Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God Chapter 435: Why Did We Fail?

Novel: Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God Author: Lightreaper Updated: Jun 03, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 435: Why Did We Fail? from Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God, a Action novel by Lightreaper.

The golden bell swayed gently in the air, though it had no clapper inside.

Delaine pointed his wand at the crystal vial floating in the air, sending a wave of golden dust sweeping toward Moreau.

Moreau instinctively held his breath and shielded his eyes with the back of his hand, then watched as the scattered golden dust gathered toward the bell hanging from his wrist, and even ford a tiny vortex in the air.

He shook his arm a few tis, and the golden dust swayed along with the motion. After a short while, all the powder was absorbed into the bell.

"Antoine, are you feeling any discomfort?" Delaine asked.

Moreau rotated his arm and shoulder and replied, "No, everything's fine. I don't feel any confusion or dullness."

Grindelwald waved his fingers, and a nearby empty chair rolled into the center of the room.

"Smash it," he said.

Moreau pointed his wand at the chair. "Confringo!" (Blasting Curse)

The spell hit its mark, blasting the wood into pieces, with a burst of heat riding the surge of air.

"No difference from before," Moreau confird. "That golden dust really didn't affect —I thought mysterious magic would be trickier!"

"The stronger sothing is, the more fragile it becos," Grindelwald said. "Ti magic is indeed terrifying, but once condensed into powder, even a small container can restrict it."

"But one won't be enough. Wade, Wovilette, I need more of these… uh, does this thing have a na?" Grindelwald asked.

"Vacuum Bell," Wovilette replied proudly. "Wade ca up with the na."

"Oh."

Grindelwald looked at Wade and said with disdain, "That's about the sa level as your 'Communication Beans.' Creations are like an alchemist's children—how can you na them so casually?"

Wade said indifferently, "Isn't it better to be simple and clear? One glance and you know exactly what it does."

Grindelwald sighed, thought for a mont, and said, "Silvraxis… Let's call it that. I'll need at least 180 of them. How soon can you get them ready?"

"180…" Wovilette calculated their current pace and said, "About two days."

A skilled alchemist could easily work on multiple batches of materials simultaneously—one alchemist could essentially operate like a small factory.

Wovilette also had a few apprentices who could handle basic tasks like material refinent and shaping.

Two days was an estimate based on normal working hours with rest; realistically, they could move even faster.

"Then three days from now, we'll launch the next operation. Wade Grey..." Grindelwald looked at the young wizard and said, "Get ready. This ti, you're participating too."

...

"Sigh..."

Back in the alchemy room, Wovilette sighed for the third ti already and his face was full of worry. Even Wade, who hadn't planned on speaking, couldn't help but say sothing.

"It's fine, don't worry," Wade comforted him. "Last ti, Mr. Grindelwald kept by his side the whole ti — there was no one safer than ."

"I'm not worried about that. If Gellert doesn't want anything to happen to you, then nothing will happen... What I'm worried about is..."

Wovilette trailed off and sighed again, even longer this ti.

Wade knew exactly what was troubling him, but he couldn't change Grindelwald's mind either, so he could only pretend not to understand.

Last ti, Grindelwald had taken him out just as a safe observer. But this ti... it probably wouldn't be so easy.

Wade hadn't even celebrated his fourteenth birthday yet. At that age, whether it was going to battle, killing soone, or simply facing such brutal scenes — even Wovilette, a dark wizard, felt it was far too soon.

As night fell, the two of them briefly tidied up the alchemy room, then went to have dinner.

The house-elf had already placed the evening al on the table. Naturally, the spread couldn't compare to Hogwarts, but even a simple vegetable salad sohow tasted more delicious.

During dinner, Wovilette still looked deeply troubled. When he stabbed a piece of tomato with his fork, he couldn't help but think of blood gushing everywhere; when he picked up a piece of grilled chicken, he imagined living people being roasted into charred corpses.

He had seen such scenes many tis before — but this ti, it was different.

In every imagined picture, he saw Wade standing nearby: pale, shivering, yet forced by the terrifying Dark Lord's gaze to raise his wand.

Before they even finished eating, Wovilette suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted, "No! This won't do!"

Wade was startled and blinked at him in confusion.

Then he watched Wovilette rush into his bedroom, rummaging through his belongings, and finally pulling out... a Soft Light Badge?

It was another of Wade's inventions — it can apply a magical beauty filter in natural environnts, making a person's appearance look more pleasing. Its only flaw is its short duration. Since its release, it has been very popular — even among mbers of the Alliance.

— But what is Wovilette doing with it now?

Wade looked on in confusion as the old man happily ca back holding the badge and said:

"Looks familiar, right? Young people all like looking good — no one would find it strange if you wore a badge like this. Even an old man like couldn't resist buying a few."

He personally pinned the badge to Wade's chest, smoothed his clothes, and whispered:

"I made a few modifications to this badge. Now, it's a Portkey that leads back to this castle. If anything... if Gellert makes things difficult for you, use it to return imdiately."

"Don't worry about them coming after you for it — I'll take the bla! No matter what Gellert asks, just say it was all my idea... I still have enough influence to cover you..."

...

A waiter knocked gently on the door and said, "Sir, your dinner is ready."

The door opened, and a man wearing a scarf, with a nearly bald head, took the al tray. His eyes calmly swept over the waiter as he said, "Thank you."

The waiter froze for a mont, but maintained a professional smile as he watched the man close the door again and felt secretly astonished.

— This guest's appearance doesn't match his eyes at all; it is as if a soldier's soul has been stuffed into a thief's body.

But then again...

Who said that soone with a seedy appearance couldn't possess a noble aura? Maybe he had once lived through an epic life full of ups and downs, only to be broken by fate, which left him disheveled...

The waiter imagined a movie-worthy backstory in his head while pushing the dining cart toward the next room, still occasionally recalling that pair of distinctive eyes.

"Dinner is here, Miss Mabel."

Peter II placed pancakes, grilled sausages, a plate of fruit, and a large jug of sweet milk on the table.

"Thank you very much."

Mabel, who just ca out of the washroom, was still steaming with warmth. She sat at the table, picked up a pancake, rolled a sausage inside, and said a little shyly, "Are you sure you don't want so?"

"We don't need to eat, Miss Mabel," Peter II shook his head and replied.

Mabel had heard this answer several tis already, but it still felt a little strange.

No matter how you looked at him, he seed human — his speech and behavior felt perfectly natural — but in essence, he was no different from the magic cube or a flying broom nearby. Thinking about it too much could even feel a bit creepy.

However, after spending enough ti together, Mabel realized that this ugly-looking Peter II was actually a reserved, silent, and reliable good... person? Good magic doll.

When Mabel first left with a group of magic dolls, she thought she would have to rough it outdoors, camping out in the cold, and worried about what she would do if she fell ill.

But in reality, she was living better than ever before.

While traveling, she rode the broom, and the magic cube doll would unfold a shield-like panel to block the cold wind. Mikael would flap its wings nearby and stir up currents of warm air so that she doesn't feel the chill of the high altitudes at all.

The magic dolls even took into account her need for als and rest, stopping in front of high-end hotels each evening.

Peter II, posing as an adult, would check them in using various legitimate-looking IDs and docunts — no one knew how he got them.

The magic cube doll would transform into a suitcase and quietly be brought into the room by Peter II.

Afterward, Mabel, wearing the invisible tallic cloak doll, would ride the broom doll in through the window.

The hotel provided delicious food and hot showers.

As for safety, there was absolutely no need to worry. At night, Mabel would sleep on a soft bed, and if she occasionally woke up in the middle of the night, she would see a few magic dolls quietly standing guard by the window or door.

During the day, they tracked locations attacked by the Alliance. However, they couldn't get too close and only observed the aftermath from a distance. Sotis the broom would disguise itself as an ordinary flying broom to eavesdrop on the wizards' conversations.

But starting two days ago, this headless-chicken-like search finally made a huge breakthrough — a wizard began actively reaching out to them and providing information.

He was a businessman nad Marchionne, reportedly a partner of Wade Grey.

"Can we trust that guy?" the broom muttered. "There's a saying in my mind: No rchant is honest. These cunning fellows will do anything in the pursuit of profit."

Mabel subconsciously glanced at its slender body and flattened twigs.

— Mind? Where exactly is its brain?

"Isn't that perfect?" Peter II said. "Rescuing the master would align with his interests."

"Whether he is trustworthy is sothing the master needs to judge. I only care whether the information he provides is useful," the magic cube doll said.

"Does he know you are magic dolls?" Mabel asked curiously.

"He does," said the magic cube doll.

When they left, it had brought along Wade's old Book of friends that he had left at ho, initially intending to occasionally use it to gather information.

But through the parchnt, others probably couldn't trust their identities and had been very cautious about reaching out. Aside from Dumbledore, who had once invited them to join him, only Marchionne, after a few days of silence, proactively started sending all kinds of intelligence.

In the Streaming mirror videos, the Alliance mbers never showed their faces, but Marchionne analyzed the materials and patterns of their boots, helping the dolls narrow down the search area.

[If I'm not mistaken, their base should be sowhere in the southwest of Sweden. You'd best look inland, for old castles that have witnessed magic.]

[The man imprisoned at sea was confined for forty-eight years. The damp and cold climate must have caused significant damage to his body, so now he would definitely choose a residence far away from the coast.]

— This was the information Marchionne had sent two days ago.

There were only about 300 castles across Sweden. Excluding the coastal ones and those turned into tourist attractions, searching through the rest wouldn't take too long.

The real worry was that Grindelwald might have completely hidden the castle.

However, they had Mabel in their group.

An Obscurial— born from hatred of magic — had an extraordinary sensitivity to magical forces.

After dinner, Mabel crossed out the places they had already searched on the map, discussed the next day's route with the magic dolls, and was just about to rest when the magic cube puppet suddenly said:

"Marchionne has sent another ssage..."

It opened the Book of Friends and saw a new, unfamiliar na written there.

"John Adler? An ordinary man without magic... might beco the next target of the Alliance... Have any of you heard of this na?"

Everyone in the room — both living and non-living — shook their heads.

"So what do we do?" Mabel tapped and marked the map, asking, "Do we continue checking castles, or go look for this Adler first?"

The magic cube doll stared at the words gradually appearing on the parchnt, falling into deep thought.

…

"The badge has been turned into a Portkey?"

Grindelwald repeated, with a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," the house-elf dressed in a gray pillowcase lowered its head and repeated Wovilette's words word for word.

These creatures have large, flexible ears that could rotate independently, giving them extrely keen hearing. At the sa ti, most wizards instinctively tended to ignore them.

However, Grindelwald, having experienced war, never overlooked the power and unique role of these creatures. His study, bedroom, and eting rooms were all enchanted so that even house-elves could only hear a buzzing noise from outside the rooms.

But Wovilette lacked this kind of awareness, and Grindelwald had not passed this experience down to others.

At this mont, after listening to the house-elf's report, Grindelwald said nothing, but Delaine, who was standing nearby, showed an angry expression.

"Sir," Delaine bowed slightly and said, "Wovilette shows signs of betrayal. Should I go and—"

Grindelwald raised a hand to stop his words and said to the house-elf, "I understand. You may return to your work."

"Yes, sir."

With a "pop," the house-elf disappeared.

Only then did Grindelwald turn his gaze to Delaine, but instead of showing anger as Delaine had expected, he smiled and said:

"Although Antoine didn't speak up, he likely shares Wovilette's concerns. And you, Günther?"

"What do you think about bringing Wade Grey along on the next mission?" Grindelwald asked.

"Wovilette and Antoine have been blinded by personal feelings and have failed to grasp your deeper intentions."

Delaine said without hesitation, "Wade Grey holds control over the Bells... over the production of Silvraxis. If he harbors ill intentions, he could cause us trendous losses."

"Keeping him close ensures everyone's safety. It's a steady and prudent strategy!"

His manner of speaking was utterly sincere, without a trace of flattery or hypocrisy, because he genuinely believed what he was saying.

However, upon hearing this, Grindelwald burst into hearty laughter with his thin chest heaving like a drum.

Delaine looked at him worriedly, afraid that he might laugh himself breathless as he had once before.

Soon after, he saw his chosen leader collect his laughter and sigh, saying:

"Günther, have you ever thought... Why did our forr cause fail?"

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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- 235 Chapters