Grindelwald certainly has a great sense of the big picture.
and.
He was able to think Dumbledore.
"With my 'reputation' in the Wizarding World, no one would doubt that I am Grindelwald, the former Dark Lord, and a prisoner recently released on parole. What reason would I have to harm you? Too many. Revenge? A prison break? Jealousy? Pure madness? Let them think what they want."
The difference between Grindelwald and Voldemort lies in this: Grindelwald possesses an exceptionally strong inner strength, allowing him to completely disregard external opinions and criticisms. In contrast, Voldemort would have been consumed by impotent rage.
That's actually a manifestation of low self-esteem.
This is already evident in Dumbledore's memories.
Dumbledore looked at his old friend, a hint of something unspeakable in his eyes. "This will make you a target again. The Ministry of Magic won't understand, the International Wizarding Union won't understand, the entire Wizarding World won't understand. They'll see you as a dangerous dark Wizard who can never change."
He also wanted to clear his old friend's name.
Grindelwald shrugged, his posture as casual as if he were merely discussing tomorrow's weather. "I've been in that tower for almost fifty years. A few more years won't make a difference." He paused, looking at Dumbledore, a serious glint in his heterochromatic eyes. "Besides, Albus, we owe this world too much." "Not as Grindelwald and Dumbledore, but as... two old men who once thought they could change the world, only to be changed by it in the end." "This time, let's consider it paying off a debt."
It was clear that the years of experience hadn't left Grindelwald unchanged; perhaps Dumbledore's original intention in imprisoning him was indeed having an effect. Upon hearing this, Dumbledore remained silent for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. He didn't speak, but everything in his eyes was enough.
Ian watched this scene quietly, a complex light flickering in his deep eyes.
He knew what had happened between the two old men, knew that their grudges and affections spanned nearly a century. He also knew that the tacit understanding between them at this moment, the unspoken comprehension, was something that could only be achieved after sharing the deepest pain, the most utter failure, and the longest period of time.
Outside the window, the night remained deep. The roar of the waves grew closer, as if something enormous and indescribable was slowly rising from the depths of the sea. "We still have enough time."
Ian stood up, walked to the window, and gazed into the darkness.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald also stood up and walked over to him.
Three figures stood side by side in the dim light.
A twelve-year-old child from the future, possessing power beyond the reach of Legend.
A man over a hundred years old, the headmaster of Hogwarts, and the greatest white Wizard in the Wizarding World.
A similarly aged Dark Lord once stirred up trouble in Europe.
They faced the same darkness, the same enemy, and the same Destiny -determining moment.
"Then," Dumbledore said, his voice calm and firm, "It's settled."
Grindelwald nodded. "It's settled then."
Ian turned around and looked at the two of them.
In those deep eyes, a light shone that seemed completely out of place with his age—a light that only those who have experienced true battles, true loss, and true growth possess. "I will wait in the Misty Illusion. Waiting for that signal."
"When you call upon me—"
He paused, then a slight smile appeared on his lips, revealing a youthful yet incredibly confident expression.
"I will appear."
As he finished speaking, his figure began to blur, as if shrouded in an invisible mist. The mist grew thicker and thicker until it completely engulfed him. Dumbledore and Grindelwald watched that spot silently, waiting for the mist to dissipate and reveal that no one was there.
However, after the fog dissipated
Ian remained standing in the same spot.
The boy tilted his head, watching the fleeting surprise on the two elderly people's faces, and couldn't help but laugh. His laughter was clear and pure, finally showing some of the characteristics of a twelve-year-old. "Sorry, sorry," he said with a smile, "Just kidding. The atmosphere was too heavy; we needed to lighten it up."
Grindelwald's brows furrowed, his heterochromatic eyes filled with annoyance that said, "Are you kidding me?" Dumbledore shook his head helplessly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "So, what's going on?" Grindelwald's voice carried a dangerous undertone. "You were just teasing us with everything you said earlier?" "No, no," Ian quickly waved his hands, his smile fading and his expression becoming serious. "Entering the Misty Illusion is real, and waiting for your call is real too. But before we go in—" He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two men, a solemn light flashing in his deep eyes. "I need to give you a guarantee." Ian spoke easily.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "Guarantee?"
Grindelwald also looked puzzled.
Ian nodded. "You are about to face a Legend, and a Legend being transformed by the forces of Deep Space. Even with the decoy plan, even with my final intervention, the process is fraught with uncertainty. I need to make sure—in the worst-case scenario—that you all survive."
Grindelwald stared at him, a hint of wariness flashing in his heterochromatic eyes. "What guarantee?"
Ian was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke, saying each word clearly:
"A guarantee to become Legend."
The tavern fell silent instantly.
Grindelwald's expression changed. It wasn't surprise, nor anticipation, but a complex, almost wary look. He stared at Ian, his eyes, capable of piercing the mists of time, narrowing slightly. "To become Legend?"
Grindelwald's voice deepened, "You know better than I the concentration of Magic Power in this era, the limitations imposed by the rules of this world. Countless Wizard have spent their entire lives trying to cross that threshold—and now you tell me, you can give us 'guarantee'?"
He took a step forward, a sharp glint in his heterochromatic eyes:
"Do you want us to break through like Voldemort, relying on the power of some 'Ancient God'? To become vassals of some being? To exchange freedom and soul for power?" His voice grew colder, carrying an undeniable firmness. "If that's the case, I'd rather remain forever below the Legend."
This is the pride a true Wizard should have.
Dumbledore didn't speak, but the same wariness flickered in his deep blue eyes. He looked at Ian, awaiting his answer. Ian met their gaze quietly, his face showing no sign of offense. Instead, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a deep smile that seemed completely out of character for his age, "It's not like that."
He shook his head, his voice calm yet resolute. "I don't want you to become appendages of any being. I want you... to be yourselves." Grindelwald's brow furrowed even more. "What do you mean?"
Ian raised his hand, his fingertips tracing a faint, silvery-white trail in the air. The trail slowly rotated, forming a complex pattern that seemed to contain some kind of regularity. "This era cannot become Legend," Ian stated his judgment. "I've actually been considering the reasons. In fact, I think it's not because the Magic Power concentration is insufficient, not because of the limitations of the rules, but because... the 'coordinates' of this era are fixed."
"Coordinates?" Dumbledore repeated.
Ian nodded. "Every era has its own 'frequency,' like different channels on a radio. The reason why Legend can't be born in this era is because the 'upper limit' of this channel is locked. To break through that limit, you need to switch to a different channel."
Upon hearing this, Grindelwald's breath hitched slightly. He looked at Ian, his heterochromatic eyes flashing with disbelief.
"You mean... going to other eras?"
Ian nodded. "Go to an era with a higher 'ceiling.' Go to an era that can bear the power of Legend. Break through in that era, and then return here with the power of Legend." He smiled slightly.
"It's as if I came here from the future."
Silence fell in the tavern once more. Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, both seeing shock, confusion, and a hint of barely suppressed... excitement in each other's eyes. "Is... this feasible?" Dumbledore's voice was somewhat hoarse. "To transcend time, break through to Legend, and then return—doesn't that violate the laws of time? Won't it cause irreversible disruption to history?" In the end, he still wanted to prioritize the greater good.
Ian looked at him, a serious glint in his deep eyes: "If it were anyone else, of course I would. But you're different." "Why?" Grindelwald asked.
Ian's lips curled up slightly, revealing a mysterious smile:
"Because in my time, you have already reached Legend."
These words struck them like a thunderbolt.
Dumbledore's pupils contracted sharply. Grindelwald's hand trembled slightly, almost dropping his wine glass.
"What... did you say?" Dumbledore's voice was almost trembling.
Ian looked at them, his gaze devoid of boastfulness or smugness, only a calm, resolute statement:
"In my time, Albus Dumbledore was Legend. Gellert Grindelwald was Legend too. You crossed that threshold in different Timeline and in different ways. So..." He paused, his voice softening further:
"I'm sending you to break through, not to 'change' history, but to 'realize' history. The outcome was already predetermined; I'm just making it happen at a more opportune time and in a safer way." Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His chest heaved violently, revealing the turmoil within him. After a long while, he reopened his eyes, his deep blue pupils gleaming with an unprecedentedly complex light—shock, anticipation, confusion, and an indescribable... relief.
"So," his voice was hoarse, "In the future, we..."
"They're both alive," Ian continued, picking up where he left off. "They've both transcended Legend. They both continue to protect this world. Of course," he glanced at Grindelwald, "In different ways." Grindelwald's lips twitched slightly. He understood what Ian meant—in the future, he and Dumbledore would still be "different ways." Perhaps still enemies? Perhaps they had reconciled? Perhaps... He didn't know, but he did know that he was still alive, still existed.
It also left its mark on that distant future.
That's enough.
"But," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, a hint of hesitation in his voice, " the Time-Turner cannot allow us to change history. The Ministry of Magic has countless cases to prove this. Even the most powerful Time Magic cannot truly interfere with the past—you can only change what was destined to be changed anyway."
Ian nodded. "You're right. Ordinary Time-Turner can only create closed time loops; they can't truly change established history. But the one I used..." He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing an unfathomable depth that seemed completely out of character for his age.
"It's not Time-Turner."
"What is that?" Grindelwald pressed.
" Time Machine."
Ian raised his hand, and a tiny, intricate model composed of countless gears and rays of light appeared in his palm. The model slowly rotated in his hand, radiating a mysterious, timeless glow. "Older, more powerful, more... irrational than Time-Turner. It can truly traverse Timeline, freely moving between different eras without triggering Time Paradox. Because it follows not the 'law of causality,' but the ' Law of Destiny.'"
The things the Titan made were indeed valuable.
Upon hearing this, a strange light flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
He certainly knew what the word " Destiny " meant—it was something deeper and more essential than time. Time was merely the vehicle for Destiny, while Destiny itself... Old Deng looked at Ian, his voice becoming exceptionally solemn:
"Who exactly are you, child?"
The tentative inquiry yielded no definite answer. Ian met his gaze, and in those deep eyes shone a light far beyond his years, almost divine. He smiled slightly, a smile that contained naivety, depth, and a serene composure that seemed to belong to a higher realm, making it impossible to look directly at him.
Who I am is unimportant.
He paused, his voice becoming even softer, yet it exploded in their ears like thunder:
"The important thing is one."
"I am the embodiment of Destiny."
The tavern was deathly silent.
Even the sound of the approaching waves outside the window seemed to be stunned by those words, and briefly disappeared. Dumbledore and Grindelwald stared at him blankly, their minds a complete blank.
The embodiment of Destiny.
These five words, like the oldest incantation, the deepest truth, the most untouchable taboo, uttered from the mouth of this twelve-year-old child, carried an undeniable and self-evident power.
After a long, long silence, Dumbledore spoke with difficulty. His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "Those ancient texts... the accounts of Raven... they say it's 'the messenger at the end of Destiny '... they say it's 'the unraveler of cause and effect'... they say it's... I see."
Dumbledore, of course, believed this.
He also knew a great deal about Raven.