Dumbledore sighed, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. "There's nothing more I can do. I can only take things as they come. Events have spiraled beyond my control—I have no say in what happens next."
Grindelwald's laugh was dry and rasping in the dim cell. "You never had control, Albus. You've always believed you could orchestrate events through careful planning, but you've overlooked a fundamental truth: power determines who controls the board. Neither of us possesses the strength to be the ones moving the pieces."
He gestured vaguely at the stone walls surrounding them. "No one does. This is a contest between gods—only beings of that magnitude can truly control everything. We are merely unqualified spectators."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I should have sought your counsel sooner. Perhaps then I would have understood more clearly."
"Then visit more often," Grindelwald said, his tone softening. "I'm growing old, and I find I rather enjoy catching up with an old friend."
Silence stretched between them. Then Dumbledore's expression hardened. He met Grindelwald's eyes directly, his voice firm and clear.
"Gellert, leave Nurmengard. I need you at my side. I'm truly at a loss right now—I cannot control anything, and everything is moving in directions I don't comprehend. I need someone who can offer perspective."
Grindelwald hesitated, studying the determination in Dumbledore's face.
"Leave?" he asked carefully. "If I'd wanted to leave, I would have done so years ago. But you understand what my freedom would imply."
"I'll send word to Erwin," Dumbledore promised. "He can resolve your concerns. Come to Hogwarts. I haven't yet found a professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts for next year—I believe you're qualified for the position."
Grindelwald was genuinely stunned. "You want me to teach?"
The irony wasn't lost on him—a dark wizard teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He chuckled. "Rumor has it that Tom Riddle, that boy you found in the orphanage all those years ago, cursed the position. No one has completed a full year without incident. It's simultaneously the most coveted and most dangerous position at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore's lips curved in a faint smile. "So—are you afraid?"
"Honestly?" Grindelwald admitted. "I'm intrigued. Tell me, Albus, what's my salary? I should be clear upfront—I expect quality wine every day."
"I can't guarantee the vintage," Dumbledore replied, "but Hogwarts has an extensive cellar, likely stocked by some drink-loving headmaster from the past. It has quite a collection—perhaps you could help me assess its quality?"
Under the pale moonlight filtering through the high window, the two men smiled at each other. There's an old saying that a smile can dissolve all enmity. They had never truly hated one another. If one had to define their complicated history, it was simply that deep affection sometimes breeds the harshest criticism.
Inside a secluded manor in the English countryside, Zoe rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the full moon through her window.
Her father entered quietly. "Zoe, what are you thinking about?"
She startled slightly. "Nothing, Father. Just admiring the moon. It's late—why aren't you asleep?"
Laurent smiled wearily. "I can't sleep. Are you thinking about next year?"
Zoe paused. "Next year? You mean my bloodline?"
Laurent nodded. "Aren't you worried?"
Zoe smiled, her expression surprisingly serene. "Not at all. We both know that Mr. Cavendish extracting my bloodline was inevitable. That I survived the initial encounter is miracle enough. What more is there to worry about? The Cavendish family is so powerful now—there's nowhere we could run even if we wanted to. Just look outside—those guards don't even bother hiding anymore."
Laurent glanced through the window at the Cavendish retainers still standing watch despite the late hour. He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Zoe. I failed to protect you."
"No, Dad," she said gently. "You have protected me. Our branch of the family may be gone, yes, but I'm still alive. Losing the bloodline isn't the end of the world. I can learn proper spellwork now! I've always loved spell theory—I want to practice magic with the other students like everyone else."
She looked at her father with unexpected wisdom in her eyes. "Actually, Dad, I never particularly liked my bloodline ability. I'd rather be an ordinary witch. Besides, if anyone is destined to gather all the ancient bloodlines, it's Erwin Cavendish. Even if we'd run, he would have found us eventually. Look at what he's accomplished in such a short time—the British magical community is unified, and Germany and America are following the same path."
"The other bloodline families can't withstand the Cavendish expansion. Soon, they'll all be absorbed into his power base. It's the inevitable trend. Compared to them, we're fortunate. We survived. What we're losing is just a bloodline we could barely use anyway, isn't it?"
Laurent stared at his daughter in surprise, as though seeing her for the first time. In his mind, she had always been the carefree girl who only cared about her next meal. But now, though her words were self-deprecating, they held undeniable logic.
Zoe smiled sweetly at him. "Dad, you and Mom are both intelligent. You don't really think I'm simple-minded, do you? It's just that with your protection, I never needed to overthink things. Besides, appearing a bit naive makes people underestimate you, doesn't it?"
Laurent laughed—a genuine, warm sound he hadn't made in weeks. "Yes, my Zoe is the most perceptive girl I know. You've grown up. Since you've made your decision, I won't interfere. Make your own choices. I trust Erwin. He promised not to harm you, and he'll keep his word—that's the pride of a powerful wizard. After the bloodline extraction, you can enjoy the rest of your studies. You still have several years left at Hogwarts, fortunately. It's a pity I never studied there myself—you can experience it for both of us."