Mr. Grindelwald, History Has Always Been Written by the Victors!

Austrian magical world, Nurmengard.

It was a grim, pitch-black tower. Even in July, Nurmengard, the tower that held the First Generation Dark Lord, remained blanketed in snow.

Golden-red flames flashed at the entrance to Nurmengard, and three figures appeared there.

"Professor Dumbledore, you're about to reunite with an old friend. How do you feel?"

Irina smiled as she looked at Dumbledore standing between them.

Dumbledore's gaze toward Nurmengard was filled with mixed emotions. He gently shook his head, then gestured for Linley and Irina to follow him as he headed toward Nurmengard.

When they reached the entrance of the towering structure, all three saw a line of words, already somewhat blurred by the passage of time: For the Greater Good!

Linley and Irina studied the words thoughtfully, though no one knew what they were thinking.

Dumbledore, however, felt bitterness fill his mouth. He stopped looking at those words and led Linley and Irina to the very top floor of Nurmengard Tower.

It was a cold, drafty room where, in bad weather, hail could even smash through the wooden boards overhead. Yet in this room, utterly unfit for human habitation, leaned a frail old man nearing the end of his life.

This old man was none other than Gellert Grindelwald, the Dark Lord who had once stirred the entire world, who had nearly ruled the whole magical world and rewritten wizarding history!

Other than a hard bedboard, the lonely room contained nothing. Clearly, when the International Confederation of Wizards had decided to let Grindelwald imprison himself in Nurmengard, they had never intended for him to live well.

Apart from magically delivering the most basic food on a schedule—food worse even than what a House-elf ate—to ensure that Grindelwald would not simply starve to death, they had provided him with no necessities