HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

Angie led West and Grindelwald into the castle, through a long corridor.

The corridor is lined with portraits of Potter's ancestors, their life achievements engraved on the frames.

They stopped what they were doing almost at the same time and focused their attention on West.

"Jaime's child?" an elderly man spoke, his wise gaze fixed on West's face. "You don't resemble your father, but you do look like your mother."

"Yes." Vestel nodded, giving a standard aristocratic bow, showing due respect.

This surprised the old man, but a look of satisfaction appeared on his face.

Another young woman stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Grindelwald, and she looked very serious. "Gellert Grindelwald?"

Grindelwald was tracing the gold-plated patterns on the wall with his fingertips, clicking his tongue in amazement. Hearing this question, which sounded like a challenge, he raised an eyebrow. "You know me?"

"I'm from the same generation as you, but I died young, so you don't know me." The woman shrugged, squinting. "What's your purpose in coming here?"

Her gaze was sharp. "The Potters are not people you can use."

"I didn't take advantage of him," Grindelwald shrugged impatiently. "I was just doing what he asked of me."

The woman was about to say something when the old man interrupted her, "Enough, Catherine," he said, still looking at West, "you've come to merge the fragmented souls?"

"It seems you know very well." Vestel nodded, his eyes gleaming.

"Of course, using family magic requires our permission," the old man said. "Your parents sacrificed a lot to save you."

He turned to Anqi, "Take him to the underground chamber."

Anqi nodded respectfully, "Yes, Master."

West took a deep breath and followed behind Angie.

Grindelwald was about to follow when the old man stopped him, saying, "You can't go in, young man."

"Strangers are not welcome in the Potter family's secret room."

Grindelwald stopped in his tracks, chuckled, and, too lazy to move any further, leisurely leaned against the wall and waited.

He had fulfilled his promise to Dumbledore and brought West back to the Potter mansion; the rest was beyond his control.

What becomes of that boy is up to fate.

Angie led West through the Bloodline Corridor for a long time before stepping onto a spiral staircase that led directly underground.

West was shocked by the Potters' wealth.

Since the house-elves have the financial means to maintain such a large manor, it means that the Potter family has a large private treasury, and he and Harry most likely inherited their parents' own private savings.

"Young master, this way." Anqi stopped in front of a huge stone gate.

West looked at the magnificent stone gate.

It has a black sheen, and the Potter family crest—the Holy Grail with two stags—is engraved in the center.

Anqi was fiddling with something on the stone door when a small stone popped out, with a groove on it.

"I need a little of your blood, young master," Anchi said.

West raised his arm, where the gash Grindelwald had cut open had just stopped bleeding.

Without hesitation, he cut open the slowly healing wound again, and blood dripped from his palm into the groove.

The intricate patterns on the groove glowed with a bloody light, followed by a sound, and the stone door slowly opened.

A faint smell of mildew and books wafted over.

West was stunned by what he saw.

This secret room is essentially the Potter family's treasure vault.

The secret chamber was surrounded by many display shelves, which held many magical items and rare magical books that he did not know the names of, as well as the most important books written by the ancestors of the Potter family, which recorded their lifelong research experience—covering alchemy, potion-making, spellcasting and other fields.

In the center of the secret chamber was a huge altar, with two intertwined stone deer in the center of the altar. Their eye sockets were inlaid with red gems, and a stone goblet of fire was placed on their huge antlers.

The Goblet of Fire is engulfed in a crimson magical flame that never goes out.

The array inscribed in ancient script emitted an eerie red glow in the warm light shining down from the ceiling.

West was surprised to find that he could actually understand the meaning of these ancient runes.

"Young master, you need to activate the formation." Anqi pointed to the altar in the center.

Everything was self-evident; it was as if an invisible hand was guiding West to stand on the altar.

Wester took a step and walked up to the altar, squatted down, and read out the engraved ancient runes word by word.

As he recited the last line of the ancient script, the array lit up inch by inch, and the howling of a gale filled the sealed chamber.

An amazing thing happened.

The two stone deer seemed to come to life. They used their enormous antlers to lift the Goblet of Fire and walked to West.

West stared intently at the scene before him.

The Goblet of Fire slowly tilted, and the crimson flames flowed onto his body like water, enveloping him completely.

The flame was surprisingly cold, even colder than the winter snow at Hogwarts.

A sharp pain crept up from his heart and spread throughout his body. West trembled, clutching his chest as he collapsed to the ground.

The two stone deer circled around him, their stone mouths slowly opening as they chanted an ancient incantation.

A buzzing sound filled my ears.

Amidst the painful ebb and flow, West felt another consciousness beginning to awaken.

The shattered souls gradually merged together, and the sealed memories slowly unlocked.

His vision went black, and he plunged into an endless abyss.

After a long time, West regained consciousness.

A beautiful but frail face appeared before his eyes.

The red-haired woman held him, a happy smile appearing on her pale face.

He felt the woman's hair brush against his cheek, bringing a ticklish sensation. He tried to raise his hand to brush the hair away, but what he saw was a pair of chubby baby hands.

The woman kissed his forehead affectionately, but her gaze froze when she saw the crescent-shaped mark on his arm.

He heard a woman's cry, and he was taken by a pair of large hands, meeting the man's dark eyes.

The man, like the woman, had red hair. He was holding the baby, and the badge on his chest was digging into the child's skin.

The newborn baby started crying again, but no one was in the mood to comfort him.

His parents examined his arm again and again, their faces filled with deep sorrow.

The scene shifts, and the child is now five years old.

He squatted silently in the garden, observing the ants crawling on the ground.

The red-haired couple stood by watching him, their tired faces showing pain.

He heard the woman murmur, "We need to think of something, Orlando..."

"Don't worry, Dema," the man said, pulling the woman into his arms and kissing her smooth forehead. "Wester is our only bloodline; we won't abandon him."