✔ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ Stuck in the Past [Grindelwald]✔

21

It had been so simple. The solution to all their problems, Hunter's as well as hers, was so simple. Theoretically. Especially since, thanks to the Death Eater connection, it should have been obvious to Jyn long ago. The cure for Death itself. Was namely what? Immortality. The great goal of the dark lord, was both their solution. There seemed to be no possibility of returning to the future, and yet, with a longer life and the possibility of stopping aging, there would be a chance to continue at the very point where the disaster began. A few months after Dumbledore's death. And according to future books, there was a wizard living in Paris at that time who had something that made life a lot longer.

And as it will soon be said in an Oscar-winning masterpiece, "Let's all sell our souls and work for the devil because it's more convenient."

Looking back, all the days had passed like hours, the weeks like days and months like weeks. One question that came back to Gill's mind was when she was strolling along the Seine the evening after meeting Grindelwald and overheard snatches of a conversation between two young men. Who do you want to prove something to? Not the words of the men, but just the word prove. Who was she trying to prove something to with this action? And above all, WHAT was she trying to prove? Maybe that she could manage on her own without any help and that she didn't need to rely on anyone as soon as there were problems or things got difficult? There was no one she could prove anything to. Accordingly, the answer would have to be herself, but this also seemed wrong to her.

And if there is no height to fall from, no pride in the life you have lived, you have nothing to lose. And as long as Gillian thought about how everything had gone so far, the thing with Nicolas Flamel could also only go wrong. She had nothing left to lose, and she hadn't had anything for a long time, or rather, ever since she arrived in New York at the wrong time.

To ask for help was no disgrace. Alone for the reason that every man, wizard or witch, it is completely the same, will come at some point to the point where it no longer works alone. In this case, however, as soon as Gill asked someone, it seemed as if she were a silly little child, unable to do anything on her own and owing everything so far to the mere name of Malfoy.

As Gill reviewed the last few years, not just months, she leaned torso-first against the metal railing on the bridge under which the Seine ran, running her tongue over the inside of her right cheek as she looked up at the evening sky overhead. Holding on to things where it made no sense to hold on to them had always been a weakness of all human beings. Starting from scratch, completely from scratch, would therefore be the best of all solutions.

But Gill had not reckoned with the next day.