Crack—
A sharp shattering sound echoed through the Nurmengard cell.
"Gellert!"
Dumbledore's voice rang out in alarm. He saw Grindelwald suddenly crush the teacup in his hand, blood mixing with the tea as it trickled down.
Rushing to his side in a single step, Dumbledore grabbed Grindelwald's injured hand, inspecting it closely. He drew his Elder Wand, swiftly casting a healing spell. A soft, pale light bloomed from the wand's tip.
Grindelwald stayed silent, his closed eyes twitching faintly.
Though he didn't open them, he seemed to sense Dumbledore's worry and haste, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his efforts to hide it.
The cut was minor—Grindelwald could've healed it himself with ease—but he calmly let Dumbledore tend to it.
"I'm fine, Al."
Dumbledore's eyes glinted as he studied Grindelwald's closed lids.
"Gellert, did you use Divination on Lucien?"
Dumbledore knew all about Grindelwald's gift as a Seer. Those heterochromatic eyes could glimpse "visions"—events or people destined to stir massive ripples, the kind that could shake the world.
Grindelwald didn't answer right away. After a long pause, he slowly opened his eyes.
His duller eye was threaded with bloodshot veins, but the bright blue one sparkled with light.
"You know my Divination works two ways: passive and active. Passive visions show the distant future, clearer and more complete…"
Dumbledore didn't interrupt, waiting for Grindelwald to reveal what this prophecy was about.
Noticing Dumbledore wasn't biting with questions, Grindelwald gave a barely perceptible pout.
"I just did two divinations. The first was passive, but…"
"I saw nothing."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. He knew Grindelwald well, but this was new. A passive vision, supposedly the most vivid, showing nothing?
"So I actively divined the boy named Lucien."
"Guess what I saw?"
Caught off guard by Grindelwald's playful tone, Dumbledore humored him. "What did you see, Gellert?"
Grindelwald's smile widened, but his voice turned grave.
"A vortex. A vast, endless vortex."
He fell silent after that.
Dumbledore knew that was likely all he saw—active divinations often gave fragmented, fleeting glimpses.
Dumbledore's guess was close, but not quite. Grindelwald didn't mention that he'd cut the second divination short himself. The moment he glimpsed that vortex, an indescribable pressure gripped his mind.
His instincts screamed that looking deeper would be… unwise.
But he'd never show weakness in front of Dumbledore, so he kept that part to himself.
For the first time in years, a spark of unfamiliar curiosity stirred in Grindelwald.
"That kid's something else. Really interesting…"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Grindelwald's sudden interest in Lucien. "So, what's your take on this prophecy?"
The vision was only half the puzzle—interpreting it was just as crucial.
Grindelwald met Dumbledore's gaze, his tone laced with intrigue. "That boy will bring profound change to the wizarding world—maybe even the whole world. But I can't tell if it's for better or worse."
"Al, you're his Headmaster. He's your student. You must know him better than I do, right?"
At Grindelwald's question, Dumbledore reflected on the past year with Lucien—his relentless thirst for knowledge, his warm willingness to help classmates, his sharp wit in tackling challenges…
His thoughts settled on that night in the Forbidden Forest.
The moment the newborn unicorn pressed its horn to Lucien's hand.
"He's a good kid, Gellert. Did you know Lucien saved a baby unicorn and earned its blessing?"
Grindelwald was happy to chat with Dumbledore, but as he listened, a strange look crossed his face, his expression turning awkward. Finally, he muttered, "So, another young wizard who's great with magical creatures?"
Both old men fell silent, the air growing thick with unease.
Not wanting to waste their rare time together, Grindelwald broke the tension. "So, how do you plan to handle a kid this gifted—brilliant to the point of being almost frightening?"
The question made Dumbledore pause, a long sigh escaping him.
How had he handled the last prodigy?
Suspicion, caution, suppression…
Voldemort's nature was far from kind, but Dumbledore sometimes wondered if he'd made the right choices back then.
He'd been the one to fetch Tom from the orphanage. And after learning what the boy had done?
A burst of magical flame had set Tom's wardrobe ablaze—though it didn't destroy the cupboard holding all of young Tom's possessions.
But that fire undeniably sparked Tom's hunger for power and dominance.
Dumbledore occasionally wondered if he'd used a gentler, more thoughtful approach instead of forceful intimidation to make Tom return the stolen items and apologize—would things have turned out differently?
Looking at Grindelwald across from him, Dumbledore felt a deeper pang of bitterness.
Back then, he'd had little patience or empathy for Tom, resorting to heavy-handed tactics, partly because his mind was consumed by bigger, more painful matters.
"Lucien's a good kid."
"This time, I can't afford to teach him wrong."
The two old men talked a while longer, from major events like the splintering of an Eastern European Ministry into a dozen smaller ones, to minor mischief like Hogwarts students "borrowing" toilet seats.
As the sunset's glow faded, Dumbledore slowly rose to leave. Just before he stepped out, he caught Grindelwald's soft murmur:
"I'd love to meet this Lucien kid. Bet it'd be fun. It's so dull here…"
"Oh, and I'm out of parchment. Send me some next time."