Despite Hermione's prior warnings, the Grangers had tried to mentally prepare themselves for the sheer "filthy rich" status of a certain young tycoon.
However, when they stepped out of the sedan sent by old Mr. Alfred and arrived at New Nurmengard Castle—nestled deep within the snow-capped mountains—they were still hit by a wave of pure shock.
"Hermione," Mrs. Granger whispered tentatively, "who exactly is this classmate of yours?"
At home, she had heard the "Little Beaver" mention Kyle's name plenty of times, but her understanding of him was limited to him being a "relative of the Hogwarts Headmaster."
Looking at the castle before them… was this really the kind of property a "Headmaster's relative" would own?
Hermione, who had been asked the question, found herself momentarily tongue-tied as well. Although she knew Dumbledore's family was wealthy, she hadn't expected them to be this loaded.
She recalled the conversation between Kyle and Dumbledore she had accidentally overheard at the Great Hall entrance that day.
Grindelwald…
Wait! She seemed to remember now!
Albus Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog Card!
Among Dumbledore's widely known achievements, there was one specific entry: Defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945!
Ever since meeting Kyle—the "Fake Dumbledore"—Hermione had consulted a vast amount of material regarding Albus Dumbledore. However, those books were often vague about the personal relationship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, offering only fragments of information. That was why the realization hadn't clicked for her until now.
As far as she knew, the private relationship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald was actually quite close.
If Kyle really was a direct descendant of the legendary Grindelwald, then many things would suddenly make sense.
The massive family estate…
As a former Dark Lord, even after his fall and the subsequent purges by various Ministries of Magic, it was perfectly normal for a small portion of assets to have been transferred in advance and left behind. This "small portion" was only small relative to a Dark Lord's entire fortune; for an ordinary person, it would be an astronomical sum.
Then there was his proficiency in the Dark Arts, and how he could kill someone in Knockturn Alley without so much as blinking…
As the descendant of a Dark Lord, wasn't that perfectly normal?
As for Kyle temporarily using Dumbledore's surname…
That was even easier to explain.
Because of the pain Grindelwald had once inflicted on the wizarding world, if Kyle's true identity were exposed to the public, he would undoubtedly become a target for everyone. Given the personal friendship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, it was only natural for Dumbledore to provide sanctuary for this "Future Little Dark Lord."
Noticing her daughter's expression had suddenly turned a bit pale, Mrs. Granger asked with concern, "Hermione, what's wrong?"
The Little Beaver shook her head. "It's nothing, Mom."
She couldn't exactly tell her mother that they were currently staying in the lair of the First Generation Dark Lord, could she?
Besides, the current Grindelwald… he should still be rotting in a cell back at Nurmengard Castle, so they wouldn't have to face the man himself. Kyle was usually so friendly toward his friends, and since Grindelwald didn't discriminate against Muggles the way Voldemort did, her Muggle parents should be perfectly safe as guests in Kyle's home.
This thought allowed Hermione to relax slightly.
Seeing her daughter's complexion improve, Mrs. Granger felt relieved as well.
However, only a few minutes after Hermione's heart had settled, it leaped right back into her throat.
Because she saw the true master of this castle—Gellert Grindelwald.
The age gap between Dumbledore and Grindelwald was no more than two years; they were effectively contemporaries. So, the moment Hermione saw the elderly man before her, who possessed the same heterochromatic eyes as Kyle, she identified him instantly.
At such an advanced age, surely Grindelwald couldn't have a rebellious younger brother like Dumbledore did, right?
Hermione swallowed hard in terror.
I've accidentally broken into the lair of a bloodthirsty Great Dark Lord. What should I do to escape successfully?
Waiting for answers online. It's urgent.
While Hermione was suffering from various forms of restlessness in the Little Dark Lord's home, over in Britain, our Savior, young Harry Potter, was continuing to suffer at his uncle's house.
Thanks to the "tank" sent by the three Weasley brothers last summer, Harry's treatment at Vernon's house had improved significantly compared to before. At the very least, the Dursley family of three no longer dared to bark orders at him.
Having lived through the Cold War, the fear of a "Steel Torrent" forged of tanks was etched into the hearts of Europeans. They were terrified that Harry would call in a fire mission from the wizarding world, so their attitude toward him had improved—slightly.
But it was only "slightly."
They went from constant verbal abuse to simply ignoring him. It was a policy of "living in peace without interference," as if Harry didn't exist in the house at all.
Even so, Harry didn't find life at the Dursleys much happier than before.
Although his magical belongings weren't locked in the cupboard by Vernon like they were the previous year, his life on Privet Drive offered nothing to do other than writing boring History of Magic essays. He couldn't do much else outside of school.
Riding a broomstick or practicing spells was out of the question. He had received a warning from the Ministry of Magic last summer vacation, and on the first day of the school term, six Muggles had witnessed the flying Centurion Star Destroyer. If he continued to cause trouble and got caught by the Ministry, he might actually be expelled from Hogwarts.
Hiding under his blankets, Harry grabbed the calendar sitting on his nightstand and incessantly calculated the time.
There was still a month and a half before he could return to Hogwarts—to the place he dreamed of day and night.
He missed Hogwarts so much.
He missed the ancient, elegant castle and the wonderful classes—especially Professor Snape's "friendly" Potions class—the joyous feasts in the Great Hall, and the strange creatures Hagrid kept in that little hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest…
He missed the friends he had made at Hogwarts immensely.
Ron, Hermione, Kyle, Draco…
That's right. Since the incident where they collectively raised an offspring… or rather, raised the Norwegian Ridgeback, Norbert, Draco and Harry had become good friends.
For some reason, though, Harry always felt that the way Draco looked at him was a bit strange sometimes—specifically when Harry crossdressed as "Harrie" for Potions class.
It was as if Draco's gaze was laced with something… unhealthy.
"Harrie" had noticed Draco peeking at her several times during Potions. But whenever she turned her head, Draco would always quickly avert his eyes.
Still, this didn't affect their friendship. It was just that Ron and Draco still couldn't stand the sight of each other. The two of them would go at it the moment they met, often leaving Harry caught in a "bro-lem" in the middle.
Harry missed them dearly.
But they didn't seem to miss him at all.
An entire half-month had passed, and he hadn't received a single letter from his friends.
To be fair, he couldn't blame some of them. Hermione had mentioned before the holidays that she was going to France for vacation, and Kyle was basically "out of contact" every summer.
But what about Ron and Draco?
The Burrow, where Ron lived, wasn't far from Harry's location on Privet Drive—at least not for an owl. By communicating through owl post, they could send two or three letters a day. Ron might not be writing because his owl, Errol, was simply too old to deliver mail anymore.
But what about Draco?
Wiltshire, where the Malfoy estate was located, was also not far from Privet Drive, and the owls in his household weren't exactly "past their retirement age." Yet, Draco seemed to have forgotten him entirely, failing to write even a single letter.
Harry wondered if it was because he had tricked Draco's father, Lucius, out of a house-elf. Perhaps Lucius had forbidden Draco from associating with Harry, which was why Draco hadn't written.
A wave of intense resentment toward Lucius suddenly surged in Harry's heart. He huddled under his covers, muttering to himself incessantly.
He looked exactly like a young daughter-in-law who had just encountered a wicked mother-in-law.
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