Faced with Grindelwald's questioning, recalling the request in his letter—"I've run out of parchment, and now I can only write to you on torn sheets. Please respond to me, don't leave me here," Dumbledore fell silent.
He seemed to have been silent all the time lately.
"Consider it my gift to you. If you don't need it, throw it away. Lightning will do the trick for you."
With that, he turned and was about to leave.
"Albus—" Grindelwald's voice rang out again. "Would you mind talking to me about that young man named Damon? I'm interested in him."
He had hoped to use this topic to keep Dumbledore, so that they could spend some time together, but it had the opposite effect.
Grindelwald's thought-about conversation was met with a stern and abrupt warning from Dumbledore, his expression more serious than ever.
"Never—never—try to get his way with him!
Otherwise, all our relationship will be ruined."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Grindelwald didn't say anything in his defense. A flash of sadness flashed in his eyes as he stared at Albus's retreating figure.
Albus still didn't trust him.
That was natural.
So anything he said now was wrong.
Grindelwald understood perfectly.
But he shouldn't have lost his temper over a young man. Grindelwald's heart burned fiercely, and an inexplicable feeling crept over him.
What was he doing?
Had he truly become a useless old man, begging his lover for a little love?
He had once thought it was both of them who were old and broken, but now Albus was still full of power, and he was the only one left behind.
Dumbledore vanished completely.
He could have Apparated away, but he deliberately gave himself time to speak—he was testing himself, trying to see if he had other thoughts.
Grindelwald suddenly felt bored.
He closed the door and sat down at the table in the center of the room, adding a new chair across from him. Unfortunately, the chair's occupant wasn't prepared to accept his offer.
Grindelwald picked up the amulet from the table and carefully rubbed it for a moment.
"Superb spellcraft, cutting-edge Transfiguration, and a touch of alchemy—this is Albus's work, but the Transfiguration is a little unfamiliar. Is it that boy named White?"
Grindelwald paced the room, murmuring the name softly—it felt familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.
"Damon White. Damon White."
Suddenly, a sudden recollection struck him. He opened the bedside cabinet and pulled out a letter—from his great-aunt, Basilda Bagshot.
[I recently met a young man, a rising master of Transfiguration.
Every time I talk to him, I can't help but think of the young Albus. He was just as pioneering, following conventions without dogma, and developing groundbreaking ideas based on the theories of his predecessors.
You can't believe he's only twelve.
I have to say, he's even more brilliant and opinionated than the young Albus. In that way, he bears some resemblance to you.]
If he had been born a few decades earlier, perhaps you would have become pretty good friends.
I've been in poor health lately and haven't been able to write to you often, but you should probably write back once in a while, right?]
Grindelwald's pupils dilated slightly as he pondered the contents of his mind.
"Damon White. Inventor of the White Theorem, the undisputed Transfiguration Master of the new generation. A Transfiguration Master at the age of twelve."
This was the man Albus valued. An ambitious young man who would never tolerate loneliness!
But Dumbledore wasn't wary of him, and Grindelwald saw it! Albus was only concerned about this young man, not wary.
And his amulet, which contained a location, could protect him if Voldemort came to kill him, but it could also kill him if he teamed up with Voldemort and left.
There was no chance of Grindelwald collaborating with Voldemort, not even a single percent chance.
He despised Voldemort's methods—ruling people through fear, which would never truly win their trust.
And a general who couldn't win their trust couldn't possibly be in the best interests of the world.
If Voldemort came, Grindelwald would simply laugh as he was killed. Perhaps even spit on him before dying?
But now, Grindelwald had different ideas.
He didn't necessarily want to achieve anything by collaborating with that fool, but right now, he truly wanted to test the young man named White. "Why do you deserve Albus's trust? Do you know how many intentions he has? And yet, you dare to ignore them?"
Perhaps, he could also use this opportunity to rediscover the passion that had fueled their struggle over differing ideologies.
Since Albus no longer cared about him, wouldn't he just force him to pay attention to him in his own way?
But this time, Grindelwald wouldn't lose.
He would crush the victory, then burn it to the ground, and then say to Albus—"Have you had enough of this? Let's put this aside. I hear the flower fields of Sanguina are beautiful, the sky as clear as the lake. We should go see it."
Grindelwald raised the amulet to his chest and clenched it tightly!
In the abandoned castle, the soul fragment was practicing the Dark Arts.
After acquiring a wand that barely worked, he found a secluded spot, cast a dark magic barrier to conceal his presence, and began practicing relentlessly.
Nagini hid within his body, watching him unleash one inconceivably powerful dark spell after another.
Just watching filled her with worry and fear.
"Aren't you going to summon the Death Eaters?" Nagini couldn't help but ask.
"Summon the Death Eaters? I've wandered the Albanian forests for so long, without a single loyal servant to aid me. What's the point of summoning them now?"
The soul snorted coldly, imitating Voldemort.
"I must first master the power to instill fear in everyone, and then, when the time is right, I will summon them—only then will they obey my orders.
If I reveal my weakness now, I'm afraid those wavering will secretly denounce me."
The soul's face was mocking, but a sense of annoyance lingered within.
As a great Horcrux, Nagini's body was absolutely suitable for practicing the Dark Arts. In just two months, the soul fragment felt that it had fully regained its former level of spellcasting.
But for some unknown reason, it could not possess this body for a long time. The longer it controlled this body, and the more intense the activities, the more discomfort it felt from the soul.
One hour.
He could only control this body and fight at full strength for one hour.
And facing Dumbledore, this time was far from enough.
He had to find a new body for himself. Nagini's words were actually not unreasonable. Relying on his own strength was definitely not enough.
He had to find some helpers.
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(End of this chapter)