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Albus stood in his bedroom in front of his mirror. He was not moving. He was hardly even breathing.

He saw a single tear trickle down the cheek of the man he saw in the mirror. The man he saw closely resembled himself. Almost exactly in fact. There were differences however. Especially in the eyes. The eyes were the eyes of a stranger. He was looking into the face of a stranger.

These eyes were bright blue, that part was like his own. But the emotion in them differed remarkably. Albus knew his own eyes to be constantly twinkling with excitement and wisdom. These eyes weren't. These eyes were filled with grief and regret. There was even a sort of evil glint to these eyes. Albus's eyes weren't ever suppose to have an evil glint to them.

And it was all Gellert Grindelwald's fault.

The boy who had been his best friend. The man who he had fallen in love with. He was the reason that Albus had killed his own sister.

It might not have been him. It could have been Aberforth or Gellert, but deep down Albus knew that it had been him who had cast that spell that had ended the life of sweet little Ariana Dumbledore for good.

The pain was threatening to overcome him. Not the physical pain.

The pain in his nose where Aberforth had punched him was minuscule compared to the ache he felt in his heart. He had deserved the physical pain. He had deserved a million times that pain.

But the pain in his heart was simply unbearable.

His sister was dead - that was his fault.

His mother was dead - that was probably in part his fault too.

Aberforth was distressed beyond compare. He was more furious with Albus than he had ever been in his life - and that was Albus's fault too.

And it was all because of Gellert Grindelwald.

What had Albus been thinking, plotting with Gellert against the muggles and muggleborns? What had he been thinking, neglecting his own family in their time of need to plan his rise to power with Gellert? What had he been thinking, trying to make excuses for what he was doing by saying that it was for "the greater good?" This wasn't him. He wasn't supposed to do things like this. Well maybe he wasn't supposed to do things like that, but the stranger in his mirror seemed to be perfectly happy doing each of these things.

Albus hated himself for choosing Gellert over doing the right thing, and for choosing Gellert over his own family.

But even more than he hated himself, he hated Gellert Grindelwald. The man he had once thought he loved, he now hated.

Albus silently vowed to himself, as well as to the stranger in his mirror, that he would never fall so stupidly into a trap like that again. That he would never again harbor any feelings of affection towards him.

Almost subconsciously, Albus grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk.

He wrote:

There's a stranger in my mirror and I don't know who it is,

There's a stranger in my mirror who also seems to be writing this.

When I lift my hand up, he does too,

But dear stranger: I sense many differences between me and you.

There's a stranger in my mirror, my sister's death is all his fault,

There's a stranger in my mirror who might be guilty of assault.

His eyes are my color but hold a different pride,

The stranger has crossed over onto the dark side.

There's a stranger in my mirror a tear's trickling down his face,

There's a stranger in my mirror he's frowning in disgrace.

He seems to see I hate him, he seems to wonder why,

He seems to soon then realize, it's the fault of another guy.

There's a stranger in my mirror his looks are remarkably like mine,

There's a stranger in my mirror but his eyes have much less shine.

There's a stranger in my mirror and I think it might be me,

Though he still seems to have a very different personality.

I have certainly changed quite a large sum,

What on earth have I become?

Or perhaps the question to me,

Is who do I want to be?

Albus replaced the quill and the parchment where he had found them. He could feel more hot salty tears spilling down his newly crooked nose.

He read the words that he had written over and over and over again.

He took the poem with him wherever he would go. It was always a reminder to him not to become a stranger to himself; to stay true to his ways.

And when the time would come, when he would have to face Gellert Grindelwald once again, he would read through the poem and remind himself how because of Gellert he had become a stranger in his very own eyes. How because of Gellert their had been a stranger staring him in the face when he looked in the mirror.

A/N: Thanks for reading this! I hope you liked it, and don't forget to leave a REVIEW! Thanks so much :) :) :) Love, CC.