Chapter 360 The Trial of the Dead on the Living

"Grindelwald, what do you want!"

Dumbledore asked Grindelwald loudly through the firewall.

"Oh, Albus, long time no see," Grindelwald bowed politely, watching the wizard pointing at him with a wand around him as if nothing, he turned his head to look at the magnificent scenery in the sky, and sighed, "I never Imagine a day like this, Albus."

"What?"

"I can stand on the moral high ground and accuse you, I have to say, this really makes people feel... intoxicated."

"I suggest you take us out of what you call 'you,'" the grumpy old wizard said disapprovingly, "Grindelwald, we are not with the fools of the Magical Congress of America."

"I understand," Grindelwald nodded, "That's why you are still able to stand here healthy and comment."

"But where do you stand now—"

"Shh-"

Grindelwald put his left index finger against his lips, interrupting Dumbledore's questioning. Under the watchful eyes of wizard leaders from all over the world, his right hand holding the wand was raised like a band conductor, as if he had returned to the Triwizard Tournament ball. The Bob Bowie moment takes center stage.

And the bursts of explosions from the restless flames were like a heavy metal rock music that bombarded the eardrums, replacing the sound of the howling wind in the air. The members of the band——the blue flames surrounding the crowd swelled violently under his command, and abstract faces of irony and arrogance faintly appeared in the flames, just like himself standing proudly among the crowd.

The blue Fierce Flame burst out with even more astonishing heat waves, even distorting the surrounding air, and the surrounding area of ​​the flame core was rendered with a faint red layer, and then, the red spread rapidly, and the surrounding wall made of Fierce Flame was actually shattered. Dyed a violet-like elegant lavender.

Dumbledore covered his face with his sleeve and took two steps back. He knew better than anyone else that this beautiful flame contained heat far beyond cognition. Backed back again and again under the threat, the witch who had angrily scolded Speaker Jackson in the Woolworth Building said in surprise, "Is this Fiendfyre...?"

"It's much more violent than I imagined, and it seems that Grindelwald's flame is stronger."

Dumbledore waved his wand quickly, and four walls of turquoise water appeared around the wizards around him. The cool moisture quickly dispelled the scorching air for them. The distorted air also caused the water wall to continuously emit steam. The vision of Dumbledore and his party was quickly covered by the dense water vapor, and they didn't even notice that the lost fog scattered from the gap in the sky had enveloped them.

Under Grindelwald's control, the lavender Fiercefire climbed up the water wall made by Dumbledore, forming a delicate shell like a birdcage like a vine. The thick pillar of fire gradually became solidified, and then When the dome was finished, a purple, colosseum-like structure of flames rose out of the field.

"This is... a court for public trials."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, and the memory returned to the Norwegian forest.

"That's right, Albus, for the trial, this kind of building is undoubtedly the most suitable," Grindelwald smiled, put down his wand, and walked leisurely through the American wizard, through the wall of fire, through the curtain of water, into the After entering the building that was almost exactly the same as Dumbledore's public trial, he stood beside him and enjoyed watching the increasingly solid light in the sky, "During that trial, I saw from the Wizengamot's verdict that Their unique understanding of justice is that they don’t know whether there will be more universal justice coming to this world today?”

Dumbledore looked over the water and fire, and fixed on Nelson and Tom in the center of the beam of light. He approached Grindelwald and whispered, "What do you want? You will destroy them like this!"

"Repression is what destroys a person, Albus," Grindelwald shook his head, "wait and see, I have far more confidence in your students than you do."

Dumbledore wanted to say something more, but the sudden mist covered his vision. The next second, in the dense mist, a cloud-like railway track appeared above his head. He lowered his head and looked at his hands. , understood that at the moment he was in a blurred illusion.

"Woo..."

The sound of the siren came from a distance behind them, and everyone turned their heads. A train painted with beautiful red paint was spouting steam and galloping along the rails. The wheels passed through the riveting gap, and there was a rhythmic impact sound. , complemented by the sound of flames bursting.

The moment the railroad tracks appeared, Tom and Nelson lowered their hands and walked aside silently. The gate to the land of life and death had been opened, and their mission with the Hallows was completed.

"One can never make any decision for another, whether it's forgiveness or revenge."

Nelson repeated the instructions of the soul, half-kneeling on the ground, and together with Tom, turned the old wand upside down and inserted it into the pure white ground, then took off the ring in his hand, and carefully put it on the wand.

"What are they doing?"

Dumbledore suppressed his tension and asked curiously.

I don’t know since when, the building built by Grindelwald with Fiercefire has become several times larger. It is like moving the Colosseum in Norway into the illusion. Passing through, those American wizards who were locked in the cage of Fiercefire were currently staying in the center of the Colosseum in a daze, bound by ropes condensed by purple flames, kneeling on the ground in the most humiliating gesture.

The towering Roman pillars are engraved with human memories, and the story from birth to death is told around the building. White torches are inserted on the pillars, and blue flames burn in them, illuminating the place brighter than daytime.

Dots of light are suspended in mid-air, like passengers waiting for a bus.

Grindelwald raised his eyebrows. The moment he entered the Colosseum, he lost control of Fiendfire. He was afraid that Fiendfire would cause damage uncontrollably. He originally wanted to use magic to regain control, but burned it outside. At this moment, all the flames are peacefully like a real rope, peaceful and serene.

"It seems that they are still short of the last sacred artifact. I didn't expect that what we are after is really so powerful." Grindelwald looked at Nelson and Tom in front of the trial seat with interest. The building is too big. Already, the Colosseum, which can seat ten thousand people, has only a few hundred people including the saints. It is so empty that it is lonely. The dark old magic wand is inserted into the judgment seat with a ring on it, and the resurrection stone is shining breathtakingly. "I really trust my great-aunt now."

"Woo..."

The sound of the whistle became louder and louder, and the sound of the axles was like dense and chaotic drumbeats, as well as the sound of a heartbeat. Finally, a white shadow fell from the top of the head, and the train stopped over the Colosseum, and the silver light behind Nelson followed suit. His arm climbed up his arm and wrapped around the ring inlaid with the resurrection stone.

"boom!"

A gust of wind picked up, and the Invisibility Cloak wrapped around the tip of the Elder Wand was raised high like a banner, spreading out a starry sky in front of Nelson.

A sense of dizziness hit all the wizards present, and when they opened their eyes again, whispers like a bustling city suddenly sounded in their ears.

The points of light disappeared, and did not disappear.

Dumbledore looked to the other side, and saw an old man sitting next to him at some point, he was hale and hearty, with a smile that a man of his age with a happy family and a happy life should have on his face, even though he was wearing a body that was pale from washing. In green, with a weathered postman's hat on top of his head, he held out his hand to Dumbledore and greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Mr. Dumbledore, my name is Leonard, and I am a postman."

Dumbledore suppressed the confusion and surprise in his heart, turned sideways, and took the old man's hand.

The hand was nothing like he'd imagined it to be—it was warm, dry, and calloused, almost like... no, just a normal hand.

"I'm making you laugh, Mr. Dumbledore," the old man scratched his head with a silly smile, "shaking your hand in disheveled clothes, but I have a whole set of high-end suits in my suitcase, which my daughter bought for me. More than ten dollars!"

Dumbledore shook his hand stiffly, but said nothing.

He proudly patted his chest, then lowered his head desolately, "I should have listened to her, I always wanted to save it for formal occasions, and I also wanted to save it for my son-in-law, so I have no chance to wear it now."

Dumbledore felt the weight of the old man's hand, and he covered the other hand and patted it hard.

He looked around blankly. At this moment, the stands around them were densely packed with people. There were men and women, old and young, tall and short, fat and thin. There were more than a thousand people. But the stadium, which can accommodate ten thousand people, seems crowded and heavy at the moment.

Nelson and Tom, one on the left and one on the right, one in black and one in white, sat on the clerk's seats on both sides of the judge's high-back chair, holding the vacant chair between them, looking expressionlessly at the bound defendants.

There is no one on the high-backed chair belonging to the judge, but the starlight occasionally sprinkled through the invisibility cloak, it seems that there are countless people sitting on it, and it is like a stone door covered by a curtain, opening to those who stare at it .

A broken wooden chair appeared in front of the American wizards, just in time for Piqueli who just raised his head to see, and Nelson's voice rang in her ears.

"Ms Serafina Piqueri, please take a seat."

"Where is this?"

Picqueli raised his head and looked around blankly.

"It's ridiculous," Grindelwald commented to Dumbledore. "This is the field they want to reach in their study of Hai Erbo's Horcrux, but when they actually got here, she started to be afraid and confused."

"In fact, she should never come here, unless she died like me," Leonard said from the side, "but if she really died, then she wouldn't stand there."

"Oh? You know a lot," Grindelwald moved closer, and chatted with the old man through Dumbledore. "What did they do? Of course, if you don't want to tell me, I won't ask."

Dumbledore looked at the people in the auditorium, but he didn't hear the conversation between the two of them. Those pale and blurred faces flickered frantically. Their souls seemed to be mixed with the accumulation of remains and black magic. Indistinguishable from each other, but with the passage of time, their faces have gradually become clear and clear, and their conversations have become louder and louder. They are all saying goodbye to this life before going to the next stop .

This reunion-like scene of old friends made Dumbledore feel emotional, but the scene on the trial seat was completely different.

The wizards behind Piqueli are almost all people who know the inside story here. They bear the endless abuse from the audience, writhing on the ground with painful expressions like a maggot, and black blood oozes from their mouths and noses, spilling The ground polluted the pure white floor to the point of filth.

The old man chatting with Grindelwald also raised his head from time to time, spitting at the dock.

Picquery is quite calm at the moment. As a retired former speaker, she has nothing to do with the affairs here. A kind of sin, after experiencing so many things in just half a day, she now has only one thought in her mind - "I shouldn't have come".

"I remember that she was still a guy who could be called a righteous person," Grindelwald sighed, "She was the one who caught me in prison in the United States, and she was an out-and-out black beauty at that time, Just a little bit arrogant."

"No one is more domineering than you, Gellert," Dumbledore sat down with peace of mind, and when he saw that neither Nelson nor Tom was sitting on the judgment seat, his hanging heart finally let go, and came forward The vast majority of wizards here are different. Of course, he also cares about Horcruxes, the crisis of the world, and those innocent victims, but what he cares most about is the safety of his students. He is afraid that they will be involved in something difficult to end. He became the target of public criticism. Thinking of this, he breathed a sigh of relief, "Fortunately, they didn't act on their will. For everyone, this may be the best result."

"How can you say that, Mr. Dumbledore," Leonard asked displeasedly, "They are the most noble people I have ever seen, but I agree with your last sentence."

"Feel sorry."

"Ding--"

The ring on the Elder Wand hit the wand with a crisp sound, and Piquelli stood up as if lost in his soul, and sat down on the wooden bench in front of him.

The world suddenly fell silent.

In the next second, more than a thousand travelers in the auditorium who were about to go to the next stop straightened their backs and spoke.

"The court is open!"

The combination of neat and powerful voices reverberated in the air, as majestic and majestic as Huang Zhong Dalu, and as shocking as the hammer of a magic hammer.

The train overhead was beating exciting drums, and in this pure white that could not tolerate any variegated colors, a trial of the dead against the living began.

Time passed slowly, everyone was sitting in place solemnly, only the sound of pressing the shutter became the only noise.