Just after Voldemort left Britain to search for the secrets of the Elder Wand in Russia, and shortly after Malfoy's trial had concluded, the Dark Lord's adversary did not stop his advance.
At the border between Haute-Savoie in France and the Aosta Valley in Italy stood the sparsely populated Mont Blanc, perpetually covered in snow and gripped by a frigid climate.
As far as the eye could see, the mountains were blanketed in white snow, as though they were wearing a vast white sweater. Hazy mist swirled among the mountains, and occasionally, the winter sun broke through the layers of drifting clouds, casting a faint, radiant light over the snow and refracting into a brilliant, pale-golden glow.
But the sunlight had almost no effect on the snow, which remained unmelted throughout the year.
Behind this breathtaking scenery lay countless dangers.
In recent years, some Muggles had come to challenge this awe-inspiring peak, and occasional avalanches had buried many ordinary people who dared to underestimate the power of nature.
Today, the mountain welcomed a pair of travellers.
If anyone had been there, they would have involuntarily gasped in amazement.
The reason was simple.
The two travellers looked far too old to be attempting to climb such a formidable peak.
One was tall, with white hair and a white beard, and possessed a vigorous, kind-looking appearance.
The other had a sinister expression and a high nose bridge. His features could vaguely be recognised as resembling those of his younger self.
Even more surprising was that they had brought no mountaineering equipment whatsoever—not even the most basic cold-weather clothing.
Both wore rather thin, old-fashioned robes. To an uninformed observer, they might have appeared to have stepped out of the Middle Ages, or even an earlier era.
Even so, judging from their expressions, neither seemed uncomfortable. They were completely at ease, as though the bitter cold had no effect on them whatsoever.
The former wore a black robe, almost blending into an indistinguishable black dot against the pure-white, snow-covered mountains.
The latter wore a light-green robe embroidered with pale-red silk threads, covered with mysterious patterns and symbols.
"Albus, I still don't understand why you're playing this fake-death trick. At least to me, it makes no sense."
The man in the black robe strode along the rugged mountain path. The sharp, uneven stones and freezing temperatures seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. He walked through the mountains as though he were strolling across a flat road.
Upon closer inspection, however, it became apparent that he wasn't actually stepping on the ground.
His feet hovered just above the winding mountain path, with a thin gap of air beneath them.
It was an extremely sophisticated Levitation Charm.
Occasionally, thorns protruded from the shrubs along the path.
Before they could even touch him, they were sliced apart by invisible blades of wind. Mixed with soft white snow, the fragments tumbled down into the valley.
The path appeared to be completely undeveloped.
The old man continued talking, white vapour constantly escaping from his mouth before condensing into tiny ice crystals in mid-air and falling to the ground.
"That so-called Dark Lord. The two of us could deal with him easily. I don't think it would be much harder than crushing a bug."
"He's terrified of you, and he was never your equal to begin with. Otherwise, he wouldn't have hesitated to ambush you. If I were to join him…"
The old man behind him shook his head, his silvery-white beard swaying in the breeze.
He was none other than Lord Voldemort.
Shot backward by the force of Expelliarmus, Dumbledore had fallen through the other side of the Veil, and everyone who witnessed it believed him to be completely dead.
"That wouldn't be enough. We couldn't completely eliminate him."
Dumbledore dodged a huge rock that had naturally rolled down the mountainside, its surface covered in snow, before continuing after Grindelwald.
He began to explain.
"And… Gellert…"
Dumbledore seemed to think of something and fell silent halfway through his sentence, his wide robes fluttering in the wind.
"All right."
Grindelwald gave Dumbledore a deep look but did not press him further.
"After being imprisoned for so long, it's time to get out and move around a little."
He muttered the words to himself.
The two men gradually slowed their pace on the mountain path.
Grindelwald didn't know where they were going. Somehow, he had once again found himself following Dumbledore, who was now leading the way.
He had already tested Apparition and discovered that using it in this region consumed considerably more magic than usual.
When the two crossed another snow-covered mountain, Grindelwald's expression suddenly changed.
"A Muggle-Repelling Charm? You're here?"
He decisively took another step forward.
The temperature around him suddenly rose.
His vision distorted.
Only a moment earlier, the world had been one of ice and snow. Now, it seemed as though the world had been turned upside down.
Trees stood lush and green, growing vigorously and towering into the sky. They formed a defensive line around the area like the walls of a city, shielding it from the severe cold outside.
The contrast with the old, withered branches covered in snow along the mountain path was striking.
Several alchemical golems stood in a daze.
They were clad in armour made of gold, magical runes engraved across their bodies, and each held a pure-gold staff horizontally across its chest.
Several of the puppets bent down, using brooms to sweep away the snow that had blown inside, while others simply stamped on it, causing the melting snow to evaporate.
Dazzling gemstones were embedded in their eye sockets, serving as pupils, yet there was still no vitality in their lifeless forms.
Dumbledore's wide sleeve suddenly bulged.
After shaking several times, a fiery-red phoenix sprang out.
It let out a soft cry, landed on the lush green grass, shook its body, and then took several steps forward with its head held high.
It was the phoenix that had left Hogwarts long ago.
Fawkes.
"And you, you worthless bird. You actually trust him? You've entrusted your life to him? What if Voldemort had used Avada Kedavra and you had flown away? What would you have done then?"
"Loyalty is mutual. Fawkes is loyal to me because I trust him."
Dumbledore spoke slowly, closing his eyes.
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow and lowered his head, examining the proud phoenix with great interest.
"It's a pity Voldemort didn't use the Killing Curse, so you've been carrying this bird around for nothing."
"Ha. Expelliarmus. It seems the charm of the wand is more powerful than your life."
"But in his eyes, your death must have been an unexpected surprise."
"How ironic. A long-time rival has died to an Expelliarmus."
"If I were to die such a humiliating death, I probably wouldn't be able to rest in peace."
"Sigh…"
Dumbledore sighed deeply, though it was unclear what exactly had prompted the sigh.
He had made extensive preparations.
If he could have avoided it, he would not have wanted to come here.
He led the way toward the most exquisitely crafted puppet.
Several white pearls adorned its belt, while its wrists were engraved with numerous magical runes designed to enhance its strength.
The alchemical puppet seemed to recognise the old man.
Its metal body swayed as it stepped aside.
Before the two men, a solid stone door slowly rose from the ground. At first, it revealed only a narrow crack before opening completely.
A cloud of dust was stirred up and scattered through the air.
With a slight lift of his hand, Dumbledore swept the dust away.
The interior was brightly lit.
Old-fashioned light bulbs hung overhead, casting a persistent orange glow that gave the place a strangely gentle atmosphere.
Just as Dumbledore was about to take a step forward, he suddenly felt a burning sensation spreading from the other sleeve of his robe.
"It seems your student has some new information to report to you."
Grindelwald spoke suddenly, apparently sensing the anomaly coming from the two-way mirror as well.