– The Fire Shield Temptation 21: Chapter 21: Uncle Gellert, Let Me Retire You!
– The Fire Shield Temptation “Tch… surprisingly civilized dark wizard?” Isaac stood at the window, watching the intruder use Alohomora on the front gate instead of blasting it apart.
He actually felt a weird sense of pride in Hogwarts education.
“I fully expected him to blow the door off with a Blasting Curse.” Hogwarts really did function like mandatory magical education for most of Britain.
Even the dark wizards had gone through it.
As long as their brains weren’t completely fried by black magic, they still knew which spell fit which situation.
Like using a lock-picking charm on an iron gate instead of turning it into scrap metal.
The moment the dark wizard stepped into the garden, he looked up and locked eyes with Isaac at the upstairs window.
Isaac raised his wand, gave the man a little wave, then stepped back out of sight.
“Hmph.
Reckless little brat,” the intruder muttered, eyes narrowing as he charged toward the house.
“Gellert, I’m curious—do all wizards who study and use black magic eventually turn into brainless lunatics like this?” Isaac moved fast through the house but didn’t run.
He held his wand with steady hands, no fear on his face.
He even had the mental bandwidth to chat with Grindelwald about dark wizard psychology.
His behavior back in Diagon Alley had looked normal enough for a first-year, so the fact that this guy had followed him home without getting suspicious made a twisted kind of sense.
But now?
The dark wizard had literally broken into a kid’s house, walked straight into the garden, and made direct eye contact through the glass.
The kid had waved at him.
Any normal person would’ve stopped to wonder if this was a trap.
This guy didn’t.
He just got more aggressive.
“What’s your definition of a dark wizard?” Grindelwald asked, appearing beside Isaac in his usual elegant old-man form.
He walked calmly a few steps behind, completely unconcerned about the intruder below.
He had every right to be relaxed—his real body was still locked in Nurmengard.
Isaac couldn’t exactly throw the dark wizard there.
Isaac hadn’t seen Grindelwald in days.
He suspected this visit wasn’t really about him at all.
It was about Dumbledore, who was probably hiding somewhere nearby right now.
Well, well.
The old couple was using their first-year “bridge” for a little romantic reunion, huh?
“Wizards who use black magic?” Isaac offered, not entirely sure.
Grindelwald burst out laughing and said that by that standard, at least ninety-nine percent of British wizards belonged in Azkaban.
Isaac was even more extreme than he was.
“More accurately, wizards who abuse black magic,” Grindelwald corrected smoothly.
“A wizard’s will shapes magic, but magic also erodes the will.
Controlled use of dark magic doesn’t twist someone’s personality.
Abuse it, though, and the corruption accelerates.” He gave the simplest example: “Look at my Saints versus the Death Eaters.
My followers never turned themselves into raving lunatics.” Grindelwald clearly had zero respect for his so-called successor.
Back when he was active across Europe, no one had ever called him the “Dark Lord.” He wasn’t a terrorist.
He was a revolutionary, a dictator, even a dangerous criminal—but never a Dark Lord.
Only after Voldemort appeared did people start using that title.
And in the years Voldemort was gone, some tried pinning it on Grindelwald too.
He never officially accepted it.
If anyone ever tried to crown him the original Dark Lord, his first act would be kicking Voldemort out of the club.
His Saints had been people with actual ideals and ambition—no matter how twisted.
The Death Eaters?
A handful of refined egoists and pure-blood power players, and the rest were mostly brain-damaged psychos.
Even Voldemort himself had clearly lost his mind.
Isaac didn’t care how much Grindelwald hated Tom Riddle.
One thing had caught his attention.
If normal, controlled use of black magic didn’t rot your brain, then maybe he could learn some himself?
“Gellert!
Gellert!
How about you teach me your Fire Shield?
Let’s give the British wizarding world a little gas-stove shock!” Truth was, ever since Isaac confirmed this world and started seeing Grindelwald, he’d been obsessed with that spell.
Strong was temporary.
Cool was forever.
And the Fire Shield was both.
Most people never got the chance.
But Isaac was right here—close to the source.
Uncle Gellert, let me take care of you in your old age!
Grindelwald’s expression was complicated.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
More like the look of a man who knew this shameless kid would eventually ask, but still couldn’t believe he actually said it out loud.
The fact that one person could shock him twice in such a short time was genuinely impressive.
In the end all the emotion collapsed into a single exasperated glare.
“Stop dreaming, brat.
You don’t even meet the prerequisites for the Fire Shield.
Can you cast Fiendfyre?
Have you mastered the Fidelius Charm?
What about Legilimency…” By the end Grindelwald was struggling not to laugh.
This kid really thought he was somebody.
Did he think he could master half a dozen advanced spells overnight?
Even Merlin had to study.
“Stick to kid stuff, little one.” With that, Grindelwald vanished.
Isaac wasn’t annoyed.
Uncle Gellert was all bark and no bite.
Because the second he disappeared, Isaac felt a new prophecy vision unlock—something connected to Grindelwald.
This was why seers were called people who played with time.
Not only could they see future scenes, they could experience hours, days, even years of events in just a second or two.
The next moment, the dark wizard burst into the villa’s main hall and came face-to-face with Isaac.
“Stupefy!” “Wingardium Leviosa!!!” Isaac dropped into a crouch, head low, dodging the red Stunning Spell.
A perfectly aimed Levitation Charm hit the dark wizard’s wand and yanked it straight out of his hand.
“Engorgio!” The wand, no bigger than a conductor’s baton a second ago, suddenly ballooned into a full-sized baseball bat.
The dark wizard snatched it out of the air and swung with all his might.
The spell he’d been about to cast died in his throat.