Chapter 320: The Soul-Shackling Lock

Killing Murphy, of course, was a method Dumbledore had considered.

However, such straightforward violence did not quite fit his character, and moreover, Murphy was not so easily killed.

"We are already in the same position," Dumbledore said, "It's hard for me to kill him."

"So, you came here, didn't you?" Grindelwald said.

Dumbledore remained silent, indeed, if Grindelwald was added to the equation, the probability of killing Murphy would significantly increase.

But this suddenly made him doubt whether Grindelwald was saying this just to escape.

"Oh, Albus." Grindelwald made a hurt expression, "Are you doubting me?"

"Sorry, Gellert, I couldn't help it." Dumbledore smiled bitterly.

Doubt had long been rooted in his character, and he had started to doubt Grindelwald's motives in an instant.

Grindelwald had anticipated his arrival, and perhaps, he had also foreseen his purpose.

Then, it was certainly possible that he might use this to escape from here.

And with his understanding of Grindelwald, he had ample reason and motive to do so.

"If you're really not at ease, I can stay here a bit longer." Grindelwald said, "I've already lived here for fifty years, though indeed very boring, but I've started to get used to it. Staying a bit longer doesn't matter, it's probably not many years anyway."

Although this might be Grindelwald's rhetoric, Dumbledore still felt a twinge of guilt.

Finally, he drew his wand, murmured a few spells, and suddenly the scenery around them changed, the room took on an ethereal color, and from the floor emerged a crimson lock, the other end firmly embedded in Grindelwald's chest.

"The Soul-Shackling Lock."

Grindelwald looked at the chain, his expression complex.

This lock not only imprisoned him at the top of the tower but also firmly shackled his magic, making him just like a regular muggle for these fifty years.

To him, it was almost a humiliation.

He glanced at Dumbledore, "Don't you need me to swear a few unbreakable vows?"

"We both know that's pointless." Dumbledore said.

Grindelwald shrugged.

Well, at least they had tried that year.

Dumbledore tapped the chain with his wand, finished the last few spells, and with a "click," the chain broke in the middle, then rapidly disintegrated towards both ends.

A moment later, Grindelwald was free.

He slowly straightened his back, the long-missed magic filling his body again, making him somewhat unable to control it for a moment. His magic shone brightly, emitting dazzling strong light from his eyes and facial orifices.

After a while, the vibration of the magic finally settled down, and Grindelwald took a deep breath. He stood in front of Dumbledore, looking unchanged, but the entire person seemed completely different.

"Fifty years..." Grindelwald started walking around the room, no longer limping, his demeanor became elegant and confident, "Not a moment went by that I didn't miss magic."

"Do you know what the cruelest thing you did to me, Albus?"

"You deprived me of the right to use magic, making me as powerless as a muggle..."

"I really should make you taste that feeling."

Dumbledore frowned, holding his wand tightly.

"Of course, you now have the Elder Wand," Grindelwald glanced at the weapon in the other's hand, "but, you wouldn't think that I hadn't made any preparations in all these years, would you?"

Saying so, he actually pulled out a wand from his robe, "The Soul-Shackling Lock could only be opened by you, so no one could release me from here, but to send me some little gifts, wasn't that difficult."

"I was thinking, maybe we should have another duel." Grindelwald said, "Of course, not now, I will regather my followers, wait until I regain my strength... oh, that Murphy Darkholme, I suddenly think it might not be bad to absorb him too, by then, two against one, Albus, even if you have the Elder Wand, you don't stand a chance."

He said, raising his wand, "What do you think of my plan?"

"Very persuasive," Dumbledore said, "To be honest, I'm already regretting letting you out now."

"Oh, you should at least learn to check whether the guy across from you is carrying a wand." 

Dumbledore didn't speak.

Grindelwald was silent for a while, then suddenly narrowed his eyes, "You found out?"

"Then you still dared to release me?"

Dumbledore did not answer but said, "I'm just prepared, ready to accept all the consequences of releasing you."

"What if I want to kill you?" Grindelwald raised his wand to Dumbledore's face.

"That's certainly something you might do," Dumbledore said calmly, "But to me, that's not too bad an outcome."

Grindelwald's expression was as if he had been slapped.

The next moment, a fury made his wand tremble, and suddenly, a blinding flash flickered between the wand.

"Boom!" The wall of the top of Nurmengard was blasted to pieces by the tremendous magic, a whole wall of stone was blown away, but the spell missed by two inches, and Dumbledore was unharmed.

The two were silent for a while.

"Alright." Grindelwald suddenly retracted his wand, as if what he had just done was all a performance, "That was one of the options. But it seems, it didn't work. I thought you would be more scared."

"I said, I'm prepared to accept all the consequences of releasing you."

"Oh, let it be." Grindelwald stepped forward, "Haven't you felt scared for a moment?"

"...Maybe."

"You've become more boring, Albus."

"Maybe I've always been a boring person."

"I regret, I should have used a curse on you just now, the Dancing Feet Spell would be nice, I really want to see you dancing a ridiculous dance with that stern face, that would be interesting. Shall we try again?"

"..."

"Okay okay," Grindelwald walked to the broken hole, "Let's do something serious, someone is still waiting for us to kill."

Saying so, he took a step forward, and the whole person plunged straight down.

Dumbledore was shocked, coming to the edge of the break, but heard Grindelwald's spell below, "Arresto Momentum!"

He sighed in relief, but didn't make a show like the other, instead walked down the stairs as he came.

Grindelwald was waiting for him outside the spire, but to Dumbledore's frown, the person waiting for him was not alone.

A man in a black robe, a hemp rope tied around his waist, and a crown of thorns on his head, was standing barefoot opposite Grindelwald, holding something covered in black cloth in his arms.

"Is this your man, Albus?" Grindelwald asked.

Dumbledore shook his head.

And at that moment, as if hearing something, the man raised his head, then stepped forward, uncovering the black cloth to reveal a blank picture frame.

"The Holy Mother wishes to speak with you," the man said.

Grindelwald and Dumbledore exchanged looks, the former with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, the latter with a more measured, cautious gaze. It was a moment thick with tension, the air charged with the potential for both revelation and confrontation.

Dumbledore, ever the diplomat, took a step forward, his posture open but guarded. "We are listening," he said, his voice steady, projecting calm in the face of the unknown. His eyes, however, never left the man or the frame he held, ready for any sign of trickery or malice.

The man's lips moved, but it was not his voice that filled the air. Instead, a voice, ethereal and resonant, seemed to emanate from the frame itself, speaking directly into the minds of those present. "You stand at a crossroads," the voice began, "where the past and future are interwoven, where the fate of many hangs in the balance."

Grindelwald's interest seemed piqued, his stance relaxing slightly, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips as if he found the situation amusing or perhaps saw an opportunity within the cryptic message.

Dumbledore, however, remained focused, his analytical mind parsing each word for meaning, for danger, for a glimpse of what might be required of them. "What is it that you seek from us?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of his years and experiences, of battles fought and wisdom gained.

The voice continued, unfazed by the question, or perhaps expecting it. "The balance has been tipped, and darkness encroaches, a darkness that seeks to undo the fabric of reality itself. A choice must be made, a path chosen. The soul-shackled one," here the voice seemed to linger on Grindelwald, "bears a key, but also a chain. And the guardian," now the presence acknowledged Dumbledore, "holds wisdom but also the shadow of doubt."

The message was cryptic, laden with metaphor and meaning that was not immediately clear. Yet, it was evident that whatever was being asked of them, whatever role they were to play in this unfolding drama, it was significant. The fate of not just themselves, but perhaps the world, seemed to hinge on their actions, on the choices they would make in the wake of this divine encounter.

Grindelwald, always one to seize control, spoke first. "And what if we choose to forge our own path, to reject the roles you ascribe to us?" His tone was defiant, challenging, yet there was a hint of genuine curiosity there as well.

The air around them seemed to thrum with power as the voice responded, "Free will is the gift of the Creator, but with it comes responsibility. Choose your path wisely, for each step taken is a stone laid in the foundation of the future. The consequences of these choices will echo through the ages."

As the voice faded, leaving behind a silence that seemed all the more profound in its absence, Dumbledore and Grindelwald looked at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They were adversaries, yes, but in this moment, they were also two individuals facing a mystery greater than their own animosities, their personal ambitions.

The man with the thorn crown bowed slightly, the blank frame now seemingly inert in his hands, and without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows as mysteriously as he had appeared.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald were left in the wake of this encounter, the weight of prophecy hanging heavy in the air. The path forward was unclear, fraught with danger and uncertainty, but it was a path they would navigate, each in their own way, with the choices they made shaping the future in ways neither could yet foresee.

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