Gellert Grindelwald quickly walked down the long twisting halls of Nurmengard.

Unpleasant.

How very unpleasant everything was.

He must've been out of his mind to do this to himself, he thought as he stomped his way to another intersection and randomly chose the left path.

This repetitive cycle of wandering continued until he abruptly stopped in the middle of a hall, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. One can't expect an old man teetering on the brinks of insanity and delirium to remember this labyrinth of a castle, especially one whose paths changed depending on the time of the day.

Grindelwald wants to murder his younger self who thought of setting up anti-navigation spells in this place, but on second thought, he has already killed him by taking his place in this timeline. Unfortunately, there was also the slight possibility that his younger self is simply lying dormant within himself.

Well, all the more reason to finish things quickly, isn't it?

He took out an object shaped as a clunky gold pyramid from his coat pocket and glared at it. The object was so very aesthetically displeasing that it was difficult to admit that he himself had designed it to function as the key to Nurmengard. No wonder Dumbledore never...

He pushed those annoying thoughts from the front of his mind. It was time to pour incredible amounts of magic to activate this wretched thing and take the shortcut.

The rod inside the pyramid started rotating and the hollow sphere that it supported started glowing light blue as he inundated it with his magic. Before he knew it, he was in the southwestern wing of the castle where the prisoners were held.

Grindelwald sighed in relief. He was positively sure he would blast through the walls of his castle to reach his destination if he walked another circle or went past another one of his followers that eyed him strangely. He could picture the headlines tomorrow: "GRINDELWALD COWARDLY ESCAPES HIS DUEL WITH DUMBLEDORE", but honestly, what did he care? What he wanted was to be buried five feet under.

Now, where did he stash Scamander's belongings again? His wand and that suitcase he almost burnt?

By the time Grindelwald had everything ready in his hands, he was ready to call quits to this meeting with Dumbledore. Magical exhaustion was a legitimate reason for pushing back their rendezvous right? Grindelwald thought back at what he accomplished within the day...

Over 10 accounts of apparition performed… not due to loss of direction.

Conversation with Vinda… some secrecy vows for preparation.

Breaking into that filthy Gaunt shack… that brat put a lot of enchantments there didn't he?

Dispelling a dark curse on a particular ring… that almost rebounded and killed him.

Fixing Scamander's broken wand… which he broke.

And with some other spells here and there, his magical reservoirs had dropped to around 40%, barely enough for the magic he still needed to perform today. He was sure he would be reduced to the likes of a pathetic trembling muggle by the end of the day.

No no no. Not pathetic, simply pitiful to be incapable of performing magic. One cannot help at the circumstances of their birth, Gellert Grindelwald.

...

For some inexplicable reason, his thoughts were sounding more like Dumbledore's in his latter years in life, which became another reason why he was almost driven insane. But in this case, perhaps it was for the better. More pacifist thoughts were needed if he were to get through this without setting fire to Scamander's scarf by accident or on purpose.

Anyhow, should Dumbledore decide to pull his wand in the middle of their meeting, he was ready, he thought as his hand unconsciously hovered over the pocket where he stashed his portkey.

Grindelwald started walking towards his cell.

Yes, it was HIS cell because if there was anything that Dumbledore had done that truly angered him up to this point, it was assigning him the same exact cell as the one he used to imprison Scamander with! All he wanted was to put that cretin out of his sight, but did he have to pay for it in this fashion!? Any other cell would've done fine! Dumbledore, that heartless jerk.

Do not make him a martyr. No other punishment would be more fitting than to imprison him in the very walls that he used to unjustly incarcerate his opponents...

Take away his wand, his pride, and his freedom, for he values those more than his own life. His supporters will come to see that he is mortal and fallible in his ways...

I have a good friend who was once imprisoned in the highest tower of the Nurmengard Castle...

And into the tower he went.

He finally reached the end of the hall, and looked up into the dark ceiling, his temples throbbing. Here he was, about to free Dumbledore's favorite student by his own choice. He'd rather set up a muggle loving convention and advocate for world peace.

Scamander, do your worst.

Perhaps he'd even be able to embrace death sooner than he thought.

Grindelwald swiftly morphed into Albus Dumbledore's appearance. Too much work to try and convince that imbecile to come with him. Then he numbly walked up the swirling steps one by one until he saw the gray metal door, and broke it down, muffling the sounds of metal scraping on the hard stone floor. He watched his prisoner's shocked expression in contentment.

"Albus?" Newt Scamander asked with a bewildered look.

Grindelwald's footsteps halted.

...

So they're on a first name basis? Wasn't this brat his student? What kind of student addresses their teacher by their first name!?

Grindelwald strained every muscle on his face to form a smile as he opened the suitcase and set it on the ground, "Shhwe don't have much time. I'll morph into Grindelwald, so stay in there for the time-being."

"Alright, did you find my wand perchance?"

Grindelwald tried to look sympathetically at him as he lied, "I'm afraid not. Do you know where Grindelwald stored your wand?"

Scamander shook his head, "I just remember that Grindelwald's acolytes confiscated it after they bound me."

Of course he knows all of this already. All courtesy to Vinda.

Scamander stepped into the trunk, and started to sink down inside of it. Grindelwald's eyes glinted maliciously as he forcefully shoved Scamander's head into the trunk, smirking devilishly as he watched Scamander's expression contort into one of shock and disbelief. Then he locked the suitcase, and cast a silencing charm.

Grindelwald smiled genuinely for the first time in decades.

"Do you think you have a right to rely on Dumbledore for everything?"

(Newt: I didn't want to get involved in this ;-;)

Merlin knew he had wanted to do this for a very long time. If he could say that 10% of the reason why he was pretending to be Albus was to avoid conflict with Scamander, then he could say the remaining 90% was to teach an unforgettable lesson to him in Albus Dumbledore's appearance.

It was worth it.

Grindelwald finally took a good look at the cell. It would've felt as if it were yesterday, if it were not for the clean and orderly state of the cell… and the metal door flat on the ground.

No moldy parchments or wrappers messily strewn about on the floor.

No broken quill and chocolate frog card placed in the corner of the room as if they were some disease.

No thin, ragged and stained blanket in the middle of the bed.

But some things still stayed the same.

Like that window slit that provided the only light to the entire room.

With a flourish of his wand, he moved the bed to the middle of the room, walked over, and laid down on the bed. Ah, he still remembered the perfect angle to see freedom.

This was how he spent his days, staring upon a sky of which he no longer had a right to be under. He still remembered those bright red and orange feathers that flitted across the window slit and that dreadfully beautiful song that accompanied the sight. He would make sure that would never happen again. For sure.

The suitcase started shaking.

… This would have felt more nostalgic if he wasn't holding Scamander's suitcase.

"Mr. Scamander, feel free to continue your futile antics if you and your precious pets wish to have a taste of some fiendfyre," he lazily warned.

The suitcase stopped moving.

Looked like Scamander stopped his pathetic attempts to escape.

To escape. Right, how could he forget?

Suddenly, Grindelwald sat up with an intense expression and lightly chuckled. It was time to renovate this cell's walls with hidden compartments. Even if he decided to live out his entire life inside this dingy cell, it would be completely of his own accord this time.

He went about busy performing some charms here and there, stashing a couple of portkeys, fixing the metal door, and invoking a few complicated spell incantations. Afterwards, he slashed his hand and watched with a satisfied expression as the blood dripped down through his fingers and onto the ground, forming the map of the entire castle alongside with the moving labels that tagged each one of his acolyte's names. Ah, the perks of knowing the future are far better than those of seeing the future.

Gellert Grindelwald felt invincible.

Don't get conceited. The last time you felt invincible was when you held the elder wand in your hands.

Shut up.

He gazed longingly at the large cut on his right hand. It's been a while since he felt truly alive. To use his magic, to speak with someone other than himself, and to bleed so freely. So, he didn't bother to heal his hand up, and simply muttered a blood clotting charm and dabbed the wound on some cloth.

With Scamander in hand, all his preparations were complete. It was time to meet Dumbledore.

Grindelwald would rather face a hungry manticore.

Too bad he couldn't procure one now, he thought, as he looked at the suitcase in his hands.