"I wanted to tell you about Gren Dore," Dumbledore said. "That was the main reason for this visit."
It was late — the common room was empty, the fire low, the castle settling into the nighttime quiet it put on like a garment. Kevin had been expecting this conversation for about a week.
"Grandson of an old friend," Kevin said. "You told me. The friend is someone I've met."
Dumbledore didn't confirm it. He didn't deny it either. He looked at Kevin with the patient expression of someone filing away data points.
"He's here because I asked him to be," Dumbledore said instead. "He represents no danger to Hogwarts or to you. In time, the connection will become clear. All I ask is that you give him ordinary latitude — the same you'd give any other student."
Kevin thought about this. "Fine," he said. "But I'm not ignoring him."
"I wouldn't ask you to." Dumbledore settled more comfortably into his chair. "There's another thing I wanted to discuss. About Grindelwald himself."
Kevin waited.
"His history is long, and much of it is very dark. I don't intend to minimise that. Hundreds of deaths — wizards and Muggles both — laid directly at his feet. Fifty years in Nurmengard did not erase a single one of them." Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "But Gellert and I were, once, as close as any two people could be. That history exists alongside the crimes. It doesn't excuse them. It simply exists."
He looked at Kevin directly.
"I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm asking you — as someone whose choices I trust — to hold back, if you encounter him again. Not forever. Just long enough for the shape of things to become clearer."
Kevin was quiet.
He thought about what the history books said. He thought about the Mirror World speech, the precision of it, the slow and patient poisoning of a worldview. He thought about a man who had built a prison and filled it with his enemies and then lived in it himself for decades.
"Headmaster," he said, keeping his voice even, "I understand what Grindelwald means to you. And I understand that you believe he's capable of something beyond what he's done." He paused. "But I don't subscribe to the idea that a large enough body count gets cancelled out by a late-arriving change of heart. If I meet him again and he's a threat, I'll treat him like a threat. Out of respect for you, I won't go looking for him. But I won't hold back if he comes to me."
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment. His expression was complicated in the way of someone who has heard exactly the answer they expected and is deciding how to feel about it.
"That's honest," he said finally.
"You asked for honest."
"I did." Dumbledore rose. "I won't argue the point. I believe, in the end, Gellert will make choices that change your assessment. But I hold that belief, and you hold yours, and we'll see which of us is right."
He moved toward the door. Then stopped.
"One more thing, Kevin — the work Horace holds is genuinely critical. The number of Horcruxes, the nature of each one. Without it, we're operating with a gap in our knowledge that Voldemort can exploit. Please keep that at the forefront."
"I know," Kevin said. "Harry's working on it."
Dumbledore nodded, and left.
Kevin sat alone in the firelight for a while, thinking about what redemption actually meant and whether it was supposed to be free.
He didn't come to a satisfying answer.