Surrender

28th June 1919

Albus Dumbledore stood tall, profound; he was invisible to the Muggles as he waited for the man he had been dreading seeing. In all of his thirty-eight years, he had never been so nervous about an encounter, yet he held his head high and remained calm, waiting patiently. He gripped his elbows, crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't cold, not on that beautiful day in June, but he was shaking.

Albus tried to distract himself, listening to the Muggles as they crowded around the table, but what they said was of no interest to him. Not yet. Not until he arrived. Albus was both excited and nervous. Which one prevailed over his body seemed to fluctuate every minute. He had resorted to feeling anxious when, at last, he showed his face.

He was as silent as a shadow as he revealed himself, appearing from thin air. Albus shuddered. It had been about twenty excruciating years since he'd seen him last, but his face had been in his mind every day, etched into his memory like the Deathly Hallows symbol he'd engraved into the walls of Durmstrang before his expulsion.

"How long have you been here?" Albus asked shyly, trying and failing to address the man with confidence. He wanted to show him that he didn't intimidate him.

The man smirked in response, knowing precisely what effect he had. He hadn't changed. Now thirty-seven years old, Albus could see the seventeen-year-old boy beneath his matured face. His hair was shorter but still in soft, golden curls, adorning his head like a lion's mane. Had he gone to Hogwarts, Albus was sure he would have been in Gryffindor. But then again, he had proven himself to be far more sinister and twisted then any true Gryffindor could be. His eyes, as blue as the deepest ocean, still glittered with the mischievous twinkle of his youth. Albus felt breathless and took a deep gulp.

"Only a couple of minutes."

Albus scowled. His old friend had privately witnessed the elder man's distress at being torn between anxiety and elation. Could he tell? Could he tell what this meeting meant to him? Perhaps not, but then, Albus had never been able to figure him out.

"You've changed," he stated with a cheeky grin, eyeing Albus up from head to toe.

The latter felt self-conscious. How dare he run his eyes over him! He had changed. He was older, wiser, more mature. He was not the naive, foolish boy that he had been at their last exchange, tainted by desire and a thirst for power.

"You haven't," Albus stated coolly. "Grindelwald," he added for good measure. It was no use. The name felt foreign on his tongue, uncomfortable.

"Oh, come now," Gellert Grindelwald taunted. "You know me better than that, Albus. We're friends, remember?" He flicked his tongue out like a snake.

"That was twenty years ago," Albus reminded him, angry at his childish attitude. This was strictly a business meeting, and Gellert was taunting him in every way possible. He had always had that power over Albus, which is precisely why he had cut him out of his life.

Gellert Grindelwald was bad news, was a bad influence—especially for Albus. But he was also like a drug. Separation had been painful and long, and now he was back again; his presence alone was so overwhelming that Albus couldn't think straight. But he must. He must.

"What we're dealing with is bigger than us," Albus said angrily, and then winced. He had not meant to say it aloud, but now Gellert was grinning from ear to ear, intrigued.

"What could possibly be bigger than us?"

The breath caught in Albus' throat. He didn't know how to respond. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible, all anticipated excitement for the reunion replaced by a cold dread. Gellert Grindelwald was bad news—Albus had to constantly remind himself. If he let that important detail slip his mind for even a second, who knew what could happen. The sooner it was over, the better. The sooner they were forced into separation once more, as though nothing had happened, it would be a relief off his shoulders.

"So what exactly are we dealing with?" Gellert drawled, sounding bored by the whole affair.

Albus cleared his throat in an authoritative manner, grateful the other man was finally beginning to take it a bit more seriously, despite his apparent disinterest. "The Muggle war," he announced.

"The Muggles have been having a war? Can't say I've noticed." Gellert was loving how much he set Albus' teeth on edge.

"You know they've been having a war," Albus said irritably. "And now you've got to stop it. You agreed. It's been five years, Gellert." He scowled as he used his first name, not wanting their exchange to feel personal, intimate. He had meant to keep the meeting strictly formal—it was just business, after all, not a joyful reunion.

But Gellert laughed, as though the whole thing had been a joke. Perhaps to him it had been. "I thought their stupid little war ended last year?"

"Technically, it did, but it's an arduous process. It takes a reckless fool to start a war," Albus said with a glare, "and years of reconciliation and peace treaties to end one. Fighting has ceased, but this treaty is of the utmost importance for keeping the peace, reaffirming allies, and ensuring no such event will ever occur again in the future."

"I pride myself on being a reckless fool," Gellert said with a wink.

Albus was so infuriated, he was fuming as he gave Gellert his most threatening scowl. Albus was one for peace, but Gellert Grindelwald still brought out the worst in him. "How can you be proud of this?" he demanded, losing his temper, despite his best efforts to remain composed. "You have started a war between nations—this is on a worldwide scale!"

"I was bored," Gellert said with a shrug. "I thought it would be a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun?" Albus roared. "People have died for this, Gellert—thousands, millions of innocent people have lost their lives because you were 'bored'!"

For the first time since he'd arrived, Gellert looked annoyed, angry even. "Muggles," he said savagely. "Muggles lost their lives for this war. As long as not a single drop of magical blood was spilt, there has been no loss. The fewer Muggles there are, the better the world we're living in will be. All for the greater good."

Albus shuddered at those words—those words that had tempted him, haunted him for the better part of his life. A fire was ignited within him as he thought of all they represented. They now filled him with disgust and regret. "Have him sign the treaty, lift the curse, and then leave," he ordered. This was precisely the reason he had cut Gellert from his life. How could he have been so blinded by desire as to forget that? They were nothing alike. Not anymore...

The two men, once so close, refused to look each other in the eye. Suddenly there was nothing humorous about the situation for Gellert. "Why should I?" he stubbornly asked.

"You agreed, Gellert," Albus reminded him with a bitter edge. "It's been five years; you've had your fun. They're not even fighting anymore, so what's the point?"

"Surrender," Gellert said, the word dripping off his tongue like poison. "That's what you want me to do. You want me to surrender."

Why must he insist on being so stubborn?

"Gellert," Albus said furiously, "I wrote to you and you promised me you would end this! You can't go back on your word—that's cowardice," he spat. It was a weak argument, but he had nothing else to use against him. Gellert had always been a man of his word, and to taunt him into surrender was the only weapon Albus had left. "If you had no intention of seeing this through then why did you bother to come?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

The words hit Albus like a wall of water—a thunderous wave crashing down on him. His heartbeat had sped up to a lively rate, and his breath had quickened. He gulped, feeling nervous once more. That was all Gellert needed—some carefully chosen words and a charming look, and Albus was under his control. Under a spell far worse than any real magic.

"Have him sign the treaty," he growled. "Lift the curse and then leave."

"Ask me nicely," Gellert ordered, narrowing his eyes.

So that was it? He wanted him to beg? It was humiliating, but Albus had no choice. If the Muggles' war didn't end, they were going to wipe out half the world. "Please, Gellert," he pleaded, looking him straight in the eye, trying not to get lost in their endless blue oceans.

Gellert's tongue flicked out like a snake again. The mischievous twinkle was back in his eye, and he was smirking. "Fine," he agreed. "They were getting boring anyway."

Albus exhaled a sigh of relief as Gellert approached the Muggle man with the power to once and for all end the war. He had a dull, lifeless look in his eye—a giveaway sign of being under the Imperius Curse. After five years, the man would finally be free from Gellert's control. Albus imagined how confused he would be. Would he remember any of it at all?

The wizards had been hidden from the room of Muggle men, cloaked beneath their Disillusionment Charms. They never even so much as blinked an eye as Gellert raised his wand, muttered a few words, and without a moment's hesitation, the man reached down to sign the Treaty of Versailles. Gellert returned to Albus with a smug look and a triumphant swagger in his step.

"Now lift the Imperius Curse—he's no use to you anymore."

Gellert didn't even look back as he lazily lifted his wand, removing the curse and returning the Muggle man to his former state of control. The Muggle blinked rapidly, looking around in confusion, but Albus was too intent on Gellert to observe him for long. He would cope.

"Now leave." That was the hardest command he had given so far.

"Is that really what you want?" Gellert teased.

"Yes." Albus folded his arms determinedly. "We're done here. Go back to doing whatever it is you do these days."

Gellert's mouth curled into a sly grin. It was deeply unnerving. "And what exactly would that be?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Gellert. I've heard all about your little rendezvouses with dark wizards. I'm disappointed to see you haven't given up this stupid dream."

Anger flared up in the other man's eyes, where previously there had been mirth. "I have stuck to what we both desired," he hissed in accusation. "I can't help it if I have something you lack—loyalty and determination. You are a coward. You gave in. You surrendered. I heard you were a professor at Hogwarts now. A professor, imagine that! The great Albus Dumbledore," he spat. "I pity you... You were much more fun when you had passion."

The words pierced Albus like a knife but he tried to cast it aside. Gellert could only hurt him with words. It didn't mean anything. "I have passion," he objected. "Only it's for teaching and not some pathetic desire for dark magic."

Gellert let out a dark laugh in response, the skin around his eyes creasing up like it used to when he was a teenager. "Enjoy your pathetic little life, Albus," he said cruelly. "Try not to dwell on the life you could have had with me, if only you'd chosen to pursue power. I have to say, I think I liked you a lot more twenty years ago. You've changed. You've grown boring."

"Not boring, sensible. Wise. Wisdom is something you lack, and I truly pity you for it."

"I don't want your pity."

Gellert turned on his heel and Albus watched him go with longing in his heart and a sadness that had consumed him. Had Gellert decided to pursue goodness and knowledge like him, perhaps they would have had a different story to tell. They could have been just as close as they had been in their youth. Oh, what he would give for them to be like that again. But that was just a distant dream, a foolish memory.

"I guess I'll see you next time I get bored and decide to start another Muggle war," Gellert sneered, turning around at the last moment to offer his childhood friend one last scowl.

Albus' heart rate had quickened again. "No, Gellert, there can be no next time. This wasn't amusing or entertaining. It was foolish and reckless."

"Just the way I like it." Gellert's scowl had softened into a wicked grin. "I remember when we were foolish and reckless together. Those were the good times. I miss it."

It took everything within Albus to keep his steely glare fixed in place. Gellert Grindelwald would not break him, no matter how much he taunted him. After all this time, he was still his biggest weakness, and oh, how he knew it.

With one last wink that left Albus staring longingly at the spot long after he'd gone, Gellert disappeared from the room, leaving the lingering sense of his presence—the presence Albus craved more than anything else in the world. Gellert was a fool, and Albus only hoped that was the last time he'd ever have to see him. He didn't know how confidently he'd be able to resist him another time.

But the idea that Gellert would ever do anything like this again was absurd. Albus had to hope he would be rational, and told himself over and over again, that was the last time he'd see him.

As it happened, the two did encounter again—after one had grown in wisdom, the other in darkness. Unbeknownst to them then, their next encounter would be one of the most epic proportions— the greatest battle the wizarding world had seen between the forces of dark and evil. That's how it would be recorded in the history books, at least.

But to Albus Dumbledore, it was more than that. His final attempt to put Gellert Grindelwald in his place after he decided, for the second time, to start a Muggle war for his own entertainment.

Some people see surrender as a sign of cowardice; others view it as an act of bravery. And for Albus Dumbledore, in 1945 as he terminated the Second World War, he also terminated any last connection he had with the man who meant most to him in the entire world.

It was his hardest surrender, and also his proudest.

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2—Round 3

Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Captain
Task: Signing/breaking of a treaty (Treaty of Versailles)