CHAPTER 204: CHAPTER 204

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When it came to making life difficult for Scarhead, Gellert never spared any effort.

Early the next morning, Aberforth arrived punctually at Newt’s tent.

He and Gellert sat across from each other at the breakfast table, both sporting sour expressions, eyeing each other with mutual disdain.

"What are you looking at?" Aberforth asked coldly.

"I’m looking at a goat," Gellert replied, whistling at the kid cradled in Aberforth’s arms. "Goat boy, your sister-in-law doesn’t seem like a local, does she?"

Contrary to Gellert’s expectations, Aberforth didn’t explode in rage or lose his composure. Instead, he laughed.

"What’s so funny?" Gellert demanded.

"They all say you’re a Niffler—Harry told me he gave you the nickname ’Nifflert,’" Aberforth said leisurely. "But I don’t think it suits you. You’re not a Niffler."

Gellert leaned back slightly, reassessing the goat boy in front of him.

"Didn’t expect you to seem like a normal person, goat boy," he remarked.

"Oh, no," Aberforth said, accepting a teacup from Tina with a nod of thanks. "Thank you—anyway, I just don’t think you’re worthy of being a Niffler. By the way, Newt, how many pups does a Niffler litter produce?"

The question was directed at Newt.

"Six to eight per litter, Aberforth," Newt replied, head bowed.

"You see," Aberforth said, setting down his teacup with a leisurely tone, "at least a Niffler can produce six to eight in a litter, while some people can’t even manage one, letting the Grindelwald family line die out and leaving his sister to fret."

A small vein pulsed on Gellert’s forehead.

He was rattled—truly rattled.

The extinction of the Grindelwald line was his sister’s eternal pain, and he’d taken plenty of beatings over it.

Recently, Veratia had even been considering finding Gellert a few girlfriends to shoulder the responsibility of continuing the Grindelwald legacy.

The reason was simple: Veratia wanted a few Grindelwalds to inherit the family name, not some Habsburg-Lorraine-style Grindelwald-Potter hybrid.

At this point, Aberforth didn’t miss the chance to twist the knife in Gellert’s heart.

"I think ’Mulert’ would be more fitting, don’t you, Newt?"

Newt couldn’t help but grin at the term.

It had to be admitted—Aberforth wasn’t just hot-tempered; his tongue was razor-sharp.

Gellert was practically red with fury. This was the ultimate insult.

A mule, the sterile offspring of a horse and a donkey, was infertile due to mismatched chromosomes, unable to undergo normal meiosis and thus incapable of producing the next generation.

Moreover, mules shared traits with both horses and donkeys, with a balanced temperament and a tendency to gawk at novel things. They were more sociable than horses but stubborn by nature, prone to bad habits if not properly trained or managed.

This was also a subtle jab at Gellert becoming a dark wizard after slipping from his sister’s guidance...

It had to be said—Aberforth’s tongue was vicious.

"Enough! I didn’t come here to listen to this!" Gellert snorted. "Besides, our greater plan requires your cooperation, Aberforth."

"Spare me your nonsense, Mulert," Aberforth said, patting the kid in his arms. "You should know by now that I can see through your tricks. Your silver tongue has no effect on me."

The "silver tongue" referred to the adage "speech is silver, silence is gold."

Gellert’s eloquence was well-known, earning him the nickname.

"Scamander has already agreed to work with me," Gellert persisted, undeterred. "Think about it, Aberforth. Even Newt trusts me. Is there really nothing you’re willing to believe?"

"I’ll never fall for your tricks, Mulert," Aberforth huffed, turning to Newt with a look of exasperation. "And you—what’s wrong with you? Why would you believe his nonsense? Does this man have even an ounce of credibility?"

Newt sighed.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to work with Gellert either, but the olive branch Gellert offered was too tempting.

He knew that with Miss Grindelwald’s caliber, it would be nearly impossible for his aunt to carve a path to Harry’s heart.

"No choice, Aberforth," Newt said quietly. "I’m only doing this for my aunt’s happiness, temporarily teaming up with him..."

"Oh, enough, Newt," Aberforth interrupted, exasperated. "Think about Queenie! Think about all the poor souls deceived by Mulert! They were lured by the grand promises Grindelwald painted, but in reality? It’s all for his own unspeakable goals!"

"I’m warning you, Goat of Godric’s Hollow! I fight for the entire wizarding world! It was you who betrayed me!" Gellert shot back, seething.

But no one listened. They’d heard these excuses countless times over the years.

"Miss Grindelwald is just too powerful. I had no choice, no choice..." Newt murmured. "Only by working with him do I have a chance to get my aunt and Harry together..."

A question mark practically floated above Aberforth’s head.

Wait, what?

Sometimes when I throw out a question mark, it’s not because I’m confused—it’s because I think you’re the one with the problem.

Can you repeat that? What did you just say?

Your aunt and Harry Potter?

"Isn’t your aunt, like, over a hundred years old?" Aberforth asked, trembling as he pointed at Newt. "Even if Harry Potter is the legendary wizard from a century ago—Merlin’s beard, I forgot to ask for his autograph—he’s only thirteen now! Are you seriously trying to pair him with an old lady? Get a grip, Newt!"

As he spoke, Aberforth’s white beard quivered, his emotions clearly in turmoil.

Newt knew Aberforth had misunderstood.

And, well, without clarification, it was an easy mistake to make.

"It’s like this, Aberforth," Newt began, trying to explain properly. "My aunt, for Harry’s sake, practiced the magic of Muggle Animagi, using a unicorn’s lifespan to hold on until Harry’s return in 1991... but something went wrong in the process, and now she’s stuck in a form between a ghost and a unicorn..."

"Oh," Aberforth said, still not entirely clear.

"But don’t worry, Aunt Poppy still looks seventeen," Newt added softly.

"I see..." Aberforth mulled it over before asking, "So she’s stuck looking like that forever?"

"Mr. Flamel says there might be a way, but not yet," Newt replied.

Aberforth fell silent.

"I suggest you help Newt, Aberforth," Gellert said with a chuckle. "Aren’t you moved? A young girl, for the sake of her beloved, willingly turned herself into something neither human nor ghost just to see him again. What a tragic love story! I’m practically in tears..."

As he spoke, he lowered his head, wiping away crocodile tears with his sleeve.

If you didn’t know Gellert’s true nature, you might actually fall for his act.

"And what about your sister?" Aberforth snorted. "Your own flesh and blood! You, you despicable creature, not only stole the dowry she prepared for herself but now want to sabotage her and her beloved? Is only Miss Poppy’s love story moving? Aren’t you touched by your sister crossing a century, sealing herself away just to see Harry? Your worm-ridden heart doesn’t surprise me one bit—you’re only fit to be Satan’s plaything!"

Bloody hell...

Gellert cursed inwardly.

How could Aberforth’s words hit so hard?

It was like a sledgehammer pounding relentlessly at his heart.

"I’m warning you, goat boy! Don’t you dare talk about me like that!"

"This isn’t personal, Mulert," Aberforth said, standing up for Veratia. "That’s the sister who raised you! Is this how you repay her? Not only do you fail to produce heirs for the Grindelwalds, but you’re also blocking her from pursuing her love? Have I ever seen a creature lower than you? You deserve to be whipped by Azazel in the abyss of chaos a thousand times! A thousand times!"

"I think you’ve gone too far, Grindelwald," Newt chimed in. "I appreciate that you’re helping my aunt, but after what Aberforth said, I think you... well, at the very least, you shouldn’t stand in your sister’s way."

"You’re so naive, Scamander!" Gellert snapped. "Haven’t you realized I’m a dark wizard? And you think my sister isn’t? Do you really believe she’s some pure little flower?"

"Isn’t she?" Newt asked, stunned.

"Let me tell you something," Gellert said, slamming the table. "The Diricawls of the British Isles? She drove them to extinction! When suppressing the Ashwinder Rebellion, she never took prisoners! If I’m a radical, she’s a conservative—because she thinks I’m too soft!"

Newt stared at Gellert, dumbfounded. He knew of Gellert’s prophetic gift.

That future... could it really exist?

No, impossible.

Miss Grindelwald was so gentle, so exceptional, with love in her heart. How could she be anything like Gellert?

But...

Gellert did have the gift of prophecy...

As Newt wrestled with his thoughts, Aberforth burst into laughter.

"Hahahahaha!" Aberforth roared. "Newt, you can’t be serious. You’re not actually buying his nonsense, are you? My God, prophecies can be fabricated! Do you really believe a word he says? I’m telling you, I wouldn’t trust a single syllable of his so-called prophecies!"

Newt glanced back at his wife, Tina.

"Was I fooled again?" he mouthed.

Tina looked at him with pity and nodded.

Clearly, he’d been duped again.

"Think about it, Newt," Aberforth continued. "How many times has Miss Grindelwald beaten him? She even made him work to pay off her losses! He must hate her guts, so he’s spinning this lie to turn us against her. He’s using us! Don’t you see?"

Newt’s eyes widened in realization.

"That’s it!" he said, glaring at Gellert. That was close—he’d nearly fallen for it!

Gellert took a deep breath.

Fine...

These foolish mortals...

"But I must warn you," Gellert said, "my sister carries a highly dangerous dark magical artifact..."

Before he could finish, Aberforth’s laughter cut him off.

Aberforth slapped his thigh, howling as if he’d heard the most absurd thing.

"Hahahaha! A dark magical artifact!"

Pointing at Gellert, Aberforth laughed mockingly.

The Scamanders couldn’t hold back either, chuckling softly.

"I’m not joking, goat boy!" Gellert said, exasperated. "I’d bet anything that tiara of hers is an utterly evil dark magical artifact!"

Aberforth and Newt exchanged a glance and burst out laughing again.

"Yes, utterly evil," they said in unison, barely containing their amusement.

Gellert took a deep breath.

He stood up and stormed toward the exit.

Fine. He wouldn’t waste his breath on these mortals...

If they regretted it later, they couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them!

"Hey, don’t go, Mulert!" Aberforth called after him. "Tell me more about your sister’s dark magical artifacts!"

Gellert drew his wand and cast a silencing charm on his ears.

He was done trying to convince this goat boy. It was just asking for trouble.

How could someone be so stubbornly obtuse? Gellert wondered. They were brothers, so why was Albus so pleasant while this goat boy was not only mediocre but so hotheaded?

If Gellert put himself in Albus’s shoes, he could hardly breathe: a father in prison, a mother gone too soon, a volatile brother, a sick sister, and a broken man.

Merlin’s beard...

But, on second thought, Gellert decided he needed to talk to Dumbledore about this.

He’d start with his sister’s dark magical artifact.

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