Behind every great darkness, or dark entity, is usually a great lust for power. It is something that, when the ideas, in the form of a metaphorical seed, are planted and grow deep within the heart of the bearer; unconsciously and unceasingly; the individual is never aware of the danger approaching. Often, by the time that such a growth is discovered inside; it is far too late and the individual of whom has suffered tormenting promises of power and immortality is left as nothing but a seething husk; with regret and anguish pulsing deep in their veins.
Perhaps the Headmaster at Durmstrang had known this as he looked at the boy before him; while making his decision. If that was so, he did not indicate any feelings as he looked at his student; who appeared far more humble and downtrodden than he had ever known him in his six years at Durmstrang. It was certainly not the first time he had been up to 'visit' him; but the Headmaster was quite certain it was to be his last. As he looked at the blonde boy, face still but fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were as white as porcelain, he felt a mixture of shame for him and unyielding disappointment.
"You do not realise the extent of vot you have done, do you?"
The boy's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to try and speak, but a warning look from the great Professor made him fall silent.
"The girl's parents vish to press charges, Gellert," continued the Professor, pacing behind his desk, "Send you to Azkaban, vere your soul vould rot in exchange for the damage you have caused to her, and others, vithin these valls."
"However, I have persuaded them, with much difficulty, to see sense."
The breath that had been dying in Gellert Grindelwald's throat suddenly released; a gasp of breath not unlike a man saved from drowning. The news also gave him the courage to speak.
"I am grateful, Headmaster," he said, bowing slightly to avoid giving away the arrogant smile that has currently spread across his features.
The old fool has sense, after all –
"That does not mean to say, Gellert, that you vill not go unpunished," said the Professor, sternly; in a tone that completely wiped the smirk off Gellert Grindelwald's features.
"Professor," said Grindelwald, trying with some humour in his voice to provide reason, "Surely out of all people, you can understand what I was trying to do –"
"– Vot you were trying to do," the Headmaster replied coldly, "does not matter in the slightest to me. The fact that what you tried to do has injured, and in this case, nearly killed, students in my school is the imperative factor in my decision of vot to do with you, Gellert. I have given you chance upon chance; but yet you seem to be unable to control your own foolishness."
Gellert Grindelwald's knuckles tightened and his fear shrank away to hopeless panic. He started looking around the room as if to look for a way out, or a way of avoiding what the Headmaster was to inform him of. But as the silence dragged on and the portraits leered down at him; bearded, austere men with their only world being the frames within which they were painted, he decided to try again with reason. He knew he was right, he had to be right...
"But Headmaster," he exclaimed; his stance taking a threatening form, "surely you can see my reasoning; that it vos for the greater good of our kind –"
"Silence !"
The Headmaster looked again upon Grindelwald, coldly. He took a deep breath; feeling within it every ounce, every encounter that he had had with this brilliant young mind, the sadness that it brought, the realisation that this, after so many countless incidents, might be the only way. His eyes met those of the young boy's; brown duelling turquoise blue. It was short lived; because Gellert Grindelwald swiftly closed his eyes, drums banging in his head as he felt the breeze of the axe falling; closer and closer towards his neck...
"I have no choice, Gellert Grindelvald. You are a danger to the students of Durmstrang, Muggle-borns especially, vich I notice seem to be the unfortunate ones at the wand-end of these 'accidents' you seem to be causing."
Thud.
"You are hereby expelled from the Durmstrang Institute of Magical Learning," said the Headmaster; voice not without regret, but unwavering and firm. "Your things have been taken to the Great Hall; vere you are to vait until you receive transport. Now, I suggest you get out of my sight before I change my mind about sending you to Azkaban."
Jeering, Muggle-hating students were cheering the blonde boy as he left; marking him as hero and a legend. He felt neither of those things despite their proclamations, but he was grateful that upon shaking a few of them off, they shrank away, muttering amongst themselves. He could not see who they were very clearly; but he recognised a few of the voices as being those of people he called his friends.
He thought of the girl who he had hurt; how blank her face had looked, how he had panicked so ferociously he nearly fainted. None of the others knew that and they would be shocked; after all, what was a filthy Mudblood to one of the greatest students that Durmstrang had ever known...
Gellert Grindelwald did not first go to the Great Hall were his things were waiting for him. He wanted to go somewhere first, somewhere he always went when he felt alone. He didn't stop running until he reached it. It was not a remarkable area of the school; only a quiet cloister; quieter still because of the lessons running in the school where the children worked, knowing him, fearing him –
He sobbed, helplessly and desperately; huge hot tears pouring down his pale skin. He held his hands over his face; as if desperately ashamed of what he was doing, which he admittedly would have been if he'd had the strength to care at all. The tears pattered upon his robes; darkening their usual vibrant scarlet and matting the fur. He wiped his damp hands upon them; feeling a solid object in the pocket of his robes. He stopped crying for a moment and pulled it out.
It was an old, tattered copy of a book that nearly every wizarding child had read; cover to cover, in the midst of their youth. A book that was so curious to Gellert Grindelwald; a book that he had drunk in hungrily ever since the beginning, pouring over it cover to cover as he yearned to uncover its secrets locked within the pages –
A loud horn sounded in the distance, which Grindelwald knew must be his transport, waiting for him. A deep anger and hated filled him as he stood up with the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and faced the cloister wall.
They will all learn from me, instead.
Gellert Grindelwald then removed his wand from inside his damp robes and pointed it at the wall. He muttered an incantation under his breath and it began to work; carving out the symbol on the wall, deeply and permanently. He watched it until it was finished, when he then took his wand and left without inspecting his work. It would be known for years to come; people would attribute him wrongly to it, but it had seemed wrong for him not to leave Durmstrang without leaving perhaps a little scar, just a little...
The eye of the Deathly Hallows stared out blindly from the wall; watching Gellert Grindelwald fade away into the distance. Five minutes later, a shriller horn echoed across the same empty cloister to signify the end of his life at Durmstrang, and the beginning of what was to come.