The summer sun shone over the European continent.
Yet a fortress standing atop a desolate mountain peak rejected that light.
It loomed there like a tombstone, rendering the wind around it silent and cold.
Suddenly, a tall elderly man appeared soundlessly in this place, his silver hair and beard tousled by the sea wind.
Sigh...
Dumbledore gazed at the ancient castle before him—Nurmengard.
One of the most famous prisons in the wizarding world. Unlike the overcrowded Azkaban, it held only a single prisoner.
Gellert Grindelwald.
The Dark wizard who had once stirred the winds of Europe. No—according to Grindelwald himself, he was not a Dark wizard at all, but merely an idealist pursuing rights for his own kind.
And his followers, the Acolytes, had always firmly believed that they were walking a great path alongside him.
Dumbledore ignored the surrounding magical barrier, passing straight through the transparent ward as if it did not exist.
Step by step, he approached the ancient castle, his bright blue eyes concealed behind half-moon spectacles.
When he reached the crumbling front gate, Dumbledore looked up at the words carved above it.
Once deep and clear, the lettering had long since blurred under decades of wind and rain.
Yet Dumbledore did not need to see them clearly to recite them.
"For the Greater Good."
"Alas…"
Dumbledore sighed and stepped into the ancient castle.
The elderly Squib guarding the entrance seemed completely unaware of Dumbledore's presence and continued performing his duties.
Unlike Azkaban, which was watched over by terrifying Dementors, Nurmengard was guarded only by a handful of elderly Squibs.
As for why wizards were not used as guards—
It was because when Grindelwald had once been imprisoned in the United States, he had managed to turn the guarding Aurors to his side through words alone.
Even with frequent rotations, after only a few days of conversation, one Auror had willingly sacrificed his life for Grindelwald.
Of course, it made little difference whether Squibs or wizards served as guards.
If the man imprisoned in Nurmengard truly wished to leave, even dozens of elite Aurors would be of no use.
But Grindelwald also knew very well that even if he escaped temporarily, he would still have to face Dumbledore in the end.
What bound him was not any law or regulation, and certainly not any magical barrier.
Dumbledore climbed the stairs. The air was filled with the scent of decaying stone, along with a faint, almost imperceptible, dusty trace of long-forgotten dreams.
At the top of the tower, the door to the sole cell slowly opened.
An old man stood with his back to Dumbledore, facing a narrow window. His gaunt figure was like a broken sword—still straight, but with its sharpness concealed.
His once brilliant golden hair had withered to white, and the voice that had once swayed all of Europe was now hoarse.
"You haven't sent a letter since Christmas. I thought you were short on parchment as well."
Dumbledore did not approach, stopping instead at the center of the cell.
"I was very busy for a time. Now that it's summer, I'm a little more at ease."
Grindelwald still did not turn around, speaking faintly. "It's because of that Boy Who Lived, isn't it?"
"Yes. That child needs to grow. He needs to face Lord Voldemort…"
Dumbledore spoke softly, as if unconcerned with whether Grindelwald wished to hear these musings.
Grindelwald did not interrupt, merely listened in silence.
"I also mentioned another student to you. A Ravenclaw first-year. His talent is remarkable, almost excessively so. He is the most outstanding student Hogwarts has ever seen…"
"And.. He has a magical pet, a quilin…"
Grindelwald finally turned around. His face was deeply lined and half-hidden in shadow, yet his heterochromatic eyes remained piercing.
One eye was a clear, bright blue, while the other was noticeably darker.
Those unusual eyes could glimpse fragments of the future. Though incomplete, it was enough to mark Grindelwald as a natural Seer.
"A quilin?"
Grindelwald was far too familiar with that magical creature. Far too familiar.
He had once attempted to seize leadership of the wizarding world through a Quilin, but alas, he had been stopped by a kind Hufflepuff.
Seeing Grindelwald's interest, Dumbledore no longer remained standing. He walked over to the dilapidated wooden table and sat down.
He picked up the damp cockroach clusters from the table and, without a second thought, popped them into his mouth, crunching them loudly.
"You're still the same. You still like these cheap sweets," Grindelwald said casually as he took a seat as well.
"Heh heh. They remind us that there is still some simple sweetness in life."
Dumbledore waved a hand, and black tea along with several plates of fresh sweets appeared on the table.
"I brought these from Honeydukes. Give them a try."
Grindelwald, who had already lifted his teacup, paused, then picked up a Lemon Drop and slowly unwrapped it.
For a moment, the two fell silent, quietly enjoying what seemed like an entirely ordinary afternoon tea.
"The Lord of the Quilin," Grindelwald said softly after a sip of tea, letting out a low chuckle. "Is the wizarding world about to welcome a new leader? A true leader?"
Dumbledore shook his head, then gently nodded.
Grindelwald, who understood the man before him better than anyone, was genuinely surprised. That reaction meant that even Dumbledore himself was completely uncertain.
Was that young wizard named Lucien Grafton truly so special?
Grindelwald couldn't help developing an interest in him.
"Lucien's quilin is very different from the quilin we know…"
Dumbledore gave a general description of the wondrous manifestations of Lumen, but he did not go into detail about the astonishing vitality contained in qilin saliva and qilin blood.
"It's new. A Magical Creatures expert said it should be a mutation, a very special and powerful mutation."
Grindelwald's mouth twitched slightly behind his teacup. A Magical Creatures expert?
Who else could a Magical Creatures expert mentioned by Dumbledore possibly be?
"That child is only in his first year and has already become an Animagus. In Transfiguration, he is simply beyond normal understanding."
"He has also achieved the Transfiguration of magical creatures. Although I didn't witness the entire process myself, my perception cannot be wrong. It was a complete, thorough reconstruction of the magical circuits involved in Transfiguration, not a mere imitation, but a real dragon."
Grindelwald's hand paused in midair, the teacup suspended between his fingers.
He believed Dumbledore. He trusted Dumbledore's strength, his knowledge, his judgment. Dumbledore would not be mistaken.
"Becoming an Animagus is already astonishing, but the Transfiguration of magical creatures…"
Grindelwald knew well what a genius looked like. He himself was an unquestionable genius, and so was the man sitting opposite him.
But that child named Lucien—could such a display still truly be described as mere genius?
Grindelwald gazed at the rippling surface of the black tea, a faint gleam flashing through his heterochromatic eyes.
Heh..
Interesting...
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