Prison BreakJune 1965
The weather had not been kind to Albus Dumbledore for the past couple of days. Rain had all but flooded Hogwarts (as well as the rest of Britain, for that matter), and now this.
Dumbledore now found himself in Germany with even worse weather than there had been in England. In addition to waterfalls of rain being emitted from the sky, there was also severe lightning, which had struck a tree near the Hogwarts Headmaster just moments before.
Regardless of the rain, however, Dumbledore had a job to do, a risky job that he had been contemplating doing and not doing for several months now. His mind was still tugging back and forth as he walked against the wind and rain toward his destination, a large stone prison, as black as the clouds above him and just as menacing.
In fact, if it hadn't been for the prison, Dumbledore would thought Germany to be a beautiful country, even in the rain. The grass was pure green, and the flowers that spotted the fields were in bloom, getting quite enough nourishment, if Dumbledore could say so himself.
There were no signs of human habitation, which is just what the grand architect of the prison had wanted, or so everyone said. The rumor was that he had chosen this area specifically because it was rarely ever (if it ever had been at all) touched by humans. As such, no one would ever try to pry or hinder the doings inside the prison in any way. Dumbledore thought it a rather ironic location, however, when considering all of its beauty.
Then again, the prison's architect had always lived to be ironic, and not to mention, deceptive….
This thought made Dumbledore cringe underneath his soaked robes. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. If Dumbledore did what he set out to do, would he be unleashing yet another terror on the innocent of Wizarding World? Or would it be another terror, not for the world, but for the one who was already causing terror on the innocent?
He wanted to believe the latter choice. He had to believe it. He needed another mind like his own to defend the world against the atrocity that was playing out. Too many had already died, and there would be many more deaths to come. Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them, taking his half-mooned glasses off his nose and wiping the rain from them. He knew he it was a failed attempt, but he needed something to do to calm his nerves.
As brave as Albus Dumbledore was, there were times when even he became afraid.
He took a breath and walked through the drenched field toward Nurmengard, which ranked second place for the world's most horrifying prisons. It was beaten only by Azkaban, Britain's prison, which held its ranking for its soul-sucking, terrifying dementors. However, even though Nurmengard lacked such horrors, oftentimes Dumbledore considered it to be an even worse prison than Azkaban.
Reaching the building, Dumbledore knew he had to make a decision. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and mud was starting to seep into the Headmaster's boots. The very top room of the highest tower was where he must go, but the problem was getting there. Unlike Hogwarts, whose anti-Apparition wards had its exceptions for Dumbledore, Nurmengard had airtight wards that did not allow even the guards to Apparate.
Besides, if a prison could prevent even its grand architect from penetrating inside its walls, there was not much hope for anyone else.
Dumbledore let out another sigh and looked up at the dark clouds rumbling monstrously past him, dropping heaps of rain onto his face. Then, he got an idea….
Birds could reach the top tower by flying, so who was to say that he couldn't reach it by the same means? He was a wizard, after all, and a very powerful one at that. It would be an adventure, as he had never flown save on a broomstick. Plus, casting a spell on himself that he had only used before on inanimate objects could be a trick in and of itself, even for a man like him.
Deciding that it was the right thing to do, Dumbledore pulled out his wand, pointed it at his soaking feet, and whispered, "wingardium leviosa."
Very slowly, his feet began to rise off the ground, the rain still pelting every inch of his body like marbles. Little by little, Dumbledore floated past each tower, higher and higher, until finally, he came to the one he was looking for.
Upon reaching the very top room, he grabbed hold of the bars of the window to prevent himself from floating any higher. The rain was pouring inside the room. He couldn't understand how any of the inmates could sleep with rain pelting them all through the night. Then again, the beds were probably far enough away from the window so as to not get wet.
Dumbledore's assumptions were proven to be correct. As he held onto the slick iron bars, he gazed inside, seeking the inmate that he had come to free: his old friend and enemy, Gellert Grindelwald, the mastermind who designed Nurmengard and who had brought ruin to almost every wizard in Germany, at least in some form or another, he eyed the small iron bed, up against the wall farthest from the window. Sleeping under the thin blanket was Grindelwald himself.
Dunbledore noticed, even from as far away as he was, some changes in Grindelwald that had taken place in the last twenty years since they had last seen each other. For one thing, he looked frightfully thin underneath the blanket, nothing more than a skeleton with just enough skin to hide the bones, whereas before he had been trim, but healthy. His hair was no longer blond and curly as it had been all those years ago. In fact, it was gone. His head had been shaved, possibly for reasons relating to cleanliness. Dumbledore could certainly see lice swarming in this place when looking at its conditions. Anyone with hair was at a loss.
Wiping his wet beard down, Dumbledore whispered, "Gellert!"
There was no answer. The figure in the bed remained still. However, with the thunder and lightning going every which way, that was not surprising. Dumbledore would have to shout in order to get his former friend's attention.
"GELLERT!" He shouted as loud as he possibly could, doubting if any of the other prisoners could hear him through all the other noises.
This time, Grindelwald stirred. He rolled over and opened his eyes, revealing hollow blue irises, the same Dumbledore remembered from his boyhood. The inmate said something in German that Dumbledore could not understand and clapped his bony hand over his mouth. Eyes wide, Grindelwald left the creaking bed and sprinted over to the window with more energy than Dumbledore would ever have thought possible.
"Albus?" He looked completely shocked. "What are you doing here?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "What do you think I'm doing here, Gellerr? I'm breaking you out, of course."
"What?" Grindelwald grabbed hold of the bars of the window, making his hands look even more skeletal.
"I said, 'I'm breaking you out'." Dumbledore repeated, smiling.
"I know what you meant." Grindelwald looked offended at Dumbledore's supposed questioning of his intelligence. "I speak English, which is more than I can say of ninety-eight percent of the people in here. I meant 'what?' as in, 'how could you be doing this?' I'm evil, remember? For you of all people to break me out is a crime against humanity."
"I need you, Gellert," Dumbledore said gravely, now losing all the happy demeanor he had been feeling. "You know what has been happening in Britain recently. I know you do. I need your help."
Grindelwald raised what little eyebrows he still possessed. "You need my help?" The former dark wizard asked rhetorically.
"Please," Dumbledore begged, surprised at himself for not having looked down the entire time he had been suspended in the air.
Grindelwald stared off into space for a moment and then peaked over the bars and down to the ground below Dumbledore.
"You must be frightened," he said, his voice barely audible to Dumbledore over the sound of thunder.
"Gellert!" Dumbledore stammered impatiently, ignoring Grindelwald's statement. "Please!"
The skeletal wizard brought his gaze back to Dumbledore. "Certainly, Albus." His voice did not show a hint of emotion.
Quite shockingly to Dumbledore, Grindelwald grabbed hold of the bars with both hands and was able to heave his entire body through them!
"You're certainly agile," Dumbledore pointed out, chuckling.
"Of course," Grindelwald laughed. "Can't you see how large I am?"
He held onto the bars with both hands, looking to Dumbledore like one of those Muggle acrobats he liked to watch in circuses, with the exception that they were always dry, not as wet as a dog, as Grindelwald now was. Then, suddenly and without Dumbledore's assistance, he let go of one of the bars grabbed hold of the Headmaster's neck with one hand. Dumbledore felt a bit uncomfortable, as though a dead body had just latched onto him.
"Now, hold tight," the professor warned the dark wizard. "Apparating can be a dangerous business."
"Really?" Grindelwald asked sarcastically, again raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, it is," said Dumbledore, choosing to go along with his old friend's humor. "So, hold on."
With a pop, the two wizards vanished into thin air. The next morning, all of Germany went on a lock down.
~Amélie, who wrote this story in honor of Jamie Campbell Bower, the most handsome boy alive, who is set to play young Grindelwald in the upcoming HP film!