Written for Heroes Hunt (Quote below) and Ultimate Patronus Quest (swallow- include a Pensieve in your story)

"The desperate usually succeed because they have nothing to lose."- Jodi Picoult

i.

Albus sighs as he nears the Pensieve. He has never cared much for his own nostalgia, but things have changed. Tomorrow, he will face Gellert, and he can feel his past calling to him. He has nothing left but his memories to give him strength.

Albus retrieves the first vial and opens it, pouring the silvery contents into the basin. He hesitates. There are so many wounds that have yet to heal in his mind. For a moment, he considers calling it a night and going to bed.

But his memory swirls in the basin, and he can feel its pull. He has to do this.

…

Albus watches the scene, his hand over his chest as a wave of shock washes over him.

His father stands before his younger self. Albus had almost forgotten how similar he looks to his father.

"Dad? Where are you going?"

Percival Dumbledore draws a deep breath and rests a hand on his son's shoulder. "Whatever happens, Albus, remember that I love you, okay?" he says, and young Albus nods.

Albus feels a pain in his chest. He hadn't understood his father's intentions at the time, of course. He had simply assumed it was just a heart to heart between father and son.

"You look after your mum, Albus. And your siblings, especially Ariana. You're the man of the house."

"Can't I come with you, Dad?" young Albus asks.

Percival looks away. Albus wants to reach out to him, to tell him not to go. But he knows it wouldn't do any good. It is just a memory, something that has already happened, and he cannot change the past.

"That's not a good idea, son. What I'm doing is… Just be a good boy. Take care of them, Albus. Promise me."

"I promise, Dad."

Albus wipes the tears from his eyes. It had been so easy make that promise as a boy who barely understood the gravity of the situation.

His father ruffles his younger self's hair with a sad smile. "Take care of them," he says again. "I love you."

Albus closes his eyes. He cannot watch his father walk out the door. He cannot see his younger self fall asleep by the window, waiting for his return.

…

Albus stands in his office, shivering. His eyes are still wet, and he dries them quickly with a handkerchief.

It was the last time he saw his father as a free man. It would be over breakfast the following day that his family would receive the news, and even later that Albus would understand that his father wasn't coming back.

Hands trembling, he returns the memory to its place and replaces it with a second.

…

"You really shouldn't argue with Mum like that," younger Albus says.

Aberforth scowls. "And you should mind your own business," he snaps.

Albus stares at his brother, fascinated by his youth. They were still close then, or as close as they had ever been, as close a sibling rivalry would allow. "Hug him," he whispers.

But of course, his younger self doesn't. Instead of kindness, he reacts in anger, shoving Aberforth roughly. "Dad told me to look after you. All of you," he says, his voice rising steadily. "How am I supposed to do that if you don't even know how to listen?"

Albus sighs and hangs his head. He should have been kinder to his brother. After their sister's attack, their relationship had been littered with far too many rough patches. Resentment and hurt feelings built and built over time.

"I never asked you to look after me," Aberforth growls. "I never asked for any of this. So go back to sticking your nose in a book and just stay out of my life!"

Younger Albus clenches his fists but quickly relaxes them. "Fine. You want me out? I'm out."

Albus watches his younger self storm out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

…

Aberforth is all he has left. Though it isn't much. Albus absently traces his finger over his nose. The bone has long since healed, but he can still feel his brother's fury.

He doesn't blame Aberforth for his hatred. Albus had tried so much to be both a brother and a father to him, and he hadn't managed to be much of either.

He doesn't want to continue. There is nothing he can do to change the past. But he can't stop himself. The wounds reopen. Every loss, every hurt hits him with full force, and he doesn't hide from the pain. He needs it.

The third memory floats in the basin, just as the others did.

…

Albus almost cries when he sees Ariana. So young, so fragile. He wishes his memories could be solid. He longs to kneel beside her bed and soothe the screaming girl.

"Be quiet!" young Albus snaps. "I can hardly study if you're making all that noise."

White hot guilt stabs his stomach. He wishes his past could have been something pretty, something to be proud of. But he was young. And though youth does not excuse him for his behavior, he can hardly blame his younger self.

"Quiet!" his younger self calls again with a frustrated groan. "Dad should have told the truth. You'd be better off somewhere else. We all would be!"

He remembers regretting the words moments later, realizing the excessive harshness. But he hadn't taken them back. He'd hidden away in his room, occupying his mind with things he deemed more worthy of his attention than his mad sister.

"I love you," Albus whispers to his sister as his younger self nears the door to leave. "I never meant any of it. I hope you knew that."

…

Albus' knees threaten to buckle beneath him when he returns to his office. He had treated Ariana so unfairly. As a boy, he hadn't cared. But over the years, he's grown to hate himself for not caring for her more, for not spending time with her the way Aberforth had.

And now she's gone. Albus will have to wait until the after life and pray for a forgiving god.

…

"Elphias says that we should visit Portugal," young Albus says excitedly.

Kendra Dumbledore smiles as she strokes her sleeping daughter's hair. "Portugal sounds most exciting," she agrees.

"Are you sure I should do this? If you need me here…"

Albus bites the inside of his cheek, his heart breaking. His mother had been so happy for him, so supportive of his dream of seeing the world.

"I'll be fine, Albus," she answers. "Aberforth will come home during the holidays. Everything will be okay."

"I just don't want you to be alone."

Kendra stands and brushes her fingers over his cheek. "Such a good boy, Albus, but you worry too much," she says.

Albus swallows dryly. He hadn't worried enough. Even if she had asked him to stay, he doubts he would have. At that point, he had been a young adult, still carefree and full of hope.

"Mum," Albus whispers, his voice cracking.

"If you're sure. But you'll alert me if anything happens?"

"Of course, Albus."

…

Albus feels his stomach twist into knots. His mother had been so supportive. And in the end, after her death, he had been so angry with her for leaving him alone to care for his siblings.

His fingers hesitate over the final memory, the one that will perhaps sting more sharply than the others. "Oh, Gellert," he whispers.

…

Albus watches as his younger self lays on his bed, his head resting in Gellert's lap. Now, he can see the coldness in his lover's eyes. He had been too blind to it in his youth, too quick to believe that Gellert's love had been as genuine as his own.

"We'll be kings," Gellert says. "You and me, Albus. We'll be so powerful that they will bow before us."

His younger self smiles at that. "My family will be avenged," he says happily. "My father shouldn't have rotted in Azkaban. He was just protecting Ariana!"

Gellert rests his hand on young Albus' chest, his fingers moving aimlessly across the hint of exposed skin.

Albus can still feel the shivers that touch had caused. He had loved Gellert, and he had been a fool to not see that Gellert had manipulated him.

"They will all pay for what happened to him. They'll pay for the persecution that our kind has faced. Just wait, Albus. With you by my side, how can I fail?"

"Pull yourself away," Albus urges his younger self uselessly. "He doesn't care for you."

"We'll be great," young Albus says happily. "We'll bring them down for the greater good."

…

Albus feels sick. He had been so vulnerable then, putty in Gellert's hands. His love had blinded him, and it had cost him dearly. Ariana was dead. His brother disowned him. All because Albus had gotten caught in his web.

He has nothing left. The thought heats his body with anger- at himself, at Gellert.

It's only fitting that one should fall tomorrow. They have both ruined so many lives.

Albus is desperate now to end it, one way or another.

ii.

"Albus, my old friend."

"'Friend' is an awfully strong word, Gellert," Albus says, his voice surprisingly calm.

Gellert laughs, and it hurts Albus' heart. He remembers that laugh all to well, cold yet beautiful, just like Gellert. "Have you fallen out of love, dear Albus? Oh, I was your first. You never get over that, do you?"

Albus keeps his head high with dignity. He will not let Gellert see the way his words have struck him. "Have we come to catch up or to duel?" he asks. "If it's the former, you could have invited me over for tea."

Gellert narrows his eyes. "Still hiding behind humor to mask how scared you are?"

"Scared? No. Desperate. I want this to end now," Albus answers.

Gellert smirks. "As do I. But just know that I intend to kill you, Albus. I hope you are prepared to lose."

"I have nothing left to lose but my life."

He doesn't add that his life isn't worth much. He's worked so hard, tried to do so much good, but will never absolve him of his past sins. Perhaps he wouldn't even care if Gellert managed to kill him. Perhaps that would finally offer him absolution.

Albus readies his wand, Gellert mimicking his action.

"I did care for you, Albus. Are you sure that you have it in you to kill me? Your emotions have always been your weakness."

In place of an answer, Albus fires off the first spell. With a growl, Gellert strikes back.

…

Gellert's wand flies into his hand. Albus' fingers wrap around the wood, and he takes a moment to stare at it, hardly daring to believe it.

This is the wand they had been so set on finding, part of the reason he's lost Ariana. For a moment he considers snapping the blasted thing, but he stops, tucking it into his pocket before approaching his former lover.

"I never intended to kill, Gellert."

"Then you are a fool, Albus. I was going to kill you, and when I get out, I will," Gellert sneers, his eyes dark and menacing.

Albus watches as the Aurors begin pouring in, each uncertain as to what to do. With a sigh, he rests his hand on Gellert's shoulder. "I've already lost you, old friend," he says quietly. "I cannot stand the thought of losing you a second time."

Gellert's expression softens, but just barely. He nods his understanding as the first Auror approaches.

"Gellert Grindelwald, you are wanted for heinous crimes of-"

"Yes, yes. Spare the speech and get this over with," Gellert yawns, his eyes finding Albus. "It's yours now. Do you intend to use it for its purpose?"

Albus shakes his head. The Resurrection Stone would have been ideal, for he still wishes to have his family back above all else. The Elder Wand is tainted with a bloody history and more lost lives than even Albus can understand. "It seems a cruel twist that I possess the meanest of them," he muses. "But I've already lost everything. Perhaps I can use it to prevent loss."

Gellert nods as a second Auror makes it to the scene, then a third. "Farewell, old friend."