Earlier.
As they walked through the door to the Map Chamber, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were drawn to the soft sound of talking nearby. Looking in that direction, they saw on the ceiling murals—
Indeed, although William and Grindelwald had drastically altered the Map Chamber, they preserved four murals of the Guardians.
Grindelwald had always been sowhat annoyed by the elderly figures who frequently murmured behind his back, making him feel discontent during his experints—
But it didn’t really matter.
Because his voice was never very effective in front of William.
And now, all four murals were rarely all present, while Professor Percival Rackham in the middle right lowered his head to converse, the remaining three maintained an almost synchronized posture—solemn-faced, heads lowered, lips slightly pursed downwards.
Clearly, they were not welcoming the uninvited guest with whom they were speaking.
Who could it be?
A question subconsciously arose in their minds, so they approached, bypassing two columns, walking up steps, until a pale gray silhouette appeared before their eyes, "Ah, looks like we have a visitor." The woman by the bridge near the portrait turned her body, her gray figure slightly ethereal.
"But if I recall correctly, aren’t you the guest?"
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, his magic wand in hand twirling slightly. His gaze moved around, confirming the Secret Vault still floated well in the center of the bridge, he exhaled, "However, I didn’t see your visitor record at the entrance... I hope you don’t do anything drastic to our security; that’s his favorite snake."
"Snake? What snake?"
The woman seed montarily stunned by the abrupt change in topic, furrowing her brows and questioning in confusion.
"..."
Grindelwald pursed his lips, as though discerning sothing, choosing not to dwell on this, instead letting his gaze cross the woman, back at the mural, "Rackham, aren’t you going to introduce us? Seems you know each other—"
Grindelwald vaguely guessed the woman’s identity, yet, for fear Dumbledore remained unaware amidst this confusion, he chose to question.
"... She is Morgana, Isadora Morgana."
The elderly figure in the mural gently closed his eyes, evidently, just ntioning this na affected his mood, "And Miss Morgana, these two are Professor Percival and Headmaster Dumbledore... if you stop now, there’s still ti."
"So cold-hearted, am I not still your student?"
Isadora appeared slightly wistful, sighing, turning her gaze back to the two older n in front, "Albus Dumbledore? And..." "My real na is Gellert Grindelwald, you probably..." "Grindelwald? I’ve heard of this na—"
At this, Grindelwald raised his eyebrows at the old man beside him, indicating look, he too was now quite well-known.
"..."
Dumbledore obviously felt a bit speechless at his old friend’s childishness and sighed silently, "Well then, Miss Morgana, I need to know your current reason for being at Hogwarts Castle—and then take appropriate asures."
"Reason?"
Isadora stepped away from the mural, bare feet treading the cold stone floor, "Naturally to reclaim everything I once lost." After saying this, she didn’t heed Dumbledore’s inquiry but shifted her attention to Grindelwald, "I have read your biography, the life of the Black Wizard—Gellert Grindelwald."
"Ah, can you read from inside a grave?"
With much ti spent with William, the once illustrious Black Wizard’s train of thought grew increasingly abstract, "So, might that harm your eyes?" Grindelwald asked with genuine concern.
"..."
After a pause, Isadora decided to overlook those inexplicable subjects, continuing, "I strongly agree with your perspective: Muggles are born to be ruled by wizards, those ignorant, chaotic beings naturally require a guiding leader. You failed—defeated by him." Isadora stared at the only bearded among the trio.
"Generally speaking, I was defeated by the tide of history and the people, Albus just happened to be the chosen hero."
With William’s lengthy psychological coaching, Grindelwald’s comnts grew increasingly infectious.
"..."
Taking a deep breath, Isadora disregarded the "nonsense" of the elder, and continued on her own, "It’s a pity if I were more cautious back then, survived, perhaps you would be my helping hand in uniting this world... no, perhaps even now you could?"
"Survive?"
Grindelwald appeared confused, "If I recall correctly, you are probably fifteenth century... a gap of nearly four hundred years..."
"Ti is not an issue, possessing it..."
Isadora turned her face away, gaze upon the slowly pulsating white sphere in the air, her breath becoming noticeably ragged, "As long as having it, re immortality, even sothing as seemingly impossible as to transcend ti is just an..."
"No, I an, four hundred years, you yourself couldn’t have ruled the world?"
Grindelwald furrowed his brows, speaking rcilessly, "Are you a failure?" With this, he spun his magic wand in hand, "Moreover, young lady, trust , as you age you will only regret your current arrogance—if you persist, perhaps it ends here then."
"... You want to stop ?"
Isadora did not grow angry at Grindelwald’s sneer, rely tilting her head, sowhat baffled by Grindelwald’s audacity.
"We do."
Dumbledore stood beside Grindelwald, two old n holding their magic wands, back to back, "No matter what you plan, I will tell you, it is impossible." "Furthermore," Grindelwald helpfully added, "I don’t know what you did to that bastard William, but I can responsibly say he absolutely tricked you..."
"William Richard?"
Isadora laughed, dismissively, "Just a vain fool, he won’t be coming back." With that said, she too drew a wand from her sleeve, "You choose to oppose ." She repeated, and her smile grew more exaggerated, "Diffindo! (Severing Charm)"
The woman’s wand shot out a purple-red charm, she remarked, "So, do you think William Richard would mourn for you?"
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