This is my first fanfiction that I'm posting; no one's ever read anything I've written before. Personally, I think it's at best mediocre, but I've decided to post it anyway. The next chapter will probably be longer. Hope you enjoy.
I own nothing.
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He knew he was awake, but he didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, knowing that sleep allowed a person blissful ignorance for a while. Opening his eyes would mean he would have to face the reality in front of him; the reality that came true last week. He pinched his eyes closed tighter.
It was no use; he could tell by the amount of light that it was late morning and he wouldn't fall back asleep. He opened his eyes to see his bedroom desk, which had several large books piled all over it. He looked at the clock in was a little past ten. He got up, and got himself ready for the day ahead.
In his opinion, the whole universe was terrible. Death was terrible because there was nothing, and life was terrible because it was a constant struggle full of pain and brief happy moments. He supposed maybe there was an afterlife where everyone is happy, but he doubted it. He did not think any kind God who gives afterlife to His children would have created such a cruel world.
By the time he went downstairs it was ten thirty.
"About time." Aberforth was scowling at him. He was lying on the floor, drawing some stupid picture. Ariana was sitting next to him. "I had to make breakfast."
"What a tragedy," Albus muttered, going toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Aberforth demanded.
Albus gritted his teeth together, but stopped walking and answered politely, "No where. I just want to walk around for a while."
"I guess it's not like you've ever been much use around here anyway," Aberforth replied. "I'm pretty sure I could – and have, for the past few weeks – take care of Ariana by myself."
"We're not having this argument again."
"What argument? I haven't started an argument."
"You're going back to school, and that's that."
Aberforth squared his jaw. "But I don't care about school. I guessed on all of the tests and everything, and I hardly ever do my homework."
Albus knew the only way to end this argument was to walk out the front door, which he did.
He expected to feel better by walking around the neighborhood, but he quickly discovered that this wasn't the case. Godric's Hollow was so boring. It was a small neighborhood with a bunch of cute little houses and a tidy graveyard, where his mother now was buried. He felt trapped. He had worked so hard in school, gotten so many awards, because he wanted to be somebody and make a difference. Now he was stuck in this little town of half Wizards, half Muggles and he was nobody.
He began to kick a rock ahead of him and kick it again as he caught up with it, and questions began to fill his head. Why did he have to be the eldest? Why did his mother have to die? Why did those stupid Muggles have to damage Ariana like that in the first place? Albus marveled at the effects those three Muggles had caused by attacking her. How the effects were still hurting him today.
He gave the rock an extra hard kick in frustration. He was startled when it suddenly hit someone's shoe. He looked up quickly. Bathilda Bagshot was looking at him, only a few feet away.
"I apologize, Mrs. Bagshot," Albus said. "I didn't see you."
Bathilda shook her head and stepped forward to speak to him properly and instantly launched into speech. "Don't be silly, Albus. You don't have to apologize. I'm very sorry about your mother. She was a fine woman."
"Thank you," Albus said passively. "How have you been?"
"Oh, I've been just fine," Bathilda said cheerfully. Albus could always charm her with manners. "My great-nephew is living with me now, at least for now. He was expelled from Durmstrang, which probably is all for the better anyway; such a dreadful school. I always wanted to insist to his parents that he attend Hogwarts, but what could I say; it wasn't my place to tell them where to send their boy. But I think he's dreadfully bored."
Albus could not say he was surprised that he was bored here, so he kept his mouth shut.
"He's about your age," Bathilda said thoughtfully. "And he's brilliant, like you. He's very bright for his age. He learned English all by himself – self-taught! And he has a perfect accent; you'd never know that English wasn't his first language, although he does trip on certain letters occasionally. I think you've taught yourself some languages yourself, having you, Albus?"
Albus nodded. "Latin, a bit of German and French, but I'm not really fluent in those two yet."
"Oh, I have an idea, why don't you meet my great-nephew, Albus? I'm positive you two would get along famously."
Albus had his doubts about how brilliant Bathilda bragged he was, but he knew he had nothing better to do. It was an excuse to come home later. "Yes, of course," Albus said. "I'd love to meet him."
"Wonderful," Bathilda said enthusiastically. Fortunately, they did not have to keep up a conversation because Bathilda's house was just a few doors down.
Her house was hideously perfect, neat, and cute. Albus thought that her great-nephew was probably going crazy cooped up in this house, whoever he was.
"Gellert!" Bathilda called in a very annoying voice. She waited for several seconds but there was no reply. "Gellert, get down here! I have someone here I want you to meet!"
As if he had recognized defeat, Albus heard Gellert open a door, which was probably his bedroom door. A curly blond haired boy with deep blue eyes came down the stairs.
"Yes, Aunt Bathilda?" he asked in a perfect English accent.
"Gellert, this is Albus Dumbledore, he lives just a few blocks down. He's stuck here as well, and I think you both would have a lot in common."
"Gellert Grindelwald," he said and reached out his hand.
Albus took it and felt heat creep up his neck, and he wasn't sure why. "Albus Dumbledore," he said. "Pleased to meet you." He saw Bathilda walk away out of the corner of his eye.
"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Gellert asked.
"Yes," Albus answered. "I just graduated from there."
"Lucky – that means you're at least seventeen!" Gellert said. He seemed quite extroverted. "Or are you eighteen now?"
"I'm still seventeen."
"I'm turning sixteen on second September. I was probably the oldest fifth year at Durmstrang; I was so close to being a sixth year." He scowled. "I mean, second September! Just one day older and I would've been a grade up."
"But that doesn't matter anymore though," Albus said carefully. "You were expelled weren't you?" he asked, trying to not sound impolite.
Gellert rolled his eyes. "Yeah. It was stupid. Just an accident."
Albus knew it would be too prying to ask him to specify.
Bathilda called out from the kitchen that she was thinking about making spaghetti for dinner. Gellert looked at Albus embarrassedly, and Albus could tell Gellert found her extremely annoying. "Do you want to get out of here?" Gellert asked him.
"Sure, if you want," Albus said.
"Aunt Bathilda, we're going to go for a walk!" Gellert called and before she could reply, they both were out the door.
"How long have you lived here?" Gellert asked him.
"Since I was ten," Albus said. "But I hate it here."
"Yeah, it is pretty dull," Gellert said. "However, there was one exciting thing about this place that I found."