♫~I can follow behind you, like a shadow chasing the light, wandering through dreams~~♪
For some reason, Eda suddenly thought of that line of lyrics. Even if Grindelwald had never had a place for her in his heart, even if Grindelwald had only ever regarded her as his most loyal subordinate, Vinda still felt no regret, no hatred, no resentment.
Perhaps in Vinda's heart, being able to follow Grindelwald was itself a blessing. Vinda was the one chasing the light, and Grindelwald was her light.
The grandmother and granddaughter left the bustling streets behind and returned to their home—the place that had once been Grindelwald's base.
Aside from its décor being frozen in the style of the 1920s and 1930s, there was nothing in this house that hinted at any connection to Grindelwald. There were no portraits of him, nor were there any Deathly Hallows symbols.
If Vinda had not mentioned it herself, who would have imagined that it was in this very house that Grindelwald once planned those earth-shaking events?
Perhaps for Vinda, returning here alone to live after leaving prison was precisely because this place held her memories.
Gone were the former high spirits, gone was the past air of looking down upon the world—what remained were only the fragments of time she had once spent with Grindelwald.
That night, Eda did not know how well Vinda slept, but she herself lay awake. Eda felt conflicted, wondering whether she should tell her that she had once been to Nurmengard, that she had once spent a month with Grindelwald.
Even after half a century, the name Grindelwald still carried weight. If she revealed her connection to him, would it bring unnecessary trouble into her life?
Early the next morning, Eda went downstairs with dark circles under her eyes and had breakfast with Vinda. After this meal, she would be setting off for London. The gold-rimmed glasses could provide some cover, but they could not fool a watchful eye.
"Didn't you rest well last night?" Vinda asked. "Or are you feeling homesick?"
A little over a month of life in Paris couldn't eclipse England, after all. Eda had lived there for more than ten years; her teachers were there, her friends were there, everything familiar to her was there.
"I just didn't rest well," Eda replied. She was still somewhat conflicted—her emotions told her she should speak up, but her reason urged her to keep quiet and remain silent.
"Have you packed everything?" Vinda asked again. "Clothes, accessories, and all those gifts you bought. And remember to let me know once you arrive in London."
"Everything's packed. Agnes finished sorting it all out last night," Eda decided not to keep agonizing over it. "Grandmother, when you investigated my background before, did you notice that I once disappeared for a month?"
Not only Vinda, but even Alain knew that Eda had inexplicably vanished for a month.
They had only been able to find the reason for the disappearance, but had no way of knowing where Eda had gone during that month.
Only three people knew the truth—not even the twins did. How could Vinda and Alain, across the Channel, possibly have known?
Vinda shook her head and said, "Haah~ I thought you were going to keep it hidden forever. So you've decided to tell me now?"
Everyone has their own secrets. Vinda very much wanted to know everything about Eda, to know what she had done during that month, but if she didn't want to say it, Vinda would not ask.
"That month, I spent it in Nurmengard. I learned a great deal from Gellert Grindelwald," Eda said. It felt so good to finally say it out loud—she instantly felt much lighter.
!!!
Vinda's movements paused briefly.
She had thought that during that month, Dumbledore had taken Eda somewhere for secret instruction, or hidden her away until things at the school had settled down. She had never imagined that Dumbledore would actually let Eda go see Grindelwald.
"How is he?" Vinda asked softly. Her voice did not tremble; it was unexpectedly calm.
The question was somewhat unnecessary. Living alone in Nurmengard for half a century—such loneliness was not something an ordinary person could endure, let alone the long years of imprisonment.
Half a century of wasted time and solitude had taken away Grindelwald's health. The Dark Lord who had once shaken the world had long since grown old and frail; now, he was merely still alive.
"He looks physically fine. A bit aged, but he can eat and sleep. His spirits are good too—he still has the energy to argue with me," Eda chose her words carefully, saying only the pleasant parts. She couldn't very well say that Grindelwald's health was poor and that he was already nearing the end of his life.
"Time… truly is merciless. In the blink of an eye, he's reached such an age," Vinda said softly. Beneath her light words lay the deepest longing, speaking of countless unspoken helplessness.
What once had been youthful vigor was now nothing but memories. Time spares no one; no matter how brilliant or extraordinary a person is, they cannot withstand its erosion.
Heroes grow old, beauties turn gray—these are the most unavoidable sorrows of the human world. Such sorrow invites both the greatest sympathy and the deepest regret.
"I know the way into Nurmengard," Eda said. "There aren't any guards there either."
"He wouldn't see me," Vinda declined Eda's suggestion gently.
What should have been an extremely sorrowful sentence was spoken by Vinda with utter calm. She could neither face an aged, weakened Grindelwald, nor did she wish for him to see her own twilight years.
To meet is worse than not meeting; to have feelings is no better than to be without them.
Some things can only be understood inwardly and are difficult to put into words.
Eda had never experienced such things—she did not know what love was like when it ran that deep—so she had come up with such an unreliable suggestion.
"If you ever have another chance to see him, send him my regards," Vinda said.
She stood up and left the dining room. When she reached the door, she overturned her earlier words and said, "Forget it. There's no need."
Only Eda and Agnes remained in the dining room. Eda asked in confusion, "Agnes, did I say something wrong?"
"No, Miss, you didn't say anything wrong," Agnes replied. "You cannot understand because you have never experienced such feelings. That is your good fortune."
After breakfast, Eda and Agnes did a final check together to see whether she had left anything behind.
At the same time, Vinda fell into deep thought in an unused bedroom. She sat in a chair, her gaze passing through the window toward the distance, as if the sky over Paris were once again being draped in black silk.
The knock on the door startled Vinda out of her memories. She set down the corset in her hands and asked, "Is it time?"
"Yes, Grandmother. I've come to say goodbye," Eda said as she walked over to her grandmother's side.
She had lived here for over a month, yet this was the first time Eda had entered this bedroom. The furniture inside was complete, but the room was always left unused and usually kept locked.
Vinda gently pulled Eda into her arms and whispered by her ear, "I still haven't given you a gift for becoming a prefect." After speaking, Vinda released her, and a rose-gold necklace had appeared around Eda's fair neck.
Vinda asked, "Well? Do you like it?"
"I do," Eda said. She picked up the pendant to examine it carefully and discovered that the rose-shaped design of the pendant was formed by a string of letters—her grandmother's name: Vinda Rosier.
At the center of the rose was also set a delicate emerald gemstone.
"This necklace has been with me for many years. Now it's yours," Vinda said. "I hope it can bring you good luck."
_____
The Paris side arc comes to a temporary end here. Eda's background has more or less been clarified, and next, it's time to return to the main storyline.
(～￣▽￣)～Read 12 Chapters ahead:
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