Dumbledore's gaze lingered on the locket, his thoughts clouded with unease.
"You've never been in such a hurry to handle sothing yourself. I've never seen you this restless, Albus." Grindelwald arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with amusent.
"Why must you take this on alone? Evading death once only ans it will return tenfold. Those who cheat Death never escape for long." His voice, unusually gentle, carried a note of reassurance.
But Dumbledore's frown remained.
"I know what troubles you, Albus. With you and here, the students will be safe. The only real concern is—"
Grindelwald stopped mid-sentence.
"Can you see anything else?"
Dumbledore's searching gaze carried an uncharacteristic hint of plea.
Grindelwald hesitated for a brief mont.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head. "In truth, the only reason I can perceive this foul thing at all is because it is tied to a future grief you will endure."
"It was only when I shook your hand again that I saw it… Even though my understanding of fate surpasses yours, Albus, prophecy is most precise when a seer shares a close connection with its subject."
Forcing aside his revulsion, Grindelwald placed a hand upon the locket.
One of his eyes flickered, its color shifting montarily.
"Why not consult our Dark Lord directly? He's lurking in the forests of Albania, after all… Tsk, tsk. The infamous Dark Lord, hunting a rat."
"A literal rat, mind you," Grindelwald added, his voice dripping with mockery, before withdrawing his hand and heading to the sink, scrubbing his fingers as though he had touched sothing foul.
For soone like Voldemort, he felt only contempt. Horcruxes— if they were truly so effective— why were there so few who had dared to create them?
History had never lacked for ambitious wizards.
"Rember what I endure for you, Albus. Handling this sort of thing makes feel as though I'm inviting misfortune upon myself."
Grindelwald shook off the water from his hands and returned to the desk.
"I already know he's there." Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice quiet.
"..."
Grindelwald's expression stiffened slightly.
"Bad luck!"
In the end, he could only vent his frustration on the locket resting on the table.
"We can't catch him there. He's faster than anyone, and if he realizes we've uncovered his secret, he'll beco even more craven and cautious than before." Dumbledore studied the locket, its cursed aura thick with Dark magic, the fractured soul within still untouched.
"I'll follow the course of his actions and search carefully. If you discover anything new, you must tell ." Dumbledore said as he moved toward the door.
"Of course."
As he watched Dumbledore's retreating figure, Grindelwald's thoughts drifted back to the morning a few days prior, the visions he had glimpsed replaying in his mind.
"Albus, I'm choosing to help you, as always." Grindelwald's words seed like an answer to Dumbledore's request, yet his eyes— now turned an eerie, sightless white— were reviewing the events of days past.
A peculiar ring, hidden away in a crumbling, forsaken house.
"Thank you, Gellert. I've only ever asked you to watch over the school. That will be enough. Please— don't do too much, alright?" Dumbledore suddenly turned back, his voice carrying a quiet plea.
Grindelwald's eyes had already returned to their normal hue a heartbeat before.
"Not a single student will die."
Grindelwald smiled.
"..."
Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. He stood at the door, hand resting on the handle, hesitated for a long mont, and then finally asked,
"Is Gilderoy Lockhart still alive? He was ant to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. I hadn't expected you to find a replacent quite so quickly, the mont I stepped away."
"I was planning on arranging a more… leisurely position for you."
Although Dumbledore's selection of Gilderoy Lockhart as a professor made it clear that the man was expendable, his approach to such matters remained different from Grindelwald's.
"I only accept the positions I choose for myself."
Then, after a brief pause, Grindelwald added,
"In fact, I'd be more than happy to share my mories of Gilderoy Lockhart with you. If you saw what lurked inside his mind, you would certainly approve of my decision regarding him."
"Don't worry— he's not dead. I gave you my word, Albus. I only kill Dark wizards."
Grindelwald's words were enough. Dumbledore nodded, refraining from any further questions, and quietly opened the door. Without another glance, he stepped out.
As the door slowly swung shut, Grindelwald exhaled a quiet breath, closing his eyes as if suddenly exhausted.
Dealing with Dumbledore was never easy.
"The Resurrection Stone… This cursed relic is the last thing Albus needs to see," he muttered to himself. Then, after a pause, he added with a wry smile,
"Well, I do hope Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart is satisfied with the arrangents I've made for him."
Austria.
Night had fallen.
Nurngard Castle lay beneath a thick veil of darkness, the moonlight filtering through sparse clouds and casting an eerie glow upon its weathered stone walls. The ancient fortress, with its soaring towers, lood over the land, silent and forsaken.
Few dared approach this location.
Even the Ministry of Magic officials assigned to watch over the castle preferred to keep their distance.
For the most part, the only sounds at night were the whispering wind and the occasional call of an owl, the dense forests surrounding the stronghold unnervingly still.
But tonight was different.
The odd tension in the air unsettled the Ministry personnel stationed far away, who observed only through enchanted telescopes, careful never to step too close.
"What's all that shouting about?" One of them muttered, adjusting the focus of his scope.
The man behind the iron-barred window— usually a figure of quiet detachnt, content to sip tea and play endless gas of wizard's chess— was behaving… differently.
"Perhaps it's sothing to do with Dumbledore's recent visit for the registry?" One of the officials mused.
The others exchanged glances. A silent understanding passed between them.
And with that, they promptly returned to their ga of chess, abandoning their watch over the distant, towering fortress.
It wasn't as though they were neglecting their duty.
Their superiors had given them very clear instructions: remain stationed here, play a ga or two, check on the castle every few hours, and report back. Whether their charge was still inside the fortress or not was no concern of theirs.
After all—
Everyone knew the kind of man the Austrian Minister of Magic was before he took office. The Ministry had its priorities. They were only here to collect their pay.
Even if the prison cell lay empty, they would rely assu its occupant was dozing under the bed.
And should they be asked to step inside and investigate?
Well.
Only a fool would take that risk.
No salary was worth inviting that kind of trouble.
"Let out! This is a plot! A vile conspiracy! You can't do this! I demand to see Dumbledore! I want to see Dumbledore!"
The towering gates of Nurngard Castle stood sealed, their iron bars slick with age, glistening under the moonlight with an eerie, almost unnatural sheen. The pathway leading up to them had long been overtaken by creeping ivy and tangled brambles.
From behind a thick-barred window—
A man who now called himself "Grindelwald" clung desperately to the rusted fra, his hoarse cries echoing into the lonely night. But Nurngard had no guards, no watchful sentries. Only the cold, unyielding iron and the distant crash of waves breaking against the cliffs.
A simple Alohomora would have sufficed, but even if he hadn't lost his wand, it was doubtful he could have perford such basic magic in his current state.
(To Be Continued…)
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