Harry stared at him seriously.
Wandless casting—so casual, so effortless—that was something Harry could barely manage. At his current level, wandless magic only extended to levitating a few sheets of parchment. If it was more than seven sheets, or heavier, his control faltered.
"Don't look at me like that. We're not enemies anymore," Grindelwald said, shaking his head as he snapped his fingers.
Two chairs clicked and clacked their way over.
He sat down.
Harry and Dumbledore followed suit.
"Thank you, my favorite—brandy," Grindelwald said eagerly, pouring himself a glass. "It's been so long since I've had this. I missed it."
Dumbledore, rarely, poured himself a drink too.
"So, what brings you here?" Grindelwald asked lazily, reclining in his chair with half-lidded eyes after a sip.
"You have the Sight, don't you?" Harry asked him.
"The Sight lets me see the future," Grindelwald shook his head. "And even then, only uncertain futures, Potter. The future is no sacred mystery—it's a prostitute, changing on a whim."
"If facts are hard to pin down, what chance do hearts stand?"
He said it nonchalantly.
"Gellert, I—" Dumbledore began softly.
"Albus." Grindelwald raised his hand, cutting him off. "We're not that estranged."
Harry jumped in without hesitation, "We're here to ask you about Avalon."
Grindelwald paused, then chuckled bitterly, draining the rest of his glass. "Potter, this is the part where you shut up and let us two old men reminisce."
"You're not dying anytime soon," Harry replied. "Might as well ask the important stuff while you're still sober."
"You're a damn buzzkill," Grindelwald muttered.
Dumbledore let out a long sigh through his nose, lifting his glass and sipping the rippling liquid.
"Avalon," Grindelwald poured himself more brandy and continued. "I never went there."
"Back then, Albus and I were obsessed with power—particularly the Hallows."
"Not just the Hallows, actually. We pursued many powerful relics. Avalon, the promised land, utopia—it was naturally among our goals."
"But it was even harder to find than the Hallows."
"At least with the Elder Wand, we had some clues—even knew who had it. But when you crave power, you want more of it, don't you?"
"So we began our quest for Avalon."
He paused to wet his throat again. "But it wasn't a pleasant journey. Albus always had to go home. That's when the cracks in our relationship began to show..."
Harry cleared his throat pointedly—less nostalgia, more facts.
Grindelwald caught the hint and resumed. "Fine. We actually did find the entrance to Avalon. But unfortunately, it was sealed by mist. We couldn't find a way in."
"Eventually, due to disagreements—and the fact that I found the Elder Wand—we abandoned the Avalon quest."
Harry nodded. "Sealed by mist? Then you must know how to get in—or when the mist lifts?"
Grindelwald smiled. "Of course I know."
"Getting into Avalon is easy. The answer lies in the riddle, doesn't it? So many stories have already told us."
Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. "Only the dead may enter Avalon?"
"No."
He shook his head almost immediately.
Voldemort had claimed to have entered Avalon while still young—certainly not dead.
Harry frowned, racking his memory for Avalon myths.
King Arthur, wounded in battle at Camlann, was taken to Avalon by enchantresses. He was said to be buried there—or, according to some, merely resting, healing in the Land of Apples, waiting for the day his people would need him again.
Harry looked up, brow furrowed. "So... only those near death may enter Avalon?"
Grindelwald nodded. "You're as sharp as the newspapers say."
"Dying—or half-dead. Only those in such a state can enter."
He set down his glass, shaking his head.
"Horcruxes… what foul magic."
"I almost succumbed to their lure. Who'd imagine—magic to achieve immortality actually brings you closer to death?"
Harry shook his head. "I have no interest in becoming some walking corpse."
"There's more than just Horcruxes," Grindelwald said. "Let me think…"
"Legend says if you possess all three Hallows, you gain Death's power. If that's true—then crossing some fog to reach Avalon wouldn't be difficult."
Dumbledore remained expressionless.
"We already have the Hallows," Harry said quietly. "But they're just powerful magical tools—nothing like Death's supposed power."
Grindelwald didn't look surprised.
Harry flicked his wand. The Invisibility Cloak floated from the Sorting Hat and landed gently on the table.
Dumbledore placed the Elder Wand beside it.
"And the Resurrection Stone?" Grindelwald asked.
Harry replied, "With Professor Sprout—Head of Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts. She didn't trust either of us with it. If you want to see it, next time you meet Dumbledore, he can bring her along."
He paused.
"But let's be clear—it doesn't actually bring the dead back. Ariana is dead. She won't return."
Grindelwald waved a hand. "You didn't have to put it so bluntly, Potter."
Harry smirked. "You steered the conversation this way for that reason, didn't you? Isn't it better that I just tell you?"
Grindelwald fell silent.
"What's the second method?" Harry asked.
Grindelwald sighed, pulling his thoughts back. "Potter, have you ever heard of the Department of Mysteries?"
"Thanks, but may I remind you—I'm sixteen," Harry replied, sipping his drink.
Grindelwald continued, "There's a chamber in the Department. They call it the Death Chamber. It's said to contain death's power."
"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know much about it," Grindelwald admitted. "Albus?"
Dumbledore's voice was hoarse as he spoke, "The Death Chamber... it's a mysterious place. In fact, the Ministry was built around it. The veil there predates the Ministry itself. It was once watched over by the International Confederation of Wizards."
Harry listened silently.
"That veil has power similar to the Resurrection Stone. If Death truly exists, it may be yet another trap meant to lure the living toward it," Dumbledore continued slowly. "No one knows where it came from or how long it's been there."
"No magic can remove or damage it."
"The Ministry invited me to study it. But even I found no way to understand it."
He looked down, murmuring, "What mortal can hope to defy death?"
"Can I find a way to become half-dead there?" Harry asked, as much to himself as to them.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know. But we can try—safely."
"I believe we can all resist the veil's whispers."
Grindelwald stared at Harry, expression unreadable. "Potter, Avalon seems... important to you."
"You can drop the 'seems'," Harry replied calmly.
Grindelwald's eyes shimmered with silver. "Then you should wait until the end of July—your birthday."
"What did you see now?" Harry asked.
Grindelwald looked scandalized, pouring more brandy. "Potter, I'm helping you. Why call it 'spying'? I merely glimpsed the future."
Harry snorted.
"Though I admit—these glimpses help me understand people better." Grindelwald cut into a chunk of steak, chewing with delight. "Thank Merlin. Steak is delicious. Hard to believe this is British cooking."
Harry tapped the table. "Madam Rosmerta says that's authentic French preparation."
Grindelwald shook his head. "No, it's not."
"Not how I remember it."
Harry sipped his drink. "Since we're done with the serious talk, let's move to other important matters."
He paused, then added with emphasis, "Like—when are you two getting back together?"
That single sentence shut both men down instantly.
Grindelwald looked at Dumbledore. "Albus, may I say… perhaps we never truly broke apart."
"That's my line to say to you," Dumbledore muttered, hiding behind his glass.
Harry interjected, "Sounds like you're on the same page. No reason not to patch things up."
"Shall I notify Professor McGonagall and the others?"
Dumbledore blinked. "Notify Professor McGonagall? Why?"
"Well, witnesses are important, aren't they?" Harry replied with a straight face.
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Powerstones?
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