Grindelwald set down the Instant-Speak and sighed.
The sigh was very soft, yet it seemed to come from deep within his chest, carrying the weight of decades.
At this point, there was nothing more to say.
Even if he had possessed a communication tool like Instant-Speak back then, even if it had made the Acolytes stronger, even if it had allowed him to expand his victories even further...
In the end, he still would have had to face him.
The one in whom everyone had placed their hopes.
The one everyone had pushed forward.
Grindelwald raised his eyes toward Dumbledore and saw the other man casually pop another Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into his mouth, chewing without any obvious change in expression.
Those blue eyes remained as calm as water, and not a single wrinkle on his face shifted, regardless of whether the flavour was good or bad.
Ah.
It looked like he'd picked a particularly awful one.
The corner of Grindelwald's mouth twitched slightly, though he didn't laugh aloud.
Some things really hadn't changed after all these years.
His thin, withered fingers tapped lightly against the cover of the booklet.
Grindelwald shook his head.
Using Instant-Speak simply to improve the lives of wizards was good enough.
The war had ended long ago.
Those ambitions, victories, defeats, and arguments belonged to another era.
In this age of peace, Al could finally afford to take things a little easier.
Lucien.
A boy full of all kinds of wild ideas, yet also possessing the ability to turn them into reality.
Someone like that...
Grindelwald's gaze lingered on the booklet for another moment before he finally drew his thoughts back.
"Regarding those questions you asked earlier about Dark curses," Grindelwald said, his tone becoming calm, "I've thought about it. Al, you were asking about a bloodline curse, weren't you? Hmm... is it that Maledictus named Nagini?"
Although Dumbledore hadn't revealed it outright, Grindelwald's mastery of the Dark Arts and his familiarity with Dumbledore allowed him to identify the type of curse from only a few clues and even guess the identity of the person afflicted.
Dumbledore nodded silently.
There was no point denying it now.
When Nagini had left, only a few years had passed since the final duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
At that time, the two of them would not have met like this.
Dumbledore knew very well that even if he had come back then, he wouldn't have received any advice.
A clash of ideals.
A divergence of paths.
Intimacy turned to estrangement.
Their relationship had always been too complicated to put into words.
There had been too much anger between them then, too many things neither of them was willing to forgive or admit.
But after so many decades, people changed.
They had grown old.
And they had grown softer.
Time had worn away many of the sharpest edges, even if it hadn't erased the scars themselves.
Grindelwald didn't care whom Dumbledore wanted to save, even if that person had once opposed him for years.
He offered his advice slowly.
"When it comes to healing the soul, you can try awakening her memories and emotions from when she was still human..."
He hesitated for a few seconds, then added,
"If possible, let her form more new memories as a human as well."
Dumbledore's gaze shifted slightly.
Grindelwald's fingers unconsciously traced circles on the tabletop, as though recalling something from long ago.
Memories.
Emotions.
For a soul that had been eroded, those things were like the last piece of driftwood within reach of a drowning person.
Old memories could remind a person of who they had once been.
New memories could prove that the person they had once been still had a future.
Perhaps both were equally important.
"Of course, the overall process of breaking the curse still requires more specific judgement. Don't attempt it casually," Grindelwald warned, his tone turning serious. "Curses are a vast branch of the Dark Arts and require systematic study. They can't be explained in just a few sentences."
Dumbledore nodded without interrupting.
That much he naturally understood.
A curse that had persisted for decades couldn't be treated simply by knowing one or two counter-curses.
Grindelwald picked up the cup of cold tea in front of him and was about to drink when he suddenly remembered something.
"As for curses, my collection of books, as well as the collections belonging to the Acolytes, were eventually left in Vinda's care."
Vinda Rosier.
Grindelwald's most loyal follower and capable right hand.
The foremost figure among the Acolytes.
The Thorned Rose of France.
The brightest jewel of the Rosier family...
Dumbledore's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
"Of course," Grindelwald added, a trace of schadenfreude entering his voice, "if you go and ask her for them, Al, she definitely won't give them to you. Even if you bring a token from me or a letter, it won't help."
His smile widened slightly.
"Heh. I imagine the first thing Vinda would do upon seeing you is throw a particularly nasty curse your way, even without a wand in her hand."
Dumbledore didn't argue.
He was indeed quite familiar with Vinda.
Most of their past encounters had involved the two of them firing spells at each other.
Vinda had always harboured unwavering hostility toward Dumbledore.
Along with jealousy.
The passage of decades might have dulled some feelings, but Dumbledore had no intention of gambling on exactly how much Vinda's hostility had faded.
Especially when Grindelwald himself seemed so certain that it hadn't.
"However," Grindelwald continued, changing the subject as a playful gleam flashed in his mismatched eyes, "this Instant-Speak is quite convenient."
He tapped the booklet lightly with one finger.
"Why not have that Lucien and me... what was it called again?"
Grindelwald deliberately paused as though trying to recall the unfamiliar term.
Then his eyes brightened.
"Ah, yes. Add each other as friends, and I'll teach him personally."
The corners of Grindelwald's mouth curved into an ambiguous smile.
________
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