"You had a vision. You will lose."

Grindelwald struggled not to twitch his lips.

Of course, straight to the point aren't you Dumbledore.

He wanted to hex him. Maybe a duel wasn't so bad after all. He could just apparate when things got out of hand. Trivial things like saving face no longer existed in Grindelwald's dictionary. His skin has grown thicker than Nurmengard's castle walls.

Something in him wanted to break free and say, "No Dumbledore, I didn't have a vision about this duel. I didn't even know there was going to be another duel! And neither do I need a vision to know that I'm going to lose! I already lost!"

Alright, that definitely sounded like he had a screw loose in his head.

So, he decided to go with brevity for both of their sanity's sakes.

Grindelwald curled his lips unpleasantly as he conceded, "Yes, I lost."

See, simple. No lying. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't accept anything less than the truth, that is, if he were to believe there were any traces of sincerity left inside of Grindelwald.

Does not explicitly stating the truth also count as a lie? Ha, the complete truth sounded more unbelievable than a lie.

Dumbledore raised his brows, eyes gleaming in contemplation as he asked, "And what makes you think I'll agree to your terms now that I know you will lose?"

He hated Dumbledore. He used to have so much more tact when speaking to him. He missed

"Do you think I'll make the same mistakes twice, Dumbledore?"

Merlin knew he had repeated the same mistakes more than twice, and had not even known they were mistakes. As expected, those who don't see the coffin cannot shed any tears.

Grindelwald looked up towards the gray sky. His eyes stung from the harsh wind that swept across the lonely field. Even though he could see the same sky from his previous cell's window, it still felt different. Unreal. Everything felt unreal. As if it were just another one of his wish fulfillment dreams, and he was still in that cold dark cell he called home.

Yes that's right, home.

It was not a home, but he called it home because that was where he belonged. The fact that he had built it himself was a nice additional touch. Premium material for satirical texts. He had claimed to his followers that he would lock up his enemies for the Greater Good, and, lo and behold, it came his turn to be locked up, even if that wasn't what really caged him in.

People always thought of Nurmengard as Grindelwald's prison. However, his prison had never been Nurmengard. His prison was his own mind. There wasn't anything that could restrain him except for himself.

At first, he could not understand how he lost. How could he lose like this? Everything had been tilted to his favor. He possessed the elder wand. He was at the peak of his power. His followers spread all across Europe. He was leading a revolution that would change the course of history. There was nothing standing in his way, except for Albus Dumbledore.

He lost anyways.

He lost to Albus Dumbledore.

He lost to himself. His defeat had been predetermined before the duel even started.

Grindelwald remembered that rage.

Anger, fury, disbelief. What had he done? How could he

He spent most of his first few years afterwards unwilling to accept reality, escaping to his own mindscape, and replaying the scenes of that duel. He rejected anyone who attempted to visit him. He could not face them, and he could not face himself.

Accepting the truth meant that he was wrong. It would shatter the pitiful and selfish beliefs he had told himself for all his life, but he had all the time in the world in his cell to understand.

Decades.

He reflected on the words he spoke, on the actions he made, and the emotions he felt. His words were lies packaged by half truths. His actions only hurt the people he claimed to have cared for. His emotions filled less than the capacity of a teaspoon for people other than himself.

Everything had been for the Greater Good.

Gellert Grindelwald had sought to prove Albus Dumbledore wrong, that it was wrong to betray their ideals for family members that shackled him down. Those nuisances who drowned him with unrealistic expectations and responsibilities. He had wanted to make Dumbledore look upon the new era he personally brought about with envy and make him regret abandoning their dream.

He had been so foolish back then.

It took too long for him to realize that it was not Albus who betrayed him. He was the one who betrayed Albus.

By lying that they would have a future together.

By manipulating his frustrations and desires to drive him further from his family members.

By casting the cruciatus curse on his brother.

By causing his sister's death.

By abandoning him after he caused the tragedy.

And lastly, by repeatedly disappointing Albus with the way he attempted to carry out their promises.

Grindelwald had caged himself in self-hatred. He would live a long life and suffer his karma. A natural death would be his only liberation. That was what he had thought until Albus Dumbledore, that self-sacrificing fool, had to get himself killed.

Ha ha ha.

He knew he wasn't the type to willingly punish himself.

Things would be different this time. This was the kind of situation he played in his mind hundreds, no—thousands of times. He went through all those possible combinations of choices repeatedly, over and over. They had been his fantasies, and the only type of recreation that kept him sane besides reminiscing over his memories.

Originally, it was something akin to how he should've killed Dumbledore, but then...

How ironic, he felt more shackled now than when he was imprisoned in Nurmengard.

The weight on his shoulders made it hard to think rationally. Made it hard to breathe

Enough wallowing.

He had to redirect Dumbledore's attention from that so-called vision.

He made a conceding gesture as he pocketed the wand he held in his other coat pocket, noticing Dumbledore raising an eyebrow after he did so.

Grindelwald cleared his throat and said, "Recently, I've had some revelations concerning my previous ideologies and the methods I've used to achieve my goals. It has come to my attention that many of my actions were extreme in an undesirable sense. Please realize, I had only wished to accomplish my tasks in the most efficient and quickest way possible— ", he sucked in a breath, "I know now that is not the way I should've done things."

Yes, please was a good word when trying to get a message across to someone.

He continued on to the more serious parts, "I should not have thought of taking someone else's life so lightly. Nor should I have thought of it as a necessity. That anyone in my path, anyone that was an obstacle, deserved to die. Including you."

Grindelwald choked mentally.

Someone dig a ditch for him to die in, right now. Make it long and vertical, so he could dive inside head first. Grindelwald is the one that deserves to die.

This was exactly the kind of disaster that occurred when someone starts droning on without a filter, who also happened to be one of the types of people he loathed to associate with the most in his previous life. Unfortunately, prison life encouraged him to develop a penchant for speaking to himself, which typically only consisted of nonsensical rants and hysterics. He was accustomed to leaving his brain behind when he started an hour long monologue on how much of an idiot everyone, especially himself, was. But even so, he hadn't expected his speech would deteriorate to this level of clumsiness.

Grindelwald was extremely thankful that he wasn't looking at Dumbledore's face while he spoke, and stubbornly glared at a cloud in the gray sky.

He recovered from that brief pause and sincerely said, "It is unfortunate that I've not understood the weight of a person's life in the past. I have committed irreversible and unforgivable crimes."

He started listing the names of people who were either directly or indirectly killed by him, also mentioning those people whose names he had not even cared to know before they were murdered.

"...Irma Dugard, Leta Lestrange, Credence Barebone born as Aurelius Dumbledore, a muggle family of three including their newborn child..." Grindelwald closed his eyes and continued on.

And lastly, he turned his head back towards Albus and looked straight into his eyes. He managed to utter with great difficulty, "Ariana Dumbledore."

It took every ounce of sheer willpower not to look away.

He swallowed with difficulty and struggled to speak, "I"

But Albus cut him off. "I accept, so please…"

Please stop.

He painfully rasped, "I will speak of your proposal to the ministry. I cannot guarantee that they will agree to such a meeting, but I will attempt to convey your message."

Dumbledore took a deep breath as he coldly stared into Grindelwald's eyes.

"I don't know if anything you've said today was sincere, but let us not meet each other again if you truly mean it."

Afterwards, with no regard to Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore turned and exposed his back as he briskly walked towards the audience.

Grindelwald stood in a slight stupor as he blankly watched Albus leave.

Whoever said that making apologies was easy should be overrun by a herd of Scamander's fancy hippogriffs.