Grindelwald’s laughter rang out again.
Dumbledore slowly straightened.
There was no anger in his face.
He waited quietly until the laughter subsided, then spoke.
‘You should know me as well as I know you.
I will not hurt that boy, whatever his connection to you.
He bears no responsibility for what you did.’
Grindelwald’s smile faded.
‘You haven’t changed.’
He gave a dry chuckle.
‘You always could find room for the strangest people.
Even the freaks.
Even those whose origins were a complete mystery.’
He looked at Dumbledore.
‘But never me.’
‘I gave you a chance.’
Dumbledore’s voice cut across his.
‘You know there was no one in the world less willing to become your enemy.
But you—’
He stopped.
‘That is not why I’m here.
I haven’t come to argue about the past.’
He drew a breath.
‘The boy, Gellert.
I want to know what happened.
Why does he have Dumbledore blood?’
Grindelwald said nothing.
After a long silence, Dumbledore sighed.
‘Even if you refuse to tell me, I can find out.’
Grindelwald raised his head.
‘An institute of biological research,’ Dumbledore continued.
‘I’ve had people search every magical record they could find.
Nothing.
Perhaps too much time has passed and the records have been lost.’
He paused.
‘But it isn’t the sort of name wizards generally use.
Muggles, on the other hand, establish research institutes for their scientific work.
And, as I understand it, they are rather good at keeping records.’
Grindelwald let out a weary breath.
He could see where this would lead.
If Dumbledore began investigating in the Muggle world, he would find a trail.
There had indeed been a collaboration.
For all that Grindelwald had considered Muggles inferior to wizards, he had never denied the brilliance of some of their scientific and technological achievements.
At last, he said, ‘Go here.’
He looked down at the tag. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
‘You’ll understand when you see it.’
He pressed a finger against the symbol.
Beneath the words G.
G.
Institute of Biological Research, another line appeared.
An address.
It seemed to have been there all along, concealed.
The tag floated back to Dumbledore.
He stared at it, then looked searchingly at Grindelwald.
You could have left all this time?
‘Go.’
Grindelwald lowered himself into his corner again.
‘Whatever you find there, remember what you said.’
He hunched forward.
‘And be careful.
The experiment was a failure.
That boy should never have existed.’
His gaze returned briefly to Dumbledore.
‘Yet here he is.
You had better find out who is responsible.’
He settled against the stone.
‘Close the door on your way out.’
He offered nothing more.
A failed experiment.
A boy who should never have existed.
Someone behind it all.
The implications left Dumbledore wary.
He would begin with the address.
Grindelwald might refuse to explain further, but Dumbledore believed he would find answers there.
He left, remembering to close the door.
Stone flowed back across the opening.
Silence returned to the narrow cell.
A long time passed before Grindelwald raised his head.
‘Gutch!
Gutch!’
A sharp crack broke the silence.
A house-elf appeared in the chamber.
His face was deeply wrinkled, his clothes ragged.
He, too, was old.
‘Is Master hungry?
Gutch was the Grindelwald family’s last remaining house-elf.
When his master had been imprisoned in Nurmengard, he alone had been permitted to remain and attend him.
For years, his duties had been simple: provide three meals a day and keep Grindelwald from starving.
‘You heard?’
Grindelwald watched the elf.
‘The boy.
The one with Grindelwald blood.’
Gutch gave an excited sob.
‘Yes, Master!
Gutch heard!
Useless Gutch, not knowing until now that there was a young master alive—’
‘Gutch.’
The elf fell silent.
‘Go and see him.
Then come back and tell me how he is.’
Gutch hesitated.
‘But if Gutch leaves, old Master will have nothing to eat!’
‘I told you to go and see the boy.’
‘Yes!
Yes, old Master.
Gutch will go at once.’
He wrung his hands.
‘Only… please let Gutch prepare enough food for old Master first.
Food that will keep.’
This time, Grindelwald did not object.
Black stared at the enormous animal in front of him.
‘Would someone please explain why there’s a gigantic Russian bear in England?’
A brown bear stood before him, looking remarkably gormless.
As far as Black knew, creatures like this belonged somewhere in Russia.
This was England.
The outskirts of London, at that.
Even if there were bears roaming the British countryside, surely one shouldn’t have been able to wander all the way here unnoticed?
He regarded it helplessly.
He had slipped out to the woods to test his druidic abilities.
Then this great lump had appeared.
The moment it spotted Black, it had charged.
He had been preparing to defend himself when the bear dropped flat on the ground.
And began to whine.
There was something distinctly pleading about the noise.
Thanks to his new abilities, Black understood every word.
Hungry!
Food, please!
Keep me!