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HRA# CHAPTER 200
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 14:03:35 +0000 UTCTo most of the wizarding world, the relationship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald could only be described as one of mortal enemies. After all, Dumbledore had nearly obliterated everything Grindelwald had built—his ideals, his organization, all of it. In the end, he had locked Grindelwald away, and that imprisonment had stretched on for decades. Anyone could imagine that Grindelwald must despise Dumbledore with every fiber of his being.
Yet, who could have guessed that these two men, who the world assumed would be locked in mutual hatred and bloodshed, could now sit together so harmoniously in a single room, looking at each other and laughing heartily?
Yes, an unthinkable, unbelievable secret bound them: Dumbledore and Grindelwald had once been lovers, their hearts intertwined. They had even forged a magical Blood Pact, swearing never to betray one another. But, as fate would have it, that so-called unbreakable vow had shattered and vanished.
“You’ve changed, Albus,” Grindelwald said after a long pause, settling onto the edge of his bed. He tilted his head, studying Dumbledore carefully. “Don’t deny it. I can see it. You’re lighter, as if you’ve shed a heavy burden. That’s not like you at all. What’s happened out there?”
“You haven’t foreseen anything?” Instead of answering directly, Dumbledore turned the question back on him.
Unlike Professor Sybill Trelawney, whose prophetic abilities were erratic and beyond her control, Grindelwald was a true seer, capable of actively summoning visions with startling clarity. This gift was why, so many years ago, so many had believed in his words and fought for the world he envisioned.
“I haven’t seen a new prophecy in a long time,” Grindelwald said, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand the feeling, Albus. When I seek answers now, all I get is this nauseating dizziness… like that time we went flying on broomsticks as youths and I got thrown off after a crash.”
“Chaos?” Dumbledore offered.
“Yes, chaos,” Grindelwald confirmed. “The world is becoming strange.”
“I’ve felt that myself,” Dumbledore nodded. “When did your visions stop?”
“Last year? The year before?” Grindelwald shook his head slightly. “I can’t recall. After all, I’ve had no reason to keep seeking prophecies, have I?”
“I see,” Dumbledore said, sitting down beside him on the bed. “That’s… interesting.”
“What are you scheming now?” Grindelwald shot him a sidelong glance. “Still carrying the weight of things you can’t let go? Things you think only you can handle? I thought you seemed lighter because you’d found a successor as stubborn as you.”
“Oh, speaking of that,” Dumbledore chuckled suddenly. “You know, Gellert, I thought after my eightieth birthday, no one would dare suggest such a thing to me again.”
“Suggest what?”
“He told me to find a companion and settle down somewhere quiet to live out my retirement,” Dumbledore said, half-joking. “Honestly, until he said it, I hadn’t quite realized I’m already a hundred and ten.”
“A dusty old relic,” Grindelwald quipped. “One foot already in the grave—though for a wizard, that’s still young.”
“Ha, so you’ve found yourself another useful boy?” Grindelwald added with a mocking edge. “One who comes when called, leaves when dismissed, and holds your ideals above his own life? Is that why you’re so carefree now? So happy?”
“I’m not here to argue, Gellert,” Dumbledore said calmly. “And I’m afraid I must disappoint your imagination. I’ll admit Harry can be stubborn at times, but he’s not my successor. He hasn’t inherited my ideals, nor does he come and go at my beck and call.”
“Honestly, there are moments when I feel like I’m the one following him,” Dumbledore said with a self-deprecating smile. “I never imagined someone would drag me out in the middle of the night to haul soil and trees, or make me repair houses and fix magical runes… ha!”
“Harry doesn’t treat me like some revered, esteemed wizard of the magical world, nor like some frail old man who needs coddling,” Dumbledore continued. “Sometimes, I think he barely treats me like a person at all.”
It was as if he’d finally found a confidant to unburden himself to, and Dumbledore rambled on about things he’d never shared at Hogwarts or with anyone else.
Grindelwald couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“Are you sure he’s your student and not the other way around?” Grindelwald asked, still chuckling. “You’re that fond of him?”
Fond enough to tolerate him putting you through all that?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Gellert,” Dumbledore said evenly. “Harry and I are different, and we both know it. It’s more like we’re testing each other, probing boundaries, making sure neither of us crosses a line the other can’t accept.”
“…He’s powerful?” Grindelwald asked thoughtfully.
“Immensely so. Far too powerful for a twelve-year-old,” Dumbledore replied without hesitation. “By his own account, he’s been on an adventure to an unknown world.”
“And the truth of it?”
“I believe it,” Dumbledore said with a shrug. “At the very least, the power he wields is from an entirely different system, distinct from the magic wizards typically use.”
“Compared to that boy you mentioned before?” Grindelwald pressed. “The one called Voldemort?”
Without a word, Dumbledore reached into his pocket and handed Grindelwald an object.
“Voldemort?” Grindelwald said, surprised, as he examined the trinket. He noticed the sinister face radiating dark magic and the other, almost weeping face on the opposite side.
“To be precise, Voldemort’s main soul,” Dumbledore clarified. “Harry crafted this—what he calls a trinket—out of Voldemort’s soul and another… less-than-innocent one. I can assure you, I had no hand in it. By the time I arrived, Voldemort was already like this.”
Grindelwald toyed with the trinket for a moment before raising his hand and aiming it at the opposite wall. A black, oval-shaped orb shot out, melting a flowerpot he’d just watered into a puddle of foul-smelling liquid.
“The power’s stronger,” Grindelwald observed. “He’s harnessing Voldemort’s sealed essence? Clever. A genius idea, though I can’t quite decipher how he did it.”
“I’ve never doubted Harry’s magical talent,” Dumbledore said, glancing regretfully at the ruined flowerpot. “…It took so long to grow.”
“The cold winds of the Alps would’ve killed it eventually,” Grindelwald said dismissively, tossing the trinket back to Dumbledore without a second thought.
“It seems you and your new boy have everything planned out,” Grindelwald said lightly. “So what brings you to this pitiful, useless old man who’s been rotting alone in these mountains for decades?”
“Oh, you don’t need to belittle yourself like that, Gellert,” Dumbledore said with a cheerful grin. “I wrestled with whether to come see you for quite a while. There were reasons to come and reasons to stay away, but in the end, here I am. After all, when it comes to that matter, you were a key figure too.”
“That matter?” Grindelwald frowned, puzzled.
“Ariana,” Dumbledore said softly, the name sending a shiver through Grindelwald. But Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t noticed his old friend’s reaction. “I’ve made my peace and am ready to move forward. My journey might just be beginning.”
“You—” Grindelwald began, then stopped himself. “You’re not—”
“Not what?” Dumbledore turned to him with a mischievous smile. “You didn’t think I was planning to die, did you? Ha! Harry keeps telling me to retire and live out my days in peace, but I think my body’s still brimming with vitality.”
Grindelwald’s expression suggested he very much wanted to smash his dinner bowl over Dumbledore’s head.
But he restrained himself.
Because that matter—the one Dumbledore spoke of—was the very thing that had set them on irreconcilably different paths. It was the thing that had torn apart two souls who once loved each other.
Ariana Dumbledore, Albus’s beloved sister. Her death had changed him, forcing him to sever ties with his former self.
The world knew Grindelwald as a dark wizard of immense power, one who sought to lead a revolution in the wizarding world, overthrow the International Statute of Secrecy, and establish a global order ruled by wizards over Muggles. Most terrifyingly, he had come perilously close to succeeding—until Dumbledore stopped him.
This was the foundation of Dumbledore’s towering reputation in the magical world. He had preserved peace and protected countless innocent Muggles.
But what no one knew was that, in their youth, Dumbledore and Grindelwald had been as close as brothers—bound by shared ambitions, emotions, and ideals. They had both dreamed of overturning the Statute of Secrecy, elevating wizards above Muggles, and letting the gifted rule.
Ariana’s death had changed everything.
Gifted with extraordinary magical talent, Ariana had become an Obscurial after a traumatic attack by Muggle boys in her childhood. Dumbledore’s father, seeking justice for his daughter, had attacked the boys and refused to let Ariana be sent to St. Mungo’s, leading to his imprisonment in Azkaban. Unable to control the volatile magic within her, Ariana had accidentally killed her mother in a tragic outburst. From then on, Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, had cared for her.
In those days, Dumbledore was young, consumed by his family’s tragedies and his growing resentment toward Muggles. Grindelwald’s arrival had been a revelation, a kindred spirit who shared his vision. In his fervor, Dumbledore had neglected Ariana.
Aberforth blamed Grindelwald for corrupting Dumbledore and failing to care for their sister. Grindelwald, in turn, saw Ariana as a burden holding them back. The tension erupted into a chaotic duel at home—until a stray curse, its caster unknown, struck Ariana, killing her instantly.
Her death was the moment Dumbledore realized what truly mattered to him. It was why he abandoned his old ideals and parted ways with Grindelwald.
That day became a haunting specter, entwining their souls, an indelible pain they could never escape.
“…What are you planning?” Grindelwald asked hoarsely after a long silence. “Ariana… she’s gone. Forever. No magic, no matter how powerful, can bring her back. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
Is there anything I can do to help you?
Grindelwald left the last question unspoken, buried deep in his heart.
“Of course—nothing,” Dumbledore said breezily, his cheerful demeanor starkly contrasting Grindelwald’s anguish. It was almost unnervingly lighthearted.
“You’ve been locked away here for so long, you probably haven’t noticed how the world outside has changed,” Dumbledore said with a soft chuckle. “After all, as you said, you haven’t sought a prophecy in ages.”
“And?” Grindelwald replied, noncommittal.
“Remember what I mentioned earlier?” Dumbledore asked. “Harry ventured into an unknown world and brought back an entirely new system of power.”
“Go on,” Grindelwald said.
“A new kind of magic—Ancestral Magic, Soul Magic,” Dumbledore said, his expression complex. “This extraordinary magic allows us to reconnect with departed souls through the ties of blood.”
Grindelwald’s head snapped toward him.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
