The Appearance of an Old Acquaintance

After the first "Dark Lord" Grindelwald was imprisoned in Nurmengard, Dumbledore followed suit by self-imprisoning at Hogwarts.

Perhaps Dumbledore himself understood that he had lost the last person in this world capable of stopping him should he ever stray from the path.

Self-imprisonment at Hogwarts was the solution he provided.

His reputation was too great and his power too vast; if he truly set his mind to something, he would surely have a following.

This could be seen in the later formation of the Order of the Phoenix.

For the rest of his life, this "White Wizard" endured the agony of a thousand ants gnawing at his heart.

Regarding death, this old man often repeated a phrase: death is but the next great adventure.

Or perhaps, for Dumbledore, death was the only eternal release.

Perhaps the old man's only lingering concern now was his "good student" Tom, whose whereabouts remained unknown.

Originally, Dumbledore had intended to meet his end calmly after cultivating the "Savior" and setting a "death trap" for his good student Tom.

There was truly nothing left in this world that could stir the old man.

That was until he heard the "three elements" from Professor McGonagall.

Prophecy, platinum-blonde hair, heterochromia.

Isaac could be a young wizard with the gift of prophecy and platinum-blonde hair;

He could be a young wizard with heterochromia and the gift of prophecy;

He could even be a young wizard possessing both platinum-blonde hair and heterochromia.

As it turned out, he possessed all three.

These three elements might seem obscure to others, but to Dumbledore, they were nothing short of a thunderclap on a clear day.

"Minerva... is this true?" For the first time in ages, the White Wizard, confined to the high tower of Hogwarts, lost his composure.

The box of Cockroach Clusters he had been holding was overturned, and the "cockroaches" scattered in every direction. Dumbledore paid them no mind, his gaze fixed solely on Professor McGonagall.

At this, Professor McGonagall felt a pang of sympathy.

After so many years together, Dumbledore was her closest confidant—a true soulmate in every sense of the word.

Dumbledore knew of Professor McGonagall's two great regrets, and she knew of the history between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

"Yes, Albus," Professor McGonagall said in a soft, measured tone. "I can tell that Mr. Waldore performed a very precise prophecy regarding Miss Granger."

Perhaps he saw my existence in that prophecy as well.

"In any case, I think you should perhaps fulfill your duties as a professor?"

Professor McGonagall blinked and handed the slip of paper in her hand to Dumbledore.

To Professor McGonagall, it mattered little whether Isaac's gift of prophecy was genuine or not.

She, the Deputy Headmistress, was buried in work; what was wrong with having the Headmaster, who had nothing better to do, run an errand?

In the wizarding world, an old wizard over a hundred years old running an errand for a "young" wizard in his fifties was perfectly acceptable!

This is what one calls Hogwarts-style workplace bullying!!!

"Very well, Minerva." Dumbledore lowered his head, his fingers tracing the slip of paper bearing Isaac's name and address again and again.

The half-moon spectacles on his nose obscured his eyes, and beneath their reflection, even Professor McGonagall could not discern the look in Dumbledore's eyes.

Professor McGonagall knew Dumbledore needed a moment of solitude. With a wave of her wand, she tidied up the scattered Cockroach Clusters and quietly left the Headmaster's office.

Not long after, Dumbledore prepared to depart.

London, Hampstead Garden suburb, 12 Medway Street.

With a flicker, Dumbledore arrived via Apparition. This was Isaac's residence, and also one of Grindelwald's lesser-known properties.

Dumbledore stood before Isaac's front door, not rushing to knock, but instead slowly and carefully observing the two-story house before him.

The moment he saw Isaac's home, a flood of memories washed over Dumbledore.

Memories of those two months of infatuation in Godric's Hollow.

Of the times he and Grindelwald discussed magic;

Of their debates on the war between wizards and Muggles;

And of the greater good...

Of course, they had also dreamed of the future, imagining that once they had won the war between wizards and Muggles, they would find a two-story house in London and retire there.

Just like Nicolas Flamel and his wife.

Now that an object existing only in fond memories had suddenly materialized, Dumbledore could not help but feel a sense of detachment.

Just as Dumbledore stood lost in thought, the front door of the villa at the end of the garden and lawn slowly swung open.

The old butler, Anthony, stepped out slowly.

"Greetings, honored guest. Welcome; the young master is already waiting for you inside the mansion."

At the foot of the steps by the entrance, the old butler spoke in a voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for Dumbledore to hear.

"Thank you, thank you for the welcome." Dumbledore nodded at the old butler with a smile, then removed his spectacles from the bridge of his nose to wipe them carefully.

He then stepped toward the house.

As Dumbledore stepped inside, warmth and brightness were the first impressions the interior gave him.

In the living room, a record player spun a melodious tune, while in the dining room, the chef hired by the old butler was preparing one delicious dish after another.

Several maids were moving back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen—the entire team, including the chef and the maids, had been hired by the old butler on short notice.

As for the money used to pay the bills for the chef and maid teams, it naturally came from the account left behind by Grindelwald.

In a way, after all these years, this was Grindelwald's banquet for Dumbledore.

The table was laden with a rich variety of dishes: Wiener schnitzel, beef consommé, apple strudel;

Hungarian goulash, chicken paprikash, Dobos torte;

German roasted pork knuckle, sauerkraut, and a sausage platter...

Looking at the familiar dishes on the table, Dumbledore's heart, calm for decades, suddenly began to pound uncontrollably.

A faint sound of footsteps reached his ears, and Dumbledore turned around abruptly.

Isaac stood on the stairs, bowing slightly to the Dumbledore who had turned to face him below.

Everything this old man had done for the magical world was worthy of respect.

"Professor Dumbledore, welcome."

Dumbledore stared blankly at Isaac, his eyes seemingly failing to focus on him.

His gaze appeared to pierce through Isaac's body, looking toward a distant past.

The platinum-blonde hair, the distinct heterochromatic eyes, and the hospitality that matched the timing of his arrival almost to the second all confirmed to Dumbledore that this child truly possessed the three essential traits of Grindelwald.

At this moment, Dumbledore was trapped by the sentiment that "the closer one gets to home, the more timid one feels," and for a time, he did not know what to say to Isaac.

Isaac did not mind Dumbledore's silence; he walked down the stairs and came to a stop before Dumbledore.

He waited for Dumbledore to look at him for a moment, then unexpectedly glanced at the space beside Dumbledore.

He then offered Dumbledore a subtle smile.

"Professor Dumbledore, it seems I must act as a messenger. Someone has entrusted me to bring you a word..."