Homecoming from Hogwarts

Completed. Your order
Amosta once again turned his attention to the dying old man beside the bed.

The ambitious revolutionary in the past, one of the most powerful wizards in the history of modern magic. The war storm he set off swept the Dark Lord across most of the wizarding and Muggle worlds, making Albus Dumbledore the legendary name. Gellert Grindelwald has become an inconspicuous old man.

It would be unconvincing to put him together with the current Albus Dumbledore. This was a wizard who was once at the same level as Dumbledore.

The old man beside the bed lost his power, and Amosta felt that the magic flowing in his skinny body was not even as abundant as Filch's.

No one tortured the defeated Gellert Grindelwald. The power of magic came from the heart. His faith was destroyed and his magic power faded.

Amosta stared into Grindelwald's calm eyes. The only thing in his world was himself and the newspaper in his hand.

The fake Augusta Raman, the real Adam Vogel knelt on one knee in front of Gellert Grindelwald, as if worshiping the Holy Spirit, and looked at Grindelwald with eyes full of enthusiasm and hope. He didn't. He glanced at Amosta Blaine, but in his heart he held great expectations for what Blaine would do.

Rumble!
The sound of avalanches hitting the cliffs mixed with the thunder rolling in the low lead clouds, shaking the silence of Nurmengard.

Nothing happened.

Amosta Brain stood calmly behind the door, neither spewing the wrath of thunder nor drawing out his wand, while the old man beside the bed turned over a page of newspaper and quietly read the gold medal current affairs of the "Daily Prophet" Reporter Rita Skeeter was critical of the fact that Barty Crouch Sr. took an extended sick leave and did not move into St. Mungo's.

I don’t know how much time passed - bang!

The pair of square-frame gold-rimmed glasses Adam Vogel held in his hand fell to the ground, bounced a few times, and fell under the simple desk in the room.

As if someone had ripped off his spine, Adam Vogel's fanatical look disappeared. His face was gloomy, and he stared blankly at the old man reading the newspaper. The halo filter in his eyes was gone, and it seemed that he had just seen clearly. What was just a stone's throw away from him was an old man waiting to die.

A trace of ridicule finally appeared on the corner of Amosta's mouth.

"Let me guess,"

Amosta slowly came to Adam Vogel who was lying on the ground, his eyes dropped, and he said calmly,
"From the beginning to the end, the curse attack on Hermione Granger has been a cover. This unfortunate little witch was only targeted by you because of her identity as a Triwizard Tournament warrior who inexplicably fell on her. Do you think this matter I am the one behind this."

Adam Vogel said nothing. He lost his spirit and his gentlemanly and elegant demeanor. Amosta could feel the magic fading from his body.

"--Your target is always me or Dumbledore,"

There was a coldness in Amosta's tone,
"You don't care about Hermione Granger's life or death, but you know that after her accident, Dumbledore and I will definitely be furious about it, and we will do our best to investigate the truth behind it and punish her severely. The instigator behind the scenes. You ordered your adopted daughter to go to the goblin to participate in the gambling game, and bet on an obviously unreasonable bet. You actually wanted to leave clues.

You are well aware of Dumbledore's connections and my relationship with the goblins. If Dumbledore and I have not succeeded in directing our attention to your organization, then this clue will successfully lead our attention to you, eventually."

Amosta glanced at Grindelwald,
"We will find Nurmengard."

Adam Vogel's lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

"You want Dumbledore and I to walk into this cage that no one has set foot in for half a century, and you want us to think that Grindelwald was the instigator of the attack on Hermione Granger.
The Grindelwald you think, the Grindelwald you heard about is arrogant. He doesn't bother to explain that a 'War of the Century' will break out here again.

It doesn't matter if Grindelwald defends himself. He will eventually be 'inspired' by me or Dumbledore, and he will cheer up, walk out of Nurmengard, and lead you in a new 'holy war'. "

"Failed"

Adam Vogel's voice was hoarse like a traveler trapped in the desert under the scorching sun with no water to drink.

Amosta looked down at Vogel. To be honest, he had some admiration for this man in his heart.

Vogel should know very well that once the investigation into Hermione's attack begins, sooner or later, their organization and those wizards who are still obsessed with that arrogant and unreachable dream will sooner or later. will be exposed, and this is the 'wealth' that these people who have been hiding in Tibet have worked hard to preserve for half a century.

And he was determined to give up all this in order to invite the prisoners of Nurmengard to "come out".

His intelligence is also commendable.

Jasna Rozier and Angus Aeschylus were obviously selected to perform the mission after careful consideration.

But he failed in the end.

It was not because of the sanity of Amosta and Dumbledore. The ultimate reason for his failure was that he mistook one thing. He thought that Gellert Grindelwald was still alive.

"You betrayed yourself." Adam Vogel ignored Amosta's analysis. He looked at Gellert Grindelwald with despair.

It was time to settle the matter, and Amosta had no confusion and no interest in saying anything to Adam Vogel.

call out!
Amosta hooked his fingers, and the square eye that fell on the bottom of the table flew into Amosta's hand. He stared deeply into this eye. For a long time, a bunch of flames ignited the glasses, and in the void Amidst the faint roar, the glasses were quickly melted, and in the end not even a trace of ashes was left.

"I won't kill you--"

Amosta said calmly,

"Go to Azkaban."

Then there was a flash of red light, and Adam Vogel passed out on the ground.

The sound of avalanches struck the cliff, and fine snowflakes rushed from the bottom of the cliff all the way to the cliff bank. Nurmengard was surrounded by surging snow and fog.

Amosta stood in front of his desk and looked at the mountains, quietly admiring the scenery he had never seen before.

The thunderstorm in the sky became more and more gloomy, and the frightening light of thunder dispersed the snow clouds and diluted the chill in the air.

After watching for a while, Amosta lost interest in the scenery outside the window, it was too lonely.

In comparison, he still preferred the view outside the window of his office at Hogwarts. From there, he could not only see the coldness of the mountains, the depth of the Forbidden Forest, but also the young wizards on the lawns and lawns of the campus. Having fun on the Quidditch pitch.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts--"

Amosta turned around, put his hands in his pockets, turned his face and looked at Gellert Grindelwald, who seemed not to have noticed what was happening in the room, and was just immersed in his own world. His friendly tone was like I'm saying goodbye to an old friend of many years.

"Is there anything you want me to say to Dumbledore?"

The wrinkled hands holding the newspaper were still stable, but the wind rushing into the room made Grindelwald's gray hair and the newspaper in his hand shake.

But in the end, he did not raise his eyes, which were covered with a layer of white mist, and did not make any sound.

"So,"

Amosta smiled. He took something out of his pocket and gently placed it on the desk that was filled with newspapers and there was little space left.
"I wish you good health, Mr. Grindelwald."

After saying that, Amosta stopped lingering and strode out of the cell with Adam Vogel.

The old man in the cell quietly flipped through the newspaper, page after page, until the thunderclouds dimmed the sky over Nurmengard as dark as night.

Unable to read the text clearly, he finally folded the newspaper. He slowly stood up and came to the desk, staring blankly at the empty snowfield in front of Nurmengarde gate where there was no one left.

The eternal silence of silence.

The old man's turbid eyes fell on the table, a gold pocket watch, which was something left by Amosta Brain.

Click!

The old man did not touch the old but still exquisite gold pocket watch, but he seemed to sense the gaze. The mechanism of the pocket watch automatically popped open, and a photo of another old man and a girl appeared in front of him.

Familiar with
The faces of the two people in the photo looked familiar. Uncontrollably, he reached out and picked up the pocket watch, placed it in front of his eyes and stared at it. As time passed, his hand holding the pocket watch began to tremble.

Wow!
It rains in Nurmengard, which is frozen all year round.

(End of this chapter)