Author's Note: This is for the "Fifty Shades of" challenge whereby you write 50 drabbles about a certain idea. This is "For the Greater Good," so it'll basically revolve around the idea of Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore, and anything that takes place during the global wizarding war. Rated M for language and violence and, you know, stuff that Dark Wizards are prone to do. ;) Reviews are loved and appreciated, as always. Enjoy!
Gellert started, having been yanked out of a deep sleep, and pulled his thread-bare blanket tighter around his frame. At first, he blamed it on the cold, the way it nipped at his bones and infected every cell of his body. Or maybe it was the wind that rattled the loose boards of the shack and threatened to topple it, just like the wolf in that fairy tale. Slowly, he realized he had been woken by voices, both loud and angry, invading the loft where he slept.
They were at it again, which wasn't particularly surprising. The foolish, old Muggle was envious of everything his wife possessed that he did not – youth, wit, beauty, and, most of all, magic. Therefore, he subjugated her in any way he could, from demeaning words to confining her to the house.
Gellert shifted on his cot, determined to tune them out. Despite his attempts, his father's voice still filtered up through the floorboards.
"Shut your goddamn mouth! I am the man here. You do as I say. Don't forget your place, you filthy witch."
He sounded drunk, with the words as wobbly as Gellert imagined the man would be at that point. In any case, the argument was over. That was always the end of it. Mother knew her place, of course. As a woman, it was beneath all men. As a witch, it was beneath the Muggles. As a mother, it was beneath her child. Such was the farcical world they lived in.
If his father had only listened to her, even if it was simply to claim her wit as his own, they wouldn't live in squalor. If only she was permitted to use her magic, their run-down shack would become something quite magnificent. As it were, his father had splintered her wand while in the midst of a drunken rage and laid those hopes to rest long ago.
Gellert flipped back over to the other side, putting his parents out of his mind. He focused on the sound of the rain falling in gentle plops into the buckets around his cot where the roof leaked. The storm was like a gentle drum beating out a melody, and he let it lull him back into sleep.
Gellert was relieved to find, when he was called to breakfast, that his father had already left early for work. The kitchen was quiet, save for his mother's occasional humming, as he pushed his gruel around with his spoon.
"Don't play with your food, Gellert. How many times do I have to tell you? You're old enough now. Eat up."
His mother hadn't even paused in her cleaning as she delivered the lecture. He imagined she must have been tired, the way she was on her feet all day and just starting to show. It was futile, their incessant attempts to procreate. His father had been disappointed, though, to find he had sired a wizard and had hoped to replace him with a "normal" boy. Gellert wasn't in the least bit concerned with his father's plight; he would be off at Durmstrang by the time they got around to burying the next child, their sixth attempt at replacing him.
"Why do you stay here, Mother?"
"What ever do you mean?" At that, she had stopped cleaning and turned to face him. He knew, by the softness in her eyes, that she understood perfectly but was too proud to concede the truth.
"You could come with me when I go to Durmstrang. We could enter the wizarding world together."
Though most of his mother's family was dead, he knew that his great-aunt was still alive, at least, and well-known in the wizarding world. It was thanks to her benefaction that he was able to go to wizarding school at all, as they had very little Muggle money and absolutely no wizarding money at all to their name.
She carefully lowered herself into the chair across from him, scooting back slightly to make room for her swollen belly. She watched him quietly for a few minutes.
"Gellert, this is your chance, not mine. Go and do what you must, and do not lament for me here. This is where I belong. I have chosen my own life, and you must choose yours."
She smiled, but he knew that what she truly wanted was to cry. They were enough alike that surely she had already guessed what desires lay in the echoes of his heart. He would leave within the year, and, once he did, he would never return to the Muggle world. Not even for her.
"But why? Why do you stay?"
"Oh, you wouldn't understand. You're just a child. But I love your father very much. Sometimes people put up with a lot when they're in love. One day, you'll understand."
Love. What a useless, nettlesome emotion that knocked otherwise intelligent, capable people off their rockers. The things that were perpetrated under the guise of love were profane and derisive. Gellert made a silent vow that he would never let something so inane impede his proper judgment.
For as long as I live, I shall never fall in love.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns anything and everything that pertains to the Harry Potter series.
