[73] When Legends Stir

The next day.

"Hall Weasley?"

Hearing someone call his name, Hall instinctively turned around.

"Stupefy!"

A flash of red light.

"Take him away, quick, quick!"

Several people quickly surrounded him, hoisted Hall onto their shoulders, and started running.

Hall sighed inwardly — what a mess.

If he hadn't seen the insignia on their cloaks as they passed, he would have tried the Unforgivable Curses without hesitation.

A triangle, a circle, and a vertical line.

The Deathly Hallows — the symbol of Gellert Grindelwald's followers, the Saints.

Hall was curious why they were looking for him. He'd already given himself two days off, and since he had nothing better to do, he might as well visit Nurmengard and see the legendary Grindelwald.

He wasn't worried about escaping; he still had Helena's venom in his bag. If all else failed, he'd give it to Grindelwald to try.

As for home — when he'd sensed someone following him, he'd already written to his family, saying he'd be spending the night at the Leaky Cauldron with Sirius. He wasn't worried about Sirius exposing him; the man had been busy with Black family affairs lately.

Carried on someone's back through Apparition, after a rugged journey, they seemed to be climbing a steep cliff.

Hall silently congratulated himself on his brilliant decision to feign unconsciousness.

With a deafening roar, the gates slowly opened. They had arrived.

Nurmengard.

He felt himself being transferred to another creature. He guessed it might be a house-elf based on the altitude change. The elf began traversing the castle.

With his eyes closed, Hall couldn't accurately perceive time, but the elf seemed to walk for a long while.

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Finally, they stopped before a door.

"Come in," a hoarse, aged voice said from inside.

The door opened. The elf carried Hall into the room.

Hall was filled with anticipation. He knew who lived here.

"Master, he has arrived," the elf said, full of respect.

"Put him there."

"Yes, sir."

Hall felt himself placed on the cold, damp floor.

"You may leave."

"Yes, sir."

The door clicked shut. The elf had left.

Remarkable — the house-elves here all moved on foot. Normally they used Apparition. It was one of their racial abilities. Of course, more often than not, that was because their master didn't want to see them.

Could there be a restriction here even stronger than the cave, preventing Apparition?

Hall lay there, eyes half-closed, for some time.

Just as he was about to drift off, the aged voice coughed twice.

"Boy, how long are you going to keep up this act?"

He noticed? Hall was surprised. This playing-possum trick was George and Fred's pride and joy. They'd used it countless times to fool Mum's room checks. Even the house-elves hadn't noticed he was awake.

Hall's heart tightened. No wonder he was the first Dark Lord — not to be underestimated.

He slowly opened his eyes, shifted, and sat up. He dusted himself off and looked around.

The room was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from an oil lamp on a worn wooden table. The lamp flickered weakly, seemingly about to be swallowed by the darkness. The entire room looked haphazardly assembled from rough stone blocks.

Using the faint light, Hall surveyed the room: a simple bed, a dilapidated table, a three-legged chair. Nothing else.

A figure sat cross-legged in the corner, wearing a faded garment. The lamplight couldn't reach him, leaving his face in shadow. But from his surroundings and clothing, he was an old man living in dire poverty.

Gellert Grindelwald, imprisoned in Nurmengard.

"What brings you here?" Hall didn't stand up, staying seated on the floor, propping his chin on his hand. He honestly couldn't understand why this man wanted to see him. They had no conflict, no connection — except perhaps through Dumbledore.

Questions flooded his mind.

The old man kept his gaze fixed on Hall, never wavering. It gave Hall a chilling feeling — being stared at by a cold-blooded creature. But he'd spent plenty of time with Helena; this pressure was nothing.

"Hahaha..." the old man let out a hoarse laugh, a voice that hadn't been used in a long time. "I didn't expect the variable to be a mere twelve-year-old boy."

"Sir, I don't understand." Variable? Hall frowned, remembering something from long ago. Legend said Grindelwald had precognitive abilities.

If he was the variable, did that mean the future had already changed because of him? Hall couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

He decided to feign innocence. "Sir, I'm just an ordinary student about to enter my second year. Bringing me here will make my parents anxious. They'll ask the Headmaster for help." He deliberately emphasised: "Do you know my Headmaster is the greatest wizard in history — Albus Dumbledore?"

He watched for Grindelwald's reaction.

"Heh. Don't try to provoke me. I wouldn't have brought you here without thoroughly investigating you first."

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