After the original "Dark Lord," Grindelwald, was imprisoned in Nurmengard, Dumbledore also locked himself away at Hogwarts.
Perhaps Dumbledore knew that he had lost the last person in the world who could stop him if he ever strayed from the right path.
Imprisoning himself at Hogwarts was the solution he came up with.
His reputation was too great, and his power too formidable. If he truly wanted to do something, countless people would answer his call.
That much was clear from the Order of the Phoenix he later formed.
For the rest of his life, this "White Lord" endured a pain like ten thousand ants gnawing at his heart.
The old man's attitude toward death was summed up in a phrase he often repeated: "Death is but the next great adventure."
Or perhaps, for Dumbledore, death was the only true, eternal release.
Perhaps the only thing the old man still cared about was his "good student," Tom, whose whereabouts were unknown.
Originally, after raising the "Boy Who Lived" and setting a "death trap" for his good student Tom, Dumbledore had gone to his death without hesitation.
There was truly nothing in this world that could move the old man.
That is, until he heard the "three traits" from Professor McGonagall.
Prophecy, platinum-blond hair, and heterochromia.
Isaac could be a young Wizard with the gift of prophecy and platinum-blond hair;
he could also be a young Wizard with heterochromia and the gift of prophecy;
he could even be a young Wizard with both platinum-blond hair and heterochromia.
As it turned out, he had all three.
These three traits might have meant little to anyone else, but to Dumbledore, they were like a thunderclap out of a clear sky.
"Minerva... is this true?" For the first time in ages, the White Lord, confined to Hogwarts's tower, lost his composure.
The candy box that had held the Cockroach Clusters was knocked over. The "cockroaches" scattered in every direction, but Dumbledore paid them no heed. He simply stared intently at Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall felt a pang of sympathy for him.
After so many years together, Dumbledore was her best friend. Her best friend in the truest sense of the word.
Dumbledore knew the two regrets Professor McGonagall had in her life, and Professor McGonagall knew about Dumbledore's past with Grindelwald.
"Yes, Albus," Professor McGonagall said gently. "I could tell that Mr. Waldore made a very precise prophecy about Miss Granger."
Perhaps he also saw me in the prophecy.
At any rate, I think you might want to fulfill your duties as a professor?"
Professor McGonagall blinked and handed Dumbledore the note.
As far as Professor McGonagall was concerned, it didn't matter if Isaac's gift for prophecy was fake.
She, the deputy headmistress, was swamped with work. What was wrong with the headmaster having nothing to do and running a few errands?
In the Wizarding World, there was absolutely nothing wrong with a wizard over a hundred sending a "young" wizard in his fifties on an errand!
This was what they called workplace bullying, Hogwarts style!!!
"All right, Minerva." Dumbledore lowered his head, turning the note with Isaac's name and address over and over in his hands.
The Half-moon Spectacles on his nose just happened to hide his eyes. Even Professor McGonagall couldn't make out his expression through the glare on the lenses.
Professor McGonagall knew Dumbledore needed a moment alone. She waved her wand, tidied away the scattered Cockroach Clusters, and quietly left the Headmaster's Office.
Not long afterward, Dumbledore prepared to set out.
12 Medway Street, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London.
After a flash, Dumbledore Apparated here. It was Isaac's home, and one of Grindelwald's lesser-known properties.
When he arrived at Isaac's door, Dumbledore didn't hurry to knock. Instead, he slowly and carefully studied the two-story house before him.
The moment he saw Isaac's home, Dumbledore was swept back through countless memories.
Like those two delirious, passionate months in Godric's Hollow.
Like the times he and Grindelwald discussed magic;
like their conversations about the war between Wizards and Muggles;
and, of course, For the Greater Good...
They had also once dreamed of the future. After winning the war between Wizards and Muggles, they would find a two-story house in London and settle down there.
Just like Nicolas Flamel and his wife.
An object that existed only in the beautiful memories of the past had suddenly taken shape before his eyes, and Dumbledore couldn't help but lose himself in the sight.
While Dumbledore stood there in a daze, the villa's front door slowly swung open at the far end of the garden and lawn.
The elderly butler, Anthony, came out at a leisurely pace.
"Greetings, honored guest. Welcome. The young master is waiting to receive you inside."
At the foot of the steps, the old butler spoke in a voice just loud enough for Dumbledore to hear.
"Thank you. Thank you for welcoming me." Dumbledore smiled and nodded to the old butler, then took the glasses from the bridge of his nose and carefully polished them.
Then he stepped toward the house.
As soon as Dumbledore entered, the first things he noticed were its warmth and brightness.
A gramophone played a lilting melody in the living room, while in the dining room, the chef hired by the old butler prepared one delicious dish after another.
Several maids went back and forth between the dining room and kitchen. The chef and the maids had all been hired temporarily by the old butler.
As for the money to pay the chef's team and the maids, it naturally came from the account Grindelwald had left behind.
It was, in a way, Grindelwald's first invitation to dine with Dumbledore in many years.
The table was laden with dishes: Wiener schnitzel, beef stew, apple strudel;
Hungarian goulash, chicken paprikash, Dobos torte;
German pork knuckle, a platter of sauerkraut and sausages...
At the sight of those familiar dishes, the heart Dumbledore had kept steady for decades suddenly began to pound uncontrollably.
A faint sound of footsteps reached his ears. Dumbledore turned around abruptly.
Isaac stood on the stairs and bowed slightly to Dumbledore, who had turned to face him.
Everything this old man had done for the Wizarding World deserved respect.
"Professor Dumbledore, welcome."
Dumbledore stared blankly at Isaac, his eyes seeming not to focus on him.
His gaze seemed to pass through Isaac, fixed on the distant past.
The platinum-blond hair, the striking heterochromia, and the welcome that had come at almost exactly the time of his arrival all convinced Dumbledore that this child before him truly had all three of Grindelwald's traits.
Yet in that moment, Dumbledore was caught in the feeling that the closer one came to home, the more one feared the journey. He didn't know what to say to Isaac.
Isaac didn't mind Dumbledore's silence. He came down the stairs and walked over to him.
After waiting for Dumbledore to look at him for a while, Isaac glanced unexpectedly at the space beside him.
Then he gave Dumbledore a faintly amused smile.
"Professor Dumbledore, it looks like I'll have to play messenger. Someone asked me to pass along a message to you..."