A long stretch of time passed—though it may just as well have been a single instant. Jon suddenly became aware that he was naked, which made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
Before the thought could fully settle, a set of formal robes appeared in the mist not far away…
Jon hurriedly picked them up and put them on. The robes fit him perfectly—soft, clean, and warm.
"How remarkable," Jon murmured with a faint smile as he began to look around.
The farther he looked, the more details emerged—
Above him was a glass, dome-shaped roof glittering in the sunlight. Perhaps this was a palace, Jon speculated silently.
The surroundings continued to materialize before his eyes. He gradually realized that he was standing in a vast, bright, and immaculate hall—larger even than the Great Hall at school—with a gleaming hemispherical ceiling overhead. The place was utterly empty, with only himself present… except—
"I never thought you'd manage to find your way here," a gentle voice said from behind him.
Albus Dumbledore walked toward him, his steps light and steady, dressed in a deep blue robe so spotless it looked almost unreal.
"Jon." Dumbledore opened his arms. His skin looked smooth—almost oddly youthful.
"I'm very glad to see you here, Professor," Jon said with a smile, stepping forward to give the old headmaster a warm embrace.
As they hugged, two chairs appeared ahead of them—chairs Jon hadn't noticed before—placed beneath the tall, radiant ceiling not far away.
"Let's sit down," Dumbledore suggested.
He walked over and took one of the chairs, while Jon Hart sat in the other.
...
"This place looks beautiful," Jon said first. "How long have you been here, Professor?"
"To be honest, I don't really know," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "It might have been only a few minutes… and yet it feels like days and nights have passed."
"And how do you feel?" Jon asked.
"Quite all right, I think," Dumbledore said with a smile.
"No delicious desserts," Jon said softly. "No one listening to your incomprehensible jokes… and no portraits chattering away in your ear."
"Then do you know where we are?" Dumbledore asked playfully.
"Well, let me guess," Jon replied calmly. "The boundary between life and death… or somewhere inside your mind… or perhaps inside mine. I am a Predictmagus, Professor, so I tend to know things I probably shouldn't."
"Indeed, my oversight," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, nodding as if in earnest. "I shouldn't try to understand a true genius using the mindset of an ordinary man."
"Professor, if you keep flattering me like that, I might actually start believing it," Jon said with a laugh.
Albus Dumbledore seemed to be in excellent spirits. In fact, since the very first time Jon had met him, Dumbledore had never looked quite like this—neither an old man nor an elder. He looked more like a mischievous boy who had simply lived a very long time.
"In a sense," Dumbledore said lightly, "all three of your guesses were correct. Which raises the question—where exactly are we?"
"…Just my personal impression," Jon said after a brief pause, his tone meaningful. "It feels like King's Cross Station."
"King's Cross Station!" Dumbledore chuckled openly. "That sounds rather delightful. Is it true?"
"Yes," Jon nodded. "Even though it's completely empty—there isn't even a cleaner around—it feels as though a train could arrive at any moment."
"You want to persuade me to board the train back," Dumbledore said, giving Jon a knowing look. "It seems you want me to return."
"Exactly," Jon replied without hesitation.
...
Albus Dumbledore looked faintly irritated, and the smile faded from his face.
He sat there like a child more than a hundred years old, sometimes stamping his foot, sometimes rubbing his hands together.
"This was my choice, Jon," Dumbledore said slowly, hesitating. "It was my own decision…"
"But now," Jon said solemnly, "you have another chance to choose. The Deathly Hallows have given me the chance to command death—and they've given you a second chance as well."
"I've said it before," Dumbledore shook his head. "I've long grown tired of my former life. I don't want to keep living solely out of responsibility."
"You don't have to live for responsibility anymore," Jon shook his head in return. "You can pursue the life you truly desire. Miss Ariana Dumbledore has been gone for many, many years. Whether it was your fault or not no longer matters—you don't need to carry that guilt for the rest of your life. You've already died once. Let the sins of the past fade with time."
"The life I desire…" Albus Dumbledore smiled bitterly.
"You once told me the story of your friend Nicolas Flamel," Jon continued patiently. "But you're not the same as Mr. Flamel. He lived for over six hundred years and experienced every possible joy and sorrow. He truly grew weary of life. You, on the other hand, never even had the chance to live a life that was truly relaxed and happy."
"…To leave like this would be terribly unfair to you," Jon said calmly. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Albus Dumbledore looked visibly shaken.
"Ariana… she's waiting for me…" Dumbledore lowered his head, murmuring like a frightened child.
Jon gently patted Dumbledore's snow-white hair, soothing him as one would a child. "Miss Dumbledore wouldn't want you to leave this world carrying so many regrets. I know her. I believe in her. She never resented you."
"…" Dumbledore seemed to choke up, unable to speak.
"If you leave, many people will be deeply saddened," Jon continued gently. "Mr. Potter, for example—your special lessons with him aren't finished yet, are they? And Professor Minerva McGonagall—you know how devastating your departure would be for her. And of course, Mr. Grindelwald…"
Jon paused, then added softly, "And me. If you left like this, I would regret it for the rest of my life."
"Thank you… Jon… thank you…" Dumbledore leaned into Jon's embrace, tears streaming down his face.
"Come on," Jon said softly, comforting him. "Let's go back. The train will be arriving soon, and I think many people are waiting for our return."
...
The hazy mist slowly dispersed.
A dense web of iron tracks appeared before them, along with a marble train platform—though the station itself remained completely empty.
"Do you know what price I'll have to pay to return?" Albus Dumbledore asked, lifting his head once more.
"Honestly, I don't," Jon replied truthfully. "Even getting here took a bit of luck. And no matter what the price is, I don't care."
"To possess all three Deathly Hallows is to command death," Dumbledore said slowly. "But death cannot be kept at bay forever. When I return, the Deathly Hallows will no longer be Deathly Hallows… and you will no longer be able to command death."
"I already told you, Professor Dumbledore… I don't care." Jon shook his head gently. "Besides, the three Deathly Hallows never truly belonged to me in the first place. The Invisibility Cloak belongs to Mr. Potter, the Elder Wand belongs to you, and only the Resurrection Stone can barely be considered mine. I was merely borrowing their power for a short while."
"Besides," Jon added calmly, "I'm only fifteen. Death is still very, very far away from me."
"But you still have to face Tom…" Dumbledore argued. "Even if you bring me back, my soul won't be the same as it once was, and I won't possess my former strength. Even if I return, I'll be nothing more than an ordinary wizard. I won't be able to help you much at all."
"To deal with Tom Riddle, do I really need to rely on the power of relics?" Jon countered. "If that were the case, wouldn't I be betraying your trust and expectations?"
Dumbledore was left momentarily speechless.
Jon gently supported him. "Come on, Professor. The train has arrived. It's time for us to go back."
As Jon finished speaking, a long, echoing whistle sounded in the distance—
Then a crimson steam locomotive slowly rolled into the platform.
...
Gellert Grindelwald stared tremblingly at the stone bed, at the boy and the old man lying on either side of it.
At the Elder Wand in the boy's hand, the Invisibility Cloak and Resurrection Stone on the old man…
In his entire life, the Dark Lord had never felt such overwhelming tension.
The boy's eyelids fluttered, and he struggled upright from the stone bed.
"Well…?" Grindelwald rushed to Jon's side, his face full of urgency. "Did he come back? Albus… did you convince him?"
"I think I succeeded," Jon said calmly. "We got off the train together."
"Got off… the train?" Grindelwald froze.
He turned around at once—
Albus Dumbledore was also sitting up on the stone bed. He had already removed the Invisibility Cloak, folded it neatly, and placed it back on the bed.
"Albus!" Grindelwald's voice trembled violently.
"Long time no see… Gellert."
The two old men walked toward each other and shared a deep, lingering embrace.
"Excellent… truly excellent… wonderful…" Grindelwald said slowly after letting go. "You're back. You can return to Hogwarts and be its Headmaster once more. And I… I can remain here in peace, continuing on as the most dangerous prisoner in the world."
"No," Dumbledore shook his head. "Jon persuaded me that I might try a different kind of life."
"A different life?" Grindelwald was taken aback.
"I've already died once, and you've been imprisoned in this tower for fifty years," Dumbledore said calmly. "We've both paid a heavy enough price. So I believe our past grievances… might finally be laid to rest. What do you think, Gellert?"
Grindelwald fell silent in thought.
At last, he raised his head. "I think… I agree with you, Albus."
...
Jon picked up the Invisibility Cloak from the stone bed, the one Dumbledore had folded so carefully.
It was still soft and smooth… but there was no trace of soul aura left within it. Now it was nothing more than a finely crafted, well-preserved, ancient Invisibility Cloak.
The Resurrection Stone was the same. Jon could no longer use the fingernail-sized stone to summon countless spirits to serve and fight for him, as he once had in Dracula's castle.
And then there was the Elder Wand.
Picking up the elder wand, Jon called out, "Professor, your wand?"
Albus Dumbledore turned back and shook his head. "No. I died, so the ownership of the Elder Wand no longer belongs to me."
Jon paused. "Wait—Astoria killed you. Does that mean the wand's master became her?"
"No," Dumbledore said with a smile, shaking his head. "I chose to be killed by Miss Greengrass, so the wand's ownership didn't change at that moment. And you may have forgotten—several months ago, at the Gaunt Shack, you successfully used the Disarming Charm on me."
"Oh… right," Jon muttered after thinking it over. "But surely you can't just go without a wand."
"No. This wand carries very unpleasant memories for both Gellert and me," Dumbledore said solemnly. "And even without my former strength, whether I carry a wand or not makes little difference."
"Besides, the Elder Wand is no longer a Deathly Hallow. Although it's still somewhat stronger than an ordinary wand, whether you choose to use it or keep it as a keepsake is entirely up to you."
Jon nodded, then asked, "All right, Professor. What are your plans from here on?"
"Plans?" Dumbledore said with a playful blink. "Gellert and I have just discussed it. We've decided to prepare for a journey around the world… starting in the East."
...
The two elders and the young man walked out of the tower into the desolate courtyard.
Both elderly wizards looked refreshed and full of vitality.
"You're able to leave this fortress, Mr. Grindelwald?" Jon asked curiously. "Do you need to go through any sort of formalities?"
"Formalities?" Gellert Grindelwald snorted disdainfully. "Unnecessary. I built this fortress with my own hands."
"But you said you hadn't used magic in fifty years—that you're no different from an ordinary old man now," Jon said quietly.
"That's true," Grindelwald nodded. "But if I wish it, it can all come back."
The gaunt old man raised one hand—
In an instant, the entire fortress began to tremble.
The tower collapsed bit by bit, the walls crumbled one after another, and the surrounding enchantments dimmed and faded…
Nurmengard Tower—the most terrifying wizard prison in the world—was reduced to ruins within minutes.
At the same time, a massive shadow appeared in the distance.
It looked like an enormous black cloak, or a vast veil of dark gauze—nearly half the size of a football field, black light rippling around its edges.
If Jon remembered correctly, this was a Lethifold—
And it was the same gigantic Lethifold he had once seen deep within Durmstrang.
The enormous Lethifold slowly came to a halt before them and lowered its head.
Grindelwald stepped onto its back as though treading on dark clouds, and Dumbledore followed after him.
"Our journey begins, Jon," Dumbledore said with a smile. "If you need anything, you can always come find us."
"Well…" Jon thought for a moment. "I think I actually need something right now, Professor."
"Oh?" Dumbledore looked at him curiously.
"First of all, there has to be an Albus Dumbledore, doesn't there?" Jon said. "Otherwise the entire calamity legion—ah, no, the entire wizarding world—would fall into chaos. So…"
"That's easy enough," Dumbledore said, nodding. He plucked a few strands of his pale hair and placed them in Jon's hand.
"Alright," Jon said quickly, taking them—then he inadvertently glanced at Grindelwald.
"Hmph. You want my hair too?" Grindelwald snorted, rubbing the few remaining strands on his head. "Fine… take it."
"Huh?"
Jon froze awkwardly for a moment, then hurriedly accepted the hair from Grindelwald's hand.
The Lethifold rose into the sky—
"Safe travels to you both, Professor Dumbledore… and Mr. Grindelwald!" Jon called out loudly as he watched the dark shape recede into the distance.