It was a year after the second sun came out.

The impact of the duel, which symbolized the pinnacle of wizards, had faded away.

The destroyed island, alone adrift on the ocean.

Collapsed Numungard, because a flower began to grow back.

Unrestrained, the sun shone down on the half-tall tower.

The red-haired man, dressed in thin white, came to the shore with a homemade fishing rod.

The fish leaps out of the sea and attaches to the hook.

This is perhaps a truly relaxing life.

Dumbledore bakes his food with the eternal flame left on the island.

Using magic, you can create a clear spring that you can drink from.

The newborn rose has become delicate.

He occasionally thought of Hogwarts.

That's where he can't let go of it.

He spent almost all of his life at Hogwarts.

From school, to graduation, he became a professor, and later became a dean and president.

Dumbledore met many people.

Some have become mainstays in the wizarding world like Minerva, while others have gone bad like Tom.

In any case, those were his former students.

He has always believed that he can treat those students with a selfless and inclusive heart.

Until the first time, he was thrown from that position.

He realized that he was not selfless.

The student wearing the silver mask stood in front of him, he knew what the other party looked like under the mask, but he also felt the disappointment under the student's mask.

At that time, the old man, who had always been wise, was confused.

The failure of Voldemort's education made him subconsciously full of jealousy in the face of the equally excellent Slytherin.

Yes, he is eccentric.

The student told himself plainly that he was eccentric.

Dumbledore wanted to explain, but couldn't.

It wasn't just the Slytherin's ambition that he feared, but the people he had met.

One changes his youth, one changes his old age, and the other changes everything about himself.

"Love is great." Dumbledore looked at the rose.

The sun is just right in the morning, and the sea breeze blows a slightly salty breeze.

The rose was a delicate color, the red of the Dumbledore family, which he had loved when he was younger.

"Love is restraint." His fingers landed lightly on the petals.

It was a particularly beautiful rose, and its body was covered with spikes.

Blind crazy love will be pricked in the finger.

Only by gently and ambiguously touching can you make it feel satisfied with yourself.

The ring lying in the stamens of the flower lures everyone to wear it.

"I know you, you want me to be desperate," Dumbledore's eyes didn't show any greed, only clear eyes.

He understood the meaning of the ring.

That's greed, it's madness, it's power.

So Dumbledore never touched him, he was an exiled wizard and a witness to the throne.

He could always feel that the child had a hint of respect for him.

is like himself who should have been killed, but after all, he survived because of the softness of his child's heart.

"You're not going to destroy me, you're going to destroy the me in your heart, right?"

Dumbledore's eyes were filled with sorrow.

That kid, so tired.

Maybe at the beginning of what he thought was fair, the child began to carry a lot of burdens.

It's my own mistake, it's been wrong since the first grade.

It was the tiredness and responsibility that single-handedly created that child.

People who change, not children.

It's yourself.

"You're such a fool, Albus."

Dumbledore was full of sorrow.

The sky streaked across the fire.

It's the phoenix flying.

Seeds are sprinkled from the sky, and life falls on this barren island.

The place is full of loneliness.

But Dumbledore was so happy that he prayed every day.

Pray for the Witch King.

His own mistakes have brought three injuries to the wizarding world.

The phoenix fell, playing a song for its master.

This was probably one of the few pastimes Dumbledore had.

It was punishment, and even Dumbledore didn't know how long he would be here before he died.

Perhaps, it would be equally merciful to let yourself die in front of Grindelwald.

In the face of death, he was as noble as a martyr.

Now, after being freed from death, he thinks about the cruelty of another death.

...

Beneath the brightest towers.

Every noon, in the shadow of the pointer-like tower, there is occasionally a different scenery.

It was black, but it was white.

There will be no hunger, no dust.

Yes, it's just loneliness that can never be touched, and it doesn't change.

In the shadows under the tower, the lonely man has no hope.

He is like the sleeping king, who has no end in sight.

I know that I am thinking on the other side, but I can't see it.

He once had a dream in which a phoenix appeared in the shadows, bringing not only faith, but also someone who thought.

So Grindelwald had waited countless times for the phoenix's fire to appear in this dark place.

But he couldn't wait.

This is the punishment that the witch king gave him.

Isolate everything.

He could only linger over and over again, between expectation and disappointment.

He wasn't a Slytherin, but he had Slytherin paranoia.

He used to think the world was sick.

So he did his own surgery for the world.

Now he thinks he's sick.

He was lonely for a long time, and he couldn't feel the speed of time.

He longed for death and feared it.

A year ago, his face smiled.

He felt like he had won.

The light that pierced the shadows was as bright and warm as the sun.

He was cautious and did not dare to touch it.

His pale skin seemed to be fragile, and the slightest glow could burn him.

After the light, there is still no end to loneliness.

Grindelwald sat on that throne.

For example, the lonely throne he once made for the Witch King.

Sitting on it, he muttered to himself in a low voice, "It's not that bad, is it?"

At one point, he was also imprisoned in a tower.

What is the difference between him then and now?

So he had to be proud, and even in a no-man's corner, Grindelwald still had a paranoid charm.

He wasn't Dumbledore and occasionally gave himself some fun.

For example, to test the boundaries of this world.

You can also cast spells with your own wandless, whether you can destroy this place.

The arrival of noon every day is the time when the shadow of the magic tower is deepest.

At that time, he would stand on the edge of the Shadow Tower and observe the place.

Great magic cannot be broken.

It's like the phoenix can't come here.

"The only difference is that I won't hear from you anymore, Al."

He was holding the last letter, which was a feather.

There are feathers sent by the phoenix.

Seeing things and thinking about people, Grindelwald twisted his feathers in his fingers and looked up at the dark sky.

There were no stars, the only light ever had come from the darkness that the Witch King had lit himself.

This day will go on forever.

Perhaps one day, an even greater punishment will come.

The most precious life will also become worthless in the face of that selfish love.

"I can't die, I can't see the light, I'm lonely forever," Grindelwald smirked, "Your punishment is something I must bear, Witch King."

...

The isolated island of the sea listens to the whales, ethereal and mesmerizing.

Dumbledore wished the man could listen too, as they had agreed, free.

It's a pity that the dreams of my youth did not come true after all.

The shadows under the tower could not hear the whales' calls, and the empty solitary tower was only the sound of breathing.

They looked up as if they felt something.

Perhaps, as Dumbledore said, love can transcend everything.

But it was only for a short moment.

The smile on the corner of the mouth will eventually turn into bitterness.

The more I miss it, the more cruel and tormented it becomes.

But we can't stop.

The only thing that can be done is to praise the witch king.

It was the magical world they were looking forward to, born in the hands of that man.

It's a pity that they are a pair of outcasts left over from the times after all, and they can't witness the brilliance of wizard freedom shining on the fields and the smiling faces of children.

The benevolent witch king does not grant death.

The cruel witch king does not grant death.

Punishment, in the body and in the mind, binds the noble and selfish souls.

...

"Extra, there are a few articles about the stars, and they will be sent later, but the date follows fate."