This is my response to day 18 of Siriusly Smart's iPod challenge.
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"You try to make your escape,
But the blows keep on coming,
And as the dust clears away,
You star to notice something;
Each time a piece crashes down into the floor,
You're a little lighter than just before"
-The Paper Raincoat, "Rough Cut"
Albus Dumbledore walked across the courtyard, his legs barely capable of supporting his weight. He was shaking; the potent mixture of exhaustion and fear coursing through him like a drug, yet none of the people surrounding him would break from their ranks to support him. They were awed, he knew, but their silence felt like a judgement.
He had defeated his closest friend.
He had defeated the darkest wizard of their time.
Seeing Gellert, proud and great, lying crumpled on the ground, was grotesque. Surreal. The pain caused by his injuries, the cold air in his lungs, and the loose stones beneath his feet felt as though they belonged to a dream. As Albus drew closer to his opponent, his companion, a dull roar began in his ears. As he knelt down beside Gellert, it became almost deafening.
Reaching out, Albus covered Gellet's hand with his own, the Elder Wand pressed between. A trickle of blood spilled from Grindelwald's mouth, without a trace of its perpetual knowing grin. Once, it had been a joy to see that smile, and know he his own wit had been the cause of it. Instead, Albus had done everything in his power to destroy him.
"Who would stand against us, Albus?"
Neither of them had suspected that their bond could be broken.
"I'm sorry." He looked down, watching the slight rise and fall of Gellert's chest, unable to move. It was cheering. He could hear cheering. Albus wished that he could show them all the good in Gellert – the brusque kindness and the unexpectedly strong respect for botany, the way he had always worked diligently – and that it would resurface. "I'm so sorry, my friend."
"If, and that is quite the presumption, if anyone would dare attack us, it would take someone ruthless to do either one of us damage even without the Hallows."
Gellert had been so blasé about the possibility of conflict. He wondered if it had it occurred to Gellert that he, Albus, would be the ruthless one.
He prised the Elder Wand from Gellert's twitching fingers, feeling no satisfaction as he became the master of the Hallow. Albus rose, wishing that Gellert was the one stood over the broken body.
Never, during the years of dreams and research, had Albus thought that his victory would be hollow.
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Thanks for reading. Please review.