A pause.
The silence stretched, vast and impenetrable, as if even time itself waited for Grindelwald's answer.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"An interesting question, Albus," he murmured, leaning back against the simple chair.
His fingers curled against the armrest in a slow, deliberate motion. "Do you really think I have spent forty years simply rotting here?"
Dumbledore did not respond immediately, but his gaze did not waver.
The weight of the past still hung between them, thick as the cold walls of Nurmengard, but there was something else now, anticipation.
Grindelwald chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah… I expected more from you. Even you, after all this time, have fallen for the illusion that a cage always means stagnation."
His eyes gleamed, sharp and unyielding. "Let me tell you something, old friend. I have not spent forty years in idleness."
His fingers tapped against the chair in a rhythmic pattern, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. "The world has long assumed me defeated, a relic of an era long past. How amusing. They forget that there is more than one way to leave a mark on history."
He lifted his hand, gesturing vaguely toward the cell around him. "Do you know what happens to a man when he has nothing left but time? When all that is left to him are his thoughts, his mind, his knowledge?" His lips curled. "He delves deeper. He transcends."
Nero frowned, studying him. "What do you mean?"
Grindelwald turned his gaze toward him, that same piercing, all-seeing intensity as before. "I mean, young Nero, that I have spent forty years understanding the very fabric of this world. I have studied laws older than wands, principles beyond the understanding of our kind. The prison they built for me became a monastery of knowledge."
Dumbledore inhaled slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. Only his eyes, sharp and calculating, revealed his thoughts.
Grindelwald tilted his head slightly. "And I was not alone."
The room seemed to still.
Nero's brow furrowed. "What?"
Grindelwald's voice was soft now, almost reflective. "It is a curious thing, Albus… to see a boy, full of fire and foolish devotion, grow into something… unexpected."
Nero stiffened. He knew before the name even left Grindelwald's lips.
The man who had told him, without hesitation, that he would kill him if he did not grow stronger.
The man who had looked at him not as a son, but as a mere stepping stone in his own designs.
The man who had fought Voldemort on equal grounds.
The man who had presumably killed his mother, Cassandra Dumbledore.
"Jonathan Ravenclaw."
The name landed like a blade between them.
Grindelwald watched him closely, savoring the reaction. "Yes… I met him when he was still a boy, long ago. He was obsessed with me, with my ideology. Openly. Proudly. He believed in my vision more than many of my actual followers." A faint smirk crossed his lips. "The kind of student I would have once gladly taken under my wing."
Nero's fingers clenched.
Grindelwald's eyes flickered with amusement. "But the boy I met then is not the man he became. The man who walked into this prison… was something far more fascinating."
Dumbledore's voice was calm, yet steely. "And what did you discuss?"
Grindelwald turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Everything. Magic. Blood. Power. The constraints of reality itself. He is a man who seeks to push the world in the precipice of change"
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Much like I once did."
Nero's jaw tightened.
Grindelwald let the tension build before he continued, his voice carrying a touch of something unreadable. "He is not a follower, Albus. He is not a disciple of old ideologies, nor does he care for blood purity or conquest. No, his madness is his own. He seeks something far greater, a deeper truth, an answer beyond mortal understanding."
He chuckled softly. "He is not like you. Not like me. Not like Voldemort. He walks a different path."
Dumbledore's fingers curled subtly.
Grindelwald's eyes gleamed. "He is looking for something far more dangerous."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, Grindelwald leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepling together. "He spoke of balance, Albus. The great cycle. The idea that for every force in this world, there is an equal counterforce."
His lips twisted with disdain. "You know this already, don't you? You have always clung to your philosophy of balance. The idea that for every dark, there is light. For every villain, a hero. For every empire, a rebellion." He let out a quiet chuckle. "For every Grindelwald, a Dumbledore."
Dumbledore's lips pressed together slightly, but he did not speak.
"Some call it destiny. Others, fate." Grindelwald's eyes darkened. "I call it the excuse of lesser minds." His voice turned mocking. "The world resists being reshaped. The more one dares to mold it, the harder it pushes back. Order, chaos, fate... they're just names for the same thing: resistance to change." He tilted his head, almost amused. "Power invites opposition, and history chooses. Visionary, or monster."
His eyes flicked to Nero. "You, more than anyone, should understand this. You are a singularity, Nero. Singularities don't exist in peace, they tear, they reshape, they devour. And the world… the world will fight you for it. Unless you bend it first."
Nero met his gaze steadily. "And what does that mean for you? "Are you waiting for the world to change... or just for a moment to change it again?"
Grindelwald held his stare for a breath longer, then leaned back, a slow smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"It means, young Nero, that I am biding my time."
His voice was smooth, assured, carrying no doubt.
"You see, Albus," he continued, turning back to Dumbledore, "I have learned patience. I have watched the pieces shift. I have seen the old world cling to its traditions, and the new world struggle to define itself. I have seen empires rise and fall while I sat in this cage."
He smiled, slow and confident.
"I am not the man I was forty years ago, nor do I cling to the exact same ideology. The fire that once consumed me burns differently now. But I know that soon, when an opportunity for change will arise… the world will call for me again."
The weight of his words settled like a storm on the horizon.
Dumbledore exhaled through his nose. Then, he took a step forward.
"Visions have always been your strength, Gellert," Dumbledore said softly. "Not voices. You waited a lifetime for the world to call you, but today, I am the one calling."
Grindelwald raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh?"
Dumbledore's expression remained unreadable, but his voice was clear. "I have a proposal for you."
Grindelwald's amusement only grew. "Now, that is interesting." He leaned forward. "Tell me, Albus. After all these years, what could you possibly offer me?"
Dumbledore met his gaze evenly. "Once, we sought truth together. I came to ask you to do it once more. It has been a long time since we last pushed the boundaries of magic."
The words were simple.
But the meaning behind them was not.
For the first time in decades, Grindelwald's expression shifted into surprise.
Nero watched as the silence stretched between them.
The past was no longer just a wound.
It was a door, waiting to be opened.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
50 chapters ahead on Patreon (Suiijin): Chapter 224: Screams in the Dark