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The ruined tower pierced the night. Soared into clouds. As if touching the heavens. Moonlight barely penetrated the window lattice. Spilled mottled across stone walls. Added desolation to this ancient castle.
At the castle's highest point—
Dumbledore quietly watched his old friend. Only a stone table between them. Obscure, wise eyes seemed to hide a thousand words. But he just looked calmly at the other. Silent.
They had too much to say. Too much left unsaid. Too much said countless times.
Grindelwald's hair and beard slightly disheveled.
Eyes no longer blazing like before. Instead exceptionally calm. Like deep, boundless lake water.
Only Dumbledore could see—endless thoughts and profound emotions hidden there.
"You should go back."
Finally, Grindelwald spoke first.
Seemingly driving Dumbledore away. But his gaze never left the other. Never wandered.
True power lies not in conquest and rule, but in protection and guidance. We cannot sacrifice the innocent for so-called greatness.
Grindelwald was sick of such words.
Even annoyed.
He wouldn't let such annoyance disturb his longing for his old friend. Or affect his good mood.
So—this meeting should end here.
"Gellert, I'm tired."
After a long moment, a lengthy sigh sounded.
Dumbledore didn't launch into his usual lengthy sermon. Instead, like a weary husband returning home, he poured out inner dissatisfaction and complaints to his beloved.
This sudden shift—
Like a heavy punch from nowhere.
Grindelwald's breath caught. His straight, upright posture swayed slightly. His usually deep, silent heterochromatic pupils—rarely—showed a trace of shock.
Wait, what?
This old bastard gave in?
Deep, complex thoughts—in that brief instant—flashed through several ideas naive enough to be laughable.
No. Impossible!
Though Grindelwald knew clearly how ridiculous his naive thoughts were—even in the past decades, he'd never thought this way—right now, he couldn't suppress the false joy surfacing from deep within.
At first, the laughter barely perceptible.
Gradually, it gathered strength. Like mountain streams converging into rivers. Volume steadily increasing.
Then, this laughter seemed to break free from restraints. Rippled wantonly through the ancient castle. Became increasingly loud and hearty.
Dumbledore shook his head with slight self-mockery.
In fact, even he hadn't expected to say such words to Grindelwald someday...
The laughter gradually subsided.
"Loneliness, ah."
"Truly a fine medicine."
Grindelwald sighed with lingering satisfaction.
He hadn't felt this exhilarated in ages. If not for remaining rationality, he'd think himself dreaming.
However—
This wasn't reason to lower his guard.
Under Dumbledore's helpless gaze—immense magic suddenly surged. The entire Nurmengard seemed to earthquake. Trembled violently.
Rubble fell from the tower top.
Cracks gradually spread across walls.
"Enough, Gellert. Hear me out. I don't plan to go adventuring with you yet."
Dumbledore's words—though light—seemed to contain tremendous weight. Pressed on Grindelwald's heart.
The immense magic suddenly froze.
The tottering castle returned to calm.
Under the night sky, Nurmengard utterly silent.
Withered, wrinkled fingers lightly tapped his forehead. Grindelwald frowned somewhat incredulously.
"What exactly do you want, Albus?"
"I'm just a dying prisoner."
"At worst, take my life."
The slightly irritable tone carried a trace of self-abandonment. Like a husband unable to guess his beloved's thoughts. Could only leave an angry, stifled "whatever you want."
This was clever people's flaw.
They always complicated simple matters.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. Began reflecting on himself. Had he done bad things through such foolish behavior?
Fortunately—no...
"I'll be direct."
He stared intently at Grindelwald. Trying to capture glimpses of the past in the other's eyes.
That insufferable madness and rationality. That cold arrogance overlooking all beings.
"I need you to help me, Gellert."
Unfortunately, he saw nothing in those calm, waveless heterochromatic pupils.
Former madness and determination long vanished.
Only impenetrable darkness remained.
And the only light point in that darkness—precisely what Dumbledore had spent half his life avoiding.
Grindelwald likewise gazed at Dumbledore.
Still so righteous and awe-inspiring. Still so noble and fearless. Like a deity standing above the clouds. High and unreachable.
And in that radiant figure—Grindelwald still couldn't find his own place.
Soft laughter suddenly sounded.
Grindelwald slowly stood. Paced to the window. Looked toward the distant night sky. The windowless opening let in gentle breezes. Scattered his disheveled hair.
"Dumbledore."
"I've been pondering a question lately."
"Throughout all human history—all love and hate, joy and sorrow, heroes and losers—all happened on this tiny planet. And our planet is the most insignificant existence among billions upon billions."
He spoke while withered fingers reached toward the night sky.
The clear, transparent star Regulus in Leo seemed right at Grindelwald's fingertips. Shining brilliantly.
"I wonder if you feel this way."
"Actually, everything we do is meaningless. Ultimately we'll all bid this world farewell. So why should I do so-called good deeds or bad deeds?"
A long, hoarse sigh quietly sounded.
Former great ideals. Former high spirits. Seemed long worn away by time in this high tower.
"Can you give me an answer?"
"Dumbledore."
Grindelwald didn't turn around. Just quietly waited for his old friend's response. The answer he'd pursued half his life—perhaps would never receive an answer. Then change the question.
Change to—
A shitty question.
Wonder if this emotionally-cheating beloved would continue playing dumb.
Dumbledore looked at his old friend with complex expression.
He knew the other had been waiting. Waiting for his answer. But he'd never responded.
More precisely—didn't believe.
Decades ago, Grindelwald had told him. But he felt utterly disgusted. Back then, he only thought—Dark Wizards didn't understand love at all.
Speaking that word was an insult to love.
So—
After imprisoning Grindelwald in the tower, he never looked back. For a very long time.
As years passed—
He still held this view. Except this time, he wouldn't just walk away. He'd sit quietly in the tower. Tell his old friend what love was.
Only now did he suddenly realize—
That young figure in the Mirror of Erised, holding wool socks, repeatedly speaking that word—was precisely the answer he dared not and would not give.
That was true desire...
After a long while, Dumbledore sighed softly.
"Gellert, because I..."
At the window—that upright figure suddenly trembled.
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