Albus
One Hundred
Watching people grieve has never been something Albus particularly cared for. He's had enough drama in his life to be more than happy with settling back and never leaving his home again. Unfortunately, his home happened to be Hogwarts'SchoolofWitchcraftand Wizardry and there would be no settling back or resting for him. Instead, Albus had funerals to attend to, and students to help through the grieving process.
It is almost surreal, attending the funeral of those you taught. It was a downfall of old age, Albus thought, that war can take lives all too briefly. Lily and James Potter had only been twenty-one years old when they were murdered. Most of this life, Albus had hated the phrase 'It seemed like only yesterday' but now he was beginning to understand it. Had it really been ten years since these children stood before him in the Great Hall waiting to be Sorted? It did not seem possible that they were all grown with lives and babies of their own.
Yet now they were gone and their child was in the hands of Muggles. Albus sighed to himself.
"Headmaster!"
Albus stops and turns to see Remus Lupin jogging up to him. He is dressed rather formally and far better than what Albus usually saw the boy in. He smiles at Remus as the boy catches up to him, slightly breathless.
"I'm sorry, I just wanted . . ." Remus hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully. Albus wonders mildly if he still is that much of an intimidating figure. He can't help but admit the thought pleases him. "I wanted to thank you for showing up. You meant the world to Lily and James. You really did."
That low feeling in his stomach is back and Albus nods. "They were wonderful people and will be sorely missed, certainly; most of all by their son."
Remus nods and looks downward. Albus suspects he is hiding tears. Yet, when he looks back up, his light blue eyes are clear. Remus simply smiles. "I'm told Harry is to go live with Lily's sister?"
"That was the choice I made, yes. Harry has no other family to take him in."
"Especially not since Sir-" Remus stops mid-sentence and swallows. "No, sir. You're right. Harry has no one else to take him in."
It hits Albus, then, how similar Remus' life and situation have been to his own. Remus may never have had to raise two teenagers after just reaching adulthood himself, but he certainly experienced the stigma of being something unwanted in his first few years at Hogwarts. Like Albus, he developed close and personal relationships with three outstanding young men. And just like Albus, he fell for one of them.
Both men have had to watch loved ones die at the hands of someone they trusted.
He invites Remus back to Hogwarts for afternoon tea and watches as the man struggles with his decision. Remus finally nods ad takes a deep breath, trying to give his former headmaster a smile that's far too happy for someone who has just lost his best friends. Albus doesn't press it. He knows it is only a defense mechanism.
Remus accepts the cup of tea with shaking hands and sips a little. Visibly, he starts to relax before Albus and the older man takes the advantage. "Remus, I will never be able to say how sorry I am for your losses. I loved Lily and James as well, but I know this is nothing compared to what you are going through."
Remus swallows, staring into his cup. "Lily and James died for their son, like they always said they would. I never . . . I never expected them to have to."
Albus ignores the small stabbing in his stomach. "I did my best to keep them as safe as I could, Remus."
"I'm not blaming you, Professor."
"You do not have to. I blame myself."
The younger man looks up, startled. "Professor Dumbledore, you have no reason to blame yourself. You couldn't stop Voldemort from targeting them."
"I failed to convince them having me as their Secret Keeper would have been the best option." Albus feels like a complete fraud just saying those words. Why on Earth should anyone entrust him with their lives? He's proven time and time again that it only ends badly. "I feel just as responsible as if I had handed the Potters to Voldemort myself."
A sarcastic, bitter snort leaves Remus at that. His fingers are now clenching his teacup so tightly, Albus is afraid the cup will shatter under them. Remus rolls his eyes and looks back down. "No, that was Sirius' job."
Albus knows that tone too well. The tone of wanting to believe everything about someone, to not see the bad that were within them, and still having issues dealing with it after the matter. He reaches out slowly with one hand and pats Remus' fingers. "You should not blame yourself either, Remus."
"I lived with Sirius. I should have noticed something."
"You loved him."
Remus looks up, shocked. "Excuse me?"
"Dear boy, do you think I am blind?" Albus gives a little smile at Remus, who is staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. "You think I am not aware of affections when I see them? I probably knew about you and Sirius before either of you was aware of your feelings for one another." Albus paused. "And though that might sound delightfully creepy, I have dealt with students – and their romances – every year since I was twenty-five. I am rather a master at spotting them by now."
Remus says nothing in reply and Albus wonders for a moment if he's offended the boy. "I trusted him," came the broken response moments later. "I trusted him with everything. Now look at where I am. I have no home, no job, and nowhere to go. He ruined me, Professor. He ruined me."
"Sirius did not ruin you." Albus is firm in his reply. "He has hurt you and he has betrayed you, but he certainly has not ruined you. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Remus, and you always have been. Believe me that I am going to do everything within my power to make sure you are taken care of."
"Unless you can give me a home and a job - "
"Now you are just feeling sorry for yourself," Albus says, his voice hard. "Feeling sorry for yourself will get you nowhere, Remus Lupin. Each man must make something of himself on his own. Do you think I became Headmaster of Hogwarts by sitting around and letting people do things for me? No. Life has never exactly been kind to me either, Remus. You would do well to remember that."
Remus looks up. "I know."
"I doubt you do."
"No, I know." Remus swallows a little and hesitates again before speaking. "In Muggle Studies our seventh year, we were assigned a paper over recent Muggle attacks, dating back to about the beginning of the twentieth century. Your . . . um . . . well, your father was in there."
"Unsurprising." Albus is slightly amazed, even though he will never let Remus know this. "It was a major scandal when it happened, and one I find that follows me to pop up at times."
"So . . . you have known someone that was in prison?"
"Many, yes."
The office is silent as each man finishes his tea. Albus watches Remus closely, looking for signs of an emotional breakdown. Remus, while obviously heartbroken over the recent events, seems to be carrying himself much better than Albus had expected.
"Do you think it is possible for someone in Azkaban to regret their decisions?" Remus asks, suddenly. "Even under the influence of the Dementors?"
"I would think almost everyone who entered Azkaban would regret the decision that brought them there. That's the Dementor's job."
"That's not what I meant." Remus looks frustrated with himself. "Do you think it's possible someone might have been sent to prison for the wrong thing? That possibly they have the wrong person?"
"Are you suggesting that Sirius Black is innocent?"
Remus hesitates. "I'm suggesting that things don't exactly hold up."
"What has been done is done," Albus says, and he watches Remus visibly deflate in front of him. Lowering his voice to a softer tone, Albus replies, "Remus, if I had any inkling whatsoever that Sirius might be innocent, I would use everything within my power to make sure he was out of prison. As it is, the evidence against him is too wide, and anyone who might be able to tell us differently has either been Obliviated or is dead. It would be well for you not to dwell upon it."
"Yes, Professor," Remus says simply, but Albus knows this isn't the end of it.
Gellert
Twenty Five
The wand shop is dirty and dusty and just the way Gellert remembers it. The floor is littered with wood shavings and Gellert resists the urge to sneeze. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs, stifling the noise. The last thing he needs is to be caught.
It's almost surreal to be here, standing in Gregorovitch's workshop. Things glitter around him, all ingredients the wand maker uses in his projects. They're beautiful and a different kind of magic than Gellert will never know. He wishes he had this ability, but Gellert believes he has enough talent without having this particular one.
It's almost impossible to know where to start, so Gellert starts with his instincts. It is doubtful Gregorovitch would leave the wand in the open, so looking around the bare room would be little more than ridiculous. He steps lightly across the floor, wanting to be as quiet as possible. Many local shops also double as homes for their owners and Gellert cannot afford to risk being caught. Gellert won't let anything come between him and the Elder Wand and he would greatly regret killing the wand maker. Yet, he was jumping ahead of himself; first he needed to find the wand.
Feeling a bit silly, Gellert starts rummaging through drawers, pulling apart books and folders and always carefully placing things back the way they were. He needs Gregorovitch to have no idea he has never been here.
After twenty minutes, Gellert is regretting having not thought this out more thoroughly. After twenty-five, he is completely frustrated. He has searched the entire workshop and thought he has found every place a wand could possibly be hidden. This couldn't have been a lie. The wand has to be here!
Frustrated, Gellert leans against the desk facing the bookcase. He stares at it menacingly, as if daring it to judge him for this supposed failure. Yet, something catches his eye; it is a dictionary in English that sits nestled between wand-making books, all written in German. He knows for a fact Gregorovitch can barely speak enough English to form a complete sentence. Why would he own a book in a language he neither spoke nor cared about?
Feeling butterflies in his stomach, Gellert pulls the book from the shelf. It is much lighter than it should be, proving to Gellert that it was hollow. He breathes a little sigh of relief and a short prayer of thanks to anything that will listen. He shakes the book; it rattles. Grinning, Gellert opens the book.
He has only a brief moment to look at the wand before the book starts shrieking in alarm. Knowing he has only seconds and cursing himself for his stupidity, Gellert grabs the wand and dashes toward the window. The door to the workshop slams open as Gellert reaches the open window. He pauses for half a second and listens as Gregorovtich screams at him to stop. Gripping the Elder Wand firmly in his hand, Gellert stands and grins at the man and steps backward out of the window. The moment before he hits the ground, Gellert Disapparates, landing again in his small flat.
He's still cackling as he hits the wooden floor. Gellert leans over and inspects the wand – certainly this is the real thing and not a fake. It feels heavy in his hands, but so powerful. Gellert flicks it gently and watches with glee as a spell shoots out. Almost dancing, Gellert puts the wand in his belt and collapses on his bed.
This is it. This is the official first step in his plans.
A brief flash of regret passes over him, one that reminds him he wasn't supposed to do this alone. One that reminds him Albus was supposed to be right here by his side.
Gellert buries that feeling quick. Albus is gone from his life and there is no sense of dwelling in the past.
"To victory!" he mutters to himself in the dark, grinning although no one can see him. "To the new world."
Albus
Seventy - Five
"You need to keep an eye on that Riddle kid."
Aberforth is cleaning off the top of his bar and making light conversation with his only remaining customer. Albus sips his brandy, watching his brother finish his closing duties and not saying a word. The Hogs Head, Hogsmede's newest bar, hasn't been in business terribly long. In the short time, it has become a popular hang out for locals who didn't feel comfortable doing their business in the Three Broomsticks. Aberforth doesn't seem to mind that his bar doesn't have the best reputation – if anything, he seems to thrive off of it.
Albus is proud of his younger brother. Aberforth has never quite had anything to do with his life. Although owning a shady bar filled with goats is not quite something Albus would have picked, he's glad Aberforth is happy. It has been a long time since Albus has seen his brother smile.
Back on the topic at hand, Albus raises an eyebrow and finally answers. "Eye on the Riddle boy?"
"He's up to something," Aberforth grunts, throwing the dirty rag in the sink. "He's been hanging around here while he's off work. I don't buy the goodie-two-shoes scenario he likes to play off with people. He and that group he hangs out with are up to something, and they're going to end up being dangerous."
Albus downs the rest of his brandy, feeling the liquid go smoothly down his throat. He sets his empty glass on the counter and watches as Aberforth throws it toward the sink. "He's worried me since I brought him to the school. I have tried keeping track of him, but he has proved to be an elusive person when he wants to be."
"Your watch needs to be closer."
Albus pins him with a look. "I just told you, I am doing my best."
The two brothers stare at one another, each with their eyes narrowed. Finally, Aberforth lifts a shoulder in what Albus assumes is his brother's version of a careless shrug. Instead, this one is stiff and full of tension. "He reminds me of someone. He's too charming. Too willing to do whatever it takes to make sure he goes somewhere. Riddle looks at people as though they are meat. I thought that might sound familiar to you."
Albus tenses as well, knowing where Aberforth is headed. "He has not bewitched me, if that is what you are insinuating."
"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened."
A wave of fury and frustration washes over Albus in a hurry and he has to close his eyes to keep his temper in check. When he opens them, Aberforth is staring at him with a knowing look. He knows he has hit a nerve. Not for the first time, Albus silently wishes he could punch his brother.
"Are you ever going to forgive me, Aberforth?"
"I don't know. I don't know you deserve forgiveness."
"I made a mistake. I am only human."
"Hell of a mistake to make," Aberforth snaps. "A mistake that cost me my sister."
Albus is rather proud he manages not to flinch. "She was my sister too."
Aberforth says nothing, but snorts in answer. Albus looks at the bar, speaking softly. "If I could go back in time, I would. I cannot change the past, Aberforth, and nothing I can say or do will ever bring Ariana back. We both know that. But I like to think that my actions after have shown remorse."
"Right."
"I would have thought putting him in prison for the rest of his life would have shown you where my loyalties lie."
Aberforth whips around at that, glaring at Albus with such an intense fury that for a moment, Albus is scared. "What I saw was a man who was bullied into actually having to act. I saw a man who only acted because the Minister of Magic asked him, and oh, he knew he was going to get handsomely rewarded. Wasn't that why they gave you your Order of Merlin? Yeah, I'm certain you were just dying to put Gellert Grindelwald away. It's amazing you didn't start snogging him during the duel."
"That's enough." Albus stands. "I am not going to stand here and listen to this. I know why I did that. If you are still too blinded by fury and anger, then that alone is your problem. I have done nothing but attempt to make amends with you, Aberforth. I have helped you, I have coddled you, and I have listened to you do nothing but demean my character. I am done, Aberforth. Think of me what you will. From this moment forward, I really could not care less."
He turns on his heel to walk out of the bar. Aberforth grumbles something behind him, but Albus is too mad to understand what he's said. In his heart of hearts, he knows why Aberforth is so bitter, and he knows he deserves every bit of that bitterness. He's through being walked on for it.
Still, as he makes his way back to Hogwarts, all he can hear is Aberforth's voice calling him a coward."
Gellert
Sixty-Two
It is a cold evening, with uncharacteristic bitter cod winds blowing through the streets of Baiersdorf and Gellert cannot help but shiver as it bites through his thick layer of clothing. It is late at night, far later than Gellert wanted to be out and about. The weekly meetings with his advisors had run a longer than normal. It was worth it; the ideas the advisors had presented were wonderful. If anything, Gellert is proud of how his progress is coming. He has all butBritainand theUnited Statesin the palm of his hand. First, he needed to reachBritain; once they fell, the States would follow soon after.
Getting past Britainwas going to prove to be difficult, it seemed. Gellert had sent letters of inquiry to their minister of magic, but wasn't surprised at all when they ignored his owls. He knows why they were hesitant; the influence of Albus Dumbledore still held power. It is unsurprising – Dumbledore's name is whispered even here. Rumors held that Gellert was afraid of him, but Gellert knows the truth. Albus is afraid of him, and it is only a matter of time before Gellert uses his particular brand of knowledge against the other man. Still, he is not prepared to meet his old partner face to face. Not yet.
His domination hasn't been terribly difficult. People are willing to listen to him and some are excited for the changes that were taking place. He's pleased with the way things have gone – even the few Muggles that are aware of his plans back him. It was just his luck the Muggles decided to go to war near the time of his take over. The Muggle Hitler has proven to be useful, but his time as being something Gellert can use is drawing to a close. Hitler has begun asking too many questions and his newest form of eliminating those he deems inferior is nothing short of disgusting and wasteful.
There are those that call Gellert a Dark Wizard, but it is a term he's never understood. Dark Wizards only care about themselves and only care about power. They slaughter without purpose to display their manhood and proof that they are the greatest living wizard. Gellert has to need to be assured he is the greatest wizard alive – he knows this to be a fact. He never kills unless he has to and the deaths involved in his takeover are done to better both words.
The opposition says nothing of the flocks of people who have bowed at his feet, claiming he is a god. They say nothing to the wizards and witches who have told him he is doing the right thing. They say nothing of the good he has done. No, all they see is Gellert Grindelwald: Dark Wizard.
It annoys him. Everything he does is for the greater good. Albus' words first, but they are words Gellert is willing to die for.
Gellert reaches his home and as he grabs for his keys, he stops to look. There is a bird perched on his doorstep, glowing a brilliant red against the darkness. The bird lets out a beautiful sound, one that sends chills straight down to his bones. Though he has never seen one in person, Gellert knows this is aPhoenix. It is a mystery to him why there is aPhoenixupon his doorstep, but Gellert attempts not to let it bother him. Instead, he unlocks his door and enters quietly.
The moment he enters, he knows there is someone in his home. Gellert slips his wand from his robes and mutters a quiet, "Lumos". Blue light fills the room and Gellet's eyes dart around, doing his best to find a shadow in the darkness. "I know you are here. Show yourself."
There is no answer and Gellert's eyes narrow. He lets out a frustrated grunt and demands, "Show yourself!" again. This time, there is movement from behind one of his large vases.
"I suppose it was foolish of me to think I cold hide from you." A clear English accented voice spoke in the darkness. Gellert freezes, recognizing the voice immediately. He swallows and grasps a tighter grip on his wand, raising it in an attempt to find the hidden man. Slowly, Albus moves from the shadows.
Albus hasn't changed much since he was eighteen. He is still tall and thin and his hair has not yet faded from its bright auburn. It has grown longer, past his elbows now and is almost long enough to tuck into his belt. On top of these things, Albus has grown a rather small beard. It is an interesting look, but one that is different from the Albus of his memory. Albus also has his wand raised at Gellert, and unlike age eighteen, there is no smile upon his face or any sense of fondness for his former lover.
Gellert clears his throat and attempts to look unconcerned. "Good evening, Albus," he says in English, his voice light and welcoming. "It is good to see you. I admit, you gave me quite a shock. Certainly you realize you could have knocked rather than breaking into my home?"
"I thought the shock might catch you off guard."
"So you endangered your life? I might have killed you."
"You would not have been able to." Albus' voice was just as light as Gellert's and he spoke as though they were having a chat over tea, and not three feet apart with wands pointing over the other's heart.
"I'll trust you. How did you get in?"
"When you left earlier; I disillusioned myself and slipped inside before you closed the door. I removed your lights as well." There is a small click and the lights in his home suddenly reappear. Gellert blinks, impressed.
"Impressive," he comments. "I didn't even sense you." He pauses, considering the other odd event of the night. "The phoenix on my doorstep, do you know it?"
Albus nods. "He belongs to me. I call him Fawkes."
Gellert shakes his head in amazement. "Only you would be able to domesticate a bird that can't be tamed. Would you mind if we lower our wands? My arm is rather tired and I will not attack you unless you attack me first. We were friends once, Albus. Certainly we should honor that?"
They stare at one another for a moment longer and Albus' wand lowers. Gellert follows him. "Since you're here, shall I make tea? It can't have been an easy journey from . . .London, I assume?"
"Scotland," Albus corrects. "Just outside of Hogsmede. Tea sounds wonderful, thank you."
With a flick of his wand, Gellert sets the teapot to boil. He offers Albus a variety of teas and is not surprised when the other man chooses the sweetest out of the bunch. Albus takes a seat as Gellert presents him with a teacup and he mutters thanks. After taking a sip, Gellert pins Albus with a look.
"I doubt you traveled fromScotlandto have tea with me. What are you up to, Albus? What are you trying to accomplish?"
Albus looks over his teacup. He doesn't speak, as though he is attempting to choose his words carefully and correctly. "We both know why I am here, Gellert," he says, finally. "You can not keep up with this."
"This?"
"Your plans."
"You are speaking of the plans we developed together?" Gellert prods, watching Albus' face for any signs of weakness. "Aren't you proud, Dumbledore? They've turned out quite nicely in my opinion and it won't be much longer before the revolution ends and the real work begins. I'm rather excited for it, I admit."
"I cannot be proud," Albus says as he sets his cut on a table near his chair. "You have twisted their meanings and made them what you wanted them to be. You are murdering, Gellert. You know I can not tolerate that."
"I'm making the world a better place. Sacrifices have to be made."
"You are using a fancy word to cover up needless murder," Albus argues. "We had this argument as boys and we are having it again today. There is never any excuse for murder, Gellert. Never. I have always stood by that."
"I see you are still traumatized by your father."
"I would hate to see another family destroyed like mine was."
"A fact you blame on me, I assume?"
Albus completely stills and stares at him with cold eyes. "This has nothing to do with our conversation."
"It has everything to do with our conversation," Gellert says, and he leans forward. "You forget, Albus, there was a time in your life you were just as passionate about my plans as I. You wanted to be a part of them – do you forget how we planned to rule together? You can hide behind your lies that I have twisted their meanings, but I haven't. 'For the Greater Good' – those were your words first."
Gellert is rather impressed that Albus manages not to flinch. "Words that I deeply regret."
"Words you believed nonetheless." Gellert rests against his seat again. "So, instead of waiting for me to come toBritain, you decided to come hunt me down instead. Brave of you, Albus. You believe you can stop me?"
Albus nods. "I believe I can."
Gellert cocks his head to the side. "If you had to kill me, would you?"
There is a significant pause after Gellert's question and Albus stares at him intently. "If I must. I would."
A bark of laughter escapes Gellert before he can stop himself. "God Albus, you are just so noble! I bet you're popular in your line of work. What is your line of work?"
"I'm a school teacher." The tone is almost defensive.
"A school teacher? Mein Gott, Albus. Oh, I bet they think you're just wonderful there, don't they? You have the entire damn country wrapped around your little finger. How would they feel if they knew you once curled against Dark Wizard Grindelwald and begged him to bugger you?"
"Gellert - "
Gellert stands before Albus can finish his sentence and walks toward the other man. He bends as he reaches him and takes Albus' face in his hands. Before he can jerk away, Gellert presses his lips against Albus'. He hears the growl of protest, but presses forward, licking his tongue against the other pair of lips. There's a resistance before acceptance and Gellert can't help but feel a twinge of victory as Albus' mouth opens beneath his. It's old movements they're doing, ones they practiced many years ago, yet still so comfortable. He allows himself this pleasure.
Gellert breaks away for a breath, but as he moves back in, Albus suddenly freezes. The mouth beneath his turns to stone. Gellert pulls away. "Albus, don't fight me. You know you want this."
"Whether I want it or not isn't the point," Albus says, and Gellert is pleased to hear the other man is as breathless as he is. "I know what you are trying to do and it isn't going to work."
"I'm not trying to do anything."
"You're trying to manipulate me."
"So suspicious."
"You taught me well."
That stings. "This isn't good enough for you? It's been years since we were together. Do you remember how we used to burn? There were times I could have sworn your skin was on fire. I've always associated you with flame."
"I distinctly remember you telling me that, once."
"It hasn't changed."
Albus' passive face doesn't change, but he pulls away from Gellert and gives him a cold stare. "What happened between us is over, Gellert. You aren't going to convince me to come to your side and I am not going to convince you to back down. Why waste time? This has to end."
It's sad what they've come to, Gellert thinks. He takes a step back. "There's no chance at all?"
"None."
He sighs. "Certainly you don't believe I'm just going to come quietly."
Albus shakes his head. "Not at all. I rather thought I would have to fight you."
"I will be there."
"Fantastic." Gellert has the nerve to give him a brilliant smile. "I look forward to defeating you." He laughs as Albus gives him a disgusted look and Disapparates without a word.
Albus
Sixty-Four
It is too quiet in the aftermath of the duel. The crowd that had gathered to witness slowly began to disperse and Albus is left to himself. He stands there panting, broken, and bruised and completely in awe of what just happened. He never really considered the option he would defeat Gellert and the reality still has yet to hit him. Authorities dragged Gellert's unconscious form to a safe place only moments ago. Albus was hesitant to let them take him, but they promised they were only going to stick him in a holding cell. He would be allowed to see Gellert once he wakes.
Healers invade Albus before he can get away from them. He complains and wiggles enough that soon, only one stubborn Healer is left. She slowly begins to clean and magic away to scuffs and bruises. He lets her, too tired to really argue. It is only when she gently touches his nose, broken once again, that he stops her.
"Don't."
She gives him a confused look. "Mister Dumbledore," she says, her voice heavily accented. "It won't take but a moment to heal. It will be painless."
"It isn't pain I'm worried with." Albus argues and he doesn't remove his hand. "Not my nose, please." He knows he must sound ridiculous. The breaks, both of them, are reminders of his foolishness and hard mementos Albus would rather keep. Slowly, she removes her hand and shrugs.
"As you wish, sir."
He breathes a sigh of relief and gives her a small smile. It is then that he really looks at the girl, and notices the fear in her eyes. The crest upon her uniform – the sign of the Hallows – informs Albus she was part of Gellert's revolution. She's scared, Albus knows, and he can't blame her. With this one duel, her entire future has changed. She is no longer a member of a winning side – she's jobless, leaderless, and possibly futureless. Nothing is certain anymore.
Albus touches her arm and she jumps, looking at him with wide eyes. He gives her a small smile. "You won't be destitute. You'll be taken care of."
The Healer snorts. "No clinic will hire me now. I will be lucky if they do not condemn me to death."
"You didn't know." Albus says, soothingly. "You didn't know what was really going on. People will see that."
She's furious, suddenly. "You believe I am stupid? I know what was really going on, Dumbledore, far more than you ever will. Grindelwald provided us hope – hope that one day we might not have to hide from the Muggles. Hope that maybe they wouldn't kill us when they discover who we are. Hope that one day Muggles and Wizards could live together. We have so much to learn from one another. Medicine alone would benefit greatly on both sides."
The Healer swells with passion as she talks, and Albus can't help but be impressed. He stands and reaches over to her. "What is your name?"
She hesitates. "Pomfrey."
Albus cocks his head to the side. "Pomfrey. That doesn't sound Germanic."
"It isn't. It was my husband's name – he was killed in the Muggle war." Pomfrey stops and looks down. "Do you mean what you say? That I will be taken care of?"
Albus reaches over and takes her hands in his. "Mrs Pomfrey, I promise I will do everything in my power to make certain you and yours are well cared for."
She gives him a smile, but is soon called away.
A hand touches Albus' shoulder and he whips around. The guard raises his hands in a sign of surrender and gives a tentative smile. "I apologize, sir. I just wanted to inform you the prisoner is ready for a visit. If you still wish to see him, that is."
Albus instinctively tenses, but takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Of course. If you would be so kind as to lead me?"
It is a short walk to the holding cell where Gellert is kept. The guard allows Albus fifteen minutes to say his piece and exit from the room. Albus doesn't care for this, if he's honest. Fifteen minutes to far too short of a time to tell Gellert everything that needs to be said. Instead of arguing, he simply agrees and takes a deep breath. The cell opens with a creak and Albus is given his first glimpse of Gellert.
His breath catches in his throat. Hours before, Gellert had been tall, proud and beautiful. The man before him, with his arms tied to the post behind him, hangs his head in shame. His entire body is slumped in defeat and Albus can't help the feeling of guilt that washes over him. He slowly enters the room, watching Gellert with every step he takes. The other man doesn't even move his head.
As he reaches Gellert, he bends down to see eye level with him. Gellert is awake and his blue eyes are staring holes into the ground. Behind his back, Albus can see Gellert's hands, which are clenched so tightly into fists that they're leaving red fingernail prints.
"Gellert."
"Go away." Gellert's voice grounds out.
"I am not going anywhere until I have the chance to speak with you."
Gellert's head snaps up and Albus finds eyes boring into his own. "I said go away. Now. Before I rip off these bindings and strangle you with my bare hands."
Albus can't help the chuckle that boils up from his gut. It's a sarcastic laugh. "I don't think you would want to do that. One defeat is enough for today, don't you think?" Gellert lets out a half scream at his words and lunges toward him, moving only inches before the bindings stop him. He looks up at Albus, fury raging on his face.
"I hate you."
"You don't hate me, Gellert."
"I do. I hate you with everything in me." Gellert is shaking now. "You took everything from me, Albus. Everything. Do you have any idea what you've even done?"
Albus nods and reaches out a hand to touch Gellert's cheek. The other man jerks his head away, but Albus never moves his hand. "What I did, Gellert, was save your life. You may not see it now. You man not ever see it. If you had continued down the path you were going, it would have eventually killed you."
"You've killed me anyway." Gellert snaps.
He shakes his head. "No."
There's nothing more to say to him now, Albus realizes, and he doubts Gellert will ever understand what has been done here. He stands and leaves, ignoring the manic laughter that follows him as he exits. The guard seems surprised.
He later learns that Gellert has been given multiple life sentences, all to be served within the walls of the prison he built. It's a fitting end, Albus thinks, even if he believes deep down he too should be joining Gellert.