Squib

Hearing Rosier's words, Wentworth was stunned. It took him a long while to grasp what being a Squib meant.

So I'd transmigrated for nothing, huh?

He wasn't some senior who'd been called the Scottish Round-Faced Fat Chicken's nemesis. He'd clearly arrived in the Wizarding World, only to end up with that look of hesitant reluctance on his face.

As a devoted Harry Potter fan, now that he'd arrived in this world, how could he not see all the wonders it had to offer?

Never mind anything else, he had to visit Hogwarts! The British Ministry of Magic's one and only designated school, with one-stop enrollment for ages eleven to eighteen. It even spared students the headache of choosing where to go next.

At that thought, Wentworth suddenly realized something and hurriedly asked,

"Grandma Rosier, I'm eleven this year. By rights, I should receive an owl letter from Hogwarts this year. Only if no letter arrived could that prove I'm a Squib!"

"But it's only July. Hogwarts doesn't start until September 1. Maybe my owl's still on its way!"

Hearing Wentworth's words, Rosier looked at him regretfully and shook her head.

"Wentworth, it seems you really do know a lot about the Wizarding World. You're right about all of that, but unfortunately, we've already learned that the last owl carrying an admission letter completed its delivery and returned three days ago!"

Rosier's words left Wentworth utterly despairing. The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance kept at Hogwarts had never made a mistake. If he hadn't received an admission letter, that could only mean he truly had no magical talent.

For some reason, Filch suddenly came to mind.

Seeing Wentworth's crestfallen face, Rosier's expression softened with sympathy. She could only offer him some comfort.

"Come now, Wentworth. Don't be like that. There's nothing wrong with being a Muggle. The Wizarding World isn't as wonderful as you imagine. What happened tonight isn't unusual here."

"In fact, we've done plenty of things like this ourselves. Staying away from the Wizarding World and all its troubles at least means the Grindelwald Family's bloodline won't die out."

Although Rosier's words had left Wentworth enough time to plan out how he'd use a small amount of money to buy the Quidditch World Cup, then invest in a few companies like Amazon, Apple, and Google, and achieve financial freedom by the time he was around thirty,

a life of doing nothing and making money wasn't the life Wentworth wanted!

But things had come to this. No matter how many regrets or grievances he had, there was nothing he could do. He could only say,

"Thank you, Grandma Rosier, and everyone. Thank you all for saving me tonight! I'm deeply grateful!"

Hearing Wentworth's words, Rosier waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't say that, Wentworth. This was our fault, really. I've been keeping watch not far from you all these years to protect you."

"But when I learned you were a Squib... I'm sorry. When I learned you had no magical talent, I was so heartbroken that I left for a few days to talk with these old friends."

"We went through this same heartbreak once before, with your father! After your grandfather's brother—our Master—was imprisoned, we needed someone to step forward, and that someone could only be a Grindelwald!"

"But your father turned out to have no magical talent. Still, it was all right. We weren't old yet, and we thought we still had a chance. But we never imagined that you, too..."

At that, Rosier, who had been elegant and cold ever since she appeared that evening, suddenly choked up, unable to hold back her tears.

Behind her, the others shook their heads and sighed, sharing her sorrow.

Seeing this, Wentworth hurried to comfort the elderly people before him.

"Grandma Rosier, everyone, it's all right. It really is. The Muggle world is developing quickly too. Maybe before long, its wonders will surpass those of the Wizarding World!"

But to Wentworth's surprise, as soon as he finished speaking, Rosier and the others all stopped crying and stared at him with wide eyes.

"W-what's wrong?"

Wentworth had a sinking feeling. Had he said something wrong and given away who he really was?

"It's just like him, so much like him! Our Master said the same thing to us in Paris back then, didn't he?"

Rosier gently stroked Wentworth's cheek, her eyes distant with memories.

Hearing Rosier's words, Wentworth finally let out a long breath. Just then, he heard a sharp smack against the glass behind him and hurriedly turned around.

"Th-that's an owl, isn't it?!"

"Quick! Let it in!"

"Break the glass!"

"Accio, owl!"

The room descended into chaos!

Let's turn back the clock a little. Just as Su Xinghe had become Wentworth, in a tower at Hogwarts where no student had ever set foot, a faded quill that had been resting in a silver inkwell slowly rose into the air.

Then the quill drifted over to an old book bound in black Dragon Hide and solemnly wrote a name on its pages: Wentworth Grindelwald.

Professor McGonagall soon appeared outside the Headmaster's Office.

"Sherbet Lemon!"

At the password, the door to the office swung open. Wearing his pajamas, Dumbledore stood before McGonagall: Headmaster of Hogwarts, President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the greatest living white wizard.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall. What brings you here so late? Has something happened at the school? Don't rush; take your time. Would you like a glass of chilled lemonade first?"

As Dumbledore spoke, he gave a gentle wave of his finger, and a glass of chilled lemonade floated over to McGonagall.

But the Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress before him made no move to take it. Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore with a serious expression.

"Dumbledore, the lemonade can wait. There's something you need to know immediately. It concerns the incoming students, and it's urgent!"

At this, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow without a hint of concern, then joked,

"Has a problem come up with the incoming students? You know, Professor McGonagall, I have complete faith in you. I'm sure the problem isn't with Hogwarts! So, something's wrong with one of the new students? Don't tell me one of them ate the owl carrying their letter! Ha ha..."

Dumbledore took a small sip of his chilled lemonade, still smiling as he spoke.