One week later, in the afternoon.
Julien wandered alone through the Rosier family's rose garden.
The ancient castle had twelve gardens, and roses were planted in every single one. Legend said each bloom was cultivated using the magic of deceased family members.
Over the past week, Ophelia had been an extremely gracious host. She had arranged for Julien and Elizabeth to visit every scenic spot around the castle and had given him unrestricted access to the family library.
Julien had copied a great number of books (Murphy's hard work), many of which would have been kept in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts.
Just a short while ago, while he was reading in the library, Ophelia had been there too. She smiled and suggested that a young wizard like him didn't need to be so strict with himself. A summer afternoon like this was perfect for viewing the last batch of roses still blooming in the garden.
This particular garden sat on the edge of the northernmost cliff. Its entrance was framed by an arch of withered rose vines.
The ground inside the entrance was pale gray stone. In the center stood a broken sundial—clearly once an alchemical device, now completely drained of magic.
"This is the First Garden," Sebastian's voice came from behind him.
The old butler was not wearing his usual tailcoat today, but a plain, old-fashioned dark gray wizard's robe.
"The weather is warm. Madam asked me to bring you a bottle of spring water from the mountain." As he handed over the water, the sleeve of his robe slipped back slightly, revealing the familiar crescent moon entwined with thorns on his right wrist.
Julien instinctively let his wand slide into his palm. The old butler noticed.
"Who exactly are you?"
"No need to be alarmed, Mr. Black." Sebastian smiled. This smile was different from his usual polite gentleness—it was older, carrying a tired, almost self-mocking weariness.
"I was indeed once a member of the Moon Shadow Council. Many years ago, Lord Grindelwald himself recruited me."
He stepped closer to the sundial and ran his thin fingers over the spent gnomon. "This garden was once the Rosier family's shame. My predecessor was a core member of the Council. He tried to forcibly open a small portal here, hoping to reach deeper into the castle. The result—"
He pointed at the grayish-white marks on the ground. "Miss Ophelia used the sundial to stop them. The device has been permanently drained of magic ever since. Miss Ophelia personally executed my predecessor. And I, his apprentice, have served as butler here from that day onward."
Julien lowered his wand but did not put it away. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because you asked," Sebastian replied simply.
He turned, his gray-blue eyes glinting behind his spectacles with something unreadable.
"Last Wednesday, you were reading The Historical Connection Between the Rosier Family and the Moon Shadow Council in the library. Last Thursday, you asked Miss Elizabeth about my background."
He gave a small bow. "The old lady taught me: the best defense against an observer is to reveal yourself first. Since you have already seen the mark and begun to suspect, it is better that I explain it myself rather than let you guess."
"Are you working for Ophelia now?"
"I work for the Rosier family," Sebastian corrected him, his tone carrying a precise, almost devout accuracy. "The old lady naturally knows everything. She once gave me a choice: return to the Moon Shadow Council or remain in the castle. I chose the latter. The Council believes I am dead. The old lady has made sure they continue to believe it."
"Well, now you know everything. I won't disturb you any longer. By the way, if you look carefully, you will notice something special about the roses in this garden."
With that, Sebastian bowed again and quietly withdrew with a smile.
Julien looked around. Indeed, this garden was filled with black roses—extremely difficult to cultivate. In the Muggle world, they would be worth a fortune.
Suddenly, he noticed one black rose that stood out. Its petals seemed to change with time—not wilting, but actually growing fuller, as if time were flowing backward.
"Don't touch it."
Elizabeth's voice came from behind him, but it was already too late.
Julien's fingers brushed the petal. What he felt was not the softness of a flower, but a fold in space—the exact same sensation he had experienced at the stone door beneath Starfall Cove.
"This is—"
The black rose bloomed fully, releasing years of stored magic. Julien felt himself being torn apart and reassembled. The Bavarian sunlight, the scent of roses, and Elizabeth's alarmed cry all compressed into a single point—then—
Expanded.
He stood at the top floor of a stone tower. Outside the window was not the Black Forest, but fjords and glaciers. The endless Nordic night was fading, and the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, turning the snow a pale gold.
The inside of the stone tower was not grand, but strangely misaligned. The stone bricks joined at impossible angles. Some of the mortar in the seams was not gray, but a faint silver-blue—the same ghostly light as the underwater city at Starfall Cove.
Julien touched one of the seams and felt a faint pulse, like the building itself was breathing.
"Welcome to Nurmengard," a voice spoke from the shadows. "Though I prefer to call it the Watchtower. Dumbledore's word—'prison'—is far too… dramatic."
Julien turned and saw the figure he had only ever seen in old photographs—Grindelwald.
He looked much older than in the pictures. The golden hair from history books had turned messy and gray, hanging loosely around his face.
But those once-sharp blue eyes, though dimmer now, still held something different—something that had not yet been extinguished.
"Ophelia's roses are always punctual," Grindelwald smiled. There was no Lockhart-style vanity in that smile—only a gentle, almost kind warmth.
"She told me you would touch that flower on the seventh day. People from the Black family have always had an instinctive sensitivity to the number seven."
Julien gripped his wand. It was still in his hand. The silver lime wood felt warm as jade, yet it was trembling faintly—not with fear, but with resonance. The same resonance he had felt at Starfall Cove and in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Mr. Grindelwald? You wanted to see me?" Julien asked, remembering what Ophelia had said. Perhaps this was the real reason she had invited him.
The old man did not answer immediately. He walked slowly to the window, his posture still upright, as if it was not he who had been imprisoned for decades, but the tower itself.
"Dumbledore chose the wrong chess piece… and the wrong opponent," he said softly, almost to himself. "He raised Harry Potter to fight Voldemort—a mere soul fragment, a shadow. While I…"
He turned around. His cloudy blue eyes looked directly at Julien.
"I have been waiting for the real threat. The day when the wall between worlds finally collapses. The day when someone understands that sealing is not eternal—conversation is survival."
Julien felt the totem on his right wrist burn fiercely. Inside the stone walls of Nurmengard, some ancient power was responding to his bloodline.
"You don't want me to open the Stargate, do you?"
"Hmm…" Grindelwald considered his words carefully.
"I simply want you to understand the Stargate."
With that, he reached into his robes and took out a stone tablet. It was about the same size as the one Liriya had brought from the North to Hogwarts.
"Three tablets. This is the one Ophelia gave me. The other two are at Hogwarts—you already know where. I intend to give this one to you."
"Oh, no." Julien instinctively stepped back. Yet the totem on his wrist burned hotter than it ever had before.
"Hahaha. Some people would do anything to get their hands on it. The Moon Shadow Council, for example." Grindelwald laughed heartily. "It seems the Mirror of Erised was right after all—only those who do not wish to use it will truly receive it."