Hogwarts Emerald

Someone once said: every person born into this world comes carrying the sins of their past life. The suffering endured in this life is the price paid for the sins of the previous one, and the sins committed in this life must be repaid in the next.

Lifetime after lifetime, people live only to pay off their debts, tasting all the hardships of the human world, to the point where sometimes even the act of breathing feels like a mistake.

That's why, in certain periods of history, indulgences became so popular — ignorant and naive people would go so far as to bankrupt themselves just to buy these so-called indulgences, hoping to wash away their sins and gain forgiveness from god.

Eda, too, sometimes wished she could be that ignorant and naive. If there really were a place selling indulgences, she wouldn't spend every penny she had, but she would buy a few, at least.

She knew perfectly well these things were nothing but a scheme to exploit fools — but sometimes, it didn't hurt to be a fool for a moment: simple-minded, but happy.

To use every moment of one's life to cleanse one's own sins — that was simply too cruel a notion to accept.

Just like Grindelwald now — he imprisoned himself in Nurmengard for eternity, repenting for his sins, trying to atone for what he had done in the past.

But all of it was futile. The harm Grindelwald and his followers had brought upon the world could never be undone, and the sins they committed could never be forgiven.

Grindelwald knew this.

Even though he never truly believed there was anything wrong with his ideals, once he came to understand what love was, what affection meant, he still chose to stay here, turning his old slogans into chains that bound him.

"Everyone's life is full of pain and hardships. Precisely because of this pain and these hardships, every trace of sweetness in life becomes all the more precious."

The hot cocoa in Grindelwald's hand seemed to transform into sentimental advice as he spoke. "It's just like this cup of cocoa — because of the sugar and milk, it becomes sweet and delicious, something that people cherish and enjoy."

Eda raised her cup at just the right moment and took a big sip of hot cocoa. She said, "Yeah — taking in too much sugar makes people dependent on it, and it can even make them sick."

When a person has tasted too much sweetness, their taste buds become numb to it, and they might even start to find that sweetness bitter.

Life is truly interesting — full of reversals at every turn, with different things happening every day. There are good things and bad things, sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty — you never know what flavor is waiting for you up ahead.

It's precisely because of this uncertainty about the future that life's journey has its ups and downs, that so many grand stories are passed down through the ages.

In that room, the contrast between the two people talking was striking and almost surreal.

It was hard to imagine such a scene: a white-haired, ragged old man in his hundreds chatting with a teenage girl in the prime of her youth about the sweetness and bitterness of life.

Grindelwald was old enough to be Eda's grandfather many times over. The generational gap between them could rival the Mariana Trench, yet they conversed with ease, not once talking past each other.

Two people with such an age gap, in this moment, seemed more like old friends reunited after many years apart. Borrowing the silver moonlight, borrowing the faint warmth in their chests, they revealed to each other the parts of themselves they had never shown to anyone else.

Because they both knew that after tonight, they would forget everything that had happened. On this silvery night, they would each sleep soundly in their own rooms, as if nothing had ever been said at all.

"Ha! The wizarding world is just a bunch of brainless fools! If they had accepted my ideas back then, there wouldn't have been any war at all — so many souls who had blossomed with magic wouldn't have been snuffed out! We would have become greater, more noble — that is a right every wizard should have!"

"Genius to the left, madman to the right. You believed you were born to change the world, so you stubbornly turned right, refusing to blend in with the dust," Eda said. "Naturally, those high-and-mighty gentlemen saw you as an incurable lunatic. And most importantly — you failed! Because you failed, all your ideals turned into empty talk. You and your followers were nothing more than madmen who tried to overturn the entire wizarding world — utterly and completely mad."

Grindelwald spoke in displeasure, his tone dripping with contempt for those in power, for those who clung to the old ways. He continued, "Magic should live in the sunlit lands, not in dark, filthy sewers, nor should we be rats that everyone wants to beat to death! Their prejudice and conservatism squandered the wizarding world's final chance."

To be half a step ahead of others is to be a genius; to be a full step ahead is to be a madman. Grindelwald's ideals were impossible for people of that time to understand — he was trying to shatter too many old constraints, so he became an idealistic madman.

Ununderstood by the world, the flaws in Grindelwald's character grew ever larger: his disregard for life, his unyielding obsession with his goal. To achieve his purpose, he was willing to pay any price — just as the saying goes: "All for the greater good."

Arrogant in his brilliance, Grindelwald began to spread his ideals outside the law, build his own faction, train his own army. The crimes he and his followers committed were countless, bringing pain and suffering to all of Europe.

It wasn't until that legendary duel in 1945 that Grindelwald — and his ideals — were personally stopped by the one he loved. Only then did the dark clouds hanging over Europe finally disperse.

Eda thought about that line — "Magic should live in the sunlit lands" — and felt it carried a certain echo of Bismarck. Maybe it was because they were both Germanic, so their ideas were somewhat similar?

"I'm suddenly filled with longing for the world you spoke of," Eda said, imagining a world where Grindelwald had succeeded. She went on, "Wizards wouldn't have to shrink their space to survive. They wouldn't be excluded or oppressed by their own kind because of bloodline or birth. As long as you and your followers never lost your original purpose, it would be a world that was, relatively speaking, fair to all wizards."

The wizarding world that Dumbledore and others had saved was beautiful, yes — no slaughter, no terror — but those deeply rooted maladies had never been cured.

Pure-bloods looked down on half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards. These Muggle-borns, coming from the humblest origins, were contemptuously called "Mudbloods" — unworthy of learning magic, people who needed to be purged — and they made up the bottom rung of the magical world.

For Muggle-born wizards, even the path upward was blocked, just like how the Ministry of Magic had produced only one Muggle-born Minister, and even his appointment was met with resistance.

There had been a few Ministers in the past who were friendly with Muggle-borns or leaned closer to Muggles, but none of them stayed in office for long. Many had resigned under various pressures, and some had even lost their lives for it.

It was exactly for these reasons that Eda longed for the world in Grindelwald's vision — a world that would be relatively fair to all wizards.

"It's a pity I wasn't able to lead my followers to fulfill our dream together," Grindelwald said, a trace of regret in his voice. "If we had succeeded, you would never have known such misfortune. When your soul first blossomed with the light of magic, you would have only been your family's pride."

If things had really turned out that way, the original Eda probably would have had a happy childhood — and she herself wouldn't have had the chance to experience the wonders and strangeness of this world, would she? Eda thought to herself silently.

Seeing that Eda didn't respond, Grindelwald assumed she was lost in thoughts of a happy childhood, so he didn't interrupt her.

Grindelwald looked at the distant mountains, and in his mind appeared the image of Credence. If he hadn't been an Obscurial, he wouldn't have been used by Grindelwald.

What heights could a wizard with such astonishing talent have reached?

It was a pity — Eda's happy childhood, Credence who never became an Obscurial — all of it was built on the foundation of Grindelwald's idealism, a rainbow-colored bubble that would burst with the lightest touch.

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