"Ken?"
Avada froze for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh of relief.
This situation had been within his expectations, and it also meant he no longer had to rack his brains trying to maintain a fake persona. He could face this dangerous wizard as his normal, genuine self.
So he stepped into Grindelwald's room as quietly as possible, while also taking the opportunity to examine the surroundings.
The room was far cleaner than the corridor outside—so clean it could almost be called spotless. The furnishings were also extremely simple. Other than a table and a bed, there was nothing else. There did seem to be a small compartment that was probably a toilet, but he could not see it clearly from here, nor did he intend to go out of his way to look.
A large window had been opened in the wall, allowing abundant sunlight to stream in from outside. It was the sort of place that made one instinctively want to put a flowerpot on the sill, though unfortunately the prisoner here did not seem to enjoy such a privilege.
Well, fair enough. If he's going to live here for more than fifty years, they can't make the environment too unbearable.
Thinking that, he stepped into the room and reflexively reached back with his hand—
"Just leave it open. It makes no difference whether the door is shut or not in this place."
The old man's muttering voice continued.
"There isn't even a mouse left here anymore."
And as he drew closer, Avada finally got a clear look at the old man before him.
He looked thin and gaunt, with loose, wrinkled skin, though his hair and beard had clearly been kept in reasonably good order. Avada had no idea how he managed to trim either of them on a daily basis. And although it was still the cold month of March, he wore only a rough cloth robe, yet his expression remained utterly calm, without the slightest sign that he was suffering from the cold.
Even so, Avada found it difficult to connect this shriveled old man with the elegant, terrifying dark wizard who had once burned Paris.
"Ah, Ken, you don't seem particularly surprised that I know your identity."
Gellert Grindelwald looked him over carefully. His expression seemed to be a smile, but it was half-hidden beneath dry skin and loose wrinkles.
"Though you and I have crossed paths long before today, unfortunately this is the first time we've formally met… I believe we should have quite a lot to talk about."
"Forgive me, Mr. Grindelwald."
A faint crease appeared between Avada's brows.
"I don't remember very clearly. When you say 'we crossed paths before,' what exactly are you referring to?"
"Hah."
Grindelwald let out a wheezing laugh, like a bellows being dragged open.
"It may have been easy enough on your end, but on mine, you caused an endless stream of trouble. You want to know how our paths crossed? Then let's start with the things you already know."
"First, your first Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Benjamin Baker—his entering Hogwarts as a teacher was my idea. And his main duty at Hogwarts was to observe you."
"?!"
"Though, in that matter, he exceeded the scope of his assignment. You uncovering the secret of his Horcrux was never part of the plan… though at least the result was correct. That book should have been handed over to you at that time."
"That… that was your doing as well?"
Avada asked stiffly, "You were the one who ordered that book to be given to me?"
"What else would it be?"
Grindelwald rolled his eyes.
"Even if Benjamin Baker's clearance is quite high, it isn't high enough for him to casually hand university textbooks to outsiders."
"And there's another matter you should still remember. Johnson Shafik hinting to Lucius Malfoy that you were connected to me… care to guess who instructed him to do that?"
"…"
Avada had been utterly silenced.
He had known that Gellert Grindelwald was a reliable Seer, but he had never imagined he was reliable to this extent.
So his being able to achieve all he had today—nearly a good third of the credit belonged to this Dark Lord he had never even met before?
If you were really that absurdly good at foreseeing the future, then how on earth did you end up with that kind of ending in the first place?
"It was… to help me deal with the Chamber of Secrets, wasn't it?"
"Of course."
Grindelwald nodded as though it were only natural.
"If that step had been omitted, then that Horcrux's plan would have been far more thorough, accounting for almost every possibility he could imagine—including the possibility that you possessed prophetic ability. Without that clue, it would have been much harder for you to notice the truth."
"Of course, in the end he still would have been exposed because he wanted to kill you. But by then, Hogwarts would already have been on the brink of collapse."
At that moment, Avada suddenly felt a surge of fear toward the old man before him.
All this time, he had usually been the one hiding behind the scenes, laying out plans, combining the original story in his head with the intelligence he gathered through his magical senses, analyzing everything to find the best way to solve the problem before him, and then sending his enemies spinning in circles.
Voldemort, the diary, Peter Pettigrew—even a great and brilliant wizard like Albus Dumbledore had been kept in the dark by him for quite some time.
And now, today, he had learned that some of his own most important and far-reaching actions had merely been the result of someone else manipulating things behind the scenes.
Prophecy… could the power of prophecy really be this terrifying?
He himself had entered the domain of time before and observed fate there. He had even paid a price in exchange for the ability to observe souls.
So how did he not know prophecy could be this powerful?
Even the true prophecy Professor Trelawney had once made had merely revealed an inevitable fate. It had not supplied such detailed information that someone could weave a scheme this precise, one link fitting seamlessly into the next.
If Grindelwald truly possessed such horrifying prophetic power, then why had he lost to Dumbledore back then?
No—more importantly, why had he ever chosen such a cruel and destructive path in the first place?
That makes no sense…
"…Um, Mr. Grindelwald,"
Avada stared at Grindelwald's eyes with an unreadable expression.
"The things you know… were they really all seen through prophecy? Can prophecy truly be that powerful?"
"It wasn't, originally."
At that question, Grindelwald's own expression became strange as well.
"But thanks to you, now it is."
"…Me?"
Avada stared blankly. "What does that have to do with me?"
"That is the part of our intersection you don't know."
Grindelwald suddenly walked past Avada and sat back down on the bed, turning his eyes toward the window and adopting the posture of someone about to reminisce over the distant past.
"Even after all these years, whenever I think of this matter, I still find it unbelievable."
"In truth, not long after I was imprisoned here, I already knew what my ending would be. I would remain here alone for more than fifty years, and in the end, a bald man with no nose would kill me with a single Killing Curse."
"And I also knew that bald man would eventually die as well, caught inside one of Albus's schemes, and that for his entire life he would never obtain the Elder Wand I once wielded…"
"I had been quietly waiting all along for that conclusion to arrive."
Grindelwald's gaze shifted back to Avada's face, his eyes deep, complicated, and even carrying a trace of fear.
"Until fourteen years ago."
"That ending shattered."
"Because of your arrival."
(End of Chapter)