Note: Extreme AU, takes place in the universe of my fic Secret Steps. This probably won't make much sense to you (or at least won't be as enjoyable) without reading some of that first.
Intermediate Step
"Would you please stop growling? You'll scare the children," Albus chided gently, and Gellert just grumbled more.
"That sounds excellent. And then I'd never have to return, yes?" he asked, frowning. His lover gave him a pleading glance.
"If you'd just give them a chance, I think you may find it rewarding," the older wizard said, and Gellert subsided with a huff. Those verdammte eyes...
They reached the orphanage near the west end of Diagon Alley and Albus knocked. A young woman—Gellert knew her to be a squib—opened the door only moments later with a large smile.
"Minister!" she greeted, and eyed Albus in a way that Gellert didn't like at all. "I'm so pleased you could come. And Mr. Grindelwald, too," she added as an after-thought.
"Arabella," Albus said. He used that little smile which Gellert knew to be false. "I couldn't stay away. How is your husband?"
The squib drooped sadly and Gellert knew a moment of vindictive pleasure. Served her right for panting after Albus...
"Still very ill, I'm afraid," Figg told them quietly, "The healers say..." She choked, and Albus gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"I see, I'm terribly sorry," he said slowly. It was likely only Gellert who recognized that he was impatient to get past the pleasantries. "And how are the children?"
Most of 'the children' were under the age of six with the exception of a few older who truly had nowhere else to go. The orphanage had only been running for a few years, and not even Albus wanted to deal with the backlash of taking children already grown and aware from their muggle parents.
Gellert couldn't even imagine the sort of hell it must have been for the squib. To be the only adult in a home crawling with so many young brats, assisted only by house elves and unable to forcibly restrain them or deal with accidental bursts of magic… Despite himself, he felt a sliver of respect for the woman for putting up with it.
"They're doing very well," Figg said with a genuine smile. "A little unruly at times, of course... Most are napping, currently, while the older children are with the tutors. I think you'll be pleased."
Albus nodded and Gellert shifted on his feet, bored.
"Would you mind if I distributed some sweets?" Albus asked Figg eagerly, lifting a bag to show her. "I don't want to disrupt their studies or sleep..."
"They would love that!" The squib said, delighted. "We'll visit the older children, first..."
They followed her up a flight of stairs to a large room lined with tables where about a dozen children were gathered. They were supervised by two older witches who were trying to get them to focus on their work. Most were clustered, giggling, in pairs or small groups, but there was one dark-haired boy in the corner table alone, reading. Gellert eyed him with mild curiosity.
The tutors seemed annoyed at the interruption, but the children were delighted at the offer of sweets. All except the one in the corner who continued to read, ignoring them all. Perhaps it was boredom, but Gellert found himself compelled to approach the boy. He was probably no older than twelve, but at least Hogwarts age and home for the Yule holiday. Albus pretended not to notice him moving away, giving chocolate to the other children with a happy smile.
"Don't you want a chocolate?" Gellert asked the curious child with a frown. He thought all children had an insatiable sweet tooth.
"No," the boy said simply, and looked up with a blank expression. The two stared at each other silently for a moment, and Gellert allowed himself to take advantage of the eye contact and enter the boy's mind briefly out of curiosity. Although his skills at legilimency were poor, it was clear enough that the boy was intelligent. "Who are you?"
"Gellert Grindelwald," he said with a shark-like grin. "And the polite thing to do would be to address me as 'sir,' boy."
"I won't if you call me 'boy,'" the boy scowled, "My name is Tom Riddle, not 'boy.'"
"Tom, then," Gellert said with a short laugh, "What are you reading so intently?" He was surprised to find that he was actually interested. Albus ould never cease teasing him...
"A book," Tom said slowly as if to a dullard, and Gellert laughed again at the non-answer. He snatched the book rudely from Tom's hands and raised his eyebrows upon reading the title while the boy gave a cry of protest.
"The Dark Arts Outsmarted," he read out loud, and permitted Tom to grab the book back from him. "Have an interest in defense, do you?"
The boy frowned and clutcheed the book to his chest possessively.
"I suppose," he said sullenly, "Although I'd rather read about the dark arts themselves. But Mrs. Figg won't buy any books like that."
If Gellert's eyebrows could have reached any higher, they likely would have jumped off his face.
"Truly? I must say I'm surprised. You Inselaffen are so fearful of anything that even hints at being dark..."
His accent thickened in contempt and the boy's face squinted in thought.
"You talk strangely!" he complained, and Gellert grinned.
"Gewiss, I am German, not English. I should like to see you try speaking my language without, as you say, 'talking strangely.' But perhaps I can help you... As it happens, I have a number of fascinating books on the dark arts. Possibly you would like to borrow them?"
It occured to him that Albus would be very displeased that he had made such an offer, but Gellert dismissed the thought easily. Albus had that foolish fear of the dark, like most Britons. At times he found it restraining and occasionally (reluctantly) censored his speech simply to avoid argument.
Tom's eager excitement brought Gellert a surprising joy, which he rationalized by telling himself that another intelligent wizard familiar with the dark arts might someday prove useful. He analyzed the feeling no further.
Gellert and the boy had a pleasant discussion, even as the other children continued their work and Albus joined Figg in waking the young orphans for their turn to partake in the sweets. When Albus returned, ready to leave, Gellert found himself surprised at how much time had passed. The boy seemed disappointed.
"Will I see you again?" Tom asked with shocking vulnerability, and Gellert nodded.
"I will send you the books by owl," he said, ignoring his lover's smirk.
They left quickly after Albus said their goodbyes and apparated home.
"It seems you enjoyed yourself, after all," Albus said lightly as they entered and headed to the bedroom to change for their evening meal. Gellert glared.
"Certainly not. I simply find the boy intelligent. No doubt he'll prove to be a useful tool, once he's older."
"Of course," Albus soothed, laying a hand on his lover's cheek and leaning in for a quick kiss. "What could possess me to think differently? My apologies," the Trottel teased, and Gellert pulled away with a huff.
"I'm still not returning to that verdammtes orphanage."
"Never," Albus agreed insincerely, eyes twinkling mischievously.
Their evening meal was postponed by more pleasurable activities.
During the following years as Tom completed his education, Gellert visited with the boy frequently in Hogsmeade for a meal and discussion. He justified it as checking in on the progress of a future asset, but truly he did find the meetings enjoyable as well.
It could get boring puttering about the house alone. Not that he was some sort of Hausfrau, far from it. Gellert had his projects, and such a strong influence over Albus's opinion on most things that at times he felt he was running the Ministry himself. But it was quiet when Albus was out, and intelligent company was a welcome distraction.
The idyllic situation was interrupted somewhat when he heard news of a death at Hogwarts. Gellert knew immediately upon their next meeting that Tom was responsible.
"That was very foolish of you," he scolded, studying the boy, who looked annoyed and defiant. Tom seemed somehow changed, and Gellert attributed it to the stain on his soul. "Not that I mourn the loss of another useless mudblood, far from it, but you'll be hard-pressed to make something of yourself if you're in Azkaban."
Tom waved away his concern.
"I've already framed another student for the death, and I was even awarded. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," he said firmly, and Gellert nodded, satisfied.
"All right, then."
Later, he asked,
"Have you decided what you want to do after leaving Hogwarts next year?"
The boy shrugged, and Gellert sighed.
"Have you thought about becoming an auror?"
"Law enforcement? Why on earth would I want to do that?" the boy questioned with disgust.
"Think!" Gellert frowned impatiently. "If you become an auror, I can see to it that someday you become head of the department. And I believe it's obvious that such a position holds a lot of power. Second only to the minister, in my mind."
Tom looked intrigued.
"That does sound interesting..." he mused, and Gellert was pleased to have found something at last that might satisfy the boy's ambition and utilize his talents.
"Excellent."
Following the summer before Tom's seventh year, Gellert noticed that the boy had become pale and sickly looking. Knowing that he wouldn't divulge the reason willingly, Gellert clumsily used legilimency to discover the cause. Tom caught on quickly and looked away with anger, but not soon enough.
"Was that truly necessary?" Gellert asked with a sigh, and the boy didn't even try to pretend he didn't know what he was talking about. "Murder is hard on the soul, you know. There are more indirect ways of eliminating your enemies."
"They abandoned me!" Tom hissed, and Gellert shrugged. A few muggles' lives were not worth arguing about.
"No real harm done, I suppose, if this is the first I've heard of it."
Tom learned occlumency after that and became much more secretive. Gellert found the boy increasingly difficult to interact with, but stubbornly met with him in later years, commenting little when the boy's appearance continued to decline.
Gellert made good on his promise to promote Tom to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, although Albus was reluctant. The boy became even more uncooperative as the years passed, but Gellert told himself that Tom was still useful. He'd come around.
The months after the fall of the Berlin Wall were difficult. The new-found freedom of his original countrymen put Gellert in a jealous temper, even as he assisted Albus and Tom in quelling similar feeling among the citizenry. He and Albus could hardly speak without arguing.
His rage was softened by time. Gellert, after all, had the privilege of knowing the minister intimately. He could go where he willed without question, although it was still an inconvenient process to pass through the Wall and he was not immune to the anti-apparition wards surrounding Wizarding Britain. He returned to a state of simmering resentment.
Gellert took on a new project in the form of a mudblood named Hermione Granger. He was surprised, at first, that a mudblood could be good company. He reasoned that she must be an aberration among her kind, but perhaps Albus was right about blood status having no bearing on the quality of wizard. As long as magic was present, did it matter who your parents were? It was not as if purebloods were terribly bright, as a whole. He'd seen enough evidence of that. And Tom was a halfblood, even...
Their first meeting came at a time when Tom was especially angry with him (an occurrence more frequent, over the years) and that was likely why Gellert was restless enough to visit the orphanage with Albus at all. He hadn't in over a decade, and every visit after the first was a disappointment. But that time, he noticed a young girl standing apart from the others and he was reminded of Tom. She was stubborn, unafraid to stand up to him and had a good mind. He told her to contact him if she was ever in need, but he almost forgot the incident after a couple years passed. Reminded only by her note and request for help.
By the time he met her again, Tom was... dead. And by his hand after an argument that Gellert deeply regretted. If only the boy hadn't reacted so violently... The ring seemed a poor replacement. At times he thought of using it to recall the boy's spectre... but Albus convinced him of what a terrible idea that was. And despite his youthful ambitions he had no other use for it, really, especially without the last of the set. Just an interesting trinket.
Regardless, he was only too happy to fill the void left by Tom's death with another child. (Not that he would admit such sentimental foolishness to the girl or even Albus.) Perhaps he could avoid making the same mistakes.
When he found that her little friend, Henry or something, had the final object he'd been searching for, for so many years... Götter! It seemed a gift from Himmel.
Gellert foolishly tried to steal it out of impatience, but it was probably for the best that he did not manage. He must learn from his mistakes, and stealing from her friend was likely one of the fastest ways to alienate the girl.
No, he would wait. An opportunity would present itself. He was sure of it.
Gellert found that Albus had become increasingly busy at the Ministry, dealing with a sudden influx of minor incidents involving the disappearance of ministry employees (a curious phenomenon, Granger was smart to question it) and the M.L.E.'s continued obstinacy. When Albus was home, he disguised his exhaustion and short temper with deliberate kindness and affection, which was almost worse than his absence.
Scheiβe, could the wizard not be genuine for one moment?
Gellert was waiting one evening to start eating supper, and was entirely unsurprised when his lover's patronus entered the dining room in the place of Albus, himself.
"I will be late coming home," the creature spoke with the minister's voice before fading away.
Gellert sighed and ate, retiring early. Falling asleep alone was no longer a difficulty.
But he was later awoken by a bang, the door to the bedroom thrown open by a spell. He scrambled for his wand in the dark, but a hissed expelliarmus left him defenceless. It was a shame that Albus was working late, he thought, feeling surprisingly calm given the circumstances. Or perhaps it was better he was gone if it was him they'd come for.
The intruder lit his wand, illuminating a colorless, snake-like face that only vaguely resembled the handsome, dark-haired boy he once knew.
They stared at each other silently.
"Ah, so this ring wasn't the only one, then? How ambitious... and foolish, of you," Gellert accused lightly.
"Indeed, I thought it better to be safe. And it seems I was in the right," the abomination said bitterly.
"There was no conspiracy to murder you, Tom. I wanted the ring for a very different reason."
"And yet you removed the piece of my soul!"
"Yes... I am a firm believer in the dead remaining dead. What you've done... you are not yourself, any longer. I'm disappointed that your paranoia would drive you to such self-destruction, Tom."
"Stop calling me that! Tom Riddle is dead."
"I quite agree. But I'm not sure I care for that pseudonym you chose for yourself. Vol de mort, was it? Yes, I heard the rumours. Though now that I think on it—my French is a little poor—the name is fitting. Fleeing from death like a coward-"
Gellert was silenced by a spell that choked the breath from him. He laughed, but it was a struggle.
"I am so very grateful for everything you've done for me," the monster sneered, "But I'm afraid I no longer find you useful...
...avada kedavra!"
A/N: I unexpectedly found Grindelwald's character to be very intriguing to me as I began writing Secret Steps. Probably because he's someone we know very little about, and I had to give him feelings, motivation, and personality, as well as maintain both his relationship with Dumbledore and his potential to be a dark lord. I wanted to share what I came up with, so that's what this little one-shot is about. (That, and elaborating on his death.) Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading.