Hogwarts Wasteland: The Witch from the Borderlands

Chapter 552 Five Great Runes

Even though all he could see was destruction, it didn't affect the Dark Lord's ability to see the essence of things.

"You're awake."

He changed his sitting posture to make himself appear less intimidating.

"But I see the moon is still in the sky." Through the courtyard, the eternally glorious golden full moon is flying alongside the crescent moon, making her seem like the true subject.

"I'm not fully awake yet, I'll have to stay up there for a while." The boy's image softened like mud, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed into Hermione.

"Why are you maintaining this disheveled appearance?" Hermione frowned.

The shackles formed from the Fairy King's memories can bind the Dark Lord for a time, but not for a lifetime.

Judging from the current situation, this mottled brass thorn chain has been scorched by the fire, making it pitted, loose, and soft, and it can be easily torn apart with a little force.

But Grindelwald still wore them on his body, enduring the torment of hatred.

"It helps me stay more clear-headed," he said casually.

"They bind my body, and they bind my mind. I listen to Dumbledore's hatred for me, which keeps me from becoming inhuman—"

It's ironic that Grindelwald, who was on the verge of madness, regained his senses after enduring such torture for a whole year.

"The Time-Turner is used up? Why not seal madness into that destructive future like before?" Hermione asked.

Grindelwald shook his head, looking more like someone waking up from a long dream than Hermione.

"That deceptive trick—I thought that by shedding madness, I could achieve true clarity, but in reality, I was nothing more than a fool blinded by a false past on other timelines—"

"Only now, amidst pain and imprisonment, can I see this world clearly, see the present and the future—"

For some reason, Hermione could actually sense the old man's clarity in those pitch-black eyes; he was more sober and rational than ever before.

The witch opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.

In a sense, this is a good thing. A sober Dark Lord who can truly control the Great Rune of Destruction is beneficial to this world.

But this was somewhat cruel for an old man, who had to endure torment day after day like Prometheus.

"Unfortunately, it's too late—" Grindelwald sighed softly.

"I'm already mired in this mess, unable to extricate myself—"

He looked at his hands, which were charred black like a dried-up corpse.

"One day, the ending that I have postponed countless times will come knocking."

"It will be more brutal and forceful than death itself, until it drags me into an end where even the soul no longer exists—"

He looked up and gazed at the graceful young woman before him.

"Perhaps you should take my Source of Law, just as you did with Lanlock—"

Hermione was startled; she realized that Grindelwald had also discovered the secret of the Great Rune.

It was hard to go unnoticed; the Fairy Emperor had already used that title and was actually using it in combat.

Even though Grindelwald was insane back then, he had been sitting here in deep thought for a year, and he should have figured everything out by now.

"Great Rune, compared to the title of Source of Laws, Dumbledore and I both prefer to call it Great Rune."

Hermione decided not to hide it anymore.

Now, possessing four complete Great Runes, she is undoubtedly the strongest on Earth. Even if she returns to the Borderlands and faces Marika of the Golden Dynasty at its peak, she would still have the strength to fight.

Even if the Dark Lord goes mad again and tries to seize her runes out of ambition, he will only be mercilessly beaten to the ground.

"Great Runes—so you knew all along—" Grindelwald murmured, deep in thought.

"And what about Albus? What is his Great Rune?"

Hermione conjured a ball of pure white light from her palm, and its radiant vitality instantly healed Grindelwald's external wounds.

"Bright life—all things flourishing—still before my eyes—" The golden-red feather cloak fluttered, and the warm white light opened up his vision, as if an old friend had reappeared. He sighed softly, a rare moment of comfort, but this only reopened his wounds.

For a moment, he almost considered snatching the large rune from Hermione. It was Albus's keepsake and could also alleviate his pain—a win-win situation.

But in an instant, he dismissed the idea. Putting aside all the pros and cons, he was no match for Hermione now.

This girl exuded an aura like a deity, and her progress during this year high in the sky was truly remarkable.

Perhaps relying on his destructive rune power, even Hermione might be wary of him, but he will never be the ultimate winner.

"How many do you have now?" he asked softly.

"Four, and in a few days, there will be five," Hermione answered truthfully.

Grindelwald immediately abandoned the last thought of using force.

"So, you're here to get the sixth one?" he asked, somewhat annoyed and frustrated.

If it were him, with such a huge advantage, he would never say another word to the other party; he would just take it by force.

Hermione shook her head: "I just came to see you and make sure you don't blow up the new Paris."

"Then you can rest assured. I am very clear-headed and stable now. I will stay here and not go anywhere." The old man seemed to have lost all his energy in an instant and planned to continue imprisoning himself on the tower.

Hermione chuckled. "You don't have to do that. I have no intention of cutting open your brain."

That would drive Rozier and her large group of extremists crazy, and as long as Grindelwald can still communicate normally, she won't want to lay a hand on him.

The charred old man was silent for a moment: "Come with me for a walk. It's been a long time since I've seen what the new Paris looks like."

Perhaps it was the stillness that stirred him, but he, like a dried-up corpse, forcibly pulled himself up from the throne. His flesh and black iron were stuck together, yet when he was torn apart, not a drop of blood flowed out.

Hermione tried to help, but the old man firmly refused, saying, "I can walk!"

Like a staggering corpse, he was bound by chains as he laboriously descended the steps, the hot wind from his wave of his hand blowing open the cast-iron gate.

The two walked slowly to the railing of the iron tower outside the palace and looked out over the entire city.

Rosier, who had been waiting by the elevator, was both surprised and delighted to see Hermione and Grindelwald appear together. However, she wisely refrained from approaching them and instead quietly slipped into the elevator, wiping away her tears. The Dark Lord was in a terrible state.

"Is the old town already packed with Muggles?" he murmured softly, surprised by the bustling scene north of the Seine, even though it was night.

Although he didn't go out, Rozier still frequently came to complain to him about Hilmi's tyranny.

"How would you rule them in your time?" Grindelwald asked abruptly.

"My era?" The witch tilted her head.

"When I die, the next era will only be named after you," Grindelwald said calmly.

Hermione remained silent, pondering how to answer the question. Dumbledore's ideals, Grindelwald's ideals, wizards and Muggles—these would become her questions in the future.