At the London Underground station, Dumbledore gripped the handrail and made his way through the crowded platform to a quiet café outside Downing Street.
Inside the café, Dumbledore stirred his coffee with deliberate slowness, watching the cream spiral through the dark liquid.
A man in an impeccably tailored suit materialised beside him.
"Is this a café you come to often?" Grindelwald asked.
"No, perhaps not so often," Dumbledore replied with a faint smile.
Grindelwald sat down, and a waiter brought him a cup of coffee without being asked.
Dumbledore spread his hands, revealing the ornament wrapped around his wrist.
"You wore this around your neck for so many years. Close to your heart."
Grindelwald glanced at it, then returned his piercing gaze to Dumbledore.
"Sometimes I imagine I still feel it there. How does it feel around your wrist?"
"Perhaps we could free each other," Dumbledore said, sitting up and leaning closer to Grindelwald.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with decades of unspoken pain. Dumbledore glanced away, reaching for his coffee cup as if seeking refuge in mundane ritual.
"Our Muggle friends certainly talk a lot, but I must admit, they make excellent coffee."
Hearing that Dumbledore wanted to break the blood pact, Grindelwald was unwilling to entertain the thought. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, looking around the bustling café.
"What you're trying to do now is too dangerous!" Dumbledore looked at him with grave intensity.
"This was originally what we agreed to accomplish together!"
When it came to their shared ideals, Grindelwald showed no fear of Dumbledore's gaze.
"Because I was too young then, too..." Dumbledore's head shook slightly.
"Unwavering. To me, to us," Grindelwald's eyes began to show aggression.
"No, I participated only because..." Dumbledore paused, the words heavy on his tongue, "because I once loved you."
"Yes," the corner of Grindelwald's mouth curved up slightly.
"But that's not why you participated. You proposed it—that we could reshape this world, that it's our birthright."
The two fell into tense silence, and the atmosphere between them grew thick with unspoken history.
"Can you smell it, this stench?" Grindelwald's voice seemed to be squeezed from his lungs.
"Are you really going to betray your own kind for these animals?"
The surrounding environment began to turn pure white, reality bleeding away at the edges.
"With or without you, I will destroy their world, Albus," Grindelwald said, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Enjoy your afternoon tea."
Grindelwald stood to leave, but the pure white café around them had already caught fire with supernatural flames.
"Damn! He set fire to it!"
The Deep Realm King's flames scorched the dragon weaving the dream, forcing Aiden to sever the burning pure white threads connecting them.
Aiden brought Dumbledore back from the dream to reality with a sudden jolt.
"See? I told you I couldn't persuade him. When the time comes, we'll gather more people, find a place to surround him, and bury him," Aiden said, going over to pat Dumbledore's back. The blood pact on Dumbledore's hand coiled even tighter, as if alive.
On the other side of Europe, at Nurmengard Castle, Grindelwald woke from his dream on the sofa.
"A dream? Prewett has this ability too. I want him more and more," Grindelwald muttered, rubbing his temples.
With a flash of displaced air, Credence led three people through Nurmengard's imposing gates.
Grindelwald pushed open the door, saw the bag in Credence's hand, and smiled with satisfaction.
"Go down," Credence said, bowing his head slightly and instructing those behind him.
Grindelwald took the bag from his hand and pulled out the Qilin inside with reverent care.
"I heard it's special," Credence said.
"It's not just special. Look."
Grindelwald leaned back slightly so Credence could see the creature in his arms.
"See its eyes? These eyes can see everything—truth, lies, virtue, vice. When the Qilin is born, a new leader will rise and change the world."
Grindelwald looked at the Qilin in his arms with deep, almost paternal affection.
"Its birth will change everything. You did well."
Grindelwald adjusted the Qilin in his arms while reaching out to touch Credence's face.
Credence took a step back, somewhat fearful.
"Go down," Grindelwald said dismissively.
Then, in the empty square, Grindelwald looked at the Qilin expectantly, hoping it would choose him as its destined leader.
However, the Qilin kept turning its head away. Grindelwald's expression darkened with impatience.
Holding the Qilin in his arms, Grindelwald slit its throat with practised precision.
The flowing blood connected to the Deep Realm, borrowing the power of the most ancient Deep Realm King—Life itself.
He saw Dumbledore's shadow in the crimson puddle. Grindelwald bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Inside the castle, Queenie covered her mouth in horror and quietly withdrew from the doorway.
***
Hogsmeade
Newt rushed to the Hog's Head Inn with Theseus in tow.
Pushing open the door, they saw a thoroughly drunk dragon complaining loudly to Aberforth.
"Your cups are too dirty. You have charms, but you're just lazy." The dragon held up his cup and cast a Scouring Charm on it with exaggerated precision.
Aberforth sighed helplessly. After all, he had tricked the boy into drinking, so he could hardly throw him out now.
"Rennervate," Newt pulled out his wand to sober Aiden up.
But when the spell landed on Aiden, it was twisted by his innate magic and couldn't take effect.
"You're here for my brother, aren't you?" Aberforth looked at Newt and Theseus knowingly.
"We're here for Albus Dumbledore," Newt said.
He hoisted Aiden up and pulled out his notebook to write: Don't let him drink.
"He is my brother. Upstairs, turn left," Aberforth said, stopping his attention to them and continuing to wipe glasses with methodical precision.
"Did Newt tell you why he brought you here?" Dumbledore asked in the upstairs room.
"Should he have told me?" Theseus looked somewhat confused at Newt, who was still fussing over the swaying Aiden.
"No," Dumbledore laughed softly.
"Rennervate!" He pulled out his wand and cast a more powerful spell on Aiden.
"Ugh," the dragon shuddered and came to his senses abruptly.
"Some things, we... Dumbledore wants to talk to you about," Newt said, waving his hand vaguely.
Dumbledore stepped forward and pulled out the blood pact to show Theseus.
"Do you know what this is?"
"What Newt got in Paris. I don't have much experience with these things, but I'm guessing, maybe some kind of blood contract?" Theseus said uncertainly.
"Yes," Dumbledore fixed his gaze on the blood pact with visible pain.
"Whose blood is inside?" Theseus asked carefully.
"Mine, and Grindelwald's," Dumbledore displayed his inner vulnerability without his usual mask.
"So this is why you can't fight Grindelwald?" Theseus waved his hand in sudden understanding.
"Yes, and likewise, he cannot fight me," Dumbledore said, still looking at the blood pact.
"Can I ask... why?" Theseus widened his eyes with effort.
"Love, arrogance, naivety—take your pick," Dumbledore said with bitter self-deprecation.
"We were young then, both wanting to change the world. This vow ensured we wouldn't change our minds."
Dumbledore's smile was somewhat sweet but overwhelmingly desolate—the memories of one summer connected to his entire later life like chains.