"Hey! Link! We're going to swim in the deep lake behind the mountain, come with us! And on the way, we can take another look at those ghost ships you're planning to fix up and buy!"
"Uh, thanks for the invitation, Krum. But I think that kind of thrilling sport probably isn't for me. Besides, I have something to take care of today, and I'll be leaving soon."
Looking at Krum in front of him, dressed in just a shirt, full of excitement, Link spoke helplessly.
Ever since he had received the medal from Principal Dugg and officially become a board member of Durmstrang Institute, he had stayed at Durmstrang at Krum's enthusiastic invitation.
Up to now, this was already the fourth day.
During this period, Krum, as the host, had enthusiastically shown Link all sorts of Durmstrang-style entertainment activities.
These included performing flying broomstick stunts in gale-force level-9 winds across mountain ranges, engaging in quasi-Spartan-style dueling practice, and sailing ghost ships to go fishing for sea monsters…
Naturally, Link wasn't particularly interested in these kinds of extreme, brutal activities.
But what was unexpected was that Emily, who had always behaved like a perfect lady, had shown an unusually high level of enthusiasm for them.
In just these few short days, she had practically gone out every day with those Durmstrang girls, flying on brooms to wander around and admire the awe-inspiring, otherworldly scenery surrounding Durmstrang.
After this stretch of not-so-enjoyable entertainment, the only thing Link had gained was a clear understanding of why Durmstrang students were so tough, why Krum's flying skills were so superb, and what made Durmstrang so unique.
Simply put, Durmstrang right now seemed to still be in that "dark" period before Dumbledore became headmaster and reformed Hogwarts with more humane management.
And naturally, during such a "dark age of harsh rule," the students who emerged from it were all highly capable.
But as the price for that, the casualty rate among Durmstrang's young wizards was also alarmingly high.
Durmstrang even had an annual quota of five student deaths.
In other words, as long as the number of deaths each year didn't exceed five, the German Ministry of Magic wouldn't hold the school too strictly accountable, no sending inspectors, no forced shutdowns or restructuring.
Among all these peculiarities, what left the deepest impression on Link was Durmstrang's unusual academic calendar.
In fact, Link had noticed it right from the start when he first arrived at Durmstrang.
Even though it was already summer vacation, the number of students on campus hadn't decreased at all, the castle was still bustling and lively.
After asking Krum about it, Link learned that Durmstrang's winters were simply too long and too cold. Because of that, all outdoor classes had to stop, and thus, their Christmas break was extraordinarily long.
And the extra vacation time during Christmas had to be made up for in the summer.
Which meant that right now was still their regular school term.
That, indeed, was a fine example of adapting to local conditions.
Anyway, after finally escaping Krum's enthusiastic pestering, Link, now dressed again in his black hunting outfit, immediately headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office that Beckman had just finished tidying over the past few days.
What he'd told Krum earlier about having something to do was no excuse.
Tomorrow was the day to execute the plan to assassinate Grindelwald. Today, Link had to join Beckman and the others to reach the rendezvous point agreed upon with the Despicable Alliance.
Perhaps because of the short preparation time, the office still kept the same shabby, dungeon-like style common throughout Durmstrang Castle, it looked more like a cell than an office.
And when Link pushed the door open and entered, Beckman, who had now officially become Durmstrang's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, was standing there staring blankly at a wall… no, more precisely, at the Grindelwald emblem carved into that wall.
That emblem had been carved by Grindelwald himself during his student years.
After the war, Durmstrang's leadership had grown to despise it deeply, yet because of orders from the International Confederation of Wizards and the German Ministry of Magic, they had never been allowed to destroy it. Over time, it had even become something of a famous landmark within Durmstrang.
The main reason Beckman had chosen this abandoned, dilapidated room as his office a few days ago was largely because of that emblem.
Link was long used to seeing Beckman like this.
He casually sat down in Beckman's chair, crossed his legs on the desk, and took slow sips of hot cocoa, in this cursed cold place, one had to drink something warm like this every day just to keep the body from freezing.
"What a beautiful symbol! I don't know why the International Confederation of Wizards doesn't allow anyone to destroy it, but this really… is a pleasant surprise!"
Beckman murmured dreamily. As he spoke, he reached out to gently touch the crooked Grindelwald emblem, his movements so tender it was almost ridiculous, as if he was afraid of hurting it.
Link gave a mocking smile and said, "You think the International Confederation of Wizards had good intentions?"
"Please. They just want to use that emblem to make every Durmstrang graduate, and even all of Europe, remember forever that Grindelwald was a Durmstrang student. That way, they can nail both Grindelwald and Durmstrang together onto the pillar of shame for eternity."
"As far as I know, their propaganda campaign has worked quite well."
"Most students, like Krum, feel deeply ashamed and hateful about this emblem's existence. That's also why this classroom is so barren and run-down."
"Knowing these bratty students, I'd bet that before you moved in, plenty of them came by daily to spit on the emblem, or do even grosser things to it out of spite. Who knows, maybe the spot you just touched still has the dried traces of their saliva."
By the end, Link's words had gotten increasingly disgusting.
But Beckman didn't seem angry at all, instead, he nodded in agreement.
"Actually, you're right. Those annoying kids really did do those kinds of things here. But don't worry, I already cleaned the place thoroughly with magic when I moved in."
As he spoke, Beckman cast another cleaning charm at the wall. "Besides, I don't think the Confederation's malicious little plan has worked nearly as well as you say. On the contrary, I think leaving this emblem here is their biggest mistake!"
"After all, as you said, most students hate it. But there's still a small number who think this symbol, and the story behind it, are cool. Some even try to imitate what we once did."
"You're planning to use those few as the seed group to start an ideological movement?" Link frowned.
"Let me warn you, I don't mind you forming something like Grindelwald's Saints here at Durmstrang, but that group's sole loyalty must be to me, not to Grindelwald."
"We made an Unbreakable Vow, remember? I'm not stupid enough to cross that line. And besides, those kids don't really understand Grindelwald's ideals, they're just trying to look cool. I'm only planning to use them as a starting point for our own influence."
"Good. I trust your abilities in that area. After all… my mother said you were quite skilled at this kind of work."
Beckman smiled faintly at that, but his smile carried a trace of bitterness.
Link had no interest in digging into whatever story lay behind that expression. He took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and said, "It's time. We should go."
With that, Link turned and walked straight out of the castle without looking back.
Beckman gave the Grindelwald emblem one last complex glance, then hurried after him.
They made their way through the corridors and halls already under repair and reconstruction, and finally, amid Emily's farewell and the surrounding hunters' escort, boarded the ghost ship, The Flying Dutchman.
———
[Austria]
In a narrow, desolate mountain ravine, dozens of magic tents, each bearing a different family crest, had been neatly arranged according to a certain pattern.
Numerous wizards in gray robes and house-elves were busily moving back and forth between the tents.
In the middle of this bustle stood young Schwarz, dark-haired and anxious, as if waiting for something.
"Whrrr!"
No one knew how long had passed before a hum filled the air. A moment later, Link, Beckman, and several of Beckman's fully armed veteran followers appeared out of thin air in the camp.
"Merlin's beard! You're finally here!"
Young Schwarz hurried forward. "Quick, come with me, everyone's waiting for you to start the meeting!"
He pointed toward a large white tent in the center of the camp that bore no family crest, looking extremely anxious.
At his words, Link and Beckman exchanged a look. Then Beckman asked, expressionless, "Hold on. At least tell me what's going on first."
"The situation is that the International Confederation of Wizards suddenly went crazy and sent an old witch to monitor our operations!"
"And now she's demanding that we immediately gather all five family envoys for a pre-war briefing!" Schwarz grumbled unhappily.
"This is obviously just her way of showing off her authority! I'm telling you, Hartmann and the others must not have bribed her enough, otherwise how could something like this happen?"
At that, Beckman's face darkened.
For what they were planning tomorrow, having a Confederation observer was definitely an unexpected complication, he couldn't exactly kill her tomorrow too; that would be far too risky.
Link, however, remained calm. "Actually, I think having a pre-war meeting to consolidate and share intelligence isn't a bad idea. At the very least, by the end of it, I should finally know where we are and how many people we have."
Schwarz, who had been pulling them toward the big tent, froze for a moment, then scratched his head awkwardly.
"Oh! Sorry! Keeping that information secret was Lang's last-minute order. He applied it to everyone equally, not just you two.
But, well, there's no need for secrecy anymore. I can tell you everything right now."
Leaning closer, Schwarz whispered, "We're currently in a hidden ravine about twenty kilometers west of Nurmengard Prison. Lang chose this spot because it's right at the outer limit of the prison's Anti-Apparition barrier, and just outside Grindelwald's sensory range.
Though honestly, I doubt Grindelwald, after being locked up for so many years, still has such powerful perception, haha…"
His laugh didn't get the reaction he'd hoped for. Facing the solemn expressions of Link and Beckman, Schwarz coughed awkwardly. "Alright, alright, that wasn't funny."
"As for our troop strength, I actually don't know the full count either. How about this, let's just go in and start the meeting. I'm sure Lang will give you a satisfactory answer there."
With that, Schwarz gestured for them to follow again. This time, Link and Beckman didn't refuse.
After settling the Beckman veterans, they followed Schwarz into the central tent.
As expected, the tent had been magically expanded with an Extension Charm. Its interior was styled like a hard, somber German conference hall.
The only surprising thing was that, instead of any family crest, the walls displayed the enormous insignia of the International Confederation of Wizards, a bit too flattering, perhaps.
The full membership of the Despicable Alliance sat around a circular table with no head or rank distinctions.
When Link and the others entered, no one showed joy or disdain, just brief nods, before returning to their tense, uneasy silence.
And all that tension came from one person, the Confederation's overseer, sitting alone in a corner.
She wore a dark-purple robe embroidered with the Confederation's crest on her chest and a monocle over her right eye.
She looked like a grim, severe old witch, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, and even without speaking, her mere presence filled the air with suffocating seriousness.
That eerie silence finally broke once Link, Beckman, and the others took their seats.
Lang, holding an unlit cigarette between his teeth, looked toward Beckman and asked, "Old Beckman, how many people did you bring this time?"
"Five of my old comrades," Beckman replied coolly. "A confined place like Nurmengard doesn't need more than that. What about you?"
Lang ignored the question, lit his cigarette with his wand, and turned his gaze toward Link.
"And you, Mr. Flamel, how many men did you bring?"
At that, all the other Despicable Alliance members turned their heads toward Link.
Clearly, what they cared most about was the strength of this mysterious English noble.
But Link's answer completely exceeded all of their expectations.
═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═
patreon.com/AmbitiousTranslator
🥳Joining Patreon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰 You can access upto 20 advance chapter through Patreon.