Chapter 555
"Intruder?"
"From another world?"
"Invading the wizarding world?"
Turan's expression remained blank for a moment before a wave of incredulity washed over him.
How absurd. How utterly ridiculous.
Did Grindelwald truly expect anyone to believe such nonsense?
The Goblin King turned his sharp gaze toward Grindelwald, his disbelief palpable. He wasn't just being framed—he was being accused of something so outlandish that it defied logic.
Had Grindelwald lost his mind?
Turan couldn't help but sneer. Even a fool wouldn't believe such an accusation.
Yet, Grindelwald showed no sign of embarrassment. On the contrary, his smile deepened, as if he found the entire situation amusing.
The unsettling confidence in his expression sent a flicker of unease through Turan.
Something was wrong.
His gaze shifted toward Dumbledore, seeking some semblance of reason. Surely, Dumbledore—one of the most intelligent men in the wizarding world—would not resort to such a pathetic excuse for a frame-up?
However...
Dumbledore remained silent.
And silence meant acknowledgment.
Turan's heart sank.
Even Dumbledore was standing by this outrageous claim?
An intruder from another world?
This was beyond mere slander. This accusation was reckless, absurd, and filled with holes. Why would they use such a transparent lie? Wouldn't it create unnecessary complications for them?
The longer he stared at the two wizards—Grindelwald with his knowing smirk and Dumbledore with his enigmatic silence—the more his unease grew.
Then, a terrifying thought struck him.
What if… it wasn't a lie?
His mind raced back to recent reports—whispers of Voldemort's strange messages from France, rumors of something beyond their comprehension. If those reports held even a sliver of truth, then…
No. It couldn't be.
Even if there was another world, even if invaders truly existed, what reason would Dumbledore and Grindelwald have to entangle themselves in this mess? There was no benefit to them.
Conflicting thoughts clashed in his mind, tangling together like an ever-expanding web of contradictions.
Before he could make sense of them, Dumbledore suddenly turned his attention elsewhere.
"Lockhart, are you ready?" Dumbledore asked.
Turan snapped out of his spiraling thoughts.
Lockhart?
His gaze flickered toward the figure standing beside Dumbledore.
There, appearing as if out of thin air, stood Gilderoy Lockhart.
The same Lockhart who should have been in England.
The same Lockhart who was the headmaster of Kamar-Taj.
Turan's heart pounded in his chest. Why was he here?
"Everything is in place," Lockhart replied, his voice tinged with unmistakable excitement. "The magic circle has been fully activated."
"Everything that happens next will be recorded and archived—every trace, every fluctuation, every trajectory."
Dumbledore nodded. "Then it's time I fulfill my part."
Turan's stomach twisted.
What are they planning?
The casual way they spoke, the ease with which they treated this situation—as if they had already decided his fate—made his blood run cold.
A nagging thought crept into his mind. What if this wasn't just an accusation?
What if this was… a test?
As the conversation continued, Turan's instincts screamed at him. He needed to act.
He turned his attention back to Grindelwald—only to realize something unsettling.
Grindelwald was moving further away.
His brow furrowed. He quickly turned back to Dumbledore and Lockhart.
They were moving away too.
No— they weren't moving. They were withdrawing.
Not out of fear.
Not as if avoiding a battle.
But as if avoiding him.
As if he were… contaminated.
A deep sense of dread settled in his gut.
Why? Why were they distancing themselves from him?
Logically, this should have been a good thing. If they were leaving, he had a chance to escape.
But instead of relief, a suffocating panic gripped him.
His instincts screamed at him. This wasn't right. Something was terribly wrong.
A sharp chill ran down his spine. It was as if his body had been stripped bare and thrown into a frozen wasteland.
His breath hitched.
Asphyxiation. Exclusion. Suffocation.
It was as if the very world itself was rejecting him.
A horrifying realization struck him.
He reached for his magic—only to find that something was horribly wrong.
His internal magic remained, but…
The external magic was gone.
Completely absent.
No matter how hard he reached for it, the magic beyond his body would not respond.
The realization sent him into a spiral of panic.
This wasn't suppression. This was isolation.
The world itself was cutting him off.
A sharp pain shot through his body. His magic, trapped with nowhere to go, surged uncontrollably within him.
Backlash.
A violent force tore through his body.
Pfft!
A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips.
His vision blurred.
What… what is happening to me?
The sky darkened.
Clouds churned violently above, and a deafening wind howled through the air.
Thunder rumbled, shaking the very fabric of reality.
A suffocating pressure descended upon him, pressing down like an unrelenting force of judgment.
The world itself was reacting.
Rejecting him.
From afar, Grindelwald watched with intrigue.
"Albus, how long do you think he'll last?" he asked.
Dumbledore, having just brushed against the consciousness of the world itself, pondered for a moment before answering.
"Perhaps… one cycle," he murmured, though even he wasn't certain.
Grindelwald's eyes narrowed. That answer didn't sit well with him.
If the world's consciousness was truly this powerful, why hadn't it acted against Lockhart?
His thoughts drifted to the spell he had placed on Turan.
The aura of Wanda—the invader.
He had wrapped Turan in it like a second skin.
And the world had responded instantly.
Yes… this was the first real opportunity to observe world consciousness in action.
They had speculated, but now…
Now, they would finally have answers.
Lockhart, still monitoring the phenomenon, didn't look up.
"Don't forget our deal," Grindelwald reminded him.
Lockhart nodded. "I won't. If we want a foothold in this New World, we'll need help."
As they spoke, their attention remained fixed on Turan.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Dumbledore suddenly frowned.
"My emotions have shifted," he noted. "I feel an overwhelming urge to kill Turan. A strong one."
Grindelwald's eyes glinted.
"I feel it too," he admitted, though with far less intensity. "Perhaps because I have distanced myself from fate's influence."
He mulled over the implications.
"If the world's consciousness influences even our emotions… we may need to develop countermeasures—wards, spells, safeguards."
Lockhart remained silent, his gaze fixed on the struggling goblin.
Turan trembled under the weight of the unseen force.
He had always believed himself to be a king, a mastermind, a figure of legend among his people.
And yet…
He was nothing but an experiment.
A pawn in someone else's game.
How ridiculous.
And then—
Boom!
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