Valley of the End

1945, Europe, the Alps.

Scattered raindrops drifted down from the sparse clouds in the night sky, striking the ever-flowing river and sending ripples across its surface.

A full moon peeked out from behind the thin rain clouds, draping the valley in a layer of pale silver frost.

The surging river relentlessly scoured the banks on either side. A man stood steadily at the water's edge, moonlight falling across his face and tracing the contours of his features in light and shadow.

Though age had lent him a weathered air, he still retained some of the handsomeness of his youth.

His body was covered in wounds from the previous battle. Even one sleeve of his once-splendid wizard's robe was gone, and he was now gasping heavily.

Across from him, a man of similar age was likewise breathing hard. Beneath the dim moonlight, his golden hair still gleamed like sunlight, while his mismatched eyes shone with an eerie light.

Both men were equally bedraggled.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald's gazes met in the air, clashing fiercely in silence. A moment later, they simultaneously raised their wands at each other.

They both knew that this would be the final blow to determine victory or defeat.

A red beam and a blue beam shot from their wand tips. The instant they collided, a spherical transparent shockwave burst from the point where the beams met, and the dust it kicked up immediately obscured the entire valley.

When the earth-shattering impact finally passed, the valley where the two men stood had been completely transformed.

The surrounding cliff faces were covered in horrifying cracks, and the rocks teetered on the verge of collapse as broken stones continuously tumbled down.

Grindelwald had no strength left and plunged headfirst into the river before him. Carried by the current, his body slowly drifted toward the cliff at the river's end.

A hand seized Grindelwald just as he was about to fall over the precipice.

With great effort, Dumbledore dragged Grindelwald from the water onto the nearby bank. For Dumbledore, who had just gone through a world-shaking duel, Grindelwald's body was somewhat too heavy.

It took all his strength to move his old opponent, Grindelwald, onto the temporarily safe riverbank.

The defeated Grindelwald lay on the ground, his expression complicated as all kinds of memories flashed through his mind. In the end, however, his countless thoughts turned into a hearty laugh. "You won again, Albus."

"This ends here, Gellert."

Exhausted in both body and mind, Dumbledore leaned against the rock wall and slowly sat down beside Grindelwald. "We are dear friends. I do not want to kill you, but this war must end. If it continues, it will only endanger the future of the Magical World."

"I will spend the rest of my life in Nurmengard," Grindelwald said lightly.

"Gellert..."

"But before that, there is one last thing..." Grindelwald reached a slightly trembling hand into his robes and took a small card with an arrow drawn on it from his pocket.

Dumbledore looked at the direction card Grindelwald handed him in confusion, unable to understand its meaning.

Where did Grindelwald want him to go?

"This card has the address of a safe house. Our son is there," Grindelwald said with a teasing smile. "Congratulations, you're going to be a mother."

At such a solemn moment, Grindelwald unexpectedly displayed his dark sense of humor.

Dumbledore stared at the card in his hand with a dark expression. What the hell did he mean, I'm going to be a mother?

Seeing that Dumbledore was about to lose his temper, Grindelwald's smile faded. "All right, his mother is someone else. But some of your blood runs in his veins. That much is absolutely true."

Grindelwald patted Dumbledore on the shoulder. "I'll leave it to you to take good care of him from now on."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and fought back the urge to hit Grindelwald with an Avada Kedavra from the Elder Wand. He did not want his child to lose his father at such a young age.

Then Dumbledore slowly nodded. "I will take good care of him. What do you plan to name him?"

"Kyle. Kyle Grindelwald." After giving the name, the utterly exhausted Grindelwald quietly lay back on the ground, closed his eyes, and said no more.

The wizarding war that had been started by Grindelwald, known as the "Dark Lord," and swept across the entire European continent, finally came to an end when Albus Dumbledore defeated Gellert Grindelwald.

The valley where the two had fought their final duel was later known as the Valley of the End.

Defeated by Dumbledore in the Valley of the End, Grindelwald imprisoned himself in Nurmengard Castle from then on.

One year later, Devon, Britain, in a remote manor.

"Nicolas, is there really no way to save Kyle...?"

In the manor's resplendent sitting room, Dumbledore wore a slightly sorrowful expression as he looked pleadingly at the white-haired, white-bearded old man before him and could not help asking once again.

The old man known as Nicolas removed his black-framed reading glasses. "Dumbledore, you know that this child was artificially brought into being by magic. To this day, his body has not produced a complete soul."

"When Rosier gave birth to him, he still failed to develop a soul. That already proves..."

Nicolas LeMay shook his head. He had said enough; there was no need to continue.

Dumbledore understood what he meant, yet he still refused to give up.

"What if we use the Philosopher's Stone?"

At Dumbledore's words, Nicolas LeMay lowered his voice.

"Even the Philosopher's Stone is not omnipotent. After all, this concerns the most profound level of the soul. To this day, we still cannot fully comprehend the mysteries of the soul."

"Even the one most proficient in the Dark Arts..."

Nicolas LeMay suddenly paused, doing his best to avoid mentioning Grindelwald's name in front of Dumbledore.

"Even he was helpless in Kyle's case."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes, a trace of disappointment appearing on his face, only to be quickly covered by a glimmer of hope.

"Then what about the Resurrection Stone?"

Nicolas LeMay leaned forward. "Dumbledore, you and I both know the legends surrounding the Deathly Hallows. The Resurrection Stone can only summon the souls of the dead; it cannot grant new life to a body..."

Dumbledore could not help sighing, then sank fully into the soft sofa.

Could he not even fulfill the final promise he had made to Grindelwald?

"I understand." As his hope was shattered once more, Dumbledore's voice could not help carrying a hint of despondence.

Even the tremendous heat constantly radiating from the roaring fireplace could not dispel the coldness in his heart.

His final hope had been destroyed.

Dumbledore suddenly looked as though he had aged ten years. Those deep blue eyes that had once shone with an azure light had also lost their former brilliance, appearing dim and dispirited.