Albus was the first to see him, out of the inhabitants of Godric's Hollow that is. He arrived one evening in July, just like that. He appeared, apparated into the dark, windy street, his tall, spindly frame shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Albus couldn't quite make out the figure any more than that, for, from the third floor window from which the young man peered, rain pounding at the thin, leaded windows, the other boy was no more than a silhouette clutching a suitcase and a wand. Albus watched with a sudden interest that had been completely absent before that moment as the stranger looked cautiously from left to right before striding with surprising confidence up the garden path of one Bathilda Bagshot, for it was her house that he had materialized before.
Albus stared transfixed as the shadow placed his luggage just inside the small porch so as not to get it wet and smartly rapped upon the woman's door. Albus frowned with annoyance at the unseasonable weather that quite entirely prevented him from hearing that announcement of presence, or the exchange that commenced upon the opening of the door (for that would have given him some clue as to the nature of the newcomer).
But alas, Albus had to make do with watching the scene in silence but for the howling storm, much like a photograph, he observed, and with as much colour.
Albus did not see the youth again for some days and in that time, managed to push all thoughts of him to the corners of his extensive mind. Reluctantly the space was rapidly filled with matters of more immediate importance: with his mother recently dead, a lot of responsibility had been placed on the eldest of the three Dumbledore siblings, first and foremost, him mother's will. Albus had travelled the previous day to the Ministry in London, whereupon he had met with a ministry official by the name Hubert Yergel. The visit didn't take long, it turned out that Kendra Dumbledore didn't really have anything to leave to her three children besides the house, its contents and one hundred galleons or so. Unsurprised, Albus returned to Godric's Hollow and the small cottage where he had been born and raised, preparing for the difficult tasks ahead: caring for his sister and keeping his brother under control.
In the time that Albus began his role as head of the family, it did not stop raining, a fact that Gellert Grindelwald acknowledged with distaste. In his homeland it rained, yes, but not nearly in such a dismal fashion. Yes, that was a good word- dismal; it was how he found his new refuge of England. He had had other plans- he wanted to go travelling, to find like minded people who could understand him and his goals, but unfortunately he knew he couldn't even begin to tackle that before finding out at least a little more about the Hallows.
It was those three objects that had brought him to Godric's Hollow in the first place- it was mere coincidence and rather fortunate that he happened to have a relative who lived there. His mother's aunt was an elderly, yet timeless old woman, who's age could have been placed at anywhere between sixty and one hundred and sixty. She was pleasant enough, he supposed, and she doted on him like a grandmother, constantly force-feeding him homemade biscuits and sponge cake, so thus he was pleasant back. Just because he had been expelled did not mean he did not know how to be a gentleman. Indeed, he made sure he was on his best behaviour around aunt Bathilda, she was, after all, just an old woman, and nothing whatsoever to do with his plans. Gellert hadn't seen the red haired in the window when he had first arrived, he had been far to preoccupied in speculation about what he would learn over the coming summer and whether Peverell was really in the graveyard just insight down the road. Gellert had infact assumed that he was the only youth of his age in that small village, well, youth of any sort of intellect at any rate. In the first few days of his arrival, he had seen only a few people really, but most of them were muggles, shop keepers and such like. They all seemed to be rather interested in his mysterious arrival and he guessed that a visitor was most defiantly a hot topic of gossip. As was such, Gellert took to disillusioning himself when he wanted to step outside of the stuffy, crowed cottage in which his aunt lived to explore the nearby graveyard; he did this often as, despite the graveyard being his main reason for coming to England in the first place, he found it a restful spot.
It was a Friday, six days had passed since Albus had spied the newcomer from the attic window and it was also three months to the day since his mother had passed away. Albus was tired, Ariana hadn't been coping well since the accident and, although she hadn't had any outbursts, she was being difficult. Come to mention it, so was Aberforth. Albus hadn't seen much of him recently, he kept to his room and the bottom of the small, square garden behind the cottage where Albus thought he was building some sort of pen. He didn't really care.
So it was with a heavy heart that Albus set out for the short walk down to the graveyard, an assortment of flowers in hand. The spells and charms for barring entrance to any intruder and for, well, keeping Ariana inside were numerous and it took just under a minute to recast them once locking the front door. But the walk was short and he made up for lost time by walking at a slightly faster pace than was strictly necessary.
Kendra Dumbledore' grave was situated at the back of the yard. She lay beneath the same headstone as her husband, Albus's father, and the same stone that Albus too one day hoped to rest before. Silently he read the epitaph on the relatively new stone: "Tutus in sanctio quietis of preteritus". Albus had read those words so many times since they had been inscribed that he supposed it was only for the lack of contact that it hadn't worn away. Gently he kneeled and lay the flowers on the small, grassy mound in front of him.
"Your parents?"
Albus looked up startled. He was sure that the graveyard had been empty upon his arrival, and he hadn't sense anyone enter.
The boy blinked his chocolate eyes, expectant for the answer that Albus was sure he already knew. Coming to his senses Albus nodded numbly, staring at the beauty that was before him.
The boy was tall, taller than Albus and that was a challenge, with tanned skin and a mop of golden curls that just brushed his shoulders. Like Albus's, his hair was parted in the middle, the strands framing the boyish face that suggested an age less than his own. Oh that face! It was square somewhat, with a nose that could only have been more perfect in paintings of angels and eyes the deepest chocolate that Albus had ever perceived. Merlin! Albus couldn't breathe, he felt dizzy and he was positive that someone had just cast a constricting hex upon his throat. Struggling, Albus stood up to face who he was sure the stranger staging with Ms. Bagshot.
"Yes," he said, surprising himself with the clarity of his speech. Indeed, he was suddenly glad of it for Albus was quite certain that had he not been able to speak he would have blushed horrendously and, with the family's porcelain skin, it would have been even worse.
The boy nodded and it was now that Albus noticed the absolute lack of expression on his face. Well, not lack of expression, but lack of any compassionate emotion. Albus wondered why.
They stood staring in awkward silence at each other for a few moments longer before the boy suddenly announced that he had to go and swiftly turned heel and sauntered down the street in the direction Albus had come.
Hey, this is my first Dumblewald fic! I am looking for a beta for this story, so if you'd like to please email me, my address is visible. Please comment, I really want to continue with this fic, but I would love some feedback, keep me motivated and such! Thanks for taking time to read it, next chapter will be up soon! x