Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 159 Valentine's Day in Nurmengard
Nurmengard, a prison forgotten by the world.

There was no one around; even the cracks in the stone walls exuded a chill and silence. Only occasionally would a strange whimper drift out from a small crack—the house-elf Lightning was preparing Grindelwald's lunch.

As instructed, he couldn't feed the old man too much, lest he regain his energy—if that mouth had the energy to speak, no one could resist his seduction for long.

Although the owner of those mouths no longer had the mind to do these things, he was still being watched. Grindelwald leaned against the cold iron door, his fingers gently tracing the image of the Three Deadly Relics on it.

Only those memories could help him keep going. He wasn't as strong as Albus claimed in his letter—perhaps he had indeed been very successful at pretending.
But whenever he closes his eyes, the dead Muggles scream in his dreams.

He uncontrollably and repeatedly recalled the rows of bodies he had killed, their grieving families, and the buried corpses.

There was a little girl wearing a red shawl who kept screaming. Even though she had been dead for fifty years, she still hadn't stopped screaming.

If he hadn't clung so tightly to his memories of Albus, he might have already collapsed.
He missed his lover terribly, but for the rest of his life, he was destined to be a lonely, repentant old sinner.

"Ah!" A sharp scream suddenly rang out from outside the cell.

Grindelwald frowned, opened his eyes, and then immediately closed them again, exhausted—what was that house-elf up to? Could it possibly create such a commotion all by itself?
In front of the lightning, the tall old man was raising his index finger to him:
"Shh-"

He smiled and looked down at the little guy's disheveled appearance, saying:
"Sorry, Lightning, I didn't scare you, did I?"

Lightning hadn't expected a second living person to appear here, let alone Dumbledore. He cried out in terror:
"Lightning has been diligently carrying out the tasks assigned by Lord Dumbledore, so why... why is Lord Dumbledore here?"

"Calm down—calm down, Lightning. You didn't do anything wrong—in fact, I believe you did a great job."

Dumbledore, dressed in a gold-trimmed tuxedo, whispered words of comfort to Lightning.

“Next, I have something to say to Gellert alone. Would you mind if we had some time alone together? Hmm, it might take a while.”

"No problem! The lightning can simply disappear for a whole day!"

Upon hearing that his work was done well and that he had been rewarded, the house-elf burst with energy, bowed to Dumbledore, and then said, "Lightning is leaving now!"

After saying that, he vanished in a flash, appearing as a phantom.

"Oh—that's really capable."

Dumbledore sighed. He spread his magic around and carefully checked the area, confirming that only he and Gellert remained. He then began to walk forward, towards the cell he had never been to before.

"clatter"

Grindelwald suddenly opened his eyes.

He heard extremely faint footsteps, which did not belong to the house-elf.

somebody is coming.

The message flashed through his mind, and then he closed his eyes again.

He wasn't interested in anyone who came, and he wouldn't see them.

None of this concerned him—since it was none of his business, the sound of footsteps would only distract him and prevent him from immersing himself in his memories.

He didn't want to pay attention to it or be disturbed.

But Grindelwald could no longer close his eyes—at that very moment, the door he was leaning against was being opened!

Who dares to break through Albus's carefully laid plan?! Who can unravel it?

Voldemort? Or the boy named Damon that Dumbledore spoke of? Or perhaps... Albus!
"Oh—should I greet you first?"

The voice that haunted his dreams rang out from outside the door, and Grindelwald's heart skipped a beat.

"Albus? You actually agreed to come see me?"

"Hmm, if I say I've changed my mind, wouldn't that seem despicable?" "No, you're a charming, kind-hearted old man. It's a dictator like me who's despicable."

"I came to see you not to talk about those things from the past."

"So what do you want to say? About the boy who survived? Or that boy named Damon? It seems you're in trouble? So you finally thought of me?"

"."

Silence remained, but the locked cells were being unsealed.

Grindelwald was bursting with energy. Before the cell door opened, he hurriedly tidied himself up—even though he now looked like the most ordinary, ugliest old man.
The door opened.

The person Grindelwald wanted to see stood on the other side of the door—dressed in a fine suit, carrying a box of sweets and a bottle of flaming whiskey—something only a young man would do.

It seems he has indeed encountered some troubles.

"I've aged so much, yet you're still as energetic as ever. It's so unfair."

"To me, you're still the same Gellert, unchanged—aren't you going to invite me in?"

The two men stared at each other in silence as Grindelwald stepped aside.

Dumbledore conjured up a low table on the spot, and the two sat down on the cold floor—the cell door closed automatically, leaving everything to the two inside.

Do you remember that afternoon when we first talked about 'for the greater good'?

Dumbledore opened the candy box and filled the wine glass with whiskey.

"I remember you saying back then that this world is not worth our bowing down to."

Grindelwald sat upright, gazing at him.

"But in the end, we gave in."

Dumbledore laughed self-deprecatingly.

Grindelwald did not respond.

He just looked at Dumbledore, picked up a candy with his hand, and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet, but not nearly as delicious as the lemon sorbet he had tasted that day—the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

"What do you want to say here? I'm ready to listen."

Grindelwald knew that Dumbledore would not have come to see him unless something significant had happened that could change the entire world.

"Actually, I'm just curious about one thing. Anyway, it's Valentine's Day, do we really have to talk about those unpleasant things?"

"Valentine's Day? I thought you wouldn't care about this kind of thing. My watch has been malfunctioning lately. If you could fix it for me before you leave, that would be great."

"I will."

Grindelwald smiled.

He raised his glass to Dumbledore:

"Well then, let's celebrate, for this absurd holiday, and for seeing each other again in fifty years."

boom.

The clinking of glasses rang out, and the two old men chatted for a whole day. They talked about many things from the past, mostly shared insights from their youth, and laughed heartily when they were happy—but Grindelwald wouldn't ask a question unless Dumbledore brought up his current troubles.

When he finally left, Dumbledore didn't raise any questions but instead gave a promise:
"I will set you free when Voldemort is completely dead."

(End of this chapter)