On the slightly desolate little street, in front of the dilapidated red telephone booth, a flash of golden-red light flared—and the phoenix vanished completely.
Jon bent down and slowly untied the laces of a barely worn leather boot.
Using a Portkey didn't require gripping it tightly; a single finger was enough. Jon extended one finger and lightly pressed it against the boot…
It felt as if a hook had suddenly snagged him and yanked him forward with tremendous force. His feet left the ground as he was hurled through the air, shooting ahead like a gust of wind. He couldn't see anything clearly, while the Portkey clung to his finger as if magnetized.
After a journey that was anything but pleasant, Jon opened his eyes—
He was standing in a dark, dense forest.
The forest was utterly silent. Jon lifted his head and could vaguely see sunlight filtering through the canopy, flickering between the leaves. The light swayed faintly, a little dazzling, carrying an unsettling stillness.
"Portus!"
Jon raised his wand and lightly tapped the leather boot. A faint blue glow spread around the Portkey as it trembled slightly. He then tossed it into his suitcase.
From deep within the forest came a few distant howls. The eerie sounds made Jon frown.
The howls weren't sharp, but low and heavy—more like a feline than a canine. The rhythm also matched Hagrid's classroom description of a "Chimera." A Griffin or a Manticore was also possible.
All of these Magical Creatures were bizarre and dangerous, far from easy to deal with. Jon quickened his pace at once, drawing his wand as he headed away from the howls, toward what should have been the edge of the forest.
As he moved forward, the surrounding shrubs and trees changed at a visible pace—tall growth shrank lower, lush green faded into yellow, and thriving vegetation withered into decay.
At first, he could still spot weaker but highly adaptable Magical Creatures, such as Clabbert or Horklump. But as he drew closer to the forest's edge, even a single caterpillar was nowhere to be seen.
In less than twenty minutes, the gloomy forest around him had turned into a bleak wasteland.
Ahead, the towering structure was now clearly visible.
...
It was a sinister, fearsome fortress.
From a distance, it looked like a metal shell wrapped in iron. The fortress sat atop a modest cliff, and within several miles around it stretched nothing but barren land. Aside from the occasional broken wall or crumbling ruin, there was no sign of life.
Fortunately, from Jon's direction, there was a rough mountain path paved with stones.
Walking along the path was far more comfortable than trudging through sand and mud.
After laboriously climbing the slope, Jon was nearly exhausted by the time he reached the fortress.
Only then did he realize that the structure before him—Nurmengard Castle—was even more massive than he had imagined.
The pitch-black outer walls stood at least two stories high. Despite decades of age, their surfaces remained eerily smooth, offering almost no chance of climbing them.
Above the walls shimmered a pale blue protective barrier, much like the wards surrounding Hogwarts. If anyone attempted to approach from the air, the entire fortress would likely turn into a terrifying beast, swallowing the intruder whole.
The massive gate before Jon was studded with sharp spikes, intimidating at a glance.
"So… how do I get in?" Jon scratched his head, hesitating.
He really shouldn't have worried about whether Dumbledore's frail health might be affected by seeing his aged former friend. He should've just asked him to bring him here. Having a familiar face would have saved him all this trouble.
Still, knocking before entering was common sense, right?
After giving it some thought, Jon found a spot on the gate where the spikes were less densely packed and knocked firmly.
There was no response.
As expected… a prison abandoned for decades wasn't likely to have a gatekeeper.
Just as Jon was about to return to London via the Portkey and then head to Hogwarts to find Albus Dumbledore—
There was a creak.
A narrow crack opened in the black, spike-covered gate.
...
The gates of Nurmengard Castle slowly opened.
An old wizard stood behind them. He looked extremely aged, gaunt and skeletal, and frail beyond measure.
He held a large broom, leaning on it to barely support his body.
"Albus Dumbledore is dead?" the weak old wizard grinned, revealing a mouth with nearly all his teeth missing. "Have you come to inform him of his death?"
"No, no, not yet," Jon hurriedly shook his head. "I'm only here to visit Gellert Grindelwald's cell. Sir… are you the warden of this prison?"
"That's right." The old man leaning on the broom nodded, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Anyone who wishes to enter Nurmengard requires written permission approved by Albus Dumbledore."
Jon quickly took out the permission letter he had just prepared at the Ministry of Magic.
The old wizard merely glanced at it.
"The seal's a bit larger than before," he muttered.
Then he handed the letter back to Jon, raised his broom again, and resumed sweeping the dust on the ground.
"Gellert Grindelwald's cell is at the very top of the tower," he said without turning around. "Follow the white line on the floor. Don't stray from it, and don't touch anything around you… or you'll bear the consequences."
Only then did Jon notice the white line on the ground. Near the entrance, it was hard to make out due to the dust, but farther in, it was much clearer.
The old wizard with the broom was simply sweeping away the dust along the white line, ignoring everything else.
"Alright, thank you very much," Jon said, bowing slightly.
"Go on in. Don't interrupt my cleaning," the old wizard replied slowly.
...
Jon followed the white line deeper into the tower.
The surrounding cells were completely silent, devoid of any sound. The entire Nurmengard Castle is like a dead city, making it all the more eerie and terrifying.
Jon carefully followed the old warden's instructions, staying close to the white line and touching nothing. Along the way, the dust around the line had already been swept clean, making it easier to follow—otherwise, buried under who knew how many years of accumulated grime, the line would have been impossible to see.
Ten minutes later, Jon entered a dark room at the very top of the tower.
It was an extremely bare chamber. The window was nothing more than a narrow slit cut into black stone. Inside stood a stone bed, covered by a tattered, thin blanket.
Other than that, there was nothing at all.