Unlike Azkaban, Nurmengard Tower had no terrifying Dementors, nor did it hold large numbers of dangerous criminals.
This prison had been built for just one man, yet because of that man, it had become famous throughout the world.
That man was Gellert Grindelwald, the existence that had once made wizards all over the world tremble.
The irony was that this tower prison had originally been the headquarters of the Saints, established by Gellert Grindelwald when he was stirring up the world.
Leonard stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the distant tower and taking in this bizarre prison.
His vivid green eyes connected with the vast forest surrounding the tower, marking the Aurors hidden within it.
It was a lonely tower. Though it stood in the real world, it felt utterly cut off from it. Dozens of elite Aurors, hired from various countries by the International Confederation of Wizards, guarded this prison that held only a single inmate.
Although Grindelwald had never shown any intention of escaping, not a single one of the guards here had let down their vigilance.
"But isn't having dozens of wizards guard one person a bit excessive? He hasn't shown any signs of trying to break out either." Leonard looked down at the forest below and shook his head, half suspecting some of the people here were drawing pay for nothing.
But Leonard was not an auditor for the International Confederation of Wizards, and he had no interest in whether anyone here was padding the payroll. He was only here to visit a prisoner.
Even if this visit was not exactly legal.
A light breeze passed by, and Leonard's figure disappeared from where he stood.
No matter how tight the security was here, under the effect of a powerful Disillusionment Charm, even if Leonard walked right past them, they would never see him.
So Leonard crossed the forest without incident and entered the tower.
This tower, once the headquarters of the Saints, might once have been glorious, but now it was nothing more than a weathered ruin left to decay.
Keeping up the Disillusionment Charm, Leonard made his way all the way to the top of the tower. The moment he looked up, he was startled.
It was an entirely ordinary wall, but every inch of it was covered in writing.
These carvings were not just marks used to record time. They also included complex and profound magical knowledge, and even some journal-like observations.
The entire wall was covered in them.
And judging from how the different kinds of text were arranged, the person who carved them had possessed a clear mind and meticulous thinking from beginning to end, without the slightest trace of disorder.
This was not something as simple as writing with a pen. Without the aid of magic, carving all of this by hand would have taken years.
The only person who could have carved it was Grindelwald. As the sole prisoner in this tower, he clearly had no access to magic.
In other words, every single word and every single symbol on the wall had been carved by Grindelwald's own hand.
He really was unexpectedly tenacious.
Leonard paused before the wall for a while. The carvings here had clearly existed for a long time.
The degree of weathering, together with the awkwardness and immaturity in the earliest characters, all suggested that this had been Grindelwald's first "work."
Leonard slowly walked onward, and before long he found a second "work."
Compared with the writing on the first wall, the carvings here were much steadier and more skillful. Even the stiffness of stone-cut letters had somehow taken on a kind of elegance.
A faint tapping sound came from nearby. Leonard looked in the direction of the sound and could not help narrowing his eyes.
Part of the long-neglected top of the tower had collapsed, and sunlight poured in through the opening, lighting up a damaged wall.
An old man in tattered clothes was bent over it, carefully tapping with a carving knife in one hand and a stone used as a hammer in the other.
Although the man's clothes were worn beyond repair, he had still kept himself neat and clean. The hardship of his body had not eroded his spirit. Even now, he remained elegant.
Leonard silently came up behind him and quietly examined what the old man was carving.
It was a picture. The lines were rough, and the composition had its flaws, but at a glance it was obvious what it was.
It seemed to be a landscape, depicting a valley. Though the stone carving lacked detail and color, Leonard could still feel the nostalgia within it.
Sunlight fell across this less-than-perfect picture, and for a moment it seemed to carry with it a kind of joy.
Leonard found himself drawn into the image, unconsciously trying to read the old man's feelings from it.
"What do you think of this picture?"
A hoarse voice suddenly startled Leonard awake.
Leonard snapped back to himself, surprise flashing across his face as his eyes fell on the old man.
The old man still had his head lowered, wholly focused on his work, as if the one who had just spoken had not been him at all.
Leonard touched the living tree vine on his face that he had been using as a disguise, then simply revealed himself and asked, "How did you notice me?"
The old man carefully carved the leaves in the picture until they took shape, and only then did he slowly say, "Because of the disharmony."
"What?" Leonard was taken aback.
"It seems you haven't come into contact with that yet." The old man slowly straightened up. "Then pretend I said nothing. Still, I am curious what a young man as capable as you is doing in a heavily guarded prison like this, looking for an old man like me."
"I wouldn't call myself especially capable." Leonard answered casually. "I'm just an ordinary wizard who came to meet the legendary Grindelwald."
"An ordinary wizard could not have slipped silently through the blockade of those elite Aurors," Grindelwald said with a smile.
"Maybe the guards outside aren't as tight as you imagine. You've never actually tried to escape, have you?" Leonard shrugged. "Besides, I don't think the Aurors outside could really hold you."
"I haven't escaped only because of a promise." Grindelwald gently touched the picture on the wall behind him, and a nostalgic expression appeared on his face.
Leonard glanced over and noticed an oddly empty blank space in the picture of the valley.
"Tell me why you came, young man." Grindelwald came back to himself and said to Leonard, "I am nothing more than a failure, and failures are not worth anyone's attention."
"That may not be true." Leonard said as he took out the metal flask containing the Obscurus. "Do you recognize this?"
A look of surprise appeared on Grindelwald's face. "That is an alchemical tool I made to seal an Obscurus. Where did you find it?"
"From a group calling themselves the Saints. They used the Obscurus inside it to attack my people," Leonard said.
"I see. So you came here to demand accountability?" The old man let out a muted laugh. "Then I'm afraid you may be disappointed. I never ordered any Saints to do anything, and these days, there should not be any Saints left at all."