Be careful, Gilbert, and let go of that damn mouse. The old man looked at the reckless young man in front of him dissatisfied.

"Can a rat grow that big here?"

The rugged boy with yellow hair picked up the squeaky rodent in his hand, the size of two fists.

"It's bigger than anything else. ”

The old man stared at him with displeasure, "The last time my colleague and I came, his arm was bitten off by a wild dog the size of a lion, and now he can't take it back. ”

"Maybe Grindelwald made it. Gilbert threw away the rat indifferently and kicked it into the sewer in the air: "Who is more powerful than him or the mystery man?"

"You can call him a mystery man and call Grindelwald by his first name is enough to say a lot. Another middle-aged man with a bag walked up the stone steps and said quite humorously.

Gilbert pouted, his gaze focused on the distance.

It was the entrance to the top floor of Newmengard, and by the light of the wand, a row of slanted and wild English letters could be seen carved into the black entrance of the tower like flying snakes.

For the greater good.

"What is the greater good for the greater good?" asked Gilbert.

"The most evil wizards usually have the most evil intentions, such as the mystery man, but Grindelwald, and in fact, there are few records about him that the dark wizard's obsession with wealth and power, and more of an unfathomable search for the soul. And why he started the horrific wizarding war fifty years ago is still a huge mystery. The old man at the head said in a dull tone of a history teacher.

"To lose is to lose, Dumbledore defeated him, who cares what he has for his purpose. The middle-aged man said indifferently.

"Hmm,"

The elderly mentor at the forefront was noncommittal: "That being said, I believe that in the last moments of this dark wizard's life, something must have happened that led to the massive lack of historical materials, so that we could not peek into the full picture of that era. ”

"So that's what you did, Professor Werther, to bring us to the place where his life ended up in captivity?"

"After all, we're researchers in the history of magic, so there's nothing wrong with the evidence. ”

The three of them walked into the abandoned tower one by one, and the crows that had been quacking and screaming were silent. The silence was pierced by the sound of the drums, which beat softly like a heartbeat, and the miscellaneous sound of footsteps marching in response to the sound of the drums, the ground was overgrown with weeds, and a layer of white mist wafting from nowhere, and a large area of the stone slabs and bricks of the tower's walls had collapsed in rows, and the moonlight shining in through the cracks and gaps in the roof was unsettling.

"By the way, is he really dead?"

Dark clouds obscured the moon, and Gilbert shuddered, feeling that the place was strange and eerie, and that the courage to kick the rat was nowhere to be found.

"Not sure, Albus Dumbledore only said that he was imprisoned, and did not say where he ended up. The middle-aged man in the team shrugged his shoulders and grinned, "Are you scared, intern?"

"Will he still be alive then?" said Gilbert, horrified.

"Mark, don't scare him. ”

The old professor in the lead said with some displeasure, "I have been to this place no less than five or six times, and there is no one in it for a long time, and the Austrian Ministry of Magic has stopped transporting supplies here since 1945, and even the gods have starved to death in this long river." ”

"Then you're coming," Gilbert couldn't help but roll his eyes while reluctantly.

The four sides are as dark as the picture is a cloud of thick ink, and on the empty ceiling, only spiders rustle and crawl.

The man touched his head, but not the flesh, only a rusty iron cage. His hand bounced off like an electric shock.

Fragmented images flashed through his mind: bald women in wheelchairs, red-haired men in despair, and countless smiling wizards lying unconscious on the ground. Was it real, or was it just a terrible dream?

At the same time, several pairs of footsteps sounded in the floor beneath him.

"Huh..... What's that?"

The sound of the attic was unforgiving, and there were some metal cages rolling.

"I didn't see this last time I came. It seems to be... Birdcage?"

"It's a little thicker than a birdcage, it feels like a cage, and you see, Mr. Mark, there's a hole down there. ”

"Really, what is this for?" someone asked, confused.

"I think it's like a hat"

"No kidding, which neurotic would put a cage on his head!?"

The man who heard the sound got up from the ground little by little, and the nests of several web-weaving spiders were broken by the man's head, and they scattered along the man's neck.

The headache was unbearable, he covered the iron cage on his head, and with such a hard force that some of the dry and weathered mud fell off under his feet, but he did not break free from the cage, and only pressed two unlucky spiders that passed by the iron bars.

"Nightmare... Nightmare..."

He said hoarsely, leaning against the wall, stepping on the stone tiles little by little and walking out.

In the fluorescently lit hallway, several wizards in pointed wizard hats bent over, holding shiny wands, staring at a birdcage-shaped helmet that had just appeared on the ground.

"Has anyone else been here?"

The middle-aged man took out a magnifying glass from his backpack, stared carefully at the metal birdcage on the ground, and muttered to himself: "There are no magic fluctuations... There are no traces of spell casting... It's not like a magic artifact..."

"This area of Newmondard has been deserted for decades, and who else but archaeologists like us will come?" asked the boy, hunching his shoulders.

"Maybe it was left by the staff of Newmond Guard, and if you want me to say, isn't that circle outside still operating?" The middle-aged man took back his magnifying glass, picked up the strangely shaped birdcage hat from the ground, blew the dust on it, and suddenly laughed: "Don't you say it's a hat, Gilbert, or you can wear it." ”

"I don't want it, I want it from a fool. Gilbert immediately hugged his shoulders and refused.

"I'll give you extra credits. The middle-aged man took out a camera from his backpack and shook it seductively.

"Then why don't you wear it yourself!?"

"I've already graduated. The middle-aged man laughed.

"Don't even speak. The old pedant with a full beard frowned and said, "No matter who stayed, don't touch this thing easily for the time being, let's take it back and study it." ”

"It's a pity," the middle-aged man pouted, and threw the heavy birdcage to Gilbert, "No, you take it, I'll go and take a picture." ”

After saying that, he straightened up and took the camera to take pictures and samples around the area. The old man in the lead took out a piece of parchment, wrote and drew on the wall, and from time to time took out his wand and knocked it on the wall, and said something in his mouth.

The mentor and the senior were busy with other things, and the intern Gilbert took the birdcage-like helmet with his own forearm, and looked at the entrance and exit under the birdcage, and suddenly a strange desire surged into his heart.

He wanted to try it with his head in it.

This desire is as uncontrollable as seeing a bubble and wanting to crush it, seeing a nail wanting to pull it out, and seeing a can trying to step on it.

Finally, after a few seconds of mental struggle, he gritted his teeth and decided to give it a try.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned down and burrowed his head in.

The moment he put on the strange birdcage, Gilbert was in a trance.

With that, everything around me changed.

In the originally empty Gothic cloister, there were a large number of figures, each of them wearing ancient black military uniforms, some leaning against the wall, some hanging from the ceiling, and some even lying at their feet, staring straight at themselves with bulging eyes.

But without exception, each of them wore that weird, cage-like helmet on their heads.

Seeing this terrifying and strange scene, Gilbert let out an exclamation and took off the cage on his head in a cold sweat.

"Professor Werther...!!!" he cried out in horror.

"What's wrong?"

The old man turned his head, and the middle-aged man who was taking the picture also turned his head and looked at him in wonder.

But Gilbert didn't say anything more, and when he removed the cage again, the astonishing scene that had just appeared disappeared completely. The hall was empty, except for a few broken carved Roman columns, rusted and broken chandeliers, and a single figure could still be seen.

The old man waited for a while without waiting for the student to speak, and frowned dissatisfiedly: "Don't be surprised, hurry up and take pictures to make records, maybe we can find the lost historical materials of the wizarding world fifty years ago." ”

With that, he continued to write and draw. The middle-aged man shrugged his shoulders and continued to take pictures.

Only Gilbert stood there, his heart pounding, and he was a little unsure that everything he had just seen was his hallucination.

He looked at the long birdcage-like helmet in his hand, hesitated, and put it back on with a shudder.

That's right, he had just seen that strange thing resurface, a large number of modern soldiers wearing birdcages, they were motionless, and they looked almost dead.

It's not the same as the last time I put it on, though.

In the not-so-wide corridor, he saw a strange man holding on to the stairs and slowly walking down, he was as thin as a skeleton, wearing a torn robe that could not be seen clearly, with high cheekbones, his head locked in a birdcage-shaped cage, and a rusty lock around his neck. Long white hair leaked out of the cage and dragged to the ground.

That guy was staring at himself without blinking.

Gilbert was completely panicked, and pulled out his helmet and threw it aside, but this time, even after he threw away the strange helmet, the man with the white hair dragging on the ground did not disappear, he still stood on the steps downstairs, leaning against the wall, staring at himself steadily.

"Professor Werther! You... Look!?" the boy raised his fingers with a shudder.

"What's the matter?" the tutor was upset with the student's interruption of his research from time to time.

But following the young man's fingers, he also saw the tall, thin man who had quietly appeared on the stairs, and the guy looked like a skeleton covered in pale human skin, locked in a cage from the neck up.

"You... Who are you?" the old man immediately raised his wand and pointed at the strange thing in front of him.

The middle-aged man's camera fell to the ground, and he drew his wand without hesitation, pointing straight ahead.

"I... Who is it. The skinny, strange man looked at his palms and seemed to be asking himself this question.

"You... Are you a member of the staff of Newmondard?"

The old man protected the two students, holding his wand, and slowly stepped back.

"Work... Job... Yes, I still have work to do. The man's drooping eyelids lifted slightly, and he repeated, "I still have work to do."

With his inexplicable words, in the shadows of the walls of the empty hall, several people who were also locked in cages slowly crawled out. They are skinny and skinny, and the whole person looks like a zombie crawling out of a coffin.

"The hosts. ”

"The host..."

"The host..."

They whispered as they crawled.

More and more figures crawled out of the darkness, and the strange sight frightened Gilbert, who was not alone just now.....

He hid firmly behind his mentor, rubbing out little by little.

"Master....!"

"The host.... Help me....."

A guy with a cage crawled up to the man's retreat, looked up at him, and pleaded.

In the mist, I saw the scrawny man raise his palm. His five fingers grew and branched out in the night, turning into antlers, and he pressed down on the head of the man begging him.

The antler spikes stabbed through the cage, stabbing the man's head through numerous holes.

I don't know if the emaciated guy hadn't eaten for too long or if he was on the verge of death, and after his head was pierced, he didn't shed much blood. And that guy not only did not have pain and fear on his face, but showed a strong sense of relief.

"Let's go... Let's go..."

With a thud, the man with the birdcage fell to the ground. The old man had a premonition, and frantically urged his students, and the three of them stumbled, and you pushed me and ran out.

The man with the white hair dragging on the ground did not stop him, he stood quietly on the ground and watched the three of them run wildly.

I don't know if it was too panicked or the ground was uneven, Gilbert suddenly fell to the ground in the middle of the run, and he didn't have time to get up. I saw that on the wall, the shadow of the fork suddenly expanded.

The white-haired man's antler-like palm suddenly stretched out. In the blink of an eye, he caught up with the other two who were running away, stabbed through the back of their heads, and stabbed out of their foreheads.

The mentor and senior didn't even scream, and fell to the ground with a thud forward.

"Professor Werther!Mark!!"

Gilbert cried out, he looked at the corpses of his teacher and senior, and thought of the possible identity of the man, he trembled and almost fainted, and he couldn't help himself with fear.

"The hosts... The hosts..."

In the shadows, more and more people wearing birdcage helmets crawled out, and they hugged the white-haired man's thin thighs with their dense palms.

"Master, kill me, kill me"

"Let me be free. ”

"Kill me... The hosts..."

"Help me..."

"Grid... Case... Case... Green... Grindelwald...!?"

Gilbert chattered his teeth as he called out the man's name, and a foul liquid flowed out of his crotch and spread slowly across the ground.

The white-haired man looked at him, his empty eyes regaining some refreshment, and he stepped out of the dense palms, ignoring the pleas of the birdcage-wearing soldiers who crawled out of the shadows, and slowly came to Gilbert.

Long white hair dragged through the urine, and he crouched down.

"Poor child. ”

Grindelwald pressed Gilbert's shoulder and said in a slow but gentle tone, "Don't be afraid, I'll revive you." ”

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5. For the greater good