Chapter 311: Exile
A blazing fire filled the small room with warmth.
Every now and then, tiny sparks leapt from the stove, bounced across the dusty floor, glowed briefly...
Then disappeared.
It was a modest single-story cottage.
Old.
Worn.
Several bamboo baskets lay scattered on the floor.
A rusty drying rack stood in one corner, hung with thick rope nets.
The room carried the faint scent of fish and candle wax.
Everything about it spoke of a fisherman's life.
The old coal stove was stained with years of soot and grease.
Two thick ropes stretched across the ceiling, from which hung rows of smoked sausages, cured meat...
And countless smoked fish.
Outside...
Relentless rain battered the fragile windows.
The wind occasionally slipped through the cracks in the walls.
Yet beside the stove, the room remained comfortably warm.
---
For the time being...
Draco Malfoy and Fleur were staying there.
During their escape from the island prison of Nurmengard, they had lost their bearings at sea.
Fortunately...
A fisherman happened to discover them while returning from his day's work.
When he found them, the two were clinging desperately to a makeshift raft, drifting wherever the current carried them.
Assuming they had survived a shipwreck...
The kind-hearted fisherman had taken them home.
By then...
The eastern horizon had only just begun to brighten.
Out at sea, it was almost impossible to judge the time.
Only the changing sky offered any clue.
Despite the chaos surrounding Grindelwald's escape...
The two of them had successfully slipped beyond the reach of the German Ministry of Magic.
For the moment...
They were safe.
---
Fleur sat beside the fireplace in a rickety wooden chair that looked ready to collapse at any moment.
A thick towel was wrapped around her shoulders.
Her eyes remained closed.
Long eyelashes trembled slightly.
Her delicate brows were unconsciously knitted together, as though enduring discomfort even in her sleep.
Her beautiful face had taken on an unhealthy flush.
Every so often...
She coughed softly.
The warmth of the fire was the only reason she wasn't lying in bed.
"Just a fever..."
Draco quietly checked her condition before letting out a small sigh of relief.
"It doesn't seem too serious."
The tension between his brows finally eased.
Unlike his hurried escape from Hogwarts nearly a year earlier...
This journey had been carefully prepared.
Before leaving Britain, he had stocked various medicines and potions.
He had expected danger.
The only time he had truly been caught off guard...
Had been that first night fleeing Hogwarts.
Ever since then...
Every step had been planned meticulously.
For now...
All he could do was wait for Fleur to wake.
---
Draco walked over to the rain-covered window.
Raindrops distorted his reflection upon the glass.
His thoughts drifted back to the endless sea.
The Polyjuice disguises were gone.
The twins' masks had not survived the seawater.
Now...
Both of them had returned to their true appearances.
The German Aurors had reacted with astonishing efficiency.
After their initial confusion...
They rapidly organized a pursuit.
The moment they realized the escaped prisoner was none other than Gellert Grindelwald...
Reinforcements flooded toward Nurmengard from every direction.
Countless Aurors searched both the island and the surrounding coastline.
Returning by their original route had become impossible.
The entire country had gone on high alert.
---
Yet...
Just as the Aurors prepared to begin a comprehensive search...
Something entirely unexpected happened.
A large group of elderly witches and wizards suddenly rushed forward...
Blocking their path.
Many had completely lost control of themselves.
Their eyes were bloodshot.
Their emotions bordered on hysteria.
Most of them were former prisoners of Nurmengard.
Years earlier, after serving their sentences, they had settled in the nearby town.
For the sake of social stability, the German Ministry had quietly tolerated their continued presence.
After all...
Most were elderly.
Their magical strength had faded.
They seemed harmless.
Allowing them to remain together near the prison was considered less troublesome than forcing them back into society.
The Ministry trusted its own ability to maintain order.
Never imagining...
That even in old age...
These people remained living time bombs.
And tonight...
Every one of them exploded at once.
---
The storm that night had never been destined to remain peaceful.
The silver lightning deliberately summoned by Grindelwald struck Nurmengard's tower.
The prison's highest point—
A symbol of endless solitude and inescapable imprisonment—
Collapsed beneath the blast.
The brilliant flash illuminated the entire sea.
It marked...
The beginning of chaos.
The tobacco merchant abandoned his stall.
The old baker rushed out of his shop.
Customers drinking in the tavern.
Former guards.
The townspeople.
Everyone who heard Grindelwald's triumphant laughter poured into the streets.
They surged toward the prison walls.
To them...
Their leader had returned.
As loyal followers...
They had to offer whatever strength remained.
"Grindelwald!"
"Grindelwald!"
"The holy war never ends!"
"The holy war never ends!"
Their voices echoed through the storm.
Wands—acquired by unknown means—were raised high into the air.
Spell after spell rained toward the advancing Aurors.
Most were only minor curses.
Yet...
Their sheer numbers made them dangerous.
The Aurors found themselves in an impossible situation.
Their enemies behaved like fanatics.
Fearless.
Completely irrational.
But Aurors were still law enforcement officers.
Against Grindelwald...
Lethal force might be justified.
Against hundreds of elderly civilians...
It was another matter entirely.
The wizarding world, with its far smaller population, valued every life even more cautiously than the Muggle world.
There was no death penalty.
Nor could they simply massacre a crowd.
It took the Aurors a very long time to suppress the riot.
Even after so many years...
The small town surrounding Nurmengard still possessed astonishing strength when united behind the man they had never stopped following.