A/N: This story is for Dragon MoonX on the Morsmordre forum event Exchange of Evil. I have no idea where this will go, so I apologise in advance.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
A Madman's Eyes
"Are you sure you want to see him alone Mr Dumbledore?" the Nurmenguard officer asked concernedly, holding back the keys to the highest and most top security cell in the entire prison. "You have the highest security placed on his cell though, do you not?" Albus Dumbledore asked, taking the keys from the guard's closed hand. "Well, yes sir, but-"
"Then I think you'll have no problem with me seeing him."
"Of - of course sir. Forgive me." the officer said, waving to a guard stationed at the doorway "Take Mr Dumbledore." The guard nodded and motioned for Dumbledore to follow him out of the door. They walked along winding passageways that were lit only by magically fuelled blue torches, climbing stairs up and up, and going through doorways that weren't visible at first glance. Sometimes walls shimmered giving Albus a fleeting view of figures slumped in the corners of bare rooms, or men and women's gaunt faces peering out at him. Dumbledore and the guard eventually arrived at a small passageway that you could've walked right past if you didn't know where you were going. It was thin, and only had a few normal torches mounted on the walls, with their flames nearly burnt out.
"I'll take it from here. Thank you." Dumbledore said. The guard, who had been hovering nervously near the entrance to the passageway quickly bowed and dashed off, a look of relief on his face. The remaining man strode down the hallway, coming to a large iron door. Adding to the heavy padlocks and chains stretched across the door were layers of magical protection and charms, shimmering purple or green when Albus touched the door. He unlocked the padlocks and quietly disabled the charms. The door swung open. The man who was thought to be fearless hesitated in the doorway, wondering if it was too late to turn back, to apparate back to England and never come here again. But he knew he couldn't. TheFi man stepped into the room.
"Finally came to visit then?" a voice whispered, "Thought you were never going to come." It came from a figure in the middle of the room. Half covered by shadows, the man was chained to a chair, but he seemed to be making no effort to escape. His hair might have once have been blond, but now it was as white as snow, falling across his face so Albus couldn't see his eyes. "Did you come to taunt me Albus?" Grindelwald smiled, "I'm sad you know. I never got why you wanted to hurt me. I didn't do anything." The older man pressed down the anger threatening to erupt from his throat and said,
"You know what you did Gellert."
Grindelwald smiled even wider, rocking back and forth, his eyes closed and said, "No I didn't. You know I didn't."
"You killed her!"
The prisoner stopped rocking and snapped open his eyes. Albus backed up against the wall, trying not to look at them. Grindelwald's eyes were mismatched, one black as coal and the other one a snowy white, but that wasn't the worst thing about them. They were a madman's eyes, broken and crazy, insanity swirling around them like some sort of retinal disease. Grindelwald spoke. "You mean her? Your sister? But she wasn't that big of a deal ,was she?" he said, scooting closer to Dumbledore, "You know why she was killed, don't you? Don't you, Albus? It was for-" Albus closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears, wishing not to hear the phrase that Grindelwald had repeated to him over and over again in their childhood. The one phrase that had twisted him to join Gellert in his grand scheme to take control. The phrase that had twisted him along with the many lies, and the charm, and what Albus thought may have been - affection? Love? Then it all fell apart when the murder and the plans went too far. Grindelwald was right next to him now, so close Albus could hear his thin breathing. And Grindelwald spoke it. "It was for the greater good." Albus screamed, and right there and then he knew that he hadn't won the battle he thought he had. He had lost it in the worst way possible.
A/N: I sometimes feel like I need a psychiatrist.
