"Here you are, sir," says the Auror, turning to face him and gesturing at the door. "It's been warded to the best of MACUSA's abilities. He should not be able to escape any time soon." She gives him a polite smile and Albus smiles in return.
He should not, but he will, Albus mused. He had been researching wards to hold Grindelward ever since Grindlewald had begun terrorizing the continent. The issue was that Grindelwald was a singularly powerful wizard, as his escapades in New York had proven. Grindelwald has successfully defended himself from an entire squad of Aurors while holding a glamour over himself and using another person's wand: certainly, Albus did not think anyone else would be capable. Perhaps Albus himself, but the two of them had long since realised they were in a class of their own.
And in addition to Grindelwald's sheer magical power, Albus was quite certain that Grindelwald was in possession of the Elder Wand. It was a formidable combination. Albus had been searching for wards, yes, but he had yet to find any that he believed Grindelwald could not simply overpower.
"Thank you, Auror Goldstein," he says, rather than allowing any of his thoughts to trouble her. The Auror's smile brightened into something genuine. There was a story behind that smile, Albus thought, but this was not the time to ask. He could barely draw his eyes from the door and what lay beyond it; he could hardly afford the Auror the proper attention her story would require.
The Auror swung the door open and Albus stepped through. It was a small, windowless, white room, with a toilet in the corner and a cot along the far wall. On the bed lay Grindelwald, fidgeting with his hands. He had nothing else to fiddle with. All possessions, including the wand of one Percival Graves, had been confiscated from Grindelwald when he was imprisoned. Albus knew it made little difference either way. Grindelwald had always been talented with wandless magic.
A fidgeting Grindelwald meant a thinking Grindelwald – or, in this instance, it might be more accurate to say a planning Grindelwald. But noticing the opening door, Grindelwald rises to a seated position. Then, as he realises who his visitor is, he straightens.
"Albus," says Grindelwald, lips curling into a smile.
"Gellert," acknowledges Albus. The door has swung shut behind them, and there is little point pretending their shared history does not exist here. Gellert would love to tear that pretence to shreds, Albus reflects.
"Come to see your old friend brought low, have you?" asks Gellert. His eyes are fixed to Albus, following Albus' every move. Albus can't afford to lower his defences – Gellert would nigh certainly disarm him and take his wand if Gellert thought that he could get away with it.
"We both know MACUSA will not hold you for long," says Albus. He ignores the implication that they are still friends. It's not true, and Gellert knows it, but Gellert is trying to knock Albus off-centre. It's not a bad plan to get Albus' wand, he supposes, and there is more than enough bad blood for Gellert to work with. "I have other business with you."
Gellert leans back a little, resting his weight on his hand. He looks to all the world as if he's lounging, as if he's bored. Albus likes to think he knows Gellert a little better than the rest of the world, and Albus is confident that Gellert is not at all bored. "And what would that be?"
"The Elder Wand." Gellert's gaze sharpens, all pretence of carelessness giving way to the intensity he has now focused on Albus. This is not any wizard; this is the man the whole Wizarding World fears.
This is the man Albus had loved.
Albus refuses to allow Gellert to bother him. "Where is it?"
A smirk forms on Gellert's face. "Do you really think I would tell you, Albus?" Albus narrows his eyes, opens his mouth to respond, but Gellert continues before he can. "I can't see what you want with it. We both know that you will never fight me, so it's hardly as if you're looking for an advantage."
Albus wants to deny it, but it's true that for all he's been looking into ways to hold Gellert, he has not brushed up his duelling in far too long. He has been hoping for someone else to defeat Gellert, for someone else to do what Albus cannot, and Albus can merely aid in Gellert's imprisonment.
Gellert leans forward, having sensed a weakness. "Now, why can't you fight me? Perhaps some lingering feelings of friendship?" The emphasis on the word makes Albus' jaw clench. Gellert flashes him a grin; Gellert knows exactly what he is doing. "Or perhaps it's fear. Perhaps you're afraid to find out what really happened that night; who really killed Ariana." The hit lands, and Albus flinches.
Albus purses his lips and forces his composure to return. "Mister Scamander says that you seemed to know the Obscurial," he says. He is careful not to let his voice sound accusatory. Ariana has already been mentioned in this conversation too many times, but Albus is certain that all Gellert knows of Obscurials comes from his interactions with Ariana.
"I wanted to free him from his Muggle mother," says Gellert. "She abused him, you know."
"You took a vulnerable teenager and used him to wreak havoc," corrects Albus. He knows Gellert too well.
"I didn't know that Credence was the Obscurial," says Gellert. "I knew there was an Obscurial close to Credence, but I thought he was too old for it to be him."
"You manipulated the boy for your own ends either way," says Albus. His voice is forceful now.
"I was doing the boy a favour!" Gellert's voice rises almost to a yell.
"Don't lie to me!" shouts Albus, and Gellert goes quiet. His eyes are wide. This is not the Albus he was expecting, apparently. They stare at each other for several moments, Gellert seemingly not wanting to say more.
"I imagine this means you will not be telling me the location of the Elder Wand," Albus finally says, voice carefully even.
Gellert scoffs. "Of course I won't. You'll be able to do little with it, anyway. You haven't defeated me in combat."
"You didn't kill Gregorovitch to gain mastery of it," notes Albus. Gellert has gone back to lounging, confident now that Albus doesn't know the location of the Elder Wand.
"Well, some clever chap had realised the Elder Wand didn't require murder," drawls Gellert. "Besides, if I had killed Gregorovitch for it, people might have started to believe his claims and tried to kill me for mastery of the wand." He pauses, then adds, "Not that they could have, but it would have been rather irritating."
"You trusted my theory, then?" asks Albus. He had wondered about this since news had come of Gregorovitch being robbed. "Trusted mine above masters of wandlore?"
Gellert waves his hand dismissively. "You're far smarter than any of those masters," he says, derision in his voice when he speaks of the masters. He gets to his feet and approaches Albus. Silkily, he continues, "I took many of your ideas on board, Albus, when you still believed in the cause."
Albus had hoped to avoid this. No doubt MACUSA is listening in to their conversation, and he has just been added to many a watch-list. "Many youths have beliefs that disgust them when age has provided them with wisdom," he says instead.
"Was it not wise wizards that we thought should rule for the benefit of all?" Gellert leans forwards. "For the greater good?"
"And who are we to say we are the wisest?" returns Albus.
"You can still join me, Albus," says Gellert, entirely too close for Albus' comfort. "Return to me. There is still a place for you."
Albus goes still. There is an odd feeling of something like triumph in his chest. He had wondered many a time after Gellert fled Britain if Gellert had ever actually cared for their friendship, or if Gellert had been manipulating Albus for the entirety of their relationship. This feels like a confirmation that Gellert had cared for him, at least in some way.
And yet – there is still all those same flaws that had brought their friendship to such a destructive end. Gellert is still arrogant, still prone to anger and violence, still manipulative (the fate of young Credence spoke to that). Albus' heart beats fast in his chest as he looks at Gellert.
Here is the truth of Albus Dumbledore: he is afraid of no one more than he is afraid of himself.
And it is that fear that forces him to step back from Gellert. It is that fear that has kept Albus tied to Hogwarts, teaching the future generations of wizardkind.
"Did you know," says Albus, trying for a conversational tone, "the one thing I have learnt from introducing Muggleborns to Hogwarts and the Wizarding World is that Muggles are endlessly ingenious." Gellert looks startled. This is clearly not the direction he expected the conversation to take. "Every year, when I deliver the Hogwarts letter to Muggle families, there is some new kind of invention in the house I have not seen before. It's remarkable, it truly is. And it's made me realise the flaw in your scheme."
"And what is that?" asks Gellert, sounding bored.
"Wizards are content with the society we have. We are stagnant, until we are forced not to be. But Muggles – they are constantly changing and creating. You might take control, Gellert, but they will find a way to bring down your regime eventually," says Albus. Gellert's eyes show disbelief, even scorn. That's fine; Albus didn't really expect Gellert to listen to him, anyway. "Your days are numbered, whether it is a wizard or a Muggle who ends you."
"Perhaps you'll change your mind someday," says Gellert. He turns and goes to sit back on his cot. "Find me when you do."
Still so confident – so arrogant. Albus watches him, but Gellert has dismissed him. It's as if Albus is no longer there. Albus came here for the Elder Wand, and it looks as if there is no chance of that. He resists a sigh and turns to leave.
"Did you get what you want, sir?" asks Auror Goldstein as she shows him back to the exit.
"Unfortunately not," says Albus. "I shall have to continue my search."
"I'm sorry, then, Professor Dumbledore," she says. Albus makes to leave when calls out behind him. "Wait, sir! Could you – could you tell Newt Scamander that - " She hesitates. "Tell him I'm sure his book will be excellent," she says at last, but with conviction. She gives him a small smile when he assures her that he will do so.
To feel love's sting, he thinks as she bids him farewell.
Perhaps they will yet turn out better than he ever did.
AN: Sorry, NaNo.