No matter how old one grows, change always comes , born from new experiences, new encounters, and the slow erosion of solitude.
For Gellert Grindelwald, he had long accepted his fate: to rot quietly in the tower of Nurmengard, to let time bury his name in dust and history. He had resigned himself to a lonely, almost poetic ending , the mighty dark wizard fading away in the silence he once commanded.
But then Tom Riddle had appeared.
And that changed everything.
In Tom's sharp eyes, Grindelwald saw echoes of his own youth , the same brilliance, ambition, and terrifying self-assurance.
But there was more. Tom wasn't just a conqueror. He was a scholar, a strategist, a visionary.
He reminded Gellert of what it meant to pursue magic , not merely as power, but as truth.
Now, watching this boy grow stronger, watching how he conversed so effortlessly with Andros and even Ariana, Grindelwald found his long-dormant fire rekindling.
The once unshakable idealist , who believed only in the "Greater Good" , began to doubt again.
Not because he had lost faith in himself, but because he realized that the world might still have something left to teach him.
When he accepted the wands Tom offered, it was more than a gift.
It was a decision , a silent oath.
He would return to the world again… someday.
But that final step, that "last push of fate," would come when destiny called.
Tom, meanwhile, smiled as he saw the old wizard tuck the wands away. He didn't particularly care what chaos might follow if Grindelwald escaped.
A teacher like him didn't deserve to die forgotten in a cell.
"Come on," Tom said lightly, tapping the enchanted pouch. "I brought something better than politics , food and wine."
He reached into the dragonhide bag and, one by one, began pulling out steaming dishes and glimmering bottles. Within moments, the small wooden table was buried beneath a banquet fit for a king.
With a flick of his wand, Tom cast Engorgio, doubling the table's size and adding a few more plates just to show off.
"Good grief," Grindelwald murmured, inhaling deeply. "I haven't smelled real food in decades."
He didn't waste time pretending otherwise. Though he ate quickly, every movement carried that familiar grace , refined, deliberate, and proud, even in rags.
Tom, meanwhile, ate at his own pace, sipping from a glass and occasionally clinking it against Grindelwald's.
"If only Andros and Ariana could join us," he mused. "Then this would almost feel like a reunion."
Inside the learning space, Ariana's cheeks puffed with envy.
Tom could feel her presence, faint but petulant, muttering about unfairness.
He laughed quietly. "You can't blame me, Ariana. I can't exactly smuggle a ghost out of my mind, can I?"
Andros, of course, was less subtle. "I swear, if you start describing the food again, I'll hex the next student I see."
"This is for your benefit," Tom teased. "I'm making sure you both feel included."
Grindelwald didn't need to hear the voices to know who Tom was talking to , his faint smirk said it all. He'd always been good at reading people.
After eating his fill, Grindelwald set down his fork and leaned back. "Enough for me," he said, patting his chest. "If I eat more, I'll regret it later."
Tom nodded and pushed the enchanted pouch toward him. "There's plenty left. It'll stay fresh for about a month. When you're running low, I'll bring more."
Grindelwald peeked inside and flicked his wand. Half the food floated back out and returned to the table.
Tom blinked. "What are you doing?"
"I prefer my meals fresh," Grindelwald said with a knowing smile. "Half a month's worth is enough."
Tom squinted suspiciously. "You just want an excuse for me to visit more often, don't you?"
The old wizard waved dismissively. "I'm offended by your accusation, my boy. I would never, well, perhaps occasionally."
"Right." Tom's lips twitched. "Next time you're starving, don't come crying to me."
"I'll manage," Grindelwald said cheerfully, raising a glass of Jägermeister. "Besides, I've missed this taste."
Tom took a sip of his own drink , Riesling, light and sweet , and immediately made a face. "Ugh. How can you drink that herbal syrup? It tastes like someone melted a forest."
Grindelwald chuckled. "Dumbledore said the same thing, once. You know, he always did have a sweet tooth. Perhaps I'm the reason for that."
Tom choked on his wine. "Merlin, that's an image I didn't need."
Then, as if sensing the shift in mood, Grindelwald asked casually, "Tell me, Tom , didn't you say Dumbledore believes Voldemort is the most powerful dark wizard of this century?"
"Yeah," Tom said, popping a cherry into his mouth. "He claims Voldemort pushed the boundaries of dark magic further than anyone before him."
He grinned. "Don't take it personally, old man. You caused bigger chaos than him, but when it comes to pure magic? He might've outdone you."
Grindelwald's brow arched. "Hmph. In my day, I had no equal. But perhaps that was the problem. I spent my years building empires while he spent his studying curses."
Then, with a sharp glint in his eyes, he leaned forward. "Still , give me my youth again, and I'd hang him upside down by his robes."
Tom laughed. "So you're saying, if we ever revive your body, we should schedule a friendly duel?"
"Friendly?" Grindelwald scoffed. "No such thing."
Tom's smile turned sly. "You know, I've been thinking , what if I looked like you, summoned Andros into the learning space, and challenged Dumbledore myself? Wouldn't that be fun?"
Grindelwald gave him a long, unimpressed stare. "You're dangerously creative. Even for a Slytherin."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is," Grindelwald said flatly. "You're the kind of person who'll make even the devils nervous."
Tom only grinned wider. "That's the plan."
The hours slipped away unnoticed. When Tom had arrived, the morning sun had barely touched the sky , and now, through the narrow crack of the window, he could see the faint gold of dusk.
Most of the afternoon had passed with laughter, sharp debates, and a lengthy discussion about Voldemort's diary and the future of the Saints , Grindelwald's secret order, which Tom intended to rebuild.
The old and the young, master and student , one reborn from ashes, the other on the rise.
And as twilight bled into the room, the light caught the two of them , both smiling, both dangerous, both thinking the same thought:
The world hasn't seen the last of us yet.
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