Chapter 319: Grandfather and Grandson Reunited

Outside Nurmengard Castle, Austria.

Standing before the stark, shadowy tower far removed from civilization, Wentworth gazed up at the inscription hanging over the entrance to Nurmengard Castle—For the Greater Good. His emotions were, understandably, conflicted.

In the chill of the Austrian mountain winds, Wentworth couldn't help but take a deep breath. For a fleeting moment, it was as though he saw a man in a long, high-collared black coat standing beneath that very slogan. Before him stood the first wizarding force ever assembled to resemble a true army.

They chanted in unison, wands raised high, voices hoarse as they pledged their unwavering loyalty to the figure beneath the tower.

"Wentworth?! Are you listening? Wentworth!"

The vision dissolved at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, snapping Wentworth out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes to meet the wise, piercing gaze of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked steadily at him, then began to speak, each word carefully measured.

"Gellert was the one who first suggested I send you to Nurmengard during the holidays. I was against it. I believed that with me at Hogwarts, I could guide you well enough to become an exceptional wizard."

He paused here, his eyes drifting almost unconsciously toward the slogan above the entrance. His expression deepened, as though recalling something long buried.

Seeing this, Wentworth asked with perfect timing:

"What made you change your mind, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore turned back to face him, his voice laced with nuance.

"Because… you're still far too weak."

Wentworth: "...???"

Well then. That shut him up.

Dumbledore pressed on:

"You know, around your age, Tom Riddle was already conducting his own research into the Dark Arts. And Gellert… he'd already been expelled from Durmstrang for it."

He studied Wentworth as he spoke, shaking his head slowly.

Wentworth: "???"

Before he could respond, Dumbledore continued:

"All signs point to it—Tom Riddle is on the brink of returning. I've long suspected it. For years now, I've been preparing for that eventuality, devising plan after plan. But none of them satisfied me. Not until you appeared."

"Truthfully, you and I both know—I originally intended to use you, and the Alliance, as a countermeasure against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But today, what I want to tell you is this: regardless of everything else, you are my student. I don't want anything to happen to you."

He looked up then, toward the very top of the tower.

"Come. The people here will help you."

"They say only magic can defeat magic. Likewise, only a Dark Lord… can defeat a Dark Lord."

Wentworth fell silent at these words. Then, with a faint smile tugging at his lips, he replied:

"Professor Dumbledore… I never expected you to say something like that."

Dumbledore blinked at him slowly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Do you know why, all these years, nearly every witch and wizard has seen me as the most powerful wizard alive?"

Wentworth shook his head.

"I've never been afraid to change," Dumbledore said plainly. "And here's a little secret—"

He pointed up toward the slogan above the door and said softly:

"That phrase… 'For the Greater Good'… I was the one who first said it to Gellert."

Wentworth's eyes went wide in disbelief.

Before he could respond, Dumbledore gently patted him on the shoulder and stepped inside the looming tower.

Wentworth quickly followed, trailing behind the headmaster as they climbed to the highest point of Nurmengard.

When they reached the top and stepped into a dimly lit room, Wentworth was stunned by the sight that greeted him.

Before him stood an elderly man, worn and ragged, his clothing tattered, his presence frail—but unmistakable.

This withered figure was none other than Gellert Grindelwald—the one who had once plunged the entire magical world into chaos and fear.

As Dumbledore and Wentworth entered, Grindelwald remained seated on the lone wooden cot, gazing out through a narrow crack in the black stone wall, watching the world beyond. He spoke without turning.

"My dear Headmaster Dumbledore, have you been playing the role so long you've gone soft in the head? Still preaching to your students even here?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the barb, unbothered. Instead, he gave Wentworth a light push into the room and said:

"There. I've brought him to you. The rest… is between the two of you."

At that, Grindelwald finally turned. He looked at Wentworth—standing there awkwardly—and frowned slightly.

Wentworth straightened, then called out:

"Grandfather!"

Grindelwald took a deep breath. Then, with a snap of his fingers, ghostly blue flames erupted along every wall. They bore a striking resemblance to the Fiendfyre that Wentworth had once conjured with ancient magical runes—but the difference in power was staggering. A flicker of firelight compared to the brilliance of sun and moon.

Bathed in eerie light, Grindelwald finally spoke:

"Albus wants me to help shape you into someone capable of defeating his finest former student. I agreed. Do you know why?"

Swallowing hard, eyes fixed on the inferno not far from him, Wentworth shook his head.

Grindelwald slowly rose from his cot.

"They all say I lost to Albus," he said. "Hah. I want you to prove I never did. I didn't lose—I just didn't feel like playing anymore."

Wentworth nodded eagerly.

"I understand, Grandfather. I'll defeat Tom Riddle—I swear it!"

But Grindelwald didn't respond. He walked over, and without warning, gave Wentworth a sharp smack on the back of the head. As Wentworth flinched in pain, Grindelwald leaned close and whispered:

"Idiot. I don't want you to just beat Voldemort. I want you to play the game bigger than he ever did. And classier, too."

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