Top-floor prison, Newmondgard, Germany.

Sunlight poured in through the window, on the floor, and on the only table in the cell.

A few slices of bread, a glass of milk, and a newspaper were the simple things that made up the tall figure at the table for the whole morning.

Grindelwald, a generation of Dark Lords, the man who once controlled the entire German wizarding world, now lives an almost Muggle life.

He now looked like an ordinary old man, tall and thin, with a kind face, and he looked like an old man enjoying his old age except that he was still firmly locked up in the top floor of this prison.

However, when he casually picked up today's newspaper, a surprise suddenly appeared on his face.

This is not a German newspaper, but a British one... Daily Prophet, mouthpiece of the British Ministry of Magic.

Who replaced the newspaper on this side?

It doesn't matter — what does it matter, what do they want me to know? or what to do?

Won't it be like not long ago, when you change your room on the fly, and then disguise yourself as an escape, in order to achieve some political goals?

No, it won't be the Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry of Magic won't give him information or talk to him or anything.

Grindelwald smiled, those guys in the Ministry of Magic really thought of themselves as old men in their last years - but when there was something going on in the wizarding world over the years, relevant information would be sent to his desk through various channels, although those things were basically ignored.

Changes in the wizarding world are not easy to do, and those troubles are not serious problems at all - even Voldemort, who claims to be a mysterious man, still can't do anything, his slogans are empty and short-sighted, he can't understand the past of the wizarding world, nor can he see the future of the wizarding world, and he is reckless with his great strength alone.

What's the message this time?

Albus is being forced again by the Ministry of Magic, which he abandoned?

That guy who called himself Voldemort is back again?

Or is it the Britons celebrating yet another victory in the Goblet of Fire?

Obviously it couldn't be the last one—that little thing wouldn't be on his desk, and Newmongaard was his cell, and the cell where he kept his careerists.

As long as he is not willing to go out for a day, those people will not leave here without permission, and the loser should reflect on it in prison.

Grindelwald laughed at himself as he opened the newspaper to see what kind of dessert the guys had prepared for him.

The moment the newspaper was opened, he was stunned.

The originally folded newspaper appeared the moment it was opened, and a face that he was extremely familiar with appeared.

Holding back his surprise, Grindelwald read the text on the front page almost word for word, and then quickly flipped back.

A series of related articles appeared in his eyes, and among those articles appeared one after another names that he was very familiar with, and these names were connected in long lines, eventually pointing to the name Albus Dumbledore.

A single report may be fake, but a whole series of reports, unless the whole newspaper is made up, they can confirm each other's authenticity.

"Wallis!"

A slightly suppressed voice called out to one of the guards, and the young wizard, who was supposed to keep a close watch on the prisoners, quickly approached with an expression of adoration.

"Yes, sir, what is the matter with you?"

"What's the latest anecdote?"

"Karkaroff—the current headmaster of Durmstrang—slapped the table at Dumbledore because Dumbledore had made a series of big things that had messed up the Goblet of Fire. ”

The guard thought for a moment and said in a slightly mocking tone.

"Anyway, it's rumored that Dumbledore is going to be the British Minister of Magic, no-"

In the moment when he was about to add an answer, he suddenly felt that the room was getting colder, and the sunlight did not change at all, but the heat of the light itself seemed to be sucked away.

Then, the sun-drenched walls began to crack, detach, and quickly weather, as if there were countless time turners running on them.

The protective spells that had been applied throughout the tower began to flicker under the force, and then, like the masonry, quickly turned into sand and drifted away with the wind.

When the entire top of the tower was reduced to a flat brick floor, he suddenly had a hallucination.

This tower, alive!