62: A Visit

The Nurmengard Castle could be described in various ways, but being an impregnable fortress was perhaps its most distinguishable feature. Built to imprison Gellert Grindelwald's enemies during its time, the fort now served as a prison for the man himself. 

In the summer, most of the snow in the Austrian Alps melted, leaving blooming flowers to fill the air with their scent, accompanied by the distant murmur of the Danube River. However, most of the peaks remained covered by a small layer of snow, including where the prison stood. 

Nevertheless, that didn't stop the Austrian Aurors on duty from wearing lighter clothes. The thick fur coats were replaced by thin leather ones, a large 'O' (for Österreich) with a wand in the middle: the symbol of the Austrian Ministry of Magic. Gloves were barely seen, with the occasional pair for a better wand grip. The usual thick boots were also changed, with lighter shoes worn by the majority. 

"Have you seen this? A Manticore is on the run in Egypt," said a gruff-bearded man in German. Thick smoke oozed out from the smoking pipe he held with his lips. He stood on the left side of the Numernegard entrance gate, holding a wrinkled newspaper. "Five muggles and two wizards have already been killed,"

"Really?" The woman who stood on the right side of the gate seemed surprised. She was tall and thick, and the tight sleeves of her coat helped highlight her bulging muscles. "Manticores can't survive in the cold, can they?" she asked with a hint of worry. 

"No, they can't, Olga," The man said. "But it's not exactly cold this time of the year. Even so, I doubt she could even make it this far with the amount of poachers in the region it fled,"

The Manticore, a highly dangerous Greek beast, had a skin that could repel most spells, but that didn't stop zoologists or poachers from developing new techniques to either calm them enough to study the creatures or to capture/kill them, depending on your field of work. 

"Manticores are capable of human speech, are they not?" Olga scratched her manly chin in thought. "They might be able to reach an agreement with them," 

"I highly doubt that,"

The two guards broke their gaze from the newspaper to look at the source of the voice. It was a boy, no older than fourteen. He had short blonde hair that glimmered in the sun, icy blue eyes, full lips, and a sharp jaw. They knew very well who he was. 

"Alaric!" The man exclaimed in surprise. He reached for his wand and flicked it to open a near-invisible barrier surrounding the fortress. "I don't remember receiving an owl warning of your visit?" 

Alaric stopped in his tracks and stared at the older man with a chilly gaze. He was dressed more casually: a simple white shirt, a grey wool sweater, a dark pea coat, brown pants, and dark shoes. 

"You'd deny me visiting my grandfather, Otto?" Alaric spoke in a tone he rarely used. 

Otto, the bearded Auror, didn't know why, but ever since Gellert Grindelwald started having regular visits from his family, the atmosphere around the prison smelled of danger. On top of that, Alaric always seemed the most friendly to the guards whenever he visited, but it was the boy who made all of them walk around on their toes. He reminded them too much of the man imprisoned on the top floor of the tower. 

"O-Of course, n-not! I just—"

"Just kidding!" Alaric laughed, and the guards wondered how he switched expressions so fast. "I warned Franz a week ago, but that senile old man must've forgotten his potion,"

Looking at each other, Otto and Olga nodded and let him through. Alaric walked through the gate, feeling the wards wash over him, but before he continued any further, he turned to Olga. 

"Manticores would rather eat humans first and speak second. So if you somehow come across it, don't bother arguing," He chuckled at the last words. 

The inside of Nurmengard was the same as always. A lengthy and spacious corridor, with a scarlet carpet stretching from the very entrance to the first security checkpoint. Large arched windows punctuated the walls, letting the soft natural daylight into the space, while a multitude of suspended candles floated in the air, their flames extinguished. 

After enduring the painfully slow security measures and saying hello to Franz, Alaric began the last stretch of walking up the long spiralled staircase that led to the topmost floor. 

The steps were riddled with water puddles all the way to the top after the warm weather melted the thin layers of ice that had formed on the dark stone. However, the higher he got, the more water could be seen seeping through the cracks of the steps. Alaric wouldn't be surprised if his grandfather had gotten a private pool for himself. 

But when he did reach the top floor and opened the thick oak door, what he saw wasn't a flood but a warm and cosy chamber. Gellert sat on the wooden bench in his cell, a blanket covering his legs, and had his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the subtle breeze that passed through the small barred window above him. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Alaric asked as he closed the door behind him. He couldn't use magic in there, so he had to get a wooden chair from the other side of the room. 

"It's the little things in life... that make it so enjoyable," Gellert said with a smile, not opening his eyes. Only when he heard the sound of wood against stone did he look at his grandson. "How's my favourite grandchild doing?" 

"I know you also say that to Lys,"

"Ups, caught in the act,"

The two shared a laugh. Gellert grabbed his bench and settled it near the bars to be face-to-face with the boy. 

"She wanted to come, but she'd already promised to go to a Muggle fair with her little group," Alaric said after a while. 

"And why didn't you go?" Gellert asked. "While I do enjoy your visits, I prefer when my grandchildren are the ones enjoying themselves," 

"Because I don't get along that well with her friends," Alaric said with a shrug, but his grandfather narrowed his eyes. 

"I don't like when I'm lied to, Alaric," he said sternly, griping the metal bars to come closer. 

Alaric looked away, a nervous feeling growing inside of him. 

"You know I don't like being around Muggles too much," Alaric spoke almost in a whisper, but Gellert heard it perfectly. 

"It would do you good," He said. 

"But—"

"But nothing!" Gellert suddenly got up, startling Alaric. "I had the same prejudice when I was your age, and look where it got me! Behind bars, unable to watch my daughter grow, and now my two grandchildren. Do you wish for the same, Alaric? Do you?" 

There was a long silence, but not the kind Alaric enjoyed. If he could change something about himself, it would be the deep bias he had towards Muggles. But where did it start? Perhaps it was with the countless stories he would hear from his grandfather's time, or maybe from the man's notes he left on the countless books Alaric studied. Those were old notes, and Gellert had changed — so many years in incarceration did that to someone. But to a nine-year-old, they carried a lot of influence. 

With all he had been doing lately, Alaric didn't exactly have time to go on a self-improving journey. 

"I don't," he said, biting his lip in frustration and looking at the floor. 

"You're a smart boy, Alaric," said Gellert. "A smart, talented, and charismatic boy. And you have one thing I didn't when I was your age. People who truly care about you. Cherish them. And don't let yourself be dragged to the depths. There's only pain waiting for you there," 

Gellert took the blanket from the ground and sat again, staring at his grandson, who was lost in thought. 

"How's the progress with the spell?" He asked, changing the subject. 

"Non-existent," Alaric sighed, relieved he could talk about something else. "I don't understand. Fiendfyre always came easily to me, not to mention the plethora of Protego variations. But your spell... I just can't make it work," 

The next few minutes were spent with Alaric explaining to his grandfather all the problems he was having with the conjuration of the spell he taught him, and why he thought it didn't work. 

"Protego Diabolica is not a spell one can simply cast. I've told you that dozens of times," Gellert said. "But I can see you're much better than before, so you did make some progress," He noted. "There's just one key factor missing," 

"What is it?" Alaric asked expectantly. 

"For the spell to work, you need something to defend from or to protect," Gellert explained, but Alaric only got more confused. Wasn't wanting to protect his life good enough? "Let me rephrase it. The spell highly depends on the environment the caster finds himself in. It can even change certain proprieties depending on the surroundings,"

"In other words, I need to be in actual peril for the spell to be cast?" Alaric asked as he rubbed his temples. 

"You still lack the skill to cast it properly, so it would work as an incentive," Gellert said with a smile, but Alaric didn't find it funny. 

"Blimey," Alaric sighed. "I don't see myself trying to be killed, neither do I want to, so this is going to be complicated," 

"Never said it was easy, did I?" His grandfather laughed. 

Should he just go to a flimsy underground club and start a mutiny? Or maybe he could try a free-for-all at the Le Dragon Rouge. Invading a poacher camp also seemed tempting, especially with the craze for the fugitive Manticore. 

"What about your grades?" Gellert asked. "I heard from your mother they were quite good again,"

"The same as last year. Outstanding with excellency," Alaric said, caring little. The skills required for excelling in the earlier years' exams were not that difficult to achieve. 

"And how are your uncles?" Gellert asked another question. He liked to be filled in. 

"The same as usual. Aberforth rarely leaves his Inn and still doesn't like to spend too much time with his brother. As for Albus, I haven't seen him the whole summer. Like I said, the usual," 

"Albus and his secrets," Gellert laughed. "Well, I appreciated the visit, my dear grandson, but it's getting late, and you still have a Portkey to take,"

"Indeed," Alaric said as he got up. "The three of us should come visit by Christmas," He said as he opened the door to leave. 

"I'll be waiting. And Alaric," He called, waiting for the boy to look at him. "Be sure to keep what we talked about before in mind about your friends. Friendships take minutes to make, a second to destroy, and years to repair," 

"I will," Alaric said as he closed the door. "See you soon," 

**********

A/N: I've decided to post the images next chapter, as it will be the beginning of the third year. Not only that but from now on, whenever a new year begins, I'll post updated pictures of the important characters without canon illustrations. 

Fun fact! Rowling once said that when she wasn't in a happy place, she almost killed off Ron out of sheer spite. 

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!