The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 599, Section 608: That Deceptive Game 1

Who could have imagined that the Death Eaters would meet such a tragic end?

Anyway, Grindelwald, with his saints, couldn't have imagined it.

"Voldemort!" Grindelwald sighed, looking at the monster before him. His voice was hoarse but calm. "He's still as cruel as ever."

The stitched-together monster's body shuddered violently. Bellatrix's half-face opened its mouth, emitting a sharp, piercing scream.

"Shut up! The master is great! The master is invincible! You—you old bastard—you know nothing!"

It lunged forward, its six arms extending simultaneously, its sharp claws drawing six streaks of cold light in the air, aiming straight for Grindelwald's head!

Grindelwald sidestepped. The claws grazed his shoulder, struck the fireplace behind him, and exploded with a deafening roar! Debris flew, flames shot out, and a huge hole was blasted through the wall, revealing the gray sky outside.

The stitched-together monster didn't stop. Its six arms lashed out wildly, each strike carrying the power to tear steel apart, each strike causing the entire house to tremble! Its sharp claws drew streaks of cold light in the air, weaving together an impenetrable web of death!

Grindelwald moved swiftly across the living room, dodging the deadly attacks. His pace remained slow, but each step was perfectly timed; he sidestepped a claw strike, ducked to avoid another, leaped over the sofa, and landed instantly...

It dodged another sharp claw that swept in from the side.

The claws grazed his body, some striking the walls, some the ceiling, and some piercing the floor. The whole house trembled, and rubble and dust fell in a flurry.

But this time, he couldn't hide so easily.

Those eyes—the eyes sewn onto the monster—were all watching him at the same time.

They don't just observe; they analyze, predict, and capture his every move, every habit, and every flaw.

Bellatrix's combat experience, Selwyn's practical skills, Crabbe's brute strength, and Nott's youth and agility were forcibly combined into one.

This led to the formation of a completely new and difficult-to-counter fighting style.

"This is a bit tricky!"

Grindelwald's steps began to falter. His breathing became rapid.

Several tears appeared on his robes, marks left by sharp claws. Although they were just scratches, they were enough to tell the story.

He can't go on like this.

Grindelwald stopped and stood in the center of the living room. He no longer tried to hide.

The stitched-together monster seized the opportunity, thrusting forward with all six arms simultaneously, its claws aimed straight for his chest!

Grindelwald raised his hand, palm facing the six claws. An invisible force field unfolded in front of him, blocking the claws in mid-air! They struggled and tore at each other frantically, but could not advance an inch further!

The stitched-together monster let out an angry roar, its eyes simultaneously emitting a blinding dark red light. More tentacles emerged from its body, coiling around the invisible force field, attempting to tear it apart!

Grindelwald's expression changed slightly.

He could sense that power, far stronger than Bellatrix had previously displayed. It wasn't a simple addition, but a qualitative change. The power of the four individuals had been forcibly merged, and with the gift of deep space, it was approaching the limit of what he could withstand.

If he were in his prime, these things wouldn't matter at all.

However, he is still seriously injured and his magic has not fully recovered. He doesn't even dare to use the power of the legendary ones because that is his last trump card and cannot be easily exposed.

He had no choice but to keep acting.

Grindelwald gritted his teeth, channeling more magic into the force field. The invisible barrier grew even stronger, firmly keeping the tentacles and claws at bay. But his body trembled slightly, fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his breathing became more labored.

rapid.

The stitched-together monster sensed his strain.

Those eyes lit up at the same time, emitting an even more intense light.

"You—you're old—" Bellatrix's voice came from that fused face, carrying a morbid quality.

An almost manic pleasure.

"You—you can't take it anymore—"

It exerted its strength, and its tentacles and claws propelled it forward simultaneously! Cracks began to appear in the force field, with tiny, spiderweb-like cracks spreading from the center outwards!

Grindelwald's face grew even paler.

The cracks in the force field multiplied and became increasingly dense, spreading outwards like a spiderweb. Grindelwald could sense the stitched monster's power escalating at an alarming rate; the tentacles surging from its body had already entangled every corner of the force field, tearing and devouring it frantically.

The strengths of the four opponents were forcibly merged, and with the gifts from deep space, they have formed a terrifying existence that is almost a qualitative change.

His body began to tremble. Not from fear, but from the backlash of the force field. Each expansion of the crack was accompanied by a sharp, shattering sound, which acted directly on his soul, causing his consciousness to go black in waves.

His magic was rapidly dwindling, while the power of the stitched-together monster seemed inexhaustible.

The power of the legends must not be used. That is the last trump card, the key to luring Voldemort into his true form. Once exposed, the entire plan will fail.

"Ugh, you damned things." Grindelwald gritted his teeth and poured the last bit of magic he could muster into the force field.

The invisible barrier suddenly lit up, temporarily stabilizing the situation.

But the cracks didn't disappear; they just expanded more slowly. His hands trembled slightly, and drops of blood seeping from his fingertips evaporated in the air, turning into wisps of pale red mist.

"Old man—can't hold on any longer—" Bellatrix's voice came from the half-fused face, carrying a morbid, almost manic pleasure.

With a sudden burst of force from that part of her limb, a thick, scaly arm pierced the edge of the force field, its claws grazing Grindelwald's shoulder and leaving three deep gashes in his robes. Had he not dodged in time, the claws would have pierced his shoulder blade.

"You can give it a try."

Grindelwald grunted and staggered back a step.

The cracks in the force field widened further, and dark red light surged in from them, slithering around him like venomous snakes, trying to find a weakness in his defenses. His breathing became rapid and erratic, veins bulged on his forehead, and sweat trickled down his cheeks, dripping onto the ground.

It was mixed with those black liquids.

The stitched-together monster let out a low, satisfied roar. Its six arms exerted force simultaneously, their claws piercing the force field and tearing open even larger cracks. The dark red light grew brighter and more intense, staining the entire living room with a blood-red, eerie glow.

Grindelwald knew he wouldn't last much longer.

But he has to persevere.

He abruptly withdrew the force field.

The invisible barrier vanished abruptly, catching the stitched monster off guard. Its six arms simultaneously lunged forward, missing their target, and its massive body lost its balance, staggering forward a few steps. Grindelwald seized the opportunity, flashing past it. A golden light shot from his palm, aiming directly at the still-blinking eyes on its back!

The stitched monster let out an angry roar, its eyes closing simultaneously, a dark red light flickering beneath its eyelids. A golden light struck its back, blasting open a crater the size of a washbasin. Black, tar-like liquid gushed from the wound, dripping onto the ground and corroding small, smoking pits.

Its body convulsed violently, its twisted limbs clawing wildly at the ground, but its movements didn't stop. It suddenly turned around, and six arms reached out to Grindelwald from different directions! The speed was astonishing, completely unlike a monster pieced together from multiple bodies.

Grindelwald didn't take the attack head-on. His figure flickered again, narrowly avoiding the claws. But his robes...

A gash was slashed open, this time deeper, almost touching his skin. He could feel the deep-space power clinging to those claws eroding his wound, bringing waves of cold, needle-like pain. It wasn't an ordinary wound, but some more fundamental, soul-crushing attack.

He retreated to the corner, panting heavily. The living room was a complete mess—cracks and holes were everywhere in the walls, half of the ceiling had collapsed, several pieces of the floorboards had been torn off, and fragments of the fireplace were scattered all over the floor. Only the window was intact, and a faint sliver of light shone through the gray sky outside.

The stitched-together monster stood in the center of the living room, its six arms outstretched, its eyes all open, staring intently at him. A dark red light flickered on its body.

It illuminated the twisted, pieced-together limbs, and the wounds still dripping black liquid.

Its breathing was heavy and deep, each gasp accompanied by a low, beast-like whine.

"Run—" Bellatrix's voice was mocking, a grotesque grin spreading across half her face. "Keep running—let's see how long you can run—"

Grindelwald didn't answer. He just leaned against the wall, panting heavily, looking utterly exhausted. His hands hung limply at his sides, offering no defense, his robes were torn and stained with blood, and his silver hair was disheveled and fell across his forehead; he looked utterly wretched.

The stitched-together monster took a step forward. Its twisted limbs crawled and slid across the ground with dull, wet sounds. Its eyes blinked simultaneously, their dark red light flickering, as if savoring the moment, relishing the fear of its prey.

"My master said—" Selwyn's voice came from the other side, rough and hoarse, "to kill you—"

It raised its six arms, its sharp claws gleaming coldly in the dark red light. Tentacles emerged from its body, waving wildly in the air like celebratory banners or a swarm of hungry snakes.

Grindelwald looked at it, its heterochromatic eyes swirling with complex emotions—weariness, resentment, and a barely perceptible hint of something else—

He took a deep breath and then moved.

His body suddenly transformed into a cloud of blue mist, escaping from the gaps between the claws and tentacles! The mist was faint, light, almost invisible, yet it was undeniably present. It drifted through the living room, weaving through the cracks and pits, and floating towards the window. It wasn't apparition, not illusion, but some ancient, more secretive magic—temporarily transforming himself into a non-material form to evade physical attacks.

The stitched monster's claws pierced the wall, smashing it through completely. Debris flew, dust billowed. It turned, its eyes darting frantically, searching for Grindelwald. From Bellatrix's half-face, its mouth opened, letting out a sharp, furious roar.

"He's escaped! He's escaped!"

"Chase him!" Selwyn's voice was equally shrill. "We can't let him get away!"

The stitched-together monster charged toward the doorway, its twisted limbs crawling wildly across the ground at astonishing speed. It smashed through the doorframe and surged onto the stone road, its eyes scanning every corner of the town, searching for the wisp of blue mist.

The fog drifted over the town, heading towards the hills. It moved slowly but steadily, as if waiting for something, or perhaps simply fleeing.

The stitched-together monster gave chase.

On the hill, Voldemort stood at the highest point, his back to the town, gazing at the distant sky gradually regaining its light. The black smoke had dissipated, and sunlight once again bathed the earth, turning the withered grass into a warm, false gold. But his figure remained shrouded in shadow, his tendrils swaying gently behind him like some ancient, unsettling omen.

He heard a sound behind him—a heavy, wet crawling sound, rapid, chaotic breathing. He didn't turn around.

"Master—" Bellatrix's voice came from behind, filled with a morbid, almost manic excitement, "Grindelwald—has run away—we—are chasing him—"

Voldemort slowly turned around.

Three scarlet eyes looked down at the stitched monster kneeling on the ground, their gaze cold and calm, devoid of any emotion. There was no anger, no disappointment, only a cold, almost cruel emptiness.

"Useless." His voice was soft and calm, as if stating a fact.

The stitched monster's body shuddered violently, its eyes closing simultaneously, a dark red light flickering beneath its eyelids. Its six arms hung limply at its sides, its tentacles dragging weakly on the ground, making it look like a dog being scolded by its master.

"Master—he's too strong—" Selwyn's voice trembled. "We—we can't beat him—"

Voldemort didn't speak. He simply raised his hand, palm facing the blue mist drifting above the hill. A dark red light shot from his palm, like a giant tentacle, towards the mist!

The mist shuddered violently, as if trying to evade, but the tendrils moved even faster. They coiled around the mist, pulling it down from the sky, towards the ground, towards Voldemort.

The mist condensed on the ground, slowly forming a human figure. Grindelwald emerged from the mist, his robes tattered, his hair disheveled, and his face deathly pale. He knelt on one knee, panting heavily, appearing utterly exhausted. His heterochromatic eyes lifted, looking at Voldemort, filled with weariness and resentment.

Voldemort looked down at him, a satisfied gleam in his three scarlet eyes.

"Grindelwald," his voice was soft yet dangerous, "we've finally met."

Grindelwald did not answer. He simply knelt there, panting heavily, as if he no longer had the strength to speak.

"The Dark Lord? You?"

Voldemort crouched down, looking him in the eye. Three scarlet eyes met those heterochromatic eyes, and it seemed as if invisible sparks were flying in the air.