemetery, and arrived at the gray stone house. The house was small, two stories high, with some roof tiles missing and withered vines climbing the walls. The windows were tightly shut, and the curtains were drawn tight, obscuring the view inside.

Bellatrix stood before the door, all eyes fixed on the black wooden door. She could sense Grindelwald inside, just behind that door. His magical energy was so close, she could feel every pulse, every tremor.

She raised her hand and gently pressed it against the door.

The door was unlocked.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott followed behind, wands already in hand, spells ready. The corridor was dark and narrow, with several yellowed oil paintings hanging on the walls on both sides. The faces in the paintings were faintly visible in the darkness, as if watching them.

Bellatrix walked to the end of the hallway, where a half-open door led to a small living room. The fire in the fireplace was still burning, illuminating the room warmly and brightly. A person sat in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace.

Silver-white hair, an aged face, and heterochromatic eyes.

Grindelwald.

He sat in a rocking chair, a blanket covering his legs, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. His face was pale, the dark circles under his eyes clearly visible, and he looked weak and exhausted. But the moment he saw Bellatrix enter, there was no fear in his heterochromatic eyes, only a faint, almost mocking smile.

"They've arrived?" His voice was hoarse but calm, as if he had known they would come all along.

Bellatrix remained silent. Those eyes swept over her, fixed intently on Grindelwald. She could sense that his magic was indeed very weak, almost negligible. He was truly wounded, truly weak, truly vulnerable.

A sinister smile spread across her face.

"Grindelwald," she said, her voice low and hoarse, "my master sent me to see you off."

Grindelwald put down his teacup, looked at her, at those eyes, at her face filled with them. His expression remained unchanged; he simply sighed softly.

"Voldemort." He curled his lip in disdain. "Still so cautious."

He stood up, the blanket slipping off his legs. His body swayed slightly, as if he might fall at any moment, but he managed to steady himself.

"bring it on."

Grindelwald's voice was calm and composed.

"Let me see how much power he gave you."

He smiled contemptuously.

Bellatrix raised her hand, and the eyes lit up simultaneously. A dark red light gathered in her palm, transforming into a constantly spinning, lifelike sphere of light.

"As you wish."

She gave a confident, wicked smile.

Bellatrix raised her hand, and the eyes lit up simultaneously. A crimson light condensed in her palm, forming a swirling, lifelike sphere of light. She didn't attack immediately, but turned to face the three deathly pale-faced Death Eaters behind her.

"Back off."

Her voice was low and hoarse, carrying an undeniable command: "This is the master's blessing, something that you mortals cannot bear."

"I will also show you the master's grace. Perhaps, in the future, you will also have the opportunity to obtain this power," Bella said with an evil smile.

"Yes, Lady Bella, it's up to you now."

Selwyn breathed a sigh of relief, his rugged face beaming with the joy of surviving a close call. Almost instinctively, he took several steps back, bumping into Crabbe behind him.

"Let's step back a bit."

Crabbe's taciturn face was also full of tension. He didn't speak, but silently retreated, each step carrying an awkward and cautious air.

"The power given by my master—"

Nott walked at the back, his young face a mixture of fear and curiosity. He gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles white, but his self-illumination never left Bellatrix's silhouette.

The three men retreated to the end of the corridor, behind the half-open door, revealing only half their faces, and nervously watched the standoff in the living room.

"Now, it's just us."

Bellatrix turned to face Grindelwald. Those eyes swept over her, looking in different directions—

Some stared at Grindelwald's face, some at his hands, some at the floor beneath his feet, and some at some point in the void that was imperceptible to mortals.

"You should fear me."

A sinister smile spread across her face, making it appear particularly eerie and terrifying on her face covered with eyes.

"Grindelwald, the false Dark Lord."

She spoke, her voice filled with a morbid, almost manic satisfaction, "You charlatan, do you know how long I've waited for this day?"

Upon hearing this, Grindelwald stood before the fireplace, his aged hand gently resting on the mantel. His heterochromatic eyes calmly gazed at her, at those eyes, at her face, which was no longer human. His expression remained unchanged; he merely sighed softly.

"Tsk tsk, classic dad like son. Tell me, how long have you been waiting?" His voice was hoarse and calm, as if he were chatting with an old friend.

"From the first time you knelt before Voldemort?"

His words were as sharp as ever. Bellatrix's smile froze for a moment. Those eyes blinked simultaneously, their dark red light flickering.

"You" 6

There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

The power of deep space is surging.

It was ready to engulf the woman's entire consciousness at any moment.