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Letters between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, dated 1899.

Dear Gellert,

It's funny how the start of this letter is both an address and a statement-I begin to write, and by virtue of my quill, I am reminded of my love for you. There are a thousand words that seem to surpass "dear" to describe exactly what you mean to me, but none of them seem quite enough. I will therefore apply Ockham's razor, trusting that you know that in the honest simplicity there are more than a million words contained within, the whole contents of my heart bursting out to my Dear Gellert.

The afore-mentioned bursting heart has become a considerable problem for me. It would seem that my breast lacks the strength to contain it, and my lips the willpower. Though I assure you that our secret is well and truly under my hat, as it were, I cannot help but let my heart pour out of my mouth at every opportunity by speaking of you. It is as if, in your absence, I seek to bring you with me wherever I go. I daresay Aberforth is sick of the sound of your name-though I suppose that conversing with me about anything is a far cry more enriching than the dull thoughts in his own mind. Forgive my cruelty towards my brother, but he has become nothing but an irritant to me. Grief, I believe, has set within him the desire to reach out, to never be alone with his thoughts. It has therefore come about that he has taken to tailing almost every hour of the day that he does not spend with poor Ariana, or about with the goats beyond the river. Merlin knows what he does there, but I wish he would do it more often. Grief, on the other hand, has made me rather retreat into myself, for, as you well know, I am best served in my own company. There is one exception, however-I am best served of all in yours. I live for our meetings. I only wish that they could be more frequent.

Tell me if you have had any more thoughts on IG. I still find that such an idea does not sit well in my mind, but I find myself more than willing to do anything you desire, to follow you anywhere, to the very ends of the earth. Such adventures await us, I am sure. We will see them one day, my darling. One day.

Until your owl, your loving and anxiously waiting wreck,

Albus

Al,

IG. Tomorrow night, two o'clock. I will slip a few drops of sleeping draught into Aunt Batty's evening whiskey to knock her out, in case the whiskey does not. Make sure your siblings do not bother us. Tomorrow, I pray, we sow the seeds.

Poor Ariana indeed. I do pity the child-but we must draw strength and conviction from her sad fate. She will not have to hide for much longer, Al, if you continue to help me. You can bring about her complete freedom, as you will for all our kind. I am sure it is what your parents would have wanted-their afflicted daughter liberated, and their brilliant son heading a new age of prosperity and power. MAGIC IS MIGHT.

It is only in you that I have met my match-intellectually, magically, and of course ambitiously. It is such happy coincidences-that you and I should be trapped here together against all odds-that make history.

Write back quickly.

Gellert.

PS: I love you too.

Dear Gellert,

I must have read your miraculous post-script over a thousand times. Upon its discovery, all of the air left my lungs as if I was falling a great distance. I am not sure I have landed yet-especially since I cannot stop reading it back. It is as your words are written in Vanishing Ink, that I must savour it as much as I can before it disappears forever, leaving no traces, except in my mind's eye, on which it is burned. Again, I believe that, by saying your name, or by reading your words, I bring you beside me. I lack the words to express to you exactly what knowing that you love me in kind means to me. Again, simplicity will have to suffice-I love you. A thousand times I love you.

Your love has made all doubt about IG in my mind vanish. I am yours. I will meet you and we will execute your plan exactly as you command.

Your concern for my sister touches me. I consider it my duty to care for my siblings, especially poor Ariana, but as selfish as I may seem, I cannot call it my joy. I do not believe that Ariana can truly understand what she has done, but something so catastrophic, even by accident, cannot have escaped her completely. She is not to blame, of course-but the hidden guilt seems to keep her up at night more than ever. She shouts most dreadfully and flings herself about the room in fits of grief, seeming immune to the bruises and cuts she inflicts on herself. It is only Aberforth who can calm her down when she is in this state. This gives me hope that the moment Aberforth has left school, he can care for her full-time, and you and I can truly begin our work. Perhaps we can even take the Grand Tour. With all due respect to my oldest friend, I believe that you would be infinitely better company than dear Doge. We ought to see as much of the world as possible, learn everything there is to learn. It can only be helpful to our cause.

I will see you at two and not a moment after. Only one more thing, my darling-though I trust your judgement completely and I am sure you will be proved right-you mustn't be too disheartened if your theory does not pay off. I don't think I could bear to see you upset. There are a thousand other places we can search-as I have said, we have the whole world to travel. I am devoted to your cause. I live for it, as I live for you.

I remain, your anxious and loving

Albus.