Grindelwald thought Kyle had done something to make the Dumbledore in the portrait treat him coldly.
Kyle didn’t explain.
He was doing his best to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing...
Grindelwald probably couldn’t imagine that the hideous, useless woolen gloves he had mocked were actually made by Dumbledore.
After all, when he was imprisoned in Nurmengard, Dumbledore hadn’t yet revealed this peculiar hobby.
Then again, who would ever believe that a powerful and increasingly renowned wizard in the magical world had a fondness for woolen socks?
People preferred to believe he loved books, tirelessly sending him all kinds of magical tomes every Christmas.
Dumbledore might have explained it once, but no one likely believed him, so he eventually stopped bringing it up—letting the matter quietly drop.
And since Grindelwald had been locked up in Nurmengard all this time, he had no idea. So when he saw those woolen gloves, his first thought had been Minerva McGonagall.
In truth, Professor McGonagall didn’t know how to knit at all. She preferred using efficient Transfiguration Spells to get things done.
With that thought, Kyle had to work even harder to keep his composure. He was certain that if he laughed now, Grindelwald would be furious.
Besides, the man had come all this way to help—mocking him now would be rather rude.
“Maybe... you did something to upset him,” Kyle said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as before.
“What did I do?”
“Well, why don’t you think about it?” Kyle had run out of excuses and could only let him figure it out on his own.
Grindelwald frowned and began to think seriously.
He glanced at the mirror not far behind him.
If he had done anything to upset Dumbledore, it was probably restoring the Mirror of Erised to its original form.
But that had been his intention from the beginning—it was the purpose behind gifting the mirror. Dumbledore had been the one in the wrong, altering that intention without permission. And he hadn’t even made a fuss about it...
At that thought, Grindelwald’s expression hardened with resolve. He even lifted his chin slightly at the Dumbledore in the portrait.
He hadn’t done anything wrong!
Watching the whole thing unfold, Kyle pressed his lips even tighter.
“Pfft—”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing, just thought of something funny,” Kyle said. “I’ve got to start preparing for my alchemy course this holiday.”
“What’s so funny about that?”
“You wouldn’t get it. I’m just really looking forward to it.”
“You’re strange,” Grindelwald said, eyeing Kyle suspiciously before waving impatiently. “Enough. Tell me your plan.”
“Let me know what I need to do.” He walked over to the chair in front of Dumbledore’s portrait and sat down, running his fingers lightly along the armrest, as if feeling the lingering presence of Dumbledore.
“Um...” Kyle looked at him and said cautiously, “That chair was replaced when Professor Snape became headmaster. It's Slytherin-style furniture.”
“Dumbledore used a different one when he was headmaster.”
Crack!
The armrest Grindelwald had been touching suddenly burst apart, sending splinters flying everywhere.
“You could’ve said so earlier.” Grindelwald stood up with a grim expression. “Tell me—what else in here has been replaced?”
“Quite a bit.” Kyle thought for a moment. “Snape became headmaster at the Death Eaters’ behest. They took it upon themselves to redecorate the office in full Slytherin fashion.”
“Although Professor McGonagall later removed most of it, some things she considered unimportant were left behind... like that chair.”
In that instant, Grindelwald suddenly lost interest in the Headmaster’s office.
“Forget it. Just tell me your plan already,” he said, his tone growing increasingly impatient.
“But one thing... I agreed to help you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll indulge you the way Albus did. Don’t push your luck.
Or rather—don’t make me regret getting involved.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
With the conversation turning to serious matters, Kyle's demeanor became more focused.
“In my initial plan, you won’t need to do anything at first. Just wait for someone to show up at Nurmengard, and then kill them.”
“Oh, and remember to leave two of them alive—just drive them down to the base of the Nurmengard tower.”
“Nurmengard is built on a cliff. There’s no underground space,” Grindelwald reminded him.
“Then we’ll dig one.” Kyle waved a hand dismissively. “Leave that to me. You won’t need to worry about it.”
“Fine. I’ll help,” Grindelwald said, nodding after a brief pause. “Now, what’s the payment? What are you offering me?”
“Payment...” Kyle froze for a moment. “Wait, didn’t you promise Professor Dumbledore you’d help—”
“I did promise Albus,” Grindelwald leaned in toward him, “but all I promised was to give you a chance to meet me. What happens beyond that... is your responsibility—and your price to pay.”
Kyle was stunned.
No wonder. He wasn’t Dumbledore. Why would Grindelwald come all this way just to help him?
It was all a setup!
“Two exclusive photos of Professor Dumbledore.” With that, Kyle didn’t waste time—he simply held up two fingers.”
“No, no, no.” Grindelwald shook his head and held out one hand. “Five. Then I’ll help you.”
“No way.” Kyle shook his head as well. “Three, max. That’s my bottom line... But I guarantee they’re exclusive. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Fine,” Grindelwald nodded. “But among those three, I want the one you showed me last time.”
“That’s not happening—the value’s way off.”
“Then I’ll just take that one.”
“Still not enough,” Kyle said. “Let’s be honest—this is just about borrowing your name. If you’re not on board, I have other options.”
“Who else could you possibly find?”
“Plenty,” Kyle said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Newt Scamander. Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Nicolas Flamel, the legendary alchemist. Even Professor Dumbledore would probably be happy to do me this small favor.”
“Sure, it’d make things a bit more complicated, but it’d save me a fortune—seems like a fair trade to me.”
Grindelwald stared at him intently, and Kyle met his gaze, perfectly calm.
A few minutes later...
“Fine. Three photos.” Grindelwald stood up and headed toward the door of the Headmaster’s office.
“Wait, I haven’t told you the specifics yet.” Kyle stopped him.
“Rosier will come find you later,” Grindelwald said, halting in his tracks. “Three photos. That’s enough to make me wait.”
“Of course, if you’re willing to pay more, I wouldn’t mind listening a little longer.”
“Forget it.” Kyle stepped aside without hesitation.
“But…” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a camera. “Since you’re here, why not leave a keepsake?”
“Spare me the games.” Grindelwald shot him a glance, his eyes resting on the camera.
Now he understood where all of Dumbledore’s “exclusive” photos had come from. What kind of proper wizard carried a camera around?
“You’ve got it wrong,” Kyle said quickly, waving his hands. “If I were up to something, I’d never bring it out so openly. I really just wanted to help you keep a souvenir.”
“Think about it—this is where Professor Dumbledore spent most of his time. He wrote letters at that desk, watched Quidditch matches from that window... Don’t you want to stand where he once stood?”
Grindelwald hesitated.
“You said most of the furniture’s been replaced.”
“But surely they didn’t rip out the windows,” Kyle said with a smile. “Just stand there—Dumbledore used to love watching students play Quidditch from that very spot.”
“I...” Dumbledore’s portrait opened its mouth, speaking softly.
He wanted to say he didn’t actually like standing by the window—it was too high up, and the wind was always strong. He usually preferred to watch matches from the Quidditch Pitch.
But Kyle quickly talked over him.
“Just stand there, I’ll snap a quick photo... Come on, you know everything already. What could I possibly do? I just want to help.”
In this situation, if Kyle said Dumbledore loved standing at the window, then he did—even if Dumbledore himself denied it.
“I hope you’re not lying,” Grindelwald muttered, then walked over to the window, clearly giving in to Kyle’s suggestion.
Truth be told, as a Seer—or prophet—his instincts had been warning him against it from the start. But Kyle’s words had truly struck a chord.
To stand at the same window, under the same sky, where Dumbledore once stood... it had always been one of his deepest desires.
And thanks to Kyle’s carefully chosen words, that desire only grew stronger.
As for those instincts—Grindelwald was confident. He wasn’t Dumbledore. As long as he stayed alert, Kyle wouldn’t get even a sliver of an opportunity.
“All right, stand just like that.” Kyle raised the camera and took a perfectly normal photo of Grindelwald.
“Since you’re already here, let’s do one more.” Kyle said casually, “Professor Dumbledore had a great flair for sending letters—he’d just toss them out the window, and an owl or phoenix would catch them in flight.”
“Of course, we don’t have a letter, so use this instead.” He casually handed Grindelwald a woolen glove.
“Now imagine you’re Professor Dumbledore, throwing the letter out the window…”
For a brief moment, Grindelwald really didn’t feel like humoring Kyle.
But the words “Imagine you’re Dumbledore” made his hand move on its own—he instinctively threw the glove out the window.
Click!
Kyle’s camera flashed at the exact same moment.
“What did you just do?” Grindelwald suddenly frowned.
He had no proof, but he was certain Kyle had done something behind his back.
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” Kyle blinked innocently, spreading his hands as he offered the camera to him.
“Go ahead, check it if you want.”
“Or you could just take the photos—just leave me one. I’m putting together a photo album themed around ‘archrivals,’ and I plan to feature you and Professor Dumbledore on the first page. I need one shot of you.”
Grindelwald kept his gaze fixed on Kyle but didn’t take the camera.
“No one else is allowed.”
“What?”
“No one else in your album,” Grindelwald said slowly, enunciating each word. “I’ll have Rosier come collect it later... Don’t let me down.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked straight toward the door, calm and composed.
It wasn’t until he opened it that Kyle finally reacted.
“The headmasters’ portraits...”
Grindelwald didn’t answer. He just pointed a finger upward.
It was like someone had pressed a play button—the portraits lining the walls all suddenly came back to life.
The headmasters were the first to stir.
“What just happened...?”
“Who was that... who exactly...?”
As soon as they regained awareness, Armando Dippet and Phineas began shouting.
They had no idea what had transpired exactly, but they clearly sensed a sudden, dramatic change.
They could tell someone had tampered with the portraits—but what had happened in the interim was a mystery.
And that answer... perhaps only one person knew.
Dippet couldn’t help turning to Kyle, who was still standing there.
“Who on earth did you bring into Hogwarts?”
Kyle had just extracted the film from the camera with his wand. Hearing the question, he looked up slightly, thought for a moment, and replied,
“An old friend of yours, I’d say. At least you, Headmaster Dippet, definitely know him.”
“I know him?” Dippet looked even more confused.
He’d known plenty of people in his time—many of whom were still around—how could he possibly guess?
“What about me?” Phineas asked. “Do I know him too?”
Kyle finished tucking the camera and film into his Mokeskin pouch, then gave a small nod.
“You probably do.”
“Phineas and I both know him?”
Dippet lowered his head, lost in thought.
“And that voice... I have to admit, it was awfully familiar...”
Then, as if something had clicked, he instinctively glanced toward Dumbledore’s portrait.
Dumbledore noticed but said nothing.
That near-silent response, bordering on acknowledgment, nearly made Dippet jump out of his chair.
“By Merlin’s beard—you’ve got to be joking!”
“What do you mean?” Phineas asked. “You know who that was?”
Dippet didn’t answer him. He turned to Kyle instead, urgently demanding, “But—but wasn’t he imprisoned? Locked away in that tower!”
“He’s out,” Kyle said with a shrug. “He was never really held by the tower—only by people.”
“Oh, by Merlin’s beard...” Dippet muttered again. “No, we have to tell Minerva immediately... and the Ministry of Magic.”
“I was just about to inform the Headmistress,” Kyle said. “But so far, he hasn’t shown any hostility toward us. That’s why I believe, for now, it’s best to keep this quiet.
“And besides, Voldemort was only just defeated. People need time to breathe.”
Kyle wasn’t saying all this to persuade the other headmasters—he was speaking to Dumbledore.
And once he saw Dumbledore nod, he turned and walked out of the headmaster’s office.