Dumbledore stared at Grindelwald's resolute face, lost in thought for a long moment before snapping back to reality.
As far as he knew, Grindelwald was a proud man—had always been, in fact. Back when they worked together, they constantly clashed over magic and ideology, neither willing to yield.
But now...
So you've changed this much...
"Tver's talent is truly exceptional—as you said, surpassing both yours and mine. Therefore, Gellert, I do not wish for him to inherit your will."
"Do you understand? The wizarding world cannot bear such ideas—neither now nor in the future."
This was the first time he had spoken Grindelwald's name today. Unlike before, his tone carried a hint of plea—and a trace of threat.
Grindelwald gave him a meaningful look before replying with ease. "Tver actually looks down on my ideas. He often subtly disparages the path I took back then."
"Of course, I too have come to realize my past actions were wrong. That's why I never once considered him as my successor."
"He was merely my student—a very clever one."
But that doesn't mean you were right, Dumbledore.
Tver certainly won't inherit my will, because he doesn't need to—he has ideals far greater and more powerful than mine.
Grindelwald's lips curved into a faint smile, leaving Dumbledore puzzled.
What could he possibly be proud of…
"But Tver's concern for muggles runs a bit high," Dumbledore said with a frown.
He had meant to say "far too high," but given Grindelwald's unexpectedly cordial attitude today, he didn't want to shatter the rare moment of peace.
"Still, you must admit many of his views on muggles are correct."
"Take muggle technology, for instance."
Grindelwald motioned for Dumbledore to look toward the road, where cars streamed past.
"Fifty years ago, did we ever see cars this advanced, this beautiful? When I first left Nurmengard, I couldn't even bring myself to believe these were the same slow metal boxes I remembered."
"According to Tver, in another twenty years, there will likely be cars that drive themselves."
"Dumbledore, muggle technology advances too fast, while the wizarding world advances too slowly."
"That still doesn't justify invading them," Dumbledore said sternly.
"Naturally," Grindelwald answered with a light laugh. "Most wizards come from muggles. Invading them does no good—it would only tear the wizarding world apart."
"That's precisely why I want to go out and see the world. To see what new marvels the muggles have created, and where the wizarding world's future might lie."
Dumbledore stared at him in astonishment.
Was this really the Grindelwald he knew?
Hearing such words from Grindelwald was as shocking as hearing Voldemort claim he wanted to protect the world.
Grindelwald didn't need Legilimency to know exactly what Dumbledore was thinking.
"Don't look so surprised. These are just the idle thoughts of a retired old man. After all, I'm just a failed Dark Lord. Protecting the wizarding world is the sort of thing a wizard like you should be doing."
Hearing this, Dumbledore fell silent. After a long moment, he finally looked up.
"Protecting the wizarding world... as long as I still draw breath… no, even after I'm gone, I will continue striving toward that."
"Then I entrust it to you. For the sake of this retired old man's safety, if nothing else, you must protect this magical world."
"And preferably live a few decades longer than I do."
Grindelwald answered casually.
He had no intention of continuing this line of conversation. If he talked too much, he risked exposing Tver's intentions—inviting Dumbledore's interference before the boy had the strength to defend himself.
At the same time, he needed to divert Dumbledore's attention, to ensure the man felt no hostility toward Tver or himself.
And he needed to plant the seeds of a shared goal, so persuading Dumbledore in the future would be far easier for Tver.
Sigh. He'd taken in a student… yet somehow, he was the one playing babysitter.
"Enough of that. Let's talk about what's happened over these past fifty years—unless, of course, you'd rather not."
"Why would I mind? Truth be told, I was quite taken aback by how much you've changed." Dumbledore pressed a hand to his chest in exaggerated surprise.
Grindelwald couldn't help laughing. "If not for your startled expression, I wouldn't have realized how much I've changed."
"Fifty years, Albus. People always change…"
Dumbledore looked at him with quiet emotion. After a long pause, he replied softly, "Yes. People always change."
Grindelwald, however, spoke with the tone of someone excitedly sharing a newly found amusement.
"But let me tell you—Gregorovitch hasn't changed at all. Still that stubborn old fellow."
"Oh? I thought after all these years his temper might've softened."
"Not a chance. He's actually gotten worse. Just the other day I—"
...
At noon, Tver—who had been busy preparing an elaborate meal—stared in stunned disbelief as Dumbledore and his teacher walked in, chatting and laughing together.
"Headmaster, when did you get here?"
"Oh, Tver. I arrived not long ago. Ran into Gellert outside, so we chatted for a bit," Dumbledore said casually.
"I didn't know you cooked so well. I could smell it from the doorway."
Chatted for a bit?
Was this what "chatting for a bit" looked like?!
Tver felt his entire worldview crack. Was this some illusion Marvolio and Cynthia arranged to prank him?
How could this possibly be the dynamic he imagined between Dumbledore and his teacher?!
In his imagination, they would either be at each other's throats or burning with fierce passion.
Instead, they met like old friends—neither overly warm nor hostile.
During the meal, they mainly reminisced about the past, their tone relaxed and companionable.
Tver felt like an outsider. Aside from occasionally answering questions about the food, the two barely acknowledged him.
Even after lunch, when they moved to the living room, the conversation simply shifted to issues in the magical world.
All that effort he put into cooking…even sacrificing his beloved pudding and cookies!
And those two shamelessly ate everything.
As the sky darkened, Dumbledore finally stood to take his leave.
"Won't you stay a little longer? We have extra rooms here." Tver finally got the chance to address Dumbledore directly.
"No, the school and the Confederation still require my attention," Dumbledore said as he headed toward the door. "Thank you very much for your hospitality."
"Very well. I look forward to your next visit."
"Farewell, Gellert."
Grindelwald waved a hand lazily.
Dumbledore stepped into the sunlight, waved back at them, and disappeared.
Behind Tver, Grindelwald stood in the shadow of the house, silently watching the spot where Dumbledore vanished.
"Teacher… what exactly is going on between you two?"
The moment Dumbledore left, Tver couldn't hold back any longer. "Did you two make up?"
Grindelwald turned slightly, answering in a detached tone, "That's Dumbledore. He doesn't lower his guard so easily."
"Oh? But you two seemed awfully happy while chatting," Tver said.
"You talk happily with him too, don't you? But did you know he was guarding against you the entire time?"
Out of Tver's sight, however, Grindelwald's lips curved into a barely contained smile.
Tver clicked his tongue.
So the two of you were both holding back during that conversation.
"Well, that's good. I was worried you'd spilled everything about me. After all… it's D-u-m-b-l-e-d-o-r-e~."
Grindelwald shot his student a sharp glare. "And here I am, helping you test Dumbledore—planting seeds of the future in his mind."
Tver's eyes brightened instantly. He hurried over and clamped his hands on his teacher's shoulders.
"So that means the Headmaster has already started thinking about the future of the magical world I described?"
"Exactly!" Grindelwald jabbed his cane proudly into the floor. "He's begun considering how the rapid rise of muggle technology might affect wizards."
"As long as you keep emphasizing the threat of muggle technology, he will naturally move toward our goals."
This time, he would personally pull Dumbledore onto their ship.
With that thought, Grindelwald revealed a grin that looked almost childishly competitive.