A castle in Austria was known as Nurmengard. Few people knew that name, because the nearby Muggles could not approach it, while those who did know of the castle kept that memory buried deep in their hearts.
Many wizards had once been imprisoned here, and the last person locked inside was its builder—Gellert Grindelwald.
Speaking of people's memories of Grindelwald, he too had been a Dark Lord. Perhaps he had not been as vicious and cruel as Voldemort, but the turmoil he had stirred up back then had swept across the entire Wizarding World. Even the Magical Congress in the United States, across the ocean, had been run ragged trying to prevent Grindelwald's invasion.
Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald had been more like a radical revolutionary. What made people fear him was that he did not believe in preaching. He believed only in powerful magic and served only greater interests.
Even after several decades, the words above the castle gates—"For the Greater Good"—still stood quietly there. Though corroded and rusted, they remained, like their master, an indelible gray mark in wizarding history.
And now, an eye-catching white intruded upon that field of gray.
The castle's exquisitely sophisticated defensive magic and powerful traps were utterly useless before him.
"Try these. I just got them." An elderly figure placed a pile of unknown food on the table. "Compared with these Austrian sausages and steaks, I still prefer Lemon Sherbet. Unfortunately, I've already finished them, and there aren't any here."
The old man in robes spoke as if to himself, nothing more than an old fellow who liked talking to himself.
"Though they're better than before, my teeth are quite uncomfortable." An aged voice came from the corner, where an old man with white hair and beard was curled up. Deep wrinkles told the