Somewhere between 1939-1944

Grindelwald bellowed, "Don't you see, these muggles are killing each other as we speak! I am simply speeding up the process, and bringing a quicker end to this war. Hah, they should thank me!"

Dumbledore looked at him, disgusted. "And what about the women, the children, the elderly, those who were uninvolved in the war? You've ravaged entire cities! The destruction, the fires, when is there an end? Their cries and screams, do you not hear their voices? What have they done to deserve death!?"

"They supported this war. They supported their husbands, their sons, their brothers, their lovers… continuously contributing to the war efforts, prolonging this dreadful war that you claim to wish to end as well!"

Dumbledore flinched as if he was slapped, "... You don't even think of them as humans, do you?"

Grindelwald ignored him and bitterly stated, "If you continue to stand in my way, then I will have no choice but to view you as an enemy." He pointed his wand towards Dumbledore.

Raising his own wand simultaneously, Dumbledore looked him coldly in the eyes. "We already are. Enemies."

Grindelwald's eyes stung as he replied, "Then so be it." He cast a curse towards Dumbledore.

*Restaurant in London, November 22, 1945

"But Gellert, we don't have to be."

Grindelwald froze.

Did he just hear Dumbledore call him by his name?

Did he hear wrong? He must have. When was the last time he heard Dumbledore call him by his first name? He'd already forgotten what it sounded like for his name to roll off this man's tongue.

Did it always sound so pleasant to hear...?

"What... did you say?" he croaked, his fingers anxiously rubbing the back of his hand.

"Gellert, we don't have to be enemies," repeated Dumbledore, while Scamander looked anxiously towards the door.

He slowly continued in a testing manner, "You said you are different from the previous Grindelwald, did you not?"

Grindelwald looked stunned for a moment, and then quickly replied, "Yes, yes I did, and I am." He regained his posture and continued, "I apologize for my outburst. That was entirely uncalled for."

"No, I too must apologize for making assumptions… so then can you answer my question?"

"..."

The mark on his hand started to burn now. The damn unbreakable vow. He was going to answer! He just needed some time.

"Dead," Grindelwald muttered, his knuckles clasped the fabrics of his suit until they turned white, "You were killed by one of his followers." who also happened to be one of your own men and it was you who ordered him to kill you.

How remarkably similar their deaths had been.

They were both killed through the killing curse on a high tower under their own volition. How terribly poetic.

Except this time, I am going to be ahead of him.

Definitely.

Dumbledore looked down and mumbled, "I see..." After a while, he asked, "Who is the dark lord you spoke of, then?"

A spark of mischief flitted across Grindelwald's eyes as he replied jokingly, "I do believe he goes by the title He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or if you prefer the short version, You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to chastise him, and asked, "And his true name, the one given at birth?"

"He put a taboo on his name, and I was cursed. I cannot say."

Yes he did put a taboo on his name.

Yes he was cursed by Voldemort... to death.

Yes he cannot say this due to another binding contract he made earlier with Vinda.

He refused to drag Dumbledore into these wretched affairs, especially since he was going to be preemptively getting rid of that annoyance for the Wizarding World. Next thing he knew, Dumbledore would be trying to stand in his way, shielding the little cretin, and looking at him as if he were some monster who wouldn't even let go of a young "still innocent" lad.

Dumbledore didn't look convinced at that weak explanation that was riddled with holes, but Grindelwald moved on.

"I will deal with him, so you don't have to worry about such a trifling matter." Grindelwald took in the look on Dumbledore's face. "Now, don't look at me like that. That mongrel is of age, and has already committed the dreadful crime of murder... and worse, so I believe it's fully within my rights to persecute him."

Grindelwald raised his hand to make a stop gesture, "I don't wish for your commentary on this matter."

"Enough with the questions on my timeline. I believe it is insignificant to what we should be discussing. Any more would be a serious intrusion upon my personal privacy, and I would not be able to fully cooperate with you and your little clique."

Grindelwald shifted the focus of their discussion, "As I've mentioned earlier, I wish to disband my acolytes."

There were too many radical believers in his followers to successfully steer their beliefs towards a different direction. He knew what they were like. Passionate, stubborn, concrete in their beliefs, and unwilling to compromise. For too long he had fed the flames of their desires. The only thing he could do now was to divide them and cut off the rotted stems. This shouldn't be too difficult to start since there would be a whole new wave of conflict that will sweep across his supporters due to his forfeit of the duel. Their faith in their leader should be shaken from this broken promise.

Grindelwald knew that he had been the glue that held the diverse factions of his supporters together. If the main pillar was shaken, the entire foundation would also be affected. It was a good time to incite rage and spread uneasiness… after he secured the safety of the moderates. He had no doubts that they would be the ones targeted first as outlets for the others' rage.

The moderates held a difficult position in both the outside world and within his faction. Not only were they treated as an enemy to the Wizarding World, they were also shunned by their fellow comrades for not being as extreme as the others were. They typically worked behind the scenes in paperwork and administrative services.

If he were to be fortunate enough to pull this off correctly, he would be able to secure a branch faction that will contain only the better parts of his ideologies. They would be the ones who carry his dream after him. Who knew that the people who he too, once ignored, would be the one saving grace of his entire faction.

There just seemed to be that spark inside him that simply wouldn't die.

"I hope you will help me," he shamelessly said.

"And how can I do that?" Dumbledore asked skeptically.

Grindelwald smiled, trying not to betray his excitement as he took out an invitation from his inner coat pocket, "I plan on converging the leaders of the Wizarding World for an important announcement. I hope you will be there."

Then he took a swift glance towards Newt Scamander, and tilted his chin towards him, "And he's not invited. Please, I don't think it would be appropriate if one of his creatures were to be let loose and wreak havoc in this meeting."

Scamander looked as if he was ready to protest, but Grindelwald harshly interjected just as he was about to open his mouth, "Mr. Scamander, I have yet to see you without that suitcase of yours, and I'm certain that, should there be a present opportunity, you will bring out one of your little friends for a fling."

Then he turned back to Dumbledore, and lowered his voice as he said suggestively, "I know you probably have many questions for me, but it's getting rather late… perhaps we can send Mr. Scamander along his way, and have some dinner at this place?"

Dumbledore stared at him pointedly, "I hope you didn't forget something important."

He forgot something...?

Important?

Grindelwald wracked his brain to search for the possibilities. Nothing.

For the love of Merlin, why is it just so difficult for the two of them to have some time alone!?