Nurmengard Castle, before their eyes, appeared utterly grim and uncanny. Amidst the sprawling mountain range, a tall castle, starkly modern and minimalist in style, exuded a peculiar sense of dark austerity, a creeping chill incessantly bubbling up from one's very soul.
This was the prison Gellert Grindelwald had constructed during his reign to incarcerate his opponents. And, with a bitter irony, it was Grindelwald himself who was ultimately confined within its walls.
"Sometimes, I wonder if Headmaster Dumbledore commands such immense respect precisely because he didn't slay Grindelwald, but rather imprisoned him," Lockhart mused, gazing up at the towering edifice that pierced the clouds. "Of course, that's a malicious speculation; I am privy to some of the events that transpired behind the scenes."
Yet, sometimes certain truths simply presented themselves this way. Lockhart considered: if Harry Potter hadn't vanquished Voldemort, but instead imprisoned him in a castle only he could control, would he not, at the very least, have become the Minister for Magic?
Emmm…
Lockhart let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head and dismissing the thought himself. Harry's inner frailty and relatively modest magical prowess were insufficient to bring about such a feat.
But it was a line of thinking, nonetheless!
For Voldemort's most unique Horcrux, the diary, was in his possession.
Harry couldn't do it, but he could!
"Vincent, tell me, how does one compel an exceedingly powerful wizard to alter a decision and conviction he has held for nearly five decades?"
Crabbe looked a bit bewildered, unsure why the professor was posing such a question. Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't understand, but you said to find solutions based on characteristics. I suppose that's the approach."
Lockhart burst into laughter, gazing with immense satisfaction at this seemingly slow-witted yet profoundly intuitive student. "Yes, a perfect answer."
Extracting Grindelwald from Nurmengard was no simple matter. Old Gellert could never be a placid individual, and his release would undoubtedly cause an abrupt and thorough upheaval of the world's entire order, as well as thoroughly enraging Dumbledore.
The bond between Dumbledore and Grindelwald wasn't solely one of affection; the political alignments and influences behind them entangled an untold number of wizards. It was truly no trifling affair.
This had already touched upon Dumbledore's fundamental interests and bottom line. Dare to meddle, and Lockhart truly believed he might well be done in by an enraged Old Dumbledore.
This was why Lockhart had told the still somewhat naive Forest Witch that he could only promise to exert his utmost effort to try, but dared not guarantee success.
In fact, the method for releasing Grindelwald from Nurmengard was already plainly evident.
It was right before them.
Lockhart smiled as he tilted his head back, looking at the inscription above the prison castle's main gate: "FOR THE GREATER GOOD!"
The world knew this as Grindelwald's philosophy, yet few realized that it had originally been proposed by Dumbledore himself.
Find solutions based on characteristics!
Perhaps, at a certain moment, for the greater good, Dumbledore would actively release Grindelwald!
What was that characteristic?
It was the very softness within Dumbledore's heart!
Lockhart keenly perceived the weariness within Dumbledore—a weariness from ceaselessly contending with the current era, a weariness from struggling against the various bizarre methods of the evil overlord Voldemort, a weariness from a future that held little expectation.
And such weariness was clearly insufficient. While the era, under Dumbledore's influence, hadn't seen immense progress, it was still moving in a positive direction. Voldemort's Horcruxes, too, were being systematically destroyed, one after another. As for the future, Dumbledore actually looked forward more to the new journey after death.
Thus, it was still not enough.
The situation needed to reach a point where Dumbledore realized he could no longer cope, thereby prompting this seemingly powerful figure to consider whether it was time to release Grindelwald to assist.
"I am influencing this era…"
"I am also influencing the Dark Lord…"
Lockhart's lips curled slightly. "And now, it's time to influence them themselves. Even the strongest fortresses are often most easily breached from within."
Oh, this little wizard…
I am truly a scoundrel, aren't I?
"Come, let us go pay homage to a powerful wizard capable of altering an era."
Aside from Grindelwald himself, there were no other souls within this castle. However, all beings must eat, drink, and perform other necessities. If there truly were no one else, Grindelwald would have starved to death in this very castle long ago.
Even the most powerful wizard cannot subsist on merely breathing.
Leading Lockhart into the castle was a house-elf.
Interestingly, Lockhart recognized it. "Dobby-doo?"
Yes, this house-elf was named 'Dobby-doo,' a Hogwarts house-elf who had previously helped collect clothes from his office for washing.
"You remember my name?" Dobby-doo was visibly delighted, a joyful smile gracing his face. Then, realizing his lack of reverence, he swiftly bowed. "Professor Lockhart, good day to you."
"Good day, good day," Lockhart greeted Dobby-doo, beckoning him forward. "So, Nurmengard's operations are actually supplied by Hogwarts?"
Dobby-doo, clearly oblivious to the subtle implications of Lockhart's words, nodded. "Yes, we rotate house-elves to come here to clean and make repairs, and deliver food here daily."
One might imagine Hogwarts in the Scottish Highlands and Nurmengard in Austria to be worlds apart, but thanks to the house-elves' powerful spatial travel abilities, daily meal deliveries were hardly more arduous than traveling from the Hogwarts kitchens to the Headmaster's office.
"Does Dumbledore visit often?" Lockhart asked with interest.
Dobby-doo's face contorted in alarm. He glanced left and right, even though there was likely no one else present, vigorously shaking his hands and large head. "Professor, you mustn't ask me such questions. I cannot answer."
"Very well," Lockhart said, not pressing the house-elf, and gently smiled, letting it lead the way.
Experiencing the prison castle up close, he clearly felt the pervasive presence of powerful magic, a unique kind of castle magic, perhaps even several types.
Such magical knowledge was typically inaccessible to ordinary wizards, almost entirely monopolized by ancient pure-blood families, never meant for wider dissemination.
For instance, the protective charms of Hogwarts Castle itself were not known to every single school governor. Occasionally, should they find themselves at odds with the Headmaster, the governors might find themselves unable to even enter the school without an invitation, even if they knew its true location, they would only find ruins.
Walking through Nurmengard prison castle, powerful magical energies permeated every space.
A dreadful chill incessantly emanated from one's very core, tormenting the spirits of all living beings within. Even a house-elf like Dobby-doo was affected.
It instinctively drew closer to Crabbe, finding solace in the magical resistance emanating from the 'Soul Fire' glowing on the ground around the boy.
Finally, passing one magical guardian after another (similar to the sculpted guardians at the entrance to Dumbledore's office), and ascending flight after flight of stone stairs, they at last arrived at the uppermost cell.
The cell was not large, a small chamber with stone walls on all sides, containing only a stone bed and a somewhat tattered thin blanket. The window in the wall was so narrow it resembled a mere crack in the stone.
A rather gaunt old man sat quietly on the stone bed, silently gazing at the sky beyond the narrow window, motionless.
Lockhart frowned, looking at Dobby-doo beside him. "Dumbledore keeps him confined like this?"
To live in such an environment for nearly five decades… he honestly wondered if he would go mad in such circumstances!
If he truly had gone mad or become twisted, Lockhart certainly wouldn't want Dumbledore to release this dark wizard. Grindelwald was far more terrifying than Voldemort!
Dobby-doo subtly gestured towards the cell door, where there was no lock whatsoever. Its long, slender fingers then quietly pointed towards the floors below.
Oh~~~
Understood.
A trick!
You almost made me laugh out loud.
Playing house, are we?
So, this spot was Grindelwald's reception room in Nurmengard? A display window for an external image?
The hearts of politicians are truly cunning. Whatever they wish to convey outwardly is already deeply ingrained in their very being, interwoven into every detail of their lives.
Lockhart rolled his eyes, feeling too weary to quip about it.
"Greetings, Mr. Grindelwald!" Crabbe stepped forward and pushed open the door. Lockhart entered, performing a standard wizarding bow to the old man.
Grindelwald turned, smiling at him. One peculiar, shimmering eye gleamed, and the corners of his mouth curved upward. "At last, it is confirmed. I see a different future in you!"
Lockhart's gaze sharpened. Only then did he fully grasp that the man before him was the most extraordinary 'Seer' among wizards.
He didn't know how powerful a Seer truly was, but he had experienced 'time adventures' twice. Once, using Corban's bloodline magic, Voldemort inexplicably gained an old friend. The other time, with Snape's potion, Snape broke free from the shackles of time, gaining the possibility of a new life and a regret-remedy that allowed him to rewind.
But these were 'present to past,' whereas a Seer was 'present to future.' Lockhart truly didn't know what such magical power entailed.
He had experienced a similar magical power once: Sybill Trelawney's prophecy, which had foretold his death and Voldemort's death.
Terrifying and utterly bizarre!
Lockhart maintained an unperturbed expression, offering a gentle smile. "Is that so? How wonderful. It means I've truly carved out my own magical path. Magic is life, and life is full of adventure, so the future will naturally be different."
"Yes, different," Grindelwald said, gesturing to a stone slab embedded in the wall opposite, resembling a table or bench, inviting Lockhart and Crabbe. "Please, sit."
"Magic is life, an intriguing notion."
He sighed faintly, placing the copy of Lord Voldemort: A Pure-Blood Supremacist with a Muggle Father?, which had several bookmarks protruding from it, aside. He looked at the Soul Fire flickering around Crabbe's feet with interest, nodded, and then turned back to Lockhart. "'Magic above all'—that is simply the most fascinating slogan I have heard in decades."
A peculiar smile, almost involuntary, spread across his face. "I can imagine how much of a headache Dumbledore must have looking at you. 'Magic above all,' hah! That cuts far deeper into the heart of this era's pain than 'Wizard supremacy' or 'Pure-blood supremacy'."
"Oh, no, it isn't like that," Lockhart countered. "Mr. Grindelwald, this isn't a political stance. It's merely a passionate love for magic itself; it should be pure."
Grindelwald was full of jest. "Let's pretend you're right, but your followers won't see it that way."
Lockhart shrugged nonchalantly. "I won't be bound by anyone. I don't wish to be, and no one can push me around!"
"Interesting!" Grindelwald laughed, nodding, seriously scrutinizing the young man before him. "As a Seer, I am willing to seek answers from the river of time and offer you guidance: one about life, and one about magic."
Lockhart paused, instinctively thinking of Professor Trelawney's prophecy for him. He swiftly interrupted Grindelwald. "Oh, no, thank you. I believe I can walk my own path in life, and I believe my magic will naturally blossom within it."
"Too late!"
Grindelwald smiled, raising his hand. "From the moment you agreed to Ms. Benites, my follower, the Forest Witch, it was already too late."
Bang!
A powerful magical force warped the entire space. Streams of oddly joyful, silvery-white light were ripped from Lockhart's being, like writhing, uncanny slime, continuously sparking with electricity in mid-air.
That was the nearly Obscurus-like Patronus Lockhart had guided Tom to release!
Lockhart sharply rose, raising his wand. "Obliviate!"
Powerful magical energy swiftly clashed with Grindelwald's.
Outside the prison castle, the turbulent clouds in the sky suddenly erupted with streaks of lightning. Beside him, a small golden-haired figure, cloaked in red, appeared. A plume of black smoke shot from his pocket and slammed onto the ground, transforming into the tall, inverted figure of the Hanging God, wielding a colossal axe. The werewolf's invisible form shimmered on the walls. In a flash of silver light, a winged horse savagely bit at the silvery-white light in mid-air, preventing Grindelwald from stripping it away.
More importantly, the Augurey had, at some unknown moment, quietly appeared on Grindelwald's arm, its eyes wide open and fixed intently upon Grindelwald's own.
"Oh! How frightful!"
Dobby-doo, the house-elf at the prison door, stared at the scene in disbelief.
It didn't notice the long-bearded old wizard standing in the shadowed corner of the corridor outside the cell, silently observing the spectacle.
Nearly five decades. Imprisoned for almost five decades, and Gellert hadn't changed at all. Still utterly restless.
And this restless old fellow, encountering a restless young one, was truly quite amusing.
Dumbledore plucked a cockroach cluster from the plate he held and tossed it into his mouth, watching the magical duel between the two men with keen interest.
Chewing contentedly.
Boom!
A bolt of lightning struck the iron-barred window nearby, illuminating half his face, which was alight with a wide smile.
read lots story at patre***
always update and finish
ilham20 only for 3$