Dear Gellert,

I miss you

I'm sorry

I wish you were here in this moment. I know you would be tremendously joyful, so absorbed in the discovery we've made you'd have the spark in your eyes like you always had when we invented a particularly useful or intricate spell. I don't think you knew and I never told you, but those were the moments I loved you the most; it was your time of glory, very intimate and I always felt privileged to witness it. I feared you might refrain from such reactions in the future. If there was anything I was certain I would never get tired of, it was how you became even more dazzling and beautiful in moments of triumph.

I wish I could see you triumph at least one more time.

There's so much I want to tell you. I'm sorry for all the time we should have spent together. I'm sorry for all the inspiration that didn't come because we were separated. But most of all, I'm sorry for depriving you of all the triumphs you could have achieved because a part of me died when I saw defeat on your face and I'm sure a part of you did too.

How did it happen to us, old friend? You were always the winning one, the conquering one. I was merely encouraging you, maybe even pointing you directions, but I was always behind you, observing you. How did you allow me to cut your wings and bring you down?

It had to be done, your crusade had to be stopped, the fire you set to Europe smothered. Why did I have to deaden the light within you too?

Why did you make me do this? Couldn't you just settle for inventing fantasies and powerful spells? I know you meant well, I know who you are, at least I thought I knew you, and this wasn't you. Why did you run away, leaving me alone, desperate and heart-broken – no, my heart was crushed. My sister died, either by my hand or by the hand of the only person who had ever managed to control me, fully, unreservedly and with my permission. And then you left. You fled and never spared a second thought for me until I was too much of a threat for you to ignore me.

If you needed to conquer, to defeat, you could have just stayed with me. I was yours before I was anything else.

You lived off attention and feeling of self-importance. I do see it now but it took me decades for the scar you left in my heart to grow together enough to grant me the possibility to see you as you truly were. You were demanding, always seeking recognition and I was more than happy to provide you with it. I was co-dependent, obsessed with you and you knew that even better than anyone else. You have seen me in my most vulnerable moments and states of mind and I assure you you were the only one. I tried to trust others, to love them as I loved you, but it never felt even half as exhilarating.

If only you knew how many excuses I found not to hunt you down. People were only learning about you but I had known you better than myself. Whenever I reminisce that fervent summer, I find it hard to recall my own thoughts but I see yours crystal clear. I can't remember enough of your fondness because my heart was overflowing with passion and affection for you and it took away all the memories of you loving me. But I'm sure they were there. There was always a more pressing matter at hand, something I had to focus on that had to be taken care of. Frankly, that was the most productive period of my life. I worked so much I didn't have a second to even think of you and more importantly of what you were doing. I had to close my eyes before that or I'd go crazy. When I allowed myself to sleep, I had to be exhausted to sleep tight, without dreams invading my slumber. For the first time in ages you weren't plaguing my mind and I hated it.

You were always a cocky bastard, weren't you? You couldn't settle for one country, you had to rule the whole world. I admired you for your bravery and achievements – even then when I read through news of the horrid things you caused. I hated myself for it and I wanted to hate you.

I wish you had surrendered that day. I never believed you would, but I hoped some miracle would happen. Maybe if you showed remorse they wouldn't separate us.

I know that's just a naïve old man's plea. It would never happen. You would never bow that proud head of yours.

Have you even seen anyone since the day they locked you up or have you spent half a century absolutely alone? How could I allow either? Being in a small cell without any magic – I can't even try to imagine what it must have done to you. The picture of you without it is unimaginable and poignant. I have been so alone surrounded by people. How could anyone survive entirely on their own?

I don't pity you, Gellert. You did this to yourself, you knew well what you were doing – you had always thought everything through with such care. I never imagined how you could be defeated. And I don' pity you because I know you'd hate me for it. I don't want you to hate me any more than you do.

I am old and tired of everything. I used to have a direction in life, a goal, but they're all diminishing. I have been careless and reckless and I brought death onto myself. But I have done it, my love. I have conquered Death like we dreamed. And then you'd take me into your arms and hold me as if you really cared about me.

It didn't feel as great as we imagined. Maybe you would see it differently but it was a disappointment for me. Or maybe it wouldn't be if you shared it with me. A lot of things seem less fun and interesting when you're not around. I own two hallows and can get my hands on the third whenever I want and yet I don't feel anything. I can't recall the fervour I felt as we plotted what we'd do with them. I don't sense the joy I thought I would when I hold them. All there is is knowing that these very things brought us apart. The ugly piece of elder wood reminds me of my shattered dreams and hopes every single day. It's unbearable.

I have so many things to do before I die and take it to my grave with me. I know you would disapprove but this once – just this once – I'm strong enough not to do what you want me to do. Not a single heart will be broken because of it anymore, I will make sure of that. I was crushed enough for it to be satisfied.

The irony is that the stone – the one I was interested in the most – took me the longest to find. I think I was subconsciously avoiding it though; deep inside I knew I was not going to utilize it and I wanted to postpone holding it in my hands for as long as possible. But now, I can use it however I want and I'm scared. I can almost hear you laughing – the pathetic coward Dumbledore, haha. Puny Albus. Or maybe you're disappointed; maybe you actually believed I was worth your time back then when you whispered obscenities into my ears that astonished me enough to redden my cheeks.

I'm sorry, Gellert. I'm sorry for how things turned out to be between us. I'm sorry I was a coward and never told anyone about you. I'm sorry I was so arrogant and self-absorbed never to admit I was a human being like everyone else. There are very few people in the whole world who know that I have a heart but only you know who I am. I'm sorry for everything.

I love you. I always have.

Yours (truly and forever)

Albus Dumbledore.

A lot of people had seen Dumbledore's official last will. There was just one person who had seen the other one. In the first, Dumbledore bequeathed his possessions to people who needed it. In the latter, he passed on his heart to the one who had owned it for a century. It was iconic that in the moment when Lord Voldemort robbed Dumbledore off the Elder Wand, he understood why the old man believed in the power of love so much.

It was pathetic, really. He was pathetic. He was afraid of Dumbledore his whole life, he always assumed that when he spoke about the power of love, he excluded them both. Voldemort had believed that while Dumbledore is so invested in this theory, he isn't really affected by it. But now, as he held this piece of parchment, he realised that Dumbledore had never been a superior being. He was as much of a love-sick idiot as Snape. It removed last traces of doubt Voldemort had. Nobody would be able to beat him. They can all die screaming words of love. He would just watch with the told-you-so on his lips.

Some places were crossed out but this site apparently doesn't allow that. Sorry.