Albus Dumbledore remains obsessed with that dreamlike, ephemeral obsession.
The Path to Resurrection.
It was a deeply hidden yet burning desire within his unknown side.
And the Raven.
This was the closest Dumbledore could find to success.
The myths within that Misty Illusion, the masters who hold the Destiny life and death, have manipulated life and death in history more than once—this is the hope that Dumbledore years.
now.
Grindelwald had laid out before him what he desired most.
How could Dumbledore not seize it?
certainly.
He would still ponder whether this was yet another of Grindelwald's tricks, for even Dumbledore, as Grindelwald's closest confidant, could not fully fathom his mind.
This might be a gamble.
Want to gamble?
Dumbledore's heart was in turmoil.
Time slipped away silently, bit by bit.
Every second felt incredibly long.
The crystal's clear light fell silently, freezing the figures of the two old men on either side of the stone table, like two ancient statues that had withstood countless centuries of wind and rain.
Inside the tower, only their barely audible breathing could be heard, and the long-cold pie, which seemed to still be telling the story of the world outside, silently witnessed this silent struggle.
Grindelwald's heterochromatic eyes reflected Dumbledore's pensive profile, which appeared unusually patient, even possessing an almost appreciative composure. He understood Albus Dumbledore as well as the lines on his own palm.
The other party's ideas about wisdom, responsibility, curiosity about the unknown, vigilance against potential crises, and a deep-seated yearning for "possibilities" that they themselves may not even be willing to admit.
These traits, like precise gears, will inevitably mesh and rotate under specific pressure and information input, leading to a conclusion that he can almost predict.
Yes, he saw the Prophecy— not a clear and unambiguous picture, but rather the possible branching and turbulence of the river of Destiny at certain crucial junctures. He saw a vast, all-consuming shadow gathering, its source obscure, but its destructive potential undeniable. He also saw a glimmer of light, a... variable, an entity that resonated strongly with the ancient symbol " Raven," abruptly appearing within London's intricate web of Destiny.
This variable is subtle yet resilient, like a chess piece of unknown material thrown into a chaotic game of chess.
However, he did not rely entirely on Prophecy regarding Dumbledore's reaction at this moment. Decades of hostility and observation, as well as that brief but unforgettable period of youth spent sharing the wildest dreams and deepest pains, gave him an extraordinary understanding of the old man's thought patterns and decision-making logic.
Dumbledore weigh the options, doubt, and try to find every loophole and trap in his words, but ultimately, the deep-rooted yearning in his soul and the almost obsessive pursuit of "knowing the truth in order to make the right judgment" would outweigh his distrust of personal risk and of Grindelwald himself.
Grindelwald is like a highly skilled fisherman.
Knowing the habits and desires of the underwater behemoth, all that's needed is to lay out the right bait—a terrifying Prophecy, mysterious symbols, a potential cataclysmic crisis, and a chance to personally "reduce" a lifelong regret. Therefore, patiently waiting almost guarantees the behemoth will follow the trail. "How so?"
Grindelwald proved to be a master of human nature.
Sure enough, after a silence that seemed to freeze for several minutes, Dumbledore finally took a deep breath, the breath clearly audible in the quiet tower top.
He raised his head, the initial shock and intense internal struggle gone from his azure eyes, replaced by a sharpness and decisiveness that suggested he had made a difficult choice. Of course, beneath that decisiveness, deep doubts and a trace of barely perceptible... weariness remained.
" Gellert."
Dumbledore's voice was slightly hoarse, yet exceptionally clear, each word as if carefully crafted. "Before I make any decision, even considering your insane 'first step,' I need to know everything. You need to be completely honest with me." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze like a tangible probe, attempting to pierce the fog behind Grindelwald's enigmatic smile and heterochromatic eyes, "How exactly did you... find or confirm the Prophecy of that ' Raven '? Or did your remnant ' Acolytes ' network, scattered throughout Europe and possibly even infiltrated here, provide the intelligence?"
"How much do you really know about him, if that really is 'him'? His name? His origins? His purpose? And..." Dumbledore's tone intensified, carrying an almost accusatory suspicion, "Why do I feel that you are more... unfathomable than ever before? What are you plotting?"
"I must know, Gellert. Otherwise, I would rather risk ignoring potential crises than step into any foggy territory that might be under your control."
It's obvious.
Dumbledore noticed the subtle changes in Grindelwald.
These words were less of an inquiry and Dumbledore drew before making any compromises. He demanded the right to know.
The requirement to have some understanding of Grindelwald's motives and the information he possesses reveals that his own mind has already tipped; he's prepared to take a risk, but needs more "safety belts."
Seeing this, Grindelwald's smile deepened, a mixture of knowing "I knew it" and a complex emotion that was hard to describe.
He wasn't displeased by Dumbledore's sharp questioning; on the contrary, it seemed as if he had been waiting for it. He nodded slowly, his movements elegant, like a magician about to unveil a mystery.
"Excellent question, Albus. Straight to the point." Grindelwald's deep, magnetic voice echoed resonantly in the empty tower top. "You find me even more enigmatic? Perhaps. Because this time, what I face, what I'm trying to understand, may be even more... beyond the realm of reason than the world we dreamed of reshaping in our youth."
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, his heterochromatic eyes gazing into the void at the top of the tower, as if piercing through the stone walls to see the river of Destiny flowing beneath the London night sky.
"As for how I 'found' him..." Grindelwald withdrew his gaze, turning back to Dumbledore, his eyes becoming exceptionally deep. " The Prophecy did guide me, allowing me to see the ' Raven ' symbol in the London sky for a fleeting moment, and its vague connection to a potential catastrophe. But what truly confirmed and locked onto its existence was not the full details of the Prophecy, nor my long-deceased or dormant followers." He suddenly raised his hand and pointed to his head.
"This is it."
Grindelwald nodded with a smile, as if he had expected it. Dumbledore had foreseen his agreement through Prophecy. However, Grindelwald's answer shocked him, even horrifying him. Looking through the window, Dumbledore's expression was one of complete loss of control. "It is my greatest secret."
He looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes and spoke slowly and clearly, word by word, his secret—a secret that Dumbledore knew absolutely nothing about.
It is related to the power he relies on for survival.
It has to do with his greatest difference from others.
Inside this tall tower.
No one else knows exactly what Grindelwald said.
This answer will surely be earth-shattering.
Because after hearing it.
It was as if a thunderbolt had exploded in Dumbledore's mind! He was struck as if by lightning, and lurched backward, his back slamming heavily against the hard back of the high-backed stone chair with a dull thud. His expression completely lost control—shock, horror, disbelief, a mental blank. All his emotions surged and collided wildly on that usually wise and composed face like waves in a storm! His eyes were wide open, a tempest raging deep within his azure pupils, his mouth slightly open, but no sound came out; only his chest heaved violently.
A barrage of explosive questions instantly overwhelmed Dumbledore's mind, causing this Legendary Wizard, renowned for his wisdom and composure, to experience an unprecedented, brief mental blank and extreme loss of composure. From the viewpoint of someone casually glancing through the window from outside the tower, all one could see was Professor Dumbledore as if he had heard the most terrible news in the world.
He stood there frozen, his face a mixture of utter horror and bewilderment, as if the very foundation of his worldview had crumbled and reformed in an instant. Grindelwald watched Dumbledore's outburst silently, neither disturbing him nor showing any sign of smugness.
Time flowed slowly once again atop the tower.
This silence was filled with the dizziness and heaviness of having one's understanding overturned.
After an unknown amount of time, Dumbledore seemed to emerge from deep water, taking several deep breaths of icy air. He raised his slightly trembling hand, adjusted his slightly slipped Half-moon spectacles, and tried to refocus his gaze on Grindelwald. His face was still pale, but his eyes had managed to regain some focus, though a turbulent sea still churned within them.
"So that's how it is. I see. I knew it."
Dumbledore closed his eyes, pressing his fingers hard against his throbbing temples. The information Grindelwald had given was too astonishing, too revolutionary, almost beyond the boundaries of rational thought.
certainly.
Having learned Grindelwald's secret, he knew he could no longer hesitate, and could no longer hold back simply because of his distrust of Grindelwald and his fear of the unknown.
He had to see it for himself! He had to assess it! He had to try to reach out or understand it! It was his responsibility, whether it led to a trap or the truth. Dumbledore suddenly opened his eyes. At that moment, all the shock, horror, doubt, and weariness in his eyes were replaced by a deeper, more resolute determination.
For the world.
And also for his own regret.
At this moment, Dumbledore decided to acknowledge the risk he had to take. He didn't look at Grindelwald again, nor did he ask another question about the specific details of the clone spell. He stood up abruptly, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the moonlight atop the tower, carrying an undeniable sense of oppression. "Wait here." Dumbledore's voice returned to its steady tone, but it was colder and more authoritative than before—the voice of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
The majesty of the greatest white Wizard and an important member of the International Wizarding Union. Having said that, he didn't linger, turned, and strode towards the stone door. The heavy stone door slid silently open before him, and his figure quickly disappeared into the shadows of the steps outside, leaving only the sound of his footsteps echoing rapidly on the stone steps, gradually fading into the distance.
At the top of the tower, only Grindelwald remained. He gazed in the direction Dumbledore disappeared, his heterochromatic eyes flashing before finally fading into a barely audible sigh that dissipated into the chilly air.
About an hour later.
The headquarters of the International Wizarding Union, located on the Lake Geneva, is hidden and protected by powerful magic.
The door to the Emergency Response Office in the side wing of the solemn and imposing main council chamber, filled with magical elements from various countries, was flung open. Albus Dumbledore strode in, the hem of his purple star-patterned robes billowing with each step, his silver beard gleaming in the flickering firelight of the fireplace. His face was expressionless, eerily calm, but his deep blue eyes were like a frozen lake—sharp, cold, and possessing a long-lost, powerful aura that instantly silenced the several high-ranking officials of the International Confederation of Wizards who were processing documents or whispering among themselves.
Several officials looked up in surprise, recognized the newcomers, and quickly stood up.
" Professor Dumbledore? What brings you here...?"
Someone tried to greet him, but Dumbledore ignored their greetings and went straight to the desk in charge of special detention and exemptions. He slammed a Parchment document, freshly drafted with magic and still damp with ink, onto the smooth surface. The document's heading was prominently displayed.
Application for one-day provisional parole and family visit (observational) leave for prisoner Gellert Grindelwald.
Applicant and Guarantor: Albus Dumbledore.
The application was brief, almost blunt: granting Gellert Grindelwald permission to leave his current detention location and travel to London, United Kingdom, for observational activities for no more than 24 hours, under his full supervision. The reason for the application was simply stated in four words: Top Secret. As for the Magic Power seal and movement restrictions...
And the usually essential restrictive clauses, such as clone substitution, were not mentioned at all!
perhaps.
Dumbledore doesn't need these.
therefore.
The office erupted in chaos!
"By Merlin! Dumbledore! Are you insane?!"
" Grindelwald? Paroled? Out of town? To London? And without any restrictions?!"
"This is impossible! Absolutely not! This violates at least a hundred security protocols!"
"Top Secret? What secret could outweigh the risk of unleashing the most dangerous dark Wizard in history?!"
" Professor Dumbledore, we need an explanation! Immediately!" Several officials were shocked and furious, their faces filled with disbelief and strong opposition, their voices almost lifting the roof off.
One of the most senior vice-chairmen of the International Confederation of Wizards, from Northern Europe, was so angry that his beard trembled. He pointed at Dumbledore and questioned him sharply. Faced with this almost blatant rebuke and the surging wave of opposition, Dumbledore simply stood there quietly, his gaze calmly sweeping over each agitated and angry face.
"Quiet." His figure seemed even more upright than usual, and beneath his gentle and refined appearance lay a side that had long been suppressed and almost forgotten by the Wizarding World.
The glory and strength of that once powerful leader who defeated Grindelwald in the dueling arena and led the way in the Wizard Wars are slowly awakening like a dormant volcano.
It spread.