"Oh, Mr. Grindelwald, I think we both know that history books ought not to be trusted. If you believe them, you'd believe that the founding of Hogwarts rested only on the shoulders of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and the women merely watched. Or that Arthur's wife was a whore, rather than the victim of his hubris. Shall I go on? I do not trust history books, sir. I trust my own opinion, so by all means, change my opinion; make me believe your view of your own work," Cassiopeia challenged. There was no hardness in her eyes, she was not opposed to Gellert's views naturally.
His sound question, the one about his twisted nature, made her own lips twist into a smile. "Well, I'm not sure. Why don't we see. Your body is younger, it is not twisted. But what of your mind? That I would not be able to know in a million years without your memories or your words," she stated, stepping closer to him. She was tall and slender, and in the shade of the thicker trees it was easier to see how she had exerted herself in the heat. She already had some smile lines around her eyes and mouth, despite being only a little over thirty. She had lived, she had lingered in the sun, and it showed in the lines.
"Who is Mr. Gellert Grindelwald the... mountaineer?" she asked, not sure just what his job was meant to be.