Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"I didn't want to have to do this," said Dumbledore, raising his wand in front of him as if it were a sword. "In the corner of my mind, I always feared it would come to this. I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't be able to fool myself forever."

Dumbledore and Grindelwald began to move, but did not attempt to lessen the distance between the two. Instead, they opted to walk in circles, waiting for the other to attack first. Their eyes had locked from across the battlefield long before they were within hearing range of each other, and since then neither of the two had let the other out of their sight.

It wasn't just because they knew that a moment of distraction could kill them, no. It was because both of them had the same nostalgic desire to see each other's face one more time. The two men had once desired to work together for the greater good. They were always painfully abstract about what this greater good would entail. What would they gain from controlling all Muggles? With nothing left of Grindelwald but lingering questions and his present atrocities, Dumbledore chose to focus on the unanswered questions their old relationship had left behind. The past was less painful than the present.

He didn't know when it had happened for sure, but Dumbledore eventually realized why the idea appealed to him so much―he was lonely. Dumbledore was a genius beyond all reason, though he was far too modest to think of himself as anything more than a man of reasonably higher intelligence than anybody else he knew. And there laid the problem. There was nobody who could look him in the eye. There was nobody who could stand up to him and truly outsmart him, provided that the odds were even. Then Grindelwald came along. He was just as intelligent as he was, just as clever, just as lonely. The idea of making a new world with him seemed wonderful.

The feeling he got when the two of them talked was unlike any other he had ever felt before. It was like the world itself was worthless, it was like no one but the two of them mattered. Together, they could crush absolutely anybody who stood in their way. Life itself was but an obstacle that barely had the right to call itself their enemy. It was a world of two people. Then, his sister's death brutally reminded Dumbledore that there was more to life than the two of them. The world was made of more than two people. It was a much warmer, kinder place than that. And he had lost a part of his world due to that mistake.

But even so, he still remembered that feeling. He still wondered, in his most private moments, if Grindelwald ever felt the same. He never fooled himself into thinking that Grindelwald's feelings were anything more than friendship, but what he wondered had little to do with feelings and everything to do with rationality. He wondered if Grindelwald ever had that calm realization he had, when alone at his room, he smiled to himself and understood that Dumbledore was his one equal.

"I begin to see our differences," said Grindelwald kindly. "Much like you, Albus, I have always felt that one day we would clash against each other. But unlike you, deep down in my heart, I have always wanted for this to happen."

It was true then, Dumbledore thought. He was as lonely as him. But his world hadn't been expanded when he fled. Dumbledore met new people, expanded his horizons, understood his weaknesses, learned how intelligence doesn't make one better than another. Grindelwald's world of two became a world of one. He decided to destroy it because there was nothing else that mattered in it. Did the greater good even matter to him anymore?

Now, his hands had become stained with blood. Grindelwald had long crossed the line of no return. All he had longed for was for one final duel. It would be only when his magic crossed with Dumbledore's that he would feel truly alive. Dumbledore regretted, in all of the letters he wrote to him, never having explained that there were other ways to express yourself than dominance. There was more to life than to overpower those you interacted with. But was he, Dumbledore, even aware of that until his sister was taken away from him?

That didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that Grindelwald only saw power. He wasn't a bad person. He was just lonely and confused. He did it all for the greater good. If only he saw there was more to life than this. If only... .

Dumbledore shook those thoughts away. They were no longer necessary. His opponent was his greatest enemy, his greatest friend, and his greatest rival. He owed to him to fight with everything he had. No, he owed that to himself. He couldn't leave any regrets. It had to end right there.

"I killed many people," said Grindelwald in an unexpectedly sad tone. His wand was still raised, and his footwork did not miss a beat either.

"I'm aware," said Dumbledore feeling his throat close up.

"I don't regret it either." This time, his tone was more thoughtful. "All the people I killed were for the greater good. Their deaths had meaning. There is nothing worse than living a meaningless life."

Both wizards changed their stance slightly. The time for the first attack was coming.

"There is only one death I regret causing," he said in a low voice. "And ironically, that is one I may not even have been directly responsible for." He paused. "For that death, and nothing else, I apologize Albus."

"Thank you, old friend."

"If I could do it all over again―my school years, my years after, my plans...that would be the one thing I would change. I don't think my experiments with the dark arts were wrong. I don't think my ambition was wrong either. If there is a single thing in my life I regret...it would be that one incident."

Dumbledore gritted his teeth, unable to respond. He knew that if he were to open his mouth, all the unspoken words, all the countless things he locked away for years, he would let them all out. It wasn't his feelings that worried him. He was sure that Grindelwald knew about them. It was everything else. There was so much more he wanted to say, things that had nothing to do with the matters of the heart. Things he wanted to say as a friend. Things he could never say.

"What about you, Albus? Would you have done anything differently?"

"How strong do you think I am?" asked Dumbledore, chuckling slightly. "If I were a better man, I would like to have had the strength to stay away from you. But I don't think I could have, even if I were given the chance to do it all over again." He paused. "You don't think your ideals were wrong, but do you think they were right?"

"No," said Grindelwald immediately. "There is no such a thing as right or wrong. I just think that my ideals were worth putting forth, and the blood I shed over the years was a worthy price for it. Someone needs to stand up for every idea, Albus. Right, wrong, that is for history to decide. All that I care about is that I do my best to fight for what I believe in. I stood up for what I believed in, Albus. I still do. And you, my dear friend, stand at the end of the path I chose not to follow. You and I will duel because we will stand up for our different beliefs."

"If you see this duel as a way to measure our ideologies," said Dumbledore, his throat opening up and his voice growing stronger. "Then I will make you see. I will, even if only in the end, make you understand that power isn't everything. The world is a kind, warm place. There are so many people, so many things that give me the strength to stand up to my very best friend in the world and fight him in a duel that could end both our lives. I will show you the power of those things, Gellert."

"I like it when you use my name," he answered slyly. "I'm afraid I never quite reciprocated your feelings, Albus. I'm also afraid that even though years have gone by, I'm still unable to do so. But please understand, that I still respect you deeply, more than I respect any other wizard. Please remember, now and forever, that I hold you in the very highest regard."

"I would like to say the exact opposite of everything you just said," answered Dumbledore.

Five seconds. Neither of them spoke or moved for five seconds. It was all their friendship came down to, those five seconds, when the two went over their moments together once more. They both lowered their wands for a moment, then instantly raised them once more, pointing at each other.

"Very well then!" Grindelwald cried out. "My Elder Wand, the ultimate power, against your foolish sentimentalism! Let us not waste time with words any longer! Anything you think, anything you feel, I want you to carve it into our duel, Albus!"

"As you wish!" Dumbledore roared back, firing a jet of golden light at Grindelwald.