However, once the "wand-ulna" was reinstalled, he did seem to have an extra one left over… So this counts as waste utilisation?
Tch!
That was a bone connected to his flesh and blood! How could it be called waste?
"There's still one more question," Edward raised his hand. "If I reinstall the bone, what happens if someone casts Expelliarmus on me?"
Grindelwald snorted. "Do you think I wouldn't have considered that?"
"Let me ask you—if you punch someone, does your fist count as a weapon?"
"I guess it does."
"Then if I cast Expelliarmus on you at that moment, is your fist going to fly off?"
Edward was momentarily stunned.
"Once that bone is back in your body, it's a part of you. It's just a regular bone. The carved magical runes are what allow you to cast spells without a wand. So the effect of Expelliarmus on your ulna would be the same as casting it on your fist—which is to say, none at all!"
"You're sure?"
The old man furrowed his brow. "Put it in or don't, up to you."
Alright, I'll trust you. Worst case, if it doesn't work, I'll just take it out again—ugh, this really has become a Lego set, hasn't it?
Pulling the bone out? One spell would do the trick.
But putting the wand-ulna back in? That was a whole different ordeal—cutting open flesh, inserting the bone, reconnecting everything, then magically sealing the wound.
What sounded like three simple steps was, in truth, bloody and brutal.
Edward lay on a makeshift hospital bed conjured by magic, looking every bit like a lamb about to be slaughtered. The surgery was being performed by a centenarian with no medical license and a habit of bending the truth—Grindelwald, who resembled a soulless butcher as he worked on Edward's left arm.
Reinstalling the ulna wasn't just a biological issue. The countless magical runes carved into the bone had to synchronise with his body—that was the real challenge.
Even Lilith had lost interest in watching Tom and Jerry by this point. She sat quietly by the bedside, occasionally letting out a soft meow and rubbing her head against Edward. In contrast to the grisly scene, she lent the moment a surprising touch of warmth.
After two or three hours, the "surgery" (or rather, the operation) was complete. Edward now had a left arm that could cast wandless spells—and more powerfully than with a traditional wand. Grindelwald, on the other hand, had earned himself a fresh new ulna.
"Expelliarmus!"
No sooner had Edward sat up than Grindelwald hit him with a Disarming Charm.
He was sent flying and landed hard on the ground, nearly busting his ass.
"I thought you said it wouldn't work!"
"I said it couldn't disarm you. I didn't say it had no impact."
Grindelwald rolled his eyes. "Relax. That was a full-powered Expelliarmus. You can rest assured now, can't you?"
Rubbing his backside, Edward muttered, "You're just getting back at me for doubting you."
"I'm not that petty. Now come on—try casting something wandless. If anything's off, I need to make adjustments."
Since the "wand core" was a consumable, Edward only tried a few minor spells like Wingardium Leviosa. Once he confirmed everything worked, he stopped wasting magic.
Another twenty minutes of stretching and testing ensured that his new wand-arm felt no different from the original.
Operation: Success.
"Alright, I'm fine now. Go back and watch TV, Lilith."
Only after confirming several times did Lilith happily trot back to the TV.
"Oh, right, Mr. Grindelwald—there's something I'd like to ask you."
"Speak."
Grindelwald was at the sink, washing the blood from his hands.
"If someone uses too much Dark Magic…will it definitely have terrible consequences for them?"
The old man chuckled. "Oh? A wizard raised by Albus is curious about Dark Magic? Now that's interesting."
"Mm, I wouldn't say I like it, but…in many situations, Dark Magic is just more effective."
Drying his hands with a towel, Grindelwald walked over. "First of all, yes—abusing Dark Magic can make a wizard cruel, twisted, even monstrous. But that effect can be resisted."
"See, at the very beginning, there was no such thing as 'Dark' or 'Light' magic. It was all just…magic. There was no high or low, good or evil. But later on, some wizards started isolating the spells that were especially destructive or lacked counter-curses and labelled them as evil—thus 'Dark Magic' was born."
"Those wizards who turned ugly and violent after using Dark Magic? It's not that the spells corrupted them—they were always like that. The magic just reflected their true nature. If someone like Albus were to use Dark Magic, it wouldn't affect him at all."
He gave a soft laugh. "But here's the thing—real Dark Magic's side effects target the soul. More precisely, any magic meant to harm another will corrode your soul. That damage doesn't come from the spell itself—it comes from the victim's pain and suffering. Especially spells like Avada Kedavra, which attack the soul directly."
"The funny thing is—the more you fear this kind of damage, the stronger it gets. Those so-called cruel but cowardly Dark wizards? Their souls are usually long rotted away. But if you simply don't care, the damage becomes negligible."
Grindelwald raised his chin slightly. "Hmph! All the harm decades of Dark Magic has done to me still doesn't compare to the damage Albus's one Expelliarmus did to me back then!"
Edward was speechless. Is…is that really something to be proud of?
"So…what are the actual symptoms of soul damage?"
"In serious cases, it can eat away your soul entirely—turn you mad, or even kill you on the spot. In lighter cases, it might cause memory loss or cognitive dysfunction. But little by little… you'll still end up insane."
Hearing this, Edward scratched his cheek in concern. Damn…if I go nuts one day, will it be because of the Dark Magic—or a side effect of pretending to be crazy all the time?
Just then, Grindelwald gave him a sidelong glance and said calmly, "As for you? You don't need to worry about such laughable things."
Edward blinked. "Why not?"
"Heh, your Animagus form is an Obscurus—an entity born entirely of negative emotions and dark energy. And you're worried about Dark Magic affecting you?"
"Uh…Professor Dumbledore told you?"
Grindelwald nodded. "Mm."
He suddenly sighed. "If it had been in the past, I definitely would've found a way to study you thoroughly…but lately, I've often been recalling the past. You know—Aberforth's son Credence, Ariana, and now you. The Dumbledore family has produced three Obscurials…So, forget it."
At that moment, he bent down and fished out a suitcase from a pile of miscellaneous items, tossing it to Edward. "Oh right, these are all the things my old buddies managed to recover for you from all over the world. Everything's in here."
Before Edward could get excited, he added gloomily, "Friendly reminder—don't get your hopes up. Not even a little."
Ugh.
Even though he'd already prepared himself mentally for disappointment, hearing it so bluntly was still a bit of a buzzkill.
Opening the suitcase, he saw a sheet of paper nailed to the inside of the lid, listing the contents. The very first line stunned Edward.
The Shroud of Turin?!
Where the hell did they even get that from—
Wait, what does "×3" mean?
Three pieces of the shroud?
Did they rip it into three, or did Jesus die and get wrapped up three times?
Even though the Grey Fog of the Sefirah Castle hadn't yet "authenticated" it, Edward instantly labelled this thing as a counterfeit knockoff.
Next on the list:
The Spear of Longinus.
Well, at least there was no "×" next to that one.
Edward pulled out a nearly two-meter-long, rust-covered spear. Comparing it to the one summoned by Mystical Re-enactment, he felt this one came up short—maybe it needed to be activated by the Grey Fog?
At least it looked old enough to be convincing.
Then came Mjölnir—
Why did it look exactly like the one from the Thor movies?
The Sword of Victory, a lavishly decorated weapon inlaid with gems—though the blade had several chipped and broken areas.
Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, an ancient Japanese sword about the length of a forearm, similarly rusted and worn.
Excalibur, embedded in stone—an elegant yet clearly decayed longsword.
Holy crap, there was even a miniature ornate coffin, said to contain the remains of some ancient wizard from a thousand years ago. Seriously? Not only had they dug up graves to steal stuff, they even took the corpses? That's going way too far.
As Edward went down the checklist and pulled each item out, he found weapons and artifacts from nearly every major mythology—British, Norse, Japanese, Indian, Egyptian, Greek, Chinese…
It was a literal "gathering of heroes," like some bizarre junkyard mythology summit, everything from swords to shrouds, sometimes even in multiple pieces, just like the shroud.
And the Zhu Xian Sword—Edward had hoped this one might be the real deal. There were four in total. That lined up, right? The Zhu Xian (Immortal Slaying) Formation required four swords: Zhu Xian, Slaying Immortals, Trapping Immortals, and Extinguishing Immortals. So far, so good!
Except...the four swords clearly came from different eras, with clashing styles and wildly varying craftsmanship. Totally off.
Besides the famous relics, there were also bizarre items like a chariot wheel supposedly from the Sun God's chariot, a god's portrait frame (only the frame remained), Merlin's shoes, and even extraterrestrial objects. It was a complete circus.
Grindelwald, watching Edward's reaction from the side, couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! I told you—if these things ever truly existed, they've long since vanished. And even if they are still out there somewhere, it's not like a bunch of half-dead relic hunters could just waltz in and collect them."
Edward silently tossed the empty "divine frame" back into the suitcase and asked, "So where exactly did your old pals get all this stuff from?"
"Hmm…most of it was 'borrowed' from private collectors. Some came straight out of museums. And a small portion—like the shoes, wheels, and coffins—well, let's just say it came from grave-robbing."
"…"
Damn it. This was all his fault.
He'd had a momentary burst of inspiration, thinking he might get lucky with some shortcut, but thanks to Grindelwald relaying his words, those old coots took it way too seriously—and now, here they were.
"Oh right," Grindelwald suddenly remembered something. "Kraft and Carrow almost managed to snatch that phoenix in New Zealand."
Edward smacked his forehead. He'd nearly forgotten about the phoenix!
"Somehow, they managed to force it to drink an entire bottle of Elixir of Life. Then they evaded the Aurors from both New Zealand and Australia and successfully made it back to Europe."
"But on the way over…the phoenix suddenly woke up…and vanished..."
Edward let out a long breath. "Well, at least it got away safely."
"…Except it didn't return to New Zealand. It's been missing ever since."
"…"
That's worse than if they had caught it!
Rubbing his temples in frustration, Edward asked, "You didn't think to stop them, sir?"
"They spend their days dreaming up all sorts of nonsense. Letting them run around a bit keeps them busy." Grindelwald snorted lightly. "Besides, this is your mess. You can't expect someone else to clean it up for you."
"People must take responsibility for their actions."
Edward immediately folded his hands in a kneeling pose. "Sorry, sir, but this kind of responsibility is way out of my league."
Grindelwald scoffed. "Relax. Those five are just remnants of the old Grindelwald faction who should've died decades ago. They'll leave no traces behind…"
He waved his hand impatiently. "Alright, I've given you everything. Time for you to leave."
"…"
Edward spread his hands. "See? You're kicking me out again. And you wonder why I hesitate to visit next time."
"Then don't come."
"Fine, fine. Oh, right—Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this letter."
Edward took out a sealed envelope and handed it over.
Grindelwald accepted it, opened it for a glance, and instantly, a glimmer flickered through his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.
"So…now he thinks of me?"
He carefully folded the letter back into its envelope and looked at Edward. "Albus said you had a question for me. What is it?"
Edward paused, quickly organising his words.
"Sir, if…if there existed a completely new kind of magic—one where each person could only choose a single path. For example, if you chose flight, you could no longer choose swimming…"
Grindelwald cut him off. "I choose war."
"…"
Edward choked, suddenly wondering if Dumbledore had already tipped him off.
Those two old lovebirds must've planned this in advance, and still made him go through the motions of asking.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.