Grindelwald: You Can't Control Him?

Nurmengard.

In the simple cell on the top floor, two old men sat facing each other across a dilapidated little table.

The food on the table seemed out of place in this gloomy setting—several plates of roasted pork knuckle, sausages, and potato balls, steaming hot and emitting a rich aroma of meat, all classic German dishes.

In front of Dumbledore, Grindelwald didn't maintain any elegant eating manners, devouring the food that suited his tastes in a flash.

He didn't care at all that oil stains were on his lips and fingers.

In places like this, the food provided to Grindelwald is usually just enough to keep him from starving.

The bread was stale, the soup was watery, and the taste and texture were indescribable.

Only when Dumbledore came could Grindelwald have a relatively normal meal.

Of course, it would be even better without those overly sweet candies.

After a hearty meal, Grindelwald gestured with his fork toward the plate of Bertie Bott's Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans served as dessert, indicating that Dumbledore first.

This wasn't out of humility or affection; it was simply because Dumbledore always managed to get the worst-tasting Bean when choosing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

There are no exceptions.

From a young age, Grindelwald liked to have Dumbledore help him eliminate the worst Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans options.

Dumbledore casually picked up a piece, put it in his mouth, and chewed it without changing his expression.

Grindelwald stared at his expression for a second before reaching out, picking up a piece, and popping it into his mouth.

"Not bad, chocolate flavor." He curled his lips into a smile, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Grindelwald chuckled, "I'm becoming more and more interested in that little wizard named Lucien."

Dumbledore picked up his teacup but didn't reply.

"Compared to that so-called the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived," Grindelwald continued, "You've come here for Lucien far more often. Though only a few times—well, three? Twice?"

He counted on his fingers, his tone feigning deep thought, as if Dumbledore's visit was a rare and precious thing.

Dumbledore still did not answer.

Grindelwald didn't care. He put down his fork, leaned forward slightly, and stared intently into Dumbledore's blue eyes with his heterochromatic pupils.

"I suspect, Al," he lowered his voice, "It's because that the Boy Who Lived hasn't shown any extraordinary magical talent yet? At least not at our level."

Or perhaps, that boy is still under your "control"? Growing up according to your plan?

"And Lucien, you can't control him?"

Dumbledore put down his teacup and shook his head.

"I only want to guide Lucien," he said calmly. "Constant surveillance and restraint will only backfire on a child like that."

Dumbledore thought of the magical fountain that Hogwarts had added, of the fireworks that lit up the night sky on Valentine's Day, of the laughter that filled the lawn, and of the "vast" Patronus Charm...

Willing to use magic to bring joy and happiness to others, able to unleash Patronus Charm...

Dumbledore did not believe that Lucien was heading astray.

He pulled a thin book from his pocket and pushed it in front of Grindelwald.

"This is an alchemical tool invented by Lucien, called ' Instant Whisper,'" Dumbledore said. "It should be interesting to you."

Grindelwald glanced down at the book; its cover was plain and undecorated.

It felt warm and smooth to the touch. In a good mood, he flipped through it, only to find that the papers inside were all blank, without a single word. He was about to ask about it—

"Ding~~"

A clear and pleasant sound came from the manual.

At the same time, Grindelwald saw a line of words appear out of thin air on the blank paper:

Albus Dumbledore requested to add you as a friend.