"Albus!" Gellert Depp shouted loudly. "Audrey's condition is terrible. I'm taking her inside first—deal with this quickly and come in."
With a sharp crack, Depp vanished from the lawn.
Dumbledore turned to Barty Crouch, his expression grave.
"Mr. Crouch, I still remember your days at school. You were once such an outstanding student."
He shook his head slightly, his white beard swaying, his voice heavy with disappointment. "But look at what you've become. For the sake of your own desires, you've abandoned all restraint."
Barty Crouch's lips trembled. No words came out.
He knew perfectly well that Hydrus Lestrange had been framed by the Gray family. It had always been about seizing the Lestrange inheritance, about hounding her relentlessly. As for the two who were killed in the end—they had brought it upon themselves.
But his hunger for power and reputation had led him astray from the very beginning. Just as Dumbledore said, that desire had blinded him completely.
"Professor Dumbledore, I…" His thoughts were in chaos. Finally, he pleaded, "Could you… could you not report this to the Ministry? As for Miss Astre, I'll find a way to compensate her."
"Compensate?" Dumbledore snapped. "Do you not understand the damage Mantori metal powder does to a wizard's body? With what, exactly, do you plan to compensate her?"
He raised his wand. The ravaged lawn restored itself in moments, as if the battle had never happened.
"You may go. I have no authority to judge you. What happens next will depend on Audrey herself."
If time allowed, Dumbledore wouldn't have minded escorting Barty to the Ministry personally. But now, something far more important demanded his attention.
Barty Crouch left in a daze, his heart pounding with dread. He had no idea what that strange girl might do to him.
Report him to the Ministry?
Sue him?
…
…
Inside Audrey's room.
Hydrus's cheeks were flushed, her breathing ragged. With her magic in utter disarray, she could no longer maintain her Metamorphmagus disguise. She had already reverted to her true appearance.
Grindelwald laid her gently on the bed and sat beside her, brows drawn tight in thought.
The golden tiger crouched on the windowsill, watching Hydrus in silence, its yellow eyes filled with worry.
Mantori poisoning syndrome was no trivial matter—especially for someone like Hydrus, whose body depended so heavily on magic.
Crack.
Dumbledore appeared inside the room.
"Al," Grindelwald asked sharply, "did you kill him?"
"No," Dumbledore shook his head. "You know me. I don't kill."
Grindelwald snorted. "Then what do you plan to do now that Hydrus has been poisoned with Mantori metal?"
"I'll seek help from Nicolas Flamel. Will you come with me?"
"No. You go. I don't like that old man."
"Very well. Then stay here and take care of Hydrus."
Crack. Dumbledore vanished.
Grindelwald sighed and waved his wand. Hydrus's face shifted gradually, finally returning to Audrey's appearance.
Both he and Dumbledore were masters of Transfiguration—this kind of change was effortless.
"Edmund," Grindelwald said suddenly to the golden tiger, "Hydrus's condition is severe. I can't leave here. Can you make a trip to Croatia for me?"
The tiger leapt down from the windowsill. Midair, its striped body began to twist and reshape. When it landed, it had become a handsome young man.
Edmund Grindelwald. Grindelwald's grandnephew.
It hadn't been easy for Gellert Grindelwald to find this blood relative. After Edmund sought refuge with Aunt Bathilda in Britain as a child, his ties to the Grindelwald family had all but vanished. It took over half a century for Grindelwald to track down the descendants of his brother's illegitimate child.
There wasn't much affection between them—but blood was a strange thing. Unspoken, undeniable.
Their relationship—more teacher and student than great-uncle and nephew—was unexpectedly harmonious.
"Great-uncle," Edmund asked, "what am I doing in Croatia?"
"Find a Veela settlement," Grindelwald said. "I once heard that the Veela matriarch cured a wizard poisoned by Mantori metal. Go there and find a way to save Hydrus."
Edmund nodded. His face—so reminiscent of a younger Grindelwald—broke into a grin.
"Well then, the princess really has become Sleeping Beauty," he joked. "If I save her, do you think she'll be so moved she'll offer herself to me in gratitude?"
Grindelwald rolled his eyes. "Enough nonsense. Get to Croatia."
Edmund bowed with a smile, spun in place—
Crack.
…
…
Croatia.
Susak Island.
A small island across the sea from Italy, home to fewer than two hundred Muggles. Three kilometers long, one and a half wide.
Yet about ten kilometers off the coast lay a strange stretch of land.
The islanders never went near it, as if that place didn't exist at all.
Edmund Grindelwald stood there now.
"Couldn't you have been more specific, great-uncle? Croatia's huge," he muttered. "You really made me work for this."
He studied the area blanketed in a permanent Muggle-Repelling Charm. This had to be it.
Though Croatia was the birthplace of Veela legends, most Veela had long since migrated to Romania and Bulgaria. Finding this place had cost Edmund countless favors and old connections.
He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward.
He had watched Hydrus grow from a tiny child into a young woman. Her body's reliance on magic made her powerful—but if that magic faltered, she was more fragile than an ordinary person. Even basic bodily functions could fail.
It was an extremely dangerous situation.
He had no time to waste.
Rounding a cluster of rocks, he saw a massive cave entrance. Seawater surged inside, waves crashing and echoing like mournful cries.
He stepped onto the sea as if it were solid ground. With every step, the water froze beneath his feet, forming ice platforms to carry him forward.
Inside the cave, he raised his wand.
"Lumos."
Light illuminated the path ahead. After less than a hundred meters, he reached dry land.
Do Veela really live here?
His doubt vanished the moment he saw the carvings on the damp stone walls.
Beautiful maidens. Ferocious bird-like harpies.
Two forms—one species.
Veela.
He was in the right place.
Turning a corner, his vision exploded with light.
Vast expanses of azure crystal shimmered like a crystal palace. A large opening in the ceiling let sunlight pour in, softened by mist. Gentle rays fell on coral formations three or four feet high, dazzling with color.
Edmund didn't stop to admire the view. He pressed on.
After passing through a long, narrow corridor, he entered a barren field—farmland carved deep within the cave.
With magic, even the impossible could be made real. But this place had been abandoned for years. Rotting plant remains had turned into soft, moldy humus.
"Looks like no Veela live here anymore," Edmund muttered, disappointed. Still, he continued deeper. "Maybe there are records left behind."
He took only two more steps before a voice stopped him.
"Young wizard. Beyond this point lies our dwelling. No man may enter without permission."
Edmund turned.
A translucent harpy hovered in the air—an elderly Veela ghost.
But why had she retained the Veela's enraged, avian form?
"Madam," Edmund bowed respectfully. "Forgive the intrusion. I've come here because I had no other choice."
The old Veela smiled. "Someone needs healing, I presume? I can't imagine another reason someone would endure such hardship to find this forsaken place."
"Yes, madam. A friend of mine has been poisoned by Mantori metal and urgently needs treatment."
He continued, "An elder once told me that a Veela here cured a wizard afflicted by the same poison. I came hoping to find a way to save her."
The old woman laughed softly.
"Heh… then the one your elder spoke of was likely me. Seventy years ago, I did indeed cure a wizard."
Her sharp beak struck the ground, her voice turning distant and heavy.
"But to save him, I paid the price of becoming this forever."
She looked at Edmund.
"Tell me, young wizard—what price are you willing to pay?"