“My dear, I heard you had a conflict at school.
Don’t worry, you will always have family backing you up.
Whatever you want to do, be bold and do it.” That was the entire content of the letter.
The moment he finished reading it, Leon immediately shifted his gaze toward Munin.
This time, Munin didn’t choose to play dead.
The moment Leon looked at it, the raven nodded directly, admitting that it was the one who had tipped off his family.
“You aren’t an Animagus, are you?” That was the only explanation Leon could think of; after all, Munin was smart to an absurd degree.
But Munin merely shook its head, then stretched out a wing and pointed at the head of the bed.
Leon followed Munin’s gaze and noticed that, somehow, a dry twig had been placed on his bed.
He picked up the twig.
It was very light, the texture was rough, and in every way, it appeared to be an ordinary branch.
But the next second, Leon felt a terrifying suction force emanate from the branch.
In an instant, he and the branch vanished from the room.
He struggled to regain his senses from that indescribable, dizzying sensation.
Before he could even steady his footing, he felt a bone-chilling cold drilling into his marrow from every direction.
“Achoo!” He reflexively sneezed.
Leon hurriedly looked around and discovered, to his surprise, that he had suddenly appeared in a dim forest.
“Where on earth did this bring me?
And who is so cruel?
Leaving a Portkey in my dormitory!” Realizing he had been teleported here, it was obvious that the branch—the culprit—must have been a Portkey.
Just as Leon stood there, lost and bewildered, Munin flew out from somewhere and landed on his shoulder.
Munin’s appearance dispelled some of Leon’s anxiety.
Although they hadn’t been together for very long, Leon trusted the raven.
He just wasn’t sure why this Portkey had appeared in his dormitory, or if his mother had been the one to send it.
After all, if it had been a Portkey from his mother, the one providing him with a sense of security right now should have been his mother, not Munin.
“Where did you take me?
Or rather, who wants to see me?” Leon moved about, trying to warm himself up.
Once he felt a bit better, he asked Munin.
Munin took flight from his shoulder and circled around him.
“You’re going to lead the way?” “Caw!” Munin gave a cry and flew off in a certain direction.
What else could Leon do?
He had no choice but to follow.
Fortunately, Munin was a bird with a conscience; during the journey, it would occasionally land on a nearby tree branch, waiting for Leon to catch up before continuing to lead the way.
It was fortunate that the moon was bright that night and the forest wasn’t overly dense, allowing moonlight to filter through the canopy and provide some visibility.
Otherwise, wandering around in the pitch-black night in a place like this, he would likely have tripped over his own feet after just a few steps.
After following Munin for about twenty minutes, Leon finally emerged from the forest, and the sight before him left him stunned.
Surrounded by mountains on all sides, the area was desolate and barren.
The only building in sight was a tall tower standing not far away.
What left Leon completely speechless was the stone tablet standing before the tower.
Carved upon it were the words: For the Greater Good.
As for who this phrase represented?
Leon, of course, knew.
The lifelong love and lifelong enemy of the “old bee” [Dumbledore], the man who nearly overturned the International Statute of Secrecy and waged war against humanity—the first Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald!
This, then, must be Nurmengard, the prison where the first Dark Lord was held captive.
“Hey, hey, hey, this has to be a joke, right?
Grindelwald wants to see me?
Why?” Leon’s heart was in turmoil.
A Portkey leading directly to Nurmengard had appeared in his room, and since Nurmengard currently had only one prisoner—Grindelwald—the answer to who sent the Portkey and who wanted to see him was blindingly obvious.
It was precisely because it was the only logical answer that Leon felt so astonished; he had no idea what kind of connection he could possibly have with Grindelwald.
His last name wasn’t Grindelwald, and his mother’s wasn’t either—at least, he didn’t think so.
Now, Leon wasn’t so sure.
“Caw, caw!” Just as Leon stood there lost in thought, Munin noticed he had stopped moving.
It flew back, pecked at Leon’s hair, and signaled for him to stop slacking off.
Leon snapped back to reality.
He took a deep breath, then followed Munin along the manually carved stone steps, walking toward the tower.
When they reached the main entrance, Leon stopped.
“There aren’t any curses or defensive spells here, right?” After all, this was the prison holding Grindelwald.
Even if he hadn’t seen any guards along the way, the prison itself might not be so simple.
Leon didn’t want to rashly break in and lose his life.
Munin didn’t speak; it simply flew directly into the tower, using its actions to tell Leon that it was safe.
Only then did Leon dare to step into the tower.
There was nothing special inside; it was empty.
While there were cells, the cell doors were rusted and broken, clearly no longer capable of keeping anyone confined, and there were no prisoners inside now.
Munin waited for Leon by the staircase opposite the entrance.
“Well, I’m already here, so I might as well go up.
It’s just a pity I came in such a rush and didn’t bring anything with me.” Leon knew his only option now was to keep going up.
After a self-deprecating remark, he began to climb the stairs.
He didn’t stop until he reached the top of the tower, where Munin flew ahead into a corridor and slipped into a cell.
Following closely behind, Leon finally saw a second living person in this empty prison.
It was a very gaunt old man wearing nothing but tattered robes.
However, his hair and beard were neatly groomed, and his face, where the bone structure was clearly visible, possessed a pair of sharp, bright eyes that didn’t look like an old man’s at all.
Those eyes were currently fixed on Leon.
“Leon John.” Under the old man’s gaze, Leon bowed slightly and introduced himself.
“Child, there is no need to be nervous.
I am now just an old prisoner who has lost his freedom and power.
Come, sit down; I would like to have a chat with you.” Grindelwald revealed a gentle smile and gestured for Leon to come into the cell and sit.
Leon nodded and stepped inside.
There was a stone bed inside with a tattered thin blanket on it.
Other than that, there were no windows; to see the outside world, it seemed one could only rely on the narrowest cracks between the black stones.
This environment, impoverished to the extreme, coupled with Grindelwald’s identity, made the whole situation feel absurd to Leon.