Chapter 774: The First Meeting of Two Dark Lords (Edited)

Nurmengard has been quite busy lately, receiving his third guest in a few months.

When Voldemort slipped through the narrow window like a snake and descended into the upper cell like a light mist, Grindelwald, who was dozing on his hard bed, woke up alert.

"Voldemort?"

Looking at the strange man in a black cloak before him, Grindelwald recalled Fish's assessment of Voldemort: "Bald, noseless, and so ugly nya!"

Well, that's really a short but accurate summary.

After scanning Voldemort up and down, Grindelwald indifferently asked, "What do you want from an old man like me? Do you want me to join your... Death Eaters?"

Grindelwald, no less skilled than Dumbledore or Fish at feigning ignorance, smiled with his toothless mouth and proudly said, "Unfortunately, I have no intention of being subservient to anyone, but if you're here to work with me, then you might consider it."

He paused for a moment, then provocatively and sarcastically added, "I heard you lost a newborn, so you might need some help from a seasoned veteran like me."

"Hmph! That won't be necessary!"

Voldemort said with a stern face and a cold snort, "That was just a careless mistake on my part; I have already found a solution."

"In that case, why have you come to see me?" Grindelwald shifted his posture as he sat, crossed his legs, rested one hand on his lap, propped up his chin, and with a hint of youthful exuberance, raised an eyebrow and asked, "I don't think I can be of much use to you now."

"You're too modest... elder," Voldemort said with a slight bow.

Voldemort still held some respect for Grindelwald, for his ideas, his power, and his knowledge, but that was all.

After all, Grindelwald had failed, he was a prisoner, and he had lost his ambition in his current state.

Voldemort straightened himself and revealed his purpose, "I want to know the whereabouts of... the Elder Wand, and if you can tell me, it would be very simple to get you out of here."

It was because he saw that Grindelwald had lost his ambition that Voldemort made this offer, otherwise he wouldn't be foolish enough to escalate their rivalry.

"Thank you for your kindness, but no," Grindelwald flicked his ear and blew on it, "I'm used to living here; the outside world has changed too much for me to adapt."

"So, you won't tell me where the Elder Wand is?" Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes, his hand in his pocket, ready to draw the wand at any moment.

"Of course not," Grindelwald smiled with his toothless grin, "I may be old, but I haven't lived long enough, and..." a hint of hatred flashed across his face, "I can't wait for you to get into trouble with Dumbledore."

Voldemort smiled, leaning forward eagerly as he spoke, "Tell me! Where is the Elder Wand?!"

Grindelwald looked at him puzzled, "Didn't I already tell you?"

"...Dumbledore?!" Voldemort, after a moment of confusion, immediately responded, "He has the Elder Wand?!"

That made sense, no wonder he couldn't defeat Dumbledore!

Now Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand even more.

"Now that you know about the Elder Wand, you must learn the legend of the Three Brothers and the Deathly Hallows..." Grindelwald said slowly, "The legend tells that the eldest of the three brothers lost his wand when he was secretly killed in his sleep, and that is the nature of the Elder Wand... Once you have defeated the previous owner, it will claim you as its master."

"In fact, most wands have the property that after losing a battle against someone, they will be used by that person, or when they face that person again, they won't be able to use their original power." Grindelwald seemed eager to talk, "And the Elder Wand is snobbier than any other, it doesn't care about the method you used to defeat its previous owner, even if it was a stealthy attack, it simply follows the victor."

"Albus... Dumbledore defeated me, and naturally, the Elder Wand came into his possession, and I stole it first, before incapacitating Gregorovitch." He shrugged, showing no trace of shame on his face.

This is consistent with Voldemort's Legilimency of Gregorovitch's memories, and it is clear that Grindelwald is not lying.

But just in case, Voldemort asked, "Well, what if it had been poison or a trap? Or if Dumbledore had died, how would you have gained its allegiance?"

"I don't know," Grindelwald shook his head, "Why bother with that when I already have the Elder Wand?"

Voldemort nodded understandingly. If he were in Grindelwald's position, he wouldn't waste time on such trivialities either. After all, he, like Grindelwald, trusted that once he possessed the Elder Wand, no one could ever take it away from him...

Although Grindelwald ended up being defeated by Dumbledore, Voldemort still held that confidence.

"Thank you for your help."

Voldemort insincerely thanked him and then stared intently at Grindelwald, the red gleam in his eyes standing out in the dimly lit cell.

Grindelwald met his gaze, his smile fading, and his body shifted from a languid position with crossed legs to a cautious, half-crouched stance.

After a long and silent stare, Voldemort spoke first, "Are you sure you don't want me to get you out of here?"

"No," Grindelwald smiled, "I have accepted my defeat, and even if I had to do it all over again, I probably wouldn't change anything. Besides, I am too old to start over," he said, somewhat regretful.

Voldemort wasn't sure if Grindelwald truly believed that or if he said it on purpose because he was concerned about being killed, but the other man had yielded, and it wasn't appropriate for him to expose himself to the public at that moment, so...

"What a shame. I would have liked to have you, my superior, by my side to witness my success." His voice and form turned ethereal, slipping through the narrow window like a snake in a light mist, just as he had come.

"To witness your success? Hey... hey hey... hey hey hahahahaha!"

Grindelwald looked at Voldemort's departing figure through the window with a sarcastic smile on his face, and his laughter grew louder and louder until he covered his stomach, rolling with laughter on the hard bed.