Chapter 193: Words as Sharp as Knives

Having lived together in the castle for five days, this was the most the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, had spoken. He threw his opinions at Eda, then continued eating his breakfast.

Grindelwald ate very slowly. At his age, coupled with the life of a solitary prisoner, his body was like a candle flickering in the wind — ready to go out at any moment. Even if he wanted to eat quickly, he couldn't.

When it came to the conflict with the Gryffindor students, Eda's thoughts were not much different from Grindelwald's. She knew she wasn't someone with the charisma to lead, nor was she good at brainwashing people, so she had simply tried to teach them a lesson.

She had overthought it a bit, so when she was finally ready to act, it was already too late — Snape had arrived in time to stop her.

"I suppose I should be glad he stopped me — otherwise I probably would've been expelled. Just like you were expelled from Durmstrang back then," Eda said.

"I wasn't expelled for attacking my classmates. The reason they expelled me was simply because ordinary people couldn't understand the ideas of a genius~"

Grindelwald sneered. "Besides, what's the difference between your situation now and being expelled? Dragged out of school, banished to Nurmengard, no friends, no classmates — only an old, half-alive Dark Lord for company. Apart from being able to go out for a stroll whenever you like, how is this any different from Azkaban? And don't talk to me about Dementors — only the weak fear those things."

Ugh..

A single sentence — fatal.

The conversation was hitting a dead end. Eda said, "So what was I supposed to do? Go all out, use the Killing Curse to wipe them out, then get my wand snapped and be thrown into Azkaban to rot?"

"You're so young, yet your head is already full of killing and violence? Is slaughter the only way you know to show your power?" Grindelwald said disapprovingly. "Killing is the last resort — the method of desperation when all else fails. When people don't want to listen to you, you can force them to listen — but the means should never be slaughter. You can use force to suppress them, just enough to show your strength, and in doing so, highlight your mercy."

"If I did that, Dumbledore wouldn't show me any mercy," Eda countered. "Building my own influence at school — what would that be for? To become the next Voldemort?"

Eda didn't agree with Grindelwald's view. She thought she could use force on her classmates if she had to, but she could never impose her influence on them — doing so would only make Dumbledore think of dark times best left buried.

Grindelwald was thoroughly dissatisfied with Eda's spineless attitude. He asked, "Are you really so afraid of your headmaster? You haven't done anything — so how do you know he'd see you as that fool? Just because you both came from an orphanage?"

"It's not just fear," Eda said with a bitter laugh. "I used to believe that if I just tried hard enough and followed the rules, I could grow up safely under Dumbledore's protection — safe from Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

She laughed at herself. "Ridiculous, isn't it? But I really thought that… until I realized I'm not the person Dumbledore needs — and I can never become that person…"

"Then why not make up your mind to become the next Albus Dumbledore?" Grindelwald put down the bread in his hand, his expression suddenly serious. "Or the next Gellert Grindelwald?"

"I need time…"

"Excuses!" Grindelwald snapped. "You've already found an excuse for your own weakness — what makes you think you deserve to be taken seriously? What makes you think you can become strong?"

His eyes were full of disdain, as if he were looking at a worthless rag doll. "Relying on your talent? You don't even have the heart of someone who wants to be strong. Even with that talent, you'll spend your life as a failure — a pitiful, pathetic mudblood!"

These words struck right at Eda's sore spot.

Bang!

She shot to her feet in fury, slamming her hands on the table and shouting, "I'm a failure? And you're not a failure yourself? Your followers were hunted down by Aurors, judged by wizarding ministries across nations — and you can only hide here in Nurmengard! What did you say just now… oh right, clinging to life like a guttering flame!"

"I did fail," Grindelwald said calmly, "but at least I once stood at the summit. A weakling who can only grovel at the foot of the mountain, begging those at the top for a shred of pity — such a weakling has no right to mock one who has descended from that summit." He deliberately emphasized the words "summit" and "foot of the mountain."

Gellert Grindelwald — once one of the greatest wizards the magical world had ever known, a man who could stir storms with a flick of his hand — he had truly stood at the peak, only to later fall from it.

But Eda was just someone who had only begun her climb; she had no right to lecture Grindelwald, because she had never seen the view from the top.

Eda slumped back into the high-backed chair, defeated. Even today, Grindelwald's name remained a taboo across all of Europe. They were both "failures," yet the gap between her and Grindelwald was immeasurable.

"He said he saw a trace of me in you," Grindelwald continued, his voice cutting and cold. "I suppose he must be going blind in his old age. All I see in front of me is a cowardly girl — not another Gellert. At your age, I was already prepared to become Master of the Deathly Hallows — not sitting here whining that I 'need time,' like some bitter old woman!"

In Grindelwald's eyes, the girl before him truly did possess extraordinary talent — but she was far from ready, lacking the heart of a true strong wizard. She hesitated, she missed her moments, she acted like someone forever second-guessing herself — not like someone who knew how to stand above others.

If she stayed like this, her talent would be utterly wasted on her.

Grindelwald's mockery continued.

He said, "I heard you killed just three people, and then you were so afraid of becoming addicted to the thrill of killing that you grew terrified of everything — terrified of dark magic too? If that's really the case, you might as well dress yourself up in something pretty, walk down Diagon Alley, or let someone keep you hidden away in a manor. That'd be better than wasting your youth swinging a wand around, squandering that beautiful face of yours."

Eda lifted her head and stared straight at Grindelwald, the rage in her eyes enough to burn him to ashes eight hundred times over.

"What's wrong? Too harsh for you? Too disgusting?" Grindelwald asked as he rose and slowly started up the stairs. "Then I apologize. But you're only worth the most insincere apology I can offer. Respect must be earned — do you really have the strength and resolve to earn it?"

His words were harsh, like a slap across Eda's face, or a needle piercing her eardrum.

A resonant drum doesn't need a heavy hammer — yet Grindelwald deliberately chose this brutal way to ignite Eda's sense of shame, to force her to confront herself.

If Eda could face herself squarely and find within her the heart of a true strong witch, then all would turn out well. But if she collapsed under it, then it would only prove Dumbledore had misjudged her — that she was just worthless mud that could never be shaped.

Words like these, directed at a young girl, were indeed cruel — not something someone her age should have to bear. If Eda were an ordinary girl, no one would ever say such humiliating things to her. She would be cherished and protected, and on her birthday or at Christmas, she'd receive dolls as gifts.

But Eda was not ordinary. She possessed talent dazzling enough to astonish the world — and so she was destined to face these blades of wind and frost early on.

Either she would shine with unmatched brilliance and stand atop the highest peaks, or she would turn to dust beneath others' feet. It all depended on whether she had the unwavering resolve and the heart to fear nothing.

Beaten down until there was nothing left of her pride, Eda sat at her place in a daze, not moving for a long time.

She had always pursued more perfect magical control, more efficient ways to fight — but she had never paid attention to her own heart.

Even with outstanding power, without the inner strength to match it, that power could never fully be unleashed.

Eda feared Dumbledore's power, dreaded Voldemort's return, worried she might grow to love killing, and kept her distance from dark magic because of its negative effects…

Too many fears had dulled her heart without her even realizing it. She no longer had that sharp edge, that unshakable confidence to stand above all others.

What did it matter if she had the system to help her? All Eda would become was another one of Dumbledore's tools — the sharpest blade in someone else's hand — never the next Dumbledore, never Esmeralda Twist in her own right.

No one knew how much time passed before Eda finally snapped out of her daze.

She rose from the long table, and her emerald-green eyes shone with light once more.

She was still wearing the same clothes she had put on that morning.

She was still the girl who hadn't yet turned fifteen.

Nothing had changed — and yet, somehow, everything had.

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