As the incantation was recited, wisps of white mist began to spread and everything around them was engulfed in the mist. When the mist dissipated, a familiar scene appeared before Ivan.
This is Nurmengard!
Ivan glanced around the room and quickly recognised Grindelwald, who was being held there.
Unlike the last time they met, the Dark Lord wore a pair of magical shackles on his hands. Although they did not interfere with his movements, they appeared to be magical items designed to restrain the magic within him.
Sure enough, he knew that Grindelwald's management could not be as lax as he originally thought.
Yvonne was thinking about this when the sound of light footsteps came through the door.
Ivan turned to look at the door, and saw Dumbledore entering.
Judging from the man's rather poor physical condition, Ivan guessed that the memory was from the summer holidays of his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Grindelwald also raised his head and looked at the visitor with his dull eyes, but Dumbledore did not seem to care about his cold attitude.
"I don't suppose we've seen each other for a while, Gellert?"
"A hundred and thirty-seven days…" Grindelwald's hoarse voice echoed through the room, and then, before Dumbledore could speak, he continued sarcastically, "What is it you came to ask this time? Or are you trying to show off to me that you have finally gathered all three of the Hallows and have conquered death?"
"No one can truly conquer death, Gellert! As luck would have it, I have most likely broken the Resurrection Stone of the Three Hallows… It will take at least two years to repair, and I fear I will not be able to wait that long," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows.
"So you're going to die?! That's ridiculous. It must be the best news I've heard all year…" Grindelwald's words dripped with derision.
"Yes, that leaves two to three months, but there's nothing funny about that. It happens to anyone," Dumbledore said modestly. "Death is not terrible either, depending on how you look at it…"
"Stop preaching, Albus!" Grindelwald's interest was piqued by Dumbledore's lackluster response, and after a pause, he glanced at the man's blackened right hand and said unhurriedly, "Get to the point. What do you want with me this time, just to read the date of your death? You don't expect me to attend your funeral, do you?"
"Of course not. If you were to attend my funeral, it would cause panic among the others… and the service would not be able to continue," Dumbledore explained earnestly, and then, before Grindelwald could get angry, he continued, "I am here to seek your help, Gellert."
"Unfortunately, I do not have much leverage, so you may consider it a request…" Dumbledore added after a moment's thought.
"Did I mishear you, Albus? You need my help?" Grindelwald could not help but be surprised, and he snickered. "The help of a defeated prisoner, the hated Dark Lord? If this is a joke, I admit it is amusing."
"It's not a joke, Gellert! But if you'd like to hear it, I can tell you another joke about Muggles and wizards…" Dumbledore cleared his throat and was about to speak, but when he saw Grindelwald's dark eyes and dark expression, he tactfully paused.
"Well, now, let's get down to business. As you can see, I'm going to be dead in three months at the most. Unfortunately, there are some important things I have to do," Dumbledore explained.
"So you're going to break the Dark Arts? Remember I gave you the easiest way to do that the last time you visited?" Grindelwald asked with a wicked grin. "All you have to do is kill one person, create a Horcrux, kill yourself, and come back to life. What a way to do that… not only will you be free of the Dark Arts, but you'll also have a young, vibrant body."
"You know I would never do such a thing, Gellert…" Dumbledore began, his voice thick with emotion.
"Of course." Grindelwald nodded. "I read in the papers … that you were a great British wizard, the bane of the Dark Arts, and you must have been hoping to be a saint without a blemish and go down in history, yes?"
"Ah, I almost forgot, you're probably not going to make it. You recently offended the Minister for Magic, whom the Daily Prophet personally supported, so it overruled its previous opinion that you're a paranoid old man who believes in childish dreams, and now it seems that's a fair assessment…" Grindelwald sneered.
"You should know that I do not care for such things," Dumbledore said quietly.
Grindelwald was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "Unfortunately, there is nothing else I can do!"
"My requirements are not as high as you might think. I need only to live a little longer and do what needs to be done. A year or even half a year…" Dumbledore went on slowly. "It so happens that I know of a magical contract that weakens such troublesome dark magic, or perhaps shifts some of the damage to another."
"So you're going to let me die with you, in your place, under the influence of that dark magic?" Grindelwald's eyes were sharp now, his anger barely contained.
"Aren't you prepared to hear my side of the bargain?" Dumbledore said with perfect composure.
"There's no need for that," Grindelwald said coldly. "I have lost everything, and nothing I want…"
"Even if it might be freedom?" said Dumbledore casually.
"I refuse…" Grindelwald interrupted Dumbledore with a sneer.
Grindelwald's stiff refusal came as a surprise to Dumbledore, but also a relief. "It seems that your fifty years in captivity have taught you a great deal … so we will have much in common."
"Sadly, I think you may have misunderstood something." Grindelwald's eyes narrowed, his anger rising uncontrollably. "You don't expect me to repent in here all these years, then come to my senses and believe in what you say, do you?"
"That's impossible!" Grindelwald spat out the words. "No bargaining chip will ever measure up to your disappointed face. I can't wait to see it."