Lys pressed her lips together.
Lys with an unclear mind wasn't really Lys.
The alchemical lamp's warm yellow glow conveniently concealed the flush creeping across Lys's face.
She opened her mouth to explain:
"Ahem! Those are just things those Hufflepuff kids wrote for fun. I was afraid you wouldn't see me, and honestly I wasn't entirely clear about what I was doing just now."
Grindelwald looked into Lys's eyes, his hands still positioned reassuringly: "Well, well, but that brings us back to—why did you want to see me? As far as I know, people in various countries are discussing Voldemort these days, not a failed, dying old man."
Seeing Lys flinch uncomfortably, Grindelwald grinned—his nearly toothless mouth making him look quite strange. "Is it because of the person I just mentioned?"
Lys nodded hesitantly.
"You think what's written on that paper is true? You think I'd rage out of here to battle that person and kill him because he murdered Dumbledore—my beloved?"
Seeing Lys's obvious embarrassment, though her eyes and wand never left him, Grindelwald laughed.
"I didn't lock myself in here just for Albus. It was more for myself. We did right things and wrong things. I wanted to use power and rapid change to eliminate the wrongs and crises I saw, but I was mistaken."
Lys struggled to decipher Grindelwald's somewhat unclear speech due to his missing teeth.
"Wrong about what? Wrong in not taking responsibility and leaving at the beginning, losing the chance to possess what I had. Once lost, I could never get it back."
"Wrong about what? Wrong in that people who haven't suffered will never truly understand my good intentions, and I persisted for those unworthy people, losing what I cared about."
"Yes, I lost what I cared about..." He looked at the list in his hands, holding it far away.
"—'Because I once loved you.'"
Lys's hair stood on end—her crazy notion was actually true!
True!
Then maybe...
"That's what he said to me," Grindelwald's deeply sunken eyes blinked at Lys with pride and boastfulness.
"So while I still believe excellent people should get what they deserve, I also despise them for making me lose what I once had."
"Only sufficient death can make those wizards understand what brings pain, leading them to repent or learn lessons."
He tried to lie back on his bed, pulling up that thin, terrifyingly worn blanket.
"Go, young one. I won't leave this place. If timing allows, perhaps I can catch up to his steps in that white world."
But Lys saw he hadn't released that paper.
She swallowed hard, making a loud gulping sound: "How... how do you think my abilities are?"
"Quite impressive. Your magical power is abnormally strong." The old man closed his eyes, adopting an attitude that this was the last thing he'd say to Lys.
"Compared to you now?"
The blanket that had just been pulled tight exploded open. The wand in Lys's hand instantly flew away, two deep, bone-visible wounds appearing on her right hand.
In the small space, Lys's right arm was quickly struck and lost sensation, but her left hand secretly whipped out her willow wand.
For a moment, Lys even relied on the ruthless momentum of trading injury for advantage to steadily suppress Grindelwald.
When Lys's second wand flew from her hand and her third wand fell into her grasp, Grindelwald stopped—the broken wand of unknown material in his hand had shattered completely.
He breathed heavily, that aged, weak powerlessness washing over Lys and filling her with disappointment.
In her heart, Grindelwald had always been that man from the newspapers who wielded powerful magic with a wave of his hand, even looking as old as he did now.
She felt part of her firm belief collapse.
She hadn't even dared use overly lethal magic or magical intensity after the first spell—she'd sensed the weakness of the person before her.
"Grindelwald actually can't beat me," Lys muttered as another wand appeared in her hand, while Grindelwald was already exhausted.
"Oh, fine, fine! You come here without saying what you want! Now when I say I won't leave, you attack directly, wand after wand!"
"Wand after wand—what kind of bizarre operation is that!"
He took a deep breath before continuing:
"Child, I'm over a hundred years old, eating nothing but dry bread every day for decades! I don't want to fight anymore."
Lys defensively retrieved her two fallen wands.
"What do I want?"
She didn't even tend to her right arm dripping with blood, turning her gaze to her left arm.
"You lost what you once had... and now I don't want to lose anything I currently have. I want to know exactly how I should escape that damned Vol... that damned Dark Lord!"
"Then you should raise your wand against the person you hate, not against me."
Grindelwald sat on his bed and sighed heavily:
"Since you have the courage to raise your wand and such ability, you should aim it directly at your target."
Lys realized the blood loss was affecting her. She skillfully treated her wounds, but because they were dark magic injuries, the two wounds only stopped bleeding without healing temporarily.
"That's different. If I could kill him, I definitely would, but..."
Lys stopped cleaning the splattered blood around them and halted her words.
She realized she shouldn't linger on this topic...
Grindelwald was an excellent orator.
Once he truly knew her real desires, he could definitely persuade her according to his will.
Lys knew many of her thoughts seemed subtle or even... ridiculous to others.
Yes... ridiculous...
So to prevent the possibility of him dismissing her, Lys needed to do something first—make him look at her properly.
Look at this young person who had nothing to do with him.
And the best way was to let him see what he once could have had but now completely lost—the chance she could bring him, possibly the last of his lifetime, to see Dumbledore.
She asked Grindelwald:
"Do you want to see Dumbledore's grave?"
Lys knew he would want to.
These people who spoke of love.
They were more obsessed with love than anyone.
Grindelwald looked deeply at Lys, closed his mouth, and closed his eyes.
Lys simply waited it out, ignoring any conversation from Grindelwald day and night.
Whenever she opened her mouth, it was only: "Do you want to see Dumbledore's grave?"
Grindelwald chewed the dry bread in his mouth, looking up to see various enlarged newspaper photos of Dumbledore and countless copies of the Ten Pieces of Evidence for GGAD's Existence that the girl had reproduced.
For the next month, Lys came whenever she had time.
During this period, Grindelwald coldly watched Lys sit beside him with a face haggard from Cruciatus Curse torture, gulping down potions.
He asked Lys: "I really want to give you something, but child, you must tell me what exactly you want?"
"—Do you want to see Dumbledore's grave?"
Silence stretched between them. They each spoke their own words, never responding to each other.
The two seemed to be probing each other's bottom line, wearing each other down, waiting for the other's compromise.
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