Gellert Grindelwald.
That name had once become part of history. But after Grindelwald escaped from prison and the Acolytes resumed their activities, Ministries of Magic around the world often "revisited the past" in the media, finally reawakening people's fear of that Dark Wizard.
Even the mere thought that this might be connected to him seemed to carry an invisible pressure, making the air itself feel a little more frozen.
After a brief dead silence, the people at the same table silently and swiftly gathered their things. Some left money for the meal, others pulled their companions along, and they all rose to leave.
They did not say goodbye to the drunken Oliver. They even deliberately avoided his direction, as if a marked and dangerous zone had already formed around him.
An old wizard in a battered hat, looking like a vagrant, lagged behind by a few steps. As he passed Oliver, he saw the lost look in his eyes and paused in his dragging stride.
"Young man, you ought to learn to watch your tongue."
Lowering his voice, the old wizard quickly said, "Don't be fooled just because Grindelwald seems to have gotten milder lately... If you talk nonsense, you really can die!"
With that, he pulled down the brim of his hat and hurried out the door without looking back.
In the blink of an eye, the previously noisy area had become completely empty. Only Oliver, whose face alternated between red and white, and the stern-looking witch who had argued with him earlier remained seated.
The witch frowned at Oliver and asked, "Who exactly are you? What is your purpose in spreading those sorts of claims here?"
Panic flickered in Oliver's eyes. He grabbed his glass and gulped down a mouthful, then forced himself to say, "Me? I was