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As Dumbledore's voice faded, the entire living room suddenly fell into silence.

As if a long, long time had passed, or perhaps only a few seconds, Newt Scamander exhaled softly. His expression remained unchanged as he raised his head, his eyes slightly wooden as he looked at the old wizard standing not far from him, and repeated softly.

"Gellert Grindelwald's... granddaughter?"

"Yes, although perhaps not biologically, she is certainly more important than his own life."

"Oh, I must say—that's a terrible name. Did no one tell this gentleman that there was once a notorious Dark Lord in the wizarding world with the same name? And what about the remaining Saints... well, Saints might be..."

Newt chuckled dryly, trying to explain a few things, but fell silent again under Dumbledore's calm gaze.

After a long while, Scamander took a deep breath, looking at the old wizard in front of him with a hint of hope.

"So, about this... remaining Saints, roughly how many are there?"

"The exact number is unclear, but the approximate scale is at least..."

Dumbledore shook his head, thought for a moment, and then raised a somewhat uncertain index finger.

Newt frowned, nodding with a somewhat grave expression, and said in a low voice.

"There are still at least a hundred people?! It really is Grindelwald, even after all these years..."

"No, I think you might be a little too optimistic, Newt..."

"A thousand?! No, it can't possibly be ten thousand! He didn't even have that many back then..."

Newt Scamander was slightly stunned, and after carefully looking at Dumbledore's hesitant expression, he said subconsciously.

"Actually, it's not a numerical range, what I mean is..."

Before Newt could finish speaking, Dumbledore sighed and answered with a face full of bitterness.

"A city. The legendary 'Holy City' does exist, Salzburg in Austria. It is a city belonging to Gellert Grindelwald, and no one knows how many wizards adhering to Grindelwald's beliefs are hidden within..."

Dumbledore still couldn't forget that just about a year ago, the Deathly Hallows symbol that covered the entire Salzburg night sky was, as Grindelwald said—belief, the hardest thing to kill.

"...s, sh*t—"

Newt Scamander's lips murmured, as if he almost couldn't help but blurt out a curse.

At this moment, he finally understood what kind of existence had come to his home.

Strength far exceeding normal standards (the Veela heritage and those magics), incredible intelligence and resourcefulness (ruling the entire Gringotts as the Goblin Queen), and a ridiculously large background (the first Dark Lord and a city of wizards).

This wasn't just some ordinary first-year girl who happened to come to his house for accommodation.

This was simply a world-destroying little terror!

Newt Scamander had no doubt that the so-called summer training invitation from the British Quidditch National Team was mostly something that Dumbledore, that shameless old man without principles, had secretly conjured up using his own influence.

And the only purpose, of course, was... that way, Dumbledore could be free for more than a month?

Newt gritted his teeth, looking at Dumbledore without fear, and was about to refuse.

"Professor Dumbledore, I think this matter may need..."

"Oh, right. I have to attend the Wizengamot Global Court meeting today, so I'll be leaving first. If anything happens later, just write me a letter—don't worry, that child likes you very much, you should get along very well."

Dumbledore suddenly took out a golden pocket watch from his pocket and looked at it carefully.

The watch looked very strange, with twelve hands but no numbers, and some small stars were revolving around the edge of the dial. However, judging from Dumbledore's expression, he had obviously obtained important time information from this watch.

"Sorry, Newt, I really have to go."

"But since you easily dealt with Grindelwald decades ago, I believe this little one won't be too much trouble for you. Besides, she's still a Veela, which can barely be considered your area of expertise."

"By the way, she is also the head chef of the Hogwarts kitchen and has an unusual love for food..."

"Don't do this! Dumbledore! You're..."

As if realizing something, Newt Scamander raised his voice and suddenly reached out his hand.

Poof...

Dumbledore's figure slowly dissipated into a wisp of light.

It must be admitted that some of the magic that Aileen had researched and fiddled with was indeed interesting.

The next moment, only the angry Newt was left in the living room, along with the last piece of voice left by him…

“By the way, this magic was also figured out by that child herself, remember to be careful…”

"Albus Dumbledore!"

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