Chapter 300
"I'll go in alone." Malfoy raised his wand in front of Fleur, blocking her path. She had obviously intended to follow him into the room.
"But…" Fleur wanted to say something, but hesitated.
"The person inside is the most terrifying Dark Lord before Voldemort. Even without a wand, I have no idea what could happen in that room. Just stay outside and keep watch. The Aurors should still be able to hold them off for a while." Malfoy warned her, clearly trying to stop her from following him.
To make his point more convincing, he even added, "I don't want to be distracted protecting you."
Fleur's face paled slightly, but she still nodded in the end. She understood what mattered most.
Tracing it back to the beginning, they had come here because of a plan.
A very simple plan.
But Dumbledore had proposed an improved version of it. Originally, the old man himself should have carried it out personally.
He should have been the one to persuade him.
At the time, Malfoy had merely reminded Dumbledore that if they wanted to stop Voldemort from learning the secret of the twin wands and the Elder Wand, then Grindelwald was the key to the latter.
He knew too many secrets. Grindelwald had once stolen the Elder Wand from the famous wandmaker Gregorovitch. As for the Holy Apostles who had once followed him, they were also a powerful force Voldemort would inevitably try to recruit.
Malfoy's original suggestion had only been to protect the former Dark Lord and prevent Voldemort's schemes.
But Dumbledore had offered an even more outrageous proposal.
Break Grindelwald out of prison and let him oppose Voldemort.
"You aren't afraid the two of them might join forces?" Malfoy had asked suspiciously.
"He isn't Voldemort. I know him." Dumbledore had only shaken his head, though something complicated was hidden deep within his eyes.
Originally, Dumbledore himself had intended to persuade his "old lover" personally.
But the plan had been disrupted, and the task had ultimately fallen to Malfoy.
Even so, the old man remained confident. Whether he came personally or not, Grindelwald would still compromise in the end.
"Alohomora."
Malfoy lightly waved his wand at the rusted iron lock, and sparks flashed.
Crack.
The lock fell to the ground and shattered apart.
Time was a terrifying thing. It was said that Dumbledore himself had personally designed Grindelwald's prison. Yet after only a few decades, a simple unlocking charm had solved everything.
Perhaps someone had once thought about reinforcing the defenses here.
But no one was willing to suffer the humiliation of asking.
Who would willingly go looking for a cold reception?
"No one has come here for a very long time. The guards here usually leave the food outside the door." The old man's voice was hoarse as he spoke toward the people outside.
He had already sensed someone approaching.
"Are you here for revenge? The commotion outside earlier was caused by you, wasn't it?"
"Then whose descendant are you?" Grindelwald sat hunched on the broken wooden bed, his thin fingers scratching absentmindedly against the icy wall as he muttered to himself with closed eyes.
"Those who hated me should already be dead by now… but it doesn't matter. Forget it. Just do it already. I've committed too many sins anyway." Grindelwald breathed heavily. Even speaking seemed difficult for him now.
"Your right hand behind your back isn't as obedient as you pretend." Malfoy didn't step forward. Instead, he remained standing by the doorway, calmly observing the old man before him. Behind him, the iron door closed with a heavy click.
"Hah… I really am old. Even a sneak attack gets noticed now." Grindelwald loosened his right hand as though tossing aside a hidden object. He shut his eyes helplessly.
If the intruder had truly been foolish enough to believe that the once all-powerful Dark Lord would surrender without resistance, then they would have died horribly.
No one's will to survive should ever be underestimated.
"I'm not here for revenge, Mr. Grindelwald." Malfoy calmly stated his purpose. By the flashes of lightning outside the narrow window, he silently observed everything inside the room.
"There's a letter for you from Dumbledore. He said you'd understand once you read it."
Lightning flashed repeatedly outside the tower. Thunder rumbled, and for a brief instant the bright light illuminated the old man's corpse-like face before darkness swallowed it again.
The moment he heard that name, Grindelwald's withered hands clenched tightly.
Yet outwardly, he remained motionless, almost like a corpse.
There was a broken table in the corner, one of its legs missing. Malfoy guessed Grindelwald had torn it off himself to temporarily use as a substitute wand if necessary.
What truly caught Malfoy's attention, however, was what rested atop the table.
Stacks of parchment.
Compared to the rest of the filthy room, the table was surprisingly neat and orderly.
Seeing no response from Grindelwald, Malfoy prepared to walk over and inspect them.
"Stop."
Grindelwald suddenly opened his eyes and spoke coldly.
"Why didn't he come himself?" Grindelwald asked icily. A chilling coldness flashed through his eyes. For a brief moment, the old man seemed to return to the terrifying Dark Lord he had once been.
"If I truly wished to leave, who could stop me? Would I need someone to rescue me?" Grindelwald sneered savagely, bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely.
"Nurmengard is a prison I built with my own hands."
A terrifying aura erupted from his frail body.
Even in old age, a dying lion was still a lion.
Only Voldemort at his peak would have been capable of forcing Grindelwald to quietly accept death.
At that point, resistance would have been meaningless. Perhaps he could at least preserve some dignity.
But the person standing before him now was merely a student who had not even reached adulthood. His pride could not tolerate humiliation at the hands of someone like this.
The parchments atop the table suddenly rose into the air and transformed into razor-sharp blades that shot toward Malfoy with cold flashes of light.
"You're still this impulsive at your age?" Malfoy casually flicked his wand.
The paper blades instantly froze in midair before silently reversing direction, returning neatly to the table and stacking themselves even more tidily than before.
"Your control over magic is impressive." Grindelwald slowly raised his head, staring at the blue lightning weaving through the storm outside the window as it reflected in his faded blue eyes.
Perhaps he was lamenting the passage of time.
"So even one of Albus's students has already reached this level at such a young age?"
"Only in name. He never taught me any magic," Malfoy replied calmly.
"Does Albus trust you greatly?" Grindelwald asked tentatively. There was an indescribable emotion hidden within his gaze.
"Perhaps." Malfoy shrugged. For the moment, he failed to notice anything unusual.
For example, the old man's eyes.
"I underestimated you…" Grindelwald suddenly began coughing violently.
"That's true. How could someone capable of replacing him possibly be ordinary?" Grindelwald muttered quietly to himself.