the snake turned cat(chapter 78)

Chapter 78

Gray didn't dodge, allowing the curse to hit him. He had already drunk the Curseward Potion, rendering the Killing Curse ineffective. Looking back at Grindelwald, who was beyond shocked, Gray observed the fear that overtook every wizard present—dark or not. "I am going to count to ten. I want every single wizard who values their life to run," he said. This time, he looked at Jacob, who immediately grabbed Queenie and ran. Newt, Tina, and the Aurors followed suit. The only ones left were Grindelwald's followers and the shadow assassins Gray recognized as Merlin fanatics.

"Fear is the greatest killer of progression," Grindelwald said, pointing the Elder Wand at Gray. In response, Gray drew his wand, transforming it into a staff. "Hmm," he pondered aloud as he summoned three powers: star power, ice power, and his magic. "The last time I did this, I nearly cracked the fabric of reality," Gray said as he combined the three forces into a glowing white sphere. Grindelwald attacked, but it was too late. The white orb exploded with devastating force. The explosion obliterated everything in its vicinity, leaving behind nothing but ruin. When the dust settled, the area was unrecognizable—reduced to rubble and ash, with a haunting silence hanging in the air.

After the dust settled, Gray was the only one who remained standing as his magical shield disappeared. He hadn't put up the shield to survive—he couldn't be killed by such an attack since he could regenerate—but he did so to protect his clothes from ruin. Gray looked ahead, where Grindelwald lay dead, along with his followers, as the world finally registered the enormity of what Gray had done. Reality began to destabilize, cracks forming in response to the sheer magnitude of Gray's actions. Yet, not everything was still; something moved—a living shadow, perhaps.

Suddenly, the shadow produced a blade seemingly from nowhere. This was no ordinary weapon; it cut through Gray's magical barrier with ease. The shocking part was when it severed Gray's neck, sending his head flying from his shoulders. But Gray, unfazed, caught his head mid-air and placed it back onto his body. He turned to face the shadow, which condensed into a humanoid figure. Recognizing it, Gray greeted in a strangely emotionless tone, "Hello, the Mad Prince." The shadowy figure hesitated for just a moment, which was all Gray needed to unleash an extremely condensed star blast. The devastating attack was so bright it illuminated the entire space, moving at near-light speed to obliterate the shadowy creature.

The blast didn't end there—it tore a massive hole in the underground chamber, completely dissipating the shadow creature and leaving only the mysterious blade behind. Gray considered the blade for a moment, thinking to himself, Do I really want to stare into my 11-year-old face for the next couple of months and talk to myself like I'm crazy? With a shrug, he decided, Whatever, I'll probably go crazy if I don't talk to something, and picked up the blade. Immediately, a slender figure appeared above him, wearing a mocking smile.

The figure resembled a young boy with black hair, alabaster skin, and a lithe build. Dressed in a simple black silk tunic and delicate silk shoes, he looked like a porcelain doll. His cold, dark eyes were unsettling. This boy was Gray as an eleven-year-old, beginning his first year at Hogwarts—or rather, it was the manifestation of the cursed blade, the Sin of Solace. The blade conjured an exact version of its wielder to torment them. The Sin of Solace examined Gray, then itself, before groaning, "For fuck's sake," and turning away with a sulky demeanor.

"Poor Mad Prince," said Gray, though his expression remained emotionless. A dimensional rift opened, and Gray stepped into it. As he did, the Sin of Solace spoke again, mocking him, "You really think there's an ingredient that will help you at the end of that rift?" Gray, having already had this conversation countless times, ignored it entirely. The torment had lost its sting, becoming pointless self-doubt—another reason Gray wanted the blade. He disappeared into the rift without replying, leaving the Sin of Solace to groan, "Why is this bastard making my life harder than it has to be?" Glancing back at the hole from which it had emerged, the Sin muttered, "Why are all these bastards obsessed with some woman? At least the new guy has taste," before vanishing as well.

As Gray vanished into the dimensional rift, the echo of his departure still hung in the air when figures began emerging from the shadows. These were no ordinary individuals—they were the infamous Merlin Fanatics, their presence marked by the faint hum of enchantments layered into their robes and armor. Their movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as they began securing the ruined space. Their task was clear: assess, contain, and report. Among them, one figure stood out—a mage clad in a pristine white lab coat, carrying a glowing, rune-inscribed device that pulsed faintly with magical energy.

The mage stopped in his tracks, his eyes scanning the devastation with a mix of curiosity and dread. He muttered to himself, "This is a big anomaly," before his gaze fell on the corpse of Grindelwald sprawled amidst the carnage. His expression shifted to one of irritation as he groaned, "Did some motherfucker travel back in time and off this guy?"

A subordinate stepped forward, their voice steady but apprehensive. "We don't know, sir. The work was clean and precise, as if they knew we would come here."

The mage in the lab coat sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is big. Way too big. I need to call in someone el—" His words were cut off abruptly as a new presence entered the scene.

The air shifted, charged with an oppressive energy that made every member of the Merlin Fanatics instinctively tense. Their deepest secrets felt exposed, their very souls laid bare. A strikingly beautiful yet cold woman stepped forward, her presence commanding an almost divine reverence. She appeared to be in her mid-40s, with flowing silver hair that gleamed like moonlight and piercing blue eyes that seemed to strip away all pretense. Her robes were works of art—high-fashion garments adorned with intricate arcane symbols and mind-enhancing runes. Her gaze swept across the room with an air of supreme disinterest.

The moment they saw her, the fanatics dropped to their knees in unison, bowing deeply as if in the presence of a deity. "Lady Althea," they murmured in reverence.

Althea, however, paid them no mind. Her focus was on the room, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. A faint sigh escaped her lips as her irises suddenly ignited with a brilliant white light. She was scrying—not just looking, but seeing everything that had transpired. Magic circles, faint but lethal, began to appear in her vision, their lines and sigils glowing ominously. Gray had been setting traps, meticulously drawing the circles as he approached Grindelwald. One of them was primed to detonate at any moment, but instead of alarm, Althea's expression softened into something resembling amusement.

"Oh, our little snake is getting cunning again," she thought, a wry smile curling her lips. "How reminiscent. I thought that since he turned into a cat, he'd lost his edge."