It was April, when Western Europe typically bloomed with spring.
Yet the region surrounding Nurmengard remained gripped by cold. Beyond a dense forest, no greenery could be seen.
The desolate bleakness, paired with the overcast sky, cast an involuntary pall over one's spirits.
Dumbledore, being older, took longer than Wayne to recover.
Shaking his head to clear it, he too gazed at the tower, his eyes brimming with ineffable emotion.
"There was a time when this place represented hallowed ground for many followers. Countless orders that shook the continent originated from that tower."
"Each one sent tremors across the land. How times change..."
Hearing Dumbledore's nostalgic musings, Wayne smirked.
"Wasn't that all your doing? Without your interference, things might have remained unchanged."
Dumbledore's fist clenched briefly, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Lawrence, you do have a gift for conversation."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Shall we proceed?" Wayne took the lead.
At the mountain's base, with considerable ascent ahead, Dumbledore cautioned:
"No one knows of our visit, making this an illegal infiltration. No Apparition or flying. Stay close and mind the security triggers."
Wayne nodded his understanding, following dutifully behind the elder wizard. The boundary's range was vast, requiring quite a walk to traverse. Yet once they arrived, old Dumbledore became talkative, reminiscing about his history with Grindelwald.
"Gellert and I met very early on," he said. "I'd just graduated, and he'd just been expelled."
At this, Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle.
"To be expelled from Durmstrang—a school that doesn't oppose the study of Dark Magic—you can imagine just how dangerous he was even then."
Wayne laughed too. "Well, the Dark Lord has to stand out from childhood, doesn't he? Tom was the same."
"There are similarities, but far more differences." Dumbledore considered for a moment before continuing seriously:
"Gellert's attitude towards Dark Magic was entirely unlike Tom's. Tom was obsessed with the thrill and power it gave him, but Gellert..."
"To him, whether it was Dark Magic or any other magic, it was fundamentally just a tool to achieve his goals."
"The reason he studied Dark Magic more was simply because his talents lay in that direction, and... it made killing more efficient."
Dumbledore fell silent for two seconds. "Back then, our shared pursuit of the Deathly Hallows gave us a common ideal. We became inseparable friends, confiding in each other about everything."
"But Aberforth believed I'd been bewitched. He argued repeatedly with Gellert—and with me—until it escalated into a three-way duel."
"No one noticed Ariana's arrival... a spell struck her. Perhaps it was mine, perhaps Gellert's, or perhaps Aberforth's. It no longer matters."
Dumbledore's entire body trembled slightly, his eyes growing moist.
Even after nearly a century, recalling that moment still brought bone-deep pain.
Wayne remained silent, allowing the old man to continue.
"After that, I truly understood. Magic may be endlessly fascinating, but it cannot fill the emptiness in one's soul."
"Losing Ariana shattered my relationship with Aberforth and left my own heart incomplete."
"From then on, Gellert and I went our separate ways."
Wayne sighed. "Then why did you come to Hogwarts?"
"Why?" Dumbledore raised his head, willing the tears back into his eyes.
"At first, it was simply to escape. To escape Godric's Hollow, to escape the conflicts and troubles of the outside world."
"But later, I discovered that young wizards are the best medicine this world has to offer. Watching them grow and flourish helped mend and restore my heart."
Dumbledore shook his head. "I tried to teach them that magic isn't everything, though I don't think I succeeded very well."
"Don't think like that," Wayne comforted. "You only produced one Tom and a bunch of Death Eaters. The good ones still outnumber them."
Dumbledore froze momentarily before pointing at the boy in exasperation.
He knew Wayne was joking to cheer him up.
At least... he hoped so.
The old wizard suddenly recalled this was simply Wayne's usual manner of speaking and grew less sure.
As they walked, having covered half their journey, it was Wayne's turn to ask questions.
"Speaking of which, if Ariana's incident hadn't happened back then, what would you have done?"
Dumbledore stopped walking, his expression thoughtful.
"An interesting question. No one's ever asked me that before."
"If none of it had happened... perhaps we truly would have changed the world together."
He suddenly joked, "You might not even have been born in that scenario."
Wayne nodded in agreement. "True. My ancestors were all Muggles after all."
Grindelwald's ideology was somewhat more progressive than Voldemort's. He didn't discriminate against half-blood wizards, nor truly against Muggles - though he did view them as enemies.
In a war between wizards and Muggles, Wayne's aristocratic ancestors would likely have been slaughtered, making his own existence impossible.
"What about the Deathly Hallows? If all three were gathered, could they truly bring back the dead?" Wayne asked next.
"I don't know," Dumbledore shook his head. "Legend says the Deathly Hallows were gifts from Death to the Peverell brothers, but I believe they were more likely created by three great wizards, much like Nicolas's Philosopher's Stone."
"Perhaps in a few thousand years, Nicolas's stone will also be mythologised as some divine gift."
"How does the Elder Wand perform?"
Dumbledore wasn't surprised Wayne knew about the Elder Wand.
His close relationships with Newt and Nicolas meant they wouldn't treat Wayne as just another twelve-year-old, so telling him was natural.
"Extremely powerful, but not suited for me. The Elder Wand craves battle and slaughter to its very core. I am not a worthy master."
"Have you considered destroying it? I've read many legends—this wand brings misfortune to its owners."
Dumbledore sighed. "Forgive me, I am but a mundane man."
"Even though I no longer believe in the Tale of the Three Brothers, so long as there's the faintest hope... I would still try."
"Understood."
Wayne gave a slight nod. He understood the source of Dumbledore's pain.
Ariana's Obscurial nature had brought tragedy upon their family, leaving an eternal wound in their heart that would never fade.
...
At last, they arrived at the foot of the black tower, where a baffled Squib guard approached them.
Dumbledore glanced at Wayne. The young man sighed and flicked his wrist.
Instantly, the Squib guard wandered back to his post in confusion before slumping into sleep.
"You certainly know how to put people to work."
"Not at all. I merely wished to test your Confundus Charm. It appears quite excellent—this year's Charms exam won't pose any problems."
"Are you leaking exam questions to me?"
"Consider it so. After all, the second-year Charms test hasn't changed its format in years. Filius truly excels at cutting corners."
Exchanging idle remarks, the two ascended the stairs until they stood before the door at the topmost level.
Wayne noticed the plaque on the door. Beneath the room number was an inscription in tiny lettering:
"For the greater good."
This phrase hadn't originated with Grindelwald—Dumbledore had been the first to voice it.
A motto Grindelwald would later spend half his lifetime enacting.
The words revealed that in his youth, Dumbledore had been every bit the hawk.
One observation Wayne found particularly apt:
A lion capable of restraint is essentially a snake.
In temperament, Gryffindor and Slytherin differed little—the greatest distinction lay merely in courage.
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore pushed open the door.
Inside, a man, little more than skin and bones, leaned against the corner. His emaciation rendered his facial features grotesquely prominent, creating an unnerving spectacle.
Most unforgettable were those heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one grey. Yet those once-beautiful orbs now emitted a turbid glow, a tragic deterioration.
"How rare..." The old man finally spoke, his voice rasping. "Decades without a visit, yet twice in recent years."
Wayne noticed the man's gaze never once strayed toward him after he entered—those eyes remained fixed solely on Dumbledore.
"This is Gellert Grindelwald." Dumbledore ignored the barb, speaking calmly. "My former dearest friend."
Only then did Grindelwald seem to notice Wayne, studying him with sudden interest.
Then the smile that had appeared at Dumbledore's entrance gradually faded.
The robes—standard Hogwarts issue, yet that glaring badger emblem...
The suitcase—different in style, yet when paired with those robes, dead memories came assaulting him anew. In terms of looks, he was far more handsome than that detestable fellow, but the shy smile on his face made Grindelwald's blood boil inexplicably.
Most crucially, a furry little head suddenly poked out from the handsome youth's pocket, curiously surveying its surroundings.
It nearly made him lose his composure completely.
Dumbledore also noticed the shift in his gaze and sighed inwardly.
After all these years, Gellert still held such a grudge.
Yet Wayne's very first words left Dumbledore dumbfounded and shattered Grindelwald's remaining composure.
"Mr Grindelwald, I've long admired your reputation. Newt has spoken of you many times."
"He asked me to send his regards if I ever met you."
When anger reaches a certain intensity, one's expression often becomes eerily calm.
This was precisely Grindelwald's state—he sat there motionless, staring at Wayne with an impassive face, the atmosphere in the room freezing solid.
Without any visible outburst of magical power, the first Dark Lord's aura alone was enough to intimidate.
But this tactic did not affect Wayne. The youth continued smiling gently, somewhat apologetically:
"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Wayne Lawrence, a second-year Hufflepuff student."
"Wayne Lawrence..." Grindelwald murmured, repeating the name.
He remembered now. During Dumbledore's last visit, he'd mentioned a Hufflepuff student with a peculiar Phoenix—that name had sounded familiar.
"Albus..." Grindelwald shifted his gaze to Dumbledore.
"Have you finally decided to end me?"
"Why would you say that?" Dumbledore looked genuinely puzzled. "I've never entertained such thoughts."
"Is that so?" Grindelwald sneered. "I assumed you brought this boy here to provoke me to death."
Dumbledore: "..."
"I didn't realise you could still make jokes." Dumbledore seated himself on the bench and gestured for Wayne to sit too.
"I brought Wayne because this matter concerns him, and he might be able to assist."
"There's no ulterior motive."
"More troubles plaguing the outside world?" Grindelwald toyed with a weed in his hands, not bothering to look up.
"If it doesn't involve me, spare the details. I can't be bothered."
Truly, the person who understood Dumbledore best in the world. The moment he'd entered, Grindelwald had noticed the faint crease between his brows and guessed his purpose.
"Gellert..." Dumbledore attempted persuasion, but Grindelwald cut him off impatiently:
"I'm just a prisoner awaiting death here—a former Dark Wizard who wreaked havoc across Europe. Spare me your lectures."
Their relationship was extraordinary, but that didn't mean he supported Dumbledore's every action.
It had always been this way. Without Dumbledore restraining him, the world's current state would be entirely different.
Nothing annoyed him more than Dumbledore's tendency to meddle in everything.
Is this what you call the greater good?
Dumbledore's expression turned sorrowful.
An inauspicious start—rebuffed before even stating his purpose.
Wayne snapped his fingers, conjuring a lavish feast upon the table, and cheerfully announced, "Professor, you haven't had breakfast yet, have you? Come, let's eat together."
"Very well." Dumbledore nodded and actually joined Wayne in sampling the food.
"This apple pie is quite good. Did you get it from the kitchens?"
"No, this was made by Gardevoir."
"Mmm, her skills are far superior to the house-elves in the kitchen, though the flavour seems familiar."
"Perhaps you've had it at Nicolas's place? Gardevoir learned many recipes from Nabby."
"I see."
As he watched the two eating heartily, Grindelwald's gaze gradually grew vacant, his throat moving involuntarily.
The last proper meal he had eaten was the one Dumbledore brought him during Christmas of '91 - over a year and a half ago now.
To say he wasn't craving it would be a lie.
But the two showed no intention of inviting him to join, which made Grindelwald extremely uncomfortable.
"That brat..."
Grindelwald glared at Wayne with ill-concealed hostility.
Truly, there wasn't a single decent person in Hufflepuff.
First, that old speckled nuisance kept thwarting his plans, chasing him from New York to Paris, then Paris to Berlin.
And now this young one appeared, seemingly closely connected to the old one and on such good terms with Dumbledore too...
Grindelwald felt his heart - undisturbed for decades - growing agitated once more.
Noticing the shift in his demeanour from the corner of his eye, Dumbledore's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
You old tsundere... it takes someone like Wayne to handle you.
After eating his fill, Wayne waved his hand, and the leftover scraps on the table vanished without a trace—not even a bone remained.
In their place appeared numerous potion bottles.
"Professor, I've been thinking—if gentle persuasion doesn't work, we'll have to resort to force."
"Since Mr Grindelwald refuses to listen to reason, we'll just have to provide a little... assistance to help him see the light."
"This is a high-strength Veritaserum—five times more potent than the standard dose. This one's a Confusing Concoction, and here's a Sleeping Draught. This one... oops, my bad, that's Amortentia. You probably won't need that."
"Make Mr Grindelwald drink all of these, and I refuse to believe he won't talk."
Wayne excitedly introduced each potion one by one, leaving the two old men utterly dumbfounded.
Dumbledore was especially horrified.
Had Wayne been carrying all this dubious stuff around at school?
Grindelwald, too, stared at him in stunned silence.
This kid... was he Dumbledore's student, or his own?
After a brief silence—
"Hahahahaha!" Grindelwald suddenly burst into laughter, finally deigning to rise from his pile of straw.
An aura of a beast awakening surged forth.
"Fascinating, Albus. I was wrong—this boy is nothing like Newt."
"You need my help, don't you? Fine. But I have one condition."
"What condition?" Dumbledore regarded him calmly. "If it's too unreasonable, I won't agree."
"Simple."
Grindelwald's gaze turned imperious, the commanding presence of the first Dark Lord resurfacing at last.
"Let me test your prized student's abilities. If he satisfies me, I'll do whatever you ask!"