We Are Wizards, People Who Master Magical Miracles!

Ivan didn't know what to say as he listened to Connor's story. North America, together with the International Confederation of Wizards, could mobilize thousands of wizards, and they were an official force, yet they had been repeatedly defeated by Grindelwald. They hadn't even been able to find out anything important.

Conal must have read Ivan's mind, for he quickly explained, "Of course, we didn't come away empty-handed… one of the N.L.A. informants sent to France obtained an important memory."

"Do you have a Pensieve? I think you should take a look at it…" Connor took out a small glass bottle from the pocket of his wizard robe and said solemnly.

"I don't need a Pensieve. Just give it to me." Ivan reached out and took the glass bottle. He uncorked it casually, and a wisp of milky mist floated out.

"Memento…" Ivan pulled out his wand and waved it. The milky-white mist exploded, sending sparks of fluorescence in all directions. In a few seconds, the empty office was transformed into a solemn, dignified auditorium.

Ivan looked around and saw that the place was packed with wizards, roughly four or five hundred of them, the odd thing being that they were either pure-bloods in expensive clothes, or poor, sallow-faced wizards.

These two distinct groups of people were now gathered in this hall, looking worried or excited, as if they were waiting for something…

According to Connor's earlier hints, Ivan could tell with his foot that they were waiting for Grindelwald…

"Have Grindelwald's followers grown to such a scale?" Ivan asked Conal, turning to look at him in amazement.

"No, according to our investigation, quite a few people were tricked into coming here." Conal shook his head.

"Even if only half of them do Grindelwald's bidding, it's more than enough!" Ivan said sarcastically, glaring at Connor. "I'm a little curious as to how he managed to grow so much power under your siege."

Connor looked embarrassed. In fact, there was even worse news that he had yet to reveal — that many of the wizards present had changed sides after the rally…

As the two of them chatted, a faint blue flame suddenly appeared on the stage. A moment later, a black-robed figure walked out of the flames.

It was Gellert Grindelwald… He strolled up to the front of the stage, spread his arms, and greeted them warmly. "My brothers, sisters, and friends, welcome to my gathering!"

There was a burst of applause in the solemn Great Hall, and Ivan looked around the room. The crowd was wild with excitement, but Ivan also noticed that some of the wizards near the edge of the hall were visibly upset, and looking doubtful and frightened.

One of the wizards shouted frantically, "Who are you? Isn't this supposed to be a meeting of the Mars Broom Squad?"

"No, I only came because I got an invitation from a hippie band…" another witch squeaked.

More and more people realised that they had been tricked, and those who realised that something was wrong immediately decided to leave.

However, Grindelwald waved his wand, and the doors and windows of the Great Hall closed.

An invisible barrier rose from the outside world, and those who wanted to escape found that they could not perform Apparition. They immediately looked at Grindelwald in fear.

"It seems that there are some friends who do not yet understand the purpose of this gathering, and may even be suspicious of it, but I implore you to be patient, and not to fear. For there is no one here who will harm you, and when you have heard my speech, you may all choose to stay or go as you please!" Grindelwald said slowly.

The wizards present were dubious, but with their escape routes cut off and a large number of zealous saints surrounding them, they could only remain silent. Only one wizard, who was positioned at the front, plucked up the courage to ask, "Who exactly are you?"

Grindelwald's lips curled into a smile as he looked at the man and enunciated each word clearly. "I'm sure you've heard my name in the newspapers and other sources—Gellert Grindelwald!"

"The Dark Lord who started the Wizarding War?" someone exclaimed from below, and the solemn Great Hall was once again in chaos.

However, Grindelwald's words were soon questioned. "That's impossible. Grindelwald was a wizard in the last century. He must be over a hundred years old. I saw his picture in the European Times. He was…"

"It's the appearance of an old man about to die, isn't it?" Grindelwald put in. "So what you've seen in the past may not be the truth. It's just as likely that it's a falsehood, carefully fabricated, like the unfounded rumours!"

"I also read the European Times, which called me a murderous devil, a Dark Lord, and blamed countless crimes on me — as the victors of the last Wizarding War, they certainly had the right to arbitrarily frame the defeated…"

"But I do not stand here today to defend the baseless slander, but to clarify that fifty years ago, all I did was seek a future for the wizarding community… for you and me!"

Grindelwald's magnetic voice echoed through the Great Hall as if by magic, echoing in the minds of everyone in the audience.

"We all share the same identity, my friends, and that is to be a wizard! A group of magical wonders, extraordinary talents!"

"With a wave of the wand, one can change the form of matter, causing everything in the world to change according to one's will — a gift and right bestowed upon wizards and witches!"

"Yet, having mastered such a miracle, we are forced every day toil over trivial matters, to hide in corners of the world, to lock ourselves up in one cage after another called the Wizarding World, and even to give up the right to freely cast spells…"

The assembled wizards whispered to each other, and Grindelwald continued.

"Some might say it's to protect Muggles, yes, what a grand excuse, and we all know there's a law in the wizarding world called the Muggle Protection Act! However, those who designate the law may have forgotten why our ancestors created the wizarding world as their personal playground…"