Within the spellbook's record, Hoffa watched the scene unfolding before him intently. He wanted to understand why the previous Dark Lord and the headmaster had met on this remote island.
"I don't see what we have to discuss, Grindelwald," Dippet said softly. "Just hand over the relics, and the three disputed islands will be yours."
They were making a deal. Headmaster Dippet was negotiating with Grindelwald? Hoffa furrowed his brow slightly as he observed the memory.
"No, no."
Grindelwald waved a finger dismissively. "I have no interest in agreements written on paper. And I'm sure you don't either, Armando. We wizards have always believed in equivalent exchange. You tell me the location of the library, and I'll give you the relics. How about it?"
"I need to see them first," Dippet replied.
His tone was steady, but the slight tremble in his fingers betrayed his inner unease, something Hoffa keenly noticed.
Grindelwald gestured, and several of his silent, coat-clad subordinates approached, carrying a large black wooden coffin. They set it down heavily.
Hoffa's attention shifted to the coffin. It was covered with intricate religious carvings, and at its top was a black metal goat skull.
Curious to see what Dippet and Grindelwald were trading, Hoffa leaned closer, but Adébé Gorsak pulled him back.
The next moment, a man strode quickly toward them from a distance, shouting, "Wait!"
Hoffa turned to look and was taken aback.
The newcomer was someone he recognized: long-faced, high-nosed, and slightly younger—Schmidt Lutrov, the dark wizard he had clashed with in the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade.
Dressed similarly to Grindelwald, the cut of his clothing suggested he was one of Grindelwald's subordinates.
Strangely, though Schmidt bore the same appearance, his demeanor was utterly different.
Gone was the cold, ruthless, and emotionless man from the Forbidden Forest. Instead, he wore an eager, obsequious expression, as if seeking his master's favor, and jogged to Grindelwald's side to whisper something in his ear.
Grindelwald listened and smiled enigmatically before glancing toward Dippet.
"My subordinate just told me something interesting, Headmaster Dippet. Care to hear it?"
"Go ahead."
"My subordinate informs me that a spell has just been cast on this island to block Apparition. No one can leave now."
Armando Dippet's face remained impassive, and he gave no reply.
Grindelwald rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Headmaster, you don't seem the least bit alarmed."
Armando tilted his head slightly, his fingers inching toward his waist.
Grindelwald snapped his fingers and exclaimed in mock realization, "Ah, how foolish of me! I suppose Hogwarts has similar wards, doesn't it? You must already be accustomed to living without Apparition."
His tone was theatrical, but his eyes gleamed with dangerous intent.
Dippet wasted no time. He suddenly drew his wand and, without hesitation, aimed it at Grindelwald.
With a blinding flash of purple light and a series of explosive cracks, nearly a dozen masked wizards appeared around them.
They raised their wands in unison, and their collective magic combined with Dippet's spell to form a massive bolt of purple lightning that shot toward Grindelwald.
Even as an observer in the memory, Hoffa could feel the terrifying power contained within the spell.
"So, this is what you call justice, Armando? You're quite adept at it! Ha ha ha!"
Grindelwald laughed as he waved the Elder Wand. Before the massive bolt of purple lightning could reach him, he deflected it with a single strike.
Grindelwald stepped back three paces, his golden hair billowing wildly in the chaotic magical energy. Yet, his expression was one of excitement, not fear—a fiery enthusiasm burned in his eyes.
The dispersed purple energy didn't dissipate. Instead, it scattered like serpents. Grindelwald's followers, lacking his strength, were caught off guard.
Several of them collapsed in convulsions upon touching the purple lightning. Schmidt was among them, screaming as he fell. Moments later, his body transformed into a jellyfish-like creature covered in writhing tentacles as he fled desperately into the distance.
He wasn't alone. Several other wizards also broke into a panicked retreat.
Chapter 58: The Shattered Grip
Dippet's face remained icy as he commanded, "Capture them. Leave no one."
The masked wizards by his side raised their wands in unison, each targeting a German wizard.
"Did you even ask my opinion?!"
Grindelwald flung back his golden hair and gripped his wand in an unconventional manner.
He shouted loudly, "Shattered Grip!"
As the incantation echoed, the surroundings began to change rapidly.
The ground trembled violently, and the cliffs began to fracture. Deep cracks and massive chasms appeared across the island, while the ocean roared with towering waves. It was as if a magnitude-nine earthquake had struck.
Standing at the epicenter of the chaos, Grindelwald let out a long howl toward the heavens.
Several wizards beside Dippet lost their footing and plummeted into the gaping chasms, their terrified screams ringing out endlessly.
Witnessing the scene through the memory, Hoffa's eyes widened in disbelief.
Was this the power of the Deathly Hallows?
The spectacle was far from over. Veins bulged across Grindelwald's face as he flicked the Elder Wand upward.
The shattered ground came alive, rubble intertwining to form massive, stone arms. Amidst the shower of debris, these colossal appendages grabbed all ten of Dippet's accompanying wizards, lifting them into the air, bound tightly.
Except for Headmaster Dippet, none were spared. They screamed, struggling helplessly against their rocky restraints.
Hoffa was shaken to his core as he witnessed this.
A single spell had immobilized nearly ten powerful adult wizards. What an overwhelmingly powerful form of control magic!
Just as Hoffa was eager to see what would happen next, Gorsak behind him clapped his hands.
Snap.
Immediately, the entire scene froze.
Grindelwald, laughing maniacally; the pale-faced Armando Dippet; the towering stone arms; the struggling wizards; the scattering spells; even the birds in the sky—all of it came to a halt.
It was as if time itself had stopped.
Hoffa turned around and realized that Gorsak had ceased the flow of the spellbook's memory.
"Professor, they—"
"Bach, calmness is a virtue for a wizard," Gorsak interrupted. "Focus only on the task at hand. Now, let us begin our lesson."
Standing beside the motionless Grindelwald, Gorsak pointed at him and began to explain:
"This is Gellert Grindelwald, who dropped out of Durmstrang at the age of 16. He gained German citizenship at 26. An extraordinarily powerful dark wizard, born with unparalleled talent."
In his calm tone, Gorsak continued:
"In this scene, Grindelwald casts a highly complex spell—Shattered Grip. With it, he successfully restrained nearly ten powerful adult wizards."
Gorsak elaborated:
"Shattered Grip is a spell invented by Grindelwald himself. Though it appears to be a charm, it is, in fact, a highly advanced Transfiguration spell. By altering the environment through magical power, it creates obstacles and binds opponents."
With his hands behind his back, Gorsak spoke in a neutral tone, "Since you sought me out, I will guide you to understand Grindelwald and his magic. If Miranda exhibits unusual transformations again, you can use this spell to control her."
Hoffa looked at the frozen scene before him—each wizard ensnared by stone, including the earring-wearing Nimmon, now helplessly caught in the rubble.
He turned his gaze to the impassive Gorsak and couldn't help but recall Aglaea's remarks about him being ruthless. She wasn't wrong. The old man was indeed training him in advanced defensive arts—by studying Grindelwald's methods.
"I will try my best," Hoffa said.
"I need a definitive answer," Gorsak said sternly.
Hoffa nodded. "Of course."
Gorsak placed a hand on Hoffa's shoulder.
In an instant, an endless white mist enveloped Hoffa, and the scene before his eyes blurred rapidly.
...
Hoffa felt an inexplicable restlessness in his heart. Being pulled out halfway through the memory left him frustrated. What was inside that black coffin? What was the outcome of the events?
Yet, he didn't voice these questions, and Gorsak offered no explanation either.
When Hoffa regained his senses, he had already left the Spellbook's memory and was back in Gorsak's modest office, seated at the rickety desk.
He stared blankly at the runes etched onto the Spellbook, his mind swarming with confusion.
But Gorsak seemed indifferent to Hoffa's feelings.
"Practice it. If you don't know how, I can guide you," Gorsak said.
For the remainder of the night, Hoffa tried tirelessly to master the Shattered Grip transfiguration spell in Gorsak's office. To his dismay, the spell's complexity far exceeded his expectations.
He mimicked Grindelwald's tone and intonation perfectly, but when he waved his wand, nothing happened.
Well, perhaps there was a minor effect. Hoffa noticed the dust on the ground seemed to quiver slightly when he waved his wand.
But he wasn't sure if it was due to the magic or simply the wind stirred up by his wand movement.
When he tried to channel his spirit into sensing and analyzing the ground, as one would with other transfiguration spells, he encountered immense resistance. It was as if the very ground rebelled against his mental intrusion.
Gorsak wasn't surprised by Hoffa's failure. However, he didn't demonstrate the spell himself either. Instead, he wrote down some theoretical analyses of the spell on parchment and handed it to Hoffa, instructing him to study it on his own.
As Hoffa reached the office door, he couldn't help but turn back and ask, "Professor, if you want me to master transfiguration, why not—"
"Why not have Albus Dumbledore teach you?"
Hoffa fell silent. That had indeed been his thought.
Gorsak shook his head.
"You are a Ravenclaw student. Ravenclaws take pride in their independence. If possible, I want you to analyze and master this spell on your own. Now, go. Return to me only when you have mastered transfiguration."
Back in the Ravenclaw Tower, Hoffa felt utterly exhausted. Yet, after changing into his pajamas, he found himself wide awake. Lying on his bed with his arms behind his head, he stared blankly at the dark blue canopy of his four-poster bed.
When busy, he had no time to think. But now, in the quiet, countless doubts surfaced in his mind.
Gorsak claimed he had sent Miranda's parents to the battlefield, which led to their deaths and subsequently fractured their relationship.
Miranda's parents were likely casualties of the Battle of Blackgore Island.
If that was the case, then Headmaster Dippet and the members of the Violet Society must have been defeated by Grindelwald. Hardly a commendable record.
Turning over and fluffing his pillow into a comfortable shape, Hoffa thought something still felt off. If that were the only issue, Miranda and her grandfather's relationship shouldn't have deteriorated so severely. As she had pointed out herself, a third of the students in this school had relatives who died in the war. As close family, shouldn't they have shown more understanding toward each other?
Or was Gorsak hiding something from him?
After that supplementary lesson, Gorsak showed no intention of continuing his private tutoring sessions. In fact, he seemed even more distant, avoiding further interactions with Hoffa.
In hindsight, it was already extraordinary for Hoffa to have persuaded such a stern professor to make an exception and give him even a single private lesson.
Now, to master Grindelwald's transfiguration spell without consulting Dumbledore?
Hoffa began to understand the pride of Ravenclaw in a deeper sense. Despite Dumbledore's profound knowledge of Grindelwald, Gorsak seemed uninterested in involving him, maintaining a noticeable distance instead.
Unable to master the transfiguration spell and reluctant to approach Dumbledore, Hoffa naturally turned to his personal transfiguration manual, Anatomy of All Things: Structure is King. He hoped to find guidance from Morgana Le Fay's work.
However, Morgana had written in the book:
"Attempting to transform external objects through magical power is base, dull, foolish, and meaningless. A true master of transfiguration should strive to transform oneself. Once the self changes, all things will follow suit."
Hoffa didn't know Morgana personally, but her writings were saturated with personal bias.
Grindelwald had already shattered an island with transfiguration. Did such feats seem "base" to Morgana as well?
(End of Chapter)
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