Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 127 Dumbledore and Grindelwald

Albus—

Fifty years. I've been in this godforsaken place for fifty years.

Fifty years.

I am now emaciated and scarred; I can hardly believe I was ever beautiful.

I am the only living prisoner here.

The guards had all left, and a house-elf pushed food toward me from behind the fence.

Even the magic on my watch is almost gone.

The hands are trembling, and the date is hard to read.

I guess it would take an owl about three days to get here from Hogwarts? Or longer? Has the world expanded out beneath my feet? Otherwise, why do I feel farther away from you? Judging from the sun's position, I think it's sometime in January.

I try not to think about anything.

I no longer think of you, nor do I recall the past; I simply pace back and forth in my cell.

The door was engraved with symbols—a triangle, a circle, and a vertical line.

But please write me a letter once in a while.

Gellert Grindelwald

Dumbledore took the letter from the locked cabinet and looked at it over and over again.

His hand holding the letter trembled slightly, his eyes carefully scanning the words on the paper, as if even the words themselves possessed a unique charm.

Replying to a letter that expresses such deep emotion is undoubtedly very difficult; one wrong move and you could be burned.
However, the White Wizard, who is usually all-powerful, is now having a real headache.

Even Voldemort, who was about to return, could not put such pressure on him.

He thought of Damon's idea: "I would not pluck a single hair to benefit the world."

But then he immediately thought of Damon's style—zero tolerance for all Death Eaters. He had read Damon's mission reports, and in most cases, he could actually hold back.

He did it on purpose.

Rather than handing the matter over to the judicial system or Wizengamo to decide the punishment of those people, the boy preferred to make the decision himself. He had respect for life, yet he was extremely indifferent to the lives of these people.

What should I do?

Dumbledore closed his eyes, his hand still resting on the envelope he had already put away.

He felt the texture of his fingertips against the letter, his mind filled with thoughts of Damon, but even more memories flowed out uncontrollably.

"Professor, what did you see in Harris's Magic Mirror?"

"Me? I see myself holding a pair of thick wool socks."

"Don't believe what he said, he's just bragging. He's so old and still lying to children, how shameless."

He thought of the duel that took place in Godric's Hollow. Poor Ariana, could that mistake that Dumbledore regretted for the rest of his life now be about to begin again?
“Master White is undoubtedly a true genius, Dumbledore. I must say, you are overprotecting him. A genius like him should get to know more Transfiguration masters. There will be intellectual collisions and sparks of inspiration between geniuses!”

What would Cornelius think if he knew that Master White, whom he considered overprotected, had already changed his identity and become a rising star Auror in the Ministry of Magic?

Can he still talk to himself about this so easily and pretend to be magnanimous?

Dumbledore suddenly laughed.

But soon, the smile in his eyes disappeared.

Without a trace.

He finally sat up, made up his mind, and picked up the wool brush.

Gellert,

After so long, I'm writing to you again. Yes, I remember—I said I would never write to you again.

But now, I accept your apology, though I did accept it many years ago.

But I don't know what else I can do, I can only beg you to be patient with me.
I am sending this letter to you because of my deepest trust in you.

I remember saying a long time ago that I don't have any true confidants.

It's strange, even after all these years without contact, even after countless arguments, you're still the person I trust most—only you would keep these secrets for me, about this unfinished war, about England, about Voldemort—

But none of that is relevant to what I'm about to say.

I want to talk to you about a child, a child you may never have heard of—Damon White

He was a freshman at Hogwarts in 91. The Sorting Hat said he was a natural Slytherin, but he was eventually sorted into Gryffindor.

He excelled academically and had an excellent relationship with his teachers, but I could tell that he didn't actually have any particularly close friends and only poured his heart into a handful of students.

Before coming to Hogwarts, he grew up in an orphanage. Even in the Muggle world, he seemed quite remarkable. People in the Muggle world called him a musical prodigy, but he humbly said that it was just a hoax. I racked my brains to describe him, an extraordinary boy who gave me a headache.

But I can be absolutely certain that Gellert is a good kid.

But rather than using words like "strong," "brave," or "clever" to describe this child, perhaps "powerful," "authoritarian," or "autonomous" would be the most appropriate words to describe him.

I was terrified when I realized your whole plan—the cruel methods of rule and the torture of Muggles.

When you escaped Ariana's body like a habitual offender, yes, I was certainly angry.

I am extremely angry.

But I don't hate you, and I never wanted misfortune to befall you.

Therefore, no matter what you're doing, whether you're awake, asleep, eating, or breathing, I've never considered burning you with the eternal phoenix fire. But I would do the same to Voldemort—no, to Tom Riddle, that's his real name, everything else is an illusion—

Damon is countless times better than Tom was before. This is not an exaggeration. This child is only in the second grade, but he has already mastered almost all the high-level spells and even created a destructive spell with a power no less than the Death Curse. I have to be glad that he seems to have no interest in dark magic at all.

But that's why I absolutely cannot let what happened to Tom happen to this child!

I cannot accept this.

absolute!

And I can confirm that.

The magical world also cannot accept this.

I'm sorry, but please listen to me.

I write to you in despair, after we said that there was nothing but bitterness between us, and now I trouble you with the unsolvable worries of an old man.

But Gellert, you said that neither Nurmengard nor I could destroy you.

Yes, neither is possible.

But, Gellert, this kid is driving me crazy with all the trouble he's causing.

I think you are still stronger than me in the end.

I don't know how to proceed with this child.

I'd like to hear your opinion.

Albus Dumbledore

Also, it's for us.

{Attached: One pack of Lemon Snowball}

(End of this chapter)