Chapter 4
It was just after ten o'clock. Albus hurried to the hill near his house where he'd been playing with pebbles that morning. He was running late. Ariana had nearly destroyed the kitchen twenty minutes earlier. It had taken the brothers almost fifteen minutes to calm her down, and Albus had wanted to put the place back in order before he left. He felt a twinge of guilt, leaving now with his sister in such a state—but she would be fine with Aberforth. He was much better with her than Albus was, anyway, and she'd worn herself out, been asleep by the time he'd left.
Gellert was already at the hill. He lay in the grass, propped up on his elbows. He'd lit a few torches, and the firelight made it look like his face was glowing. He looked up as Albus approached, and the two exchanged a smile.
"So tell me," Gellert said as Albus sat beside him in the grass. "What's a mind like you doing in a little town like this? You're finished with school; if I were you, I'd be out traveling the world, researching basilisks or such for another SpellBound article."
"And what are you doing here?" Albus asked. "Just visiting your great aunt on your summer holiday?" His tone of voice conveyed his doubt.
Gellert grinned, and Albus smiled back involuntarily.
"My mother died," Albus said softly, looking away. "I've got to look after my brother and sister."
"Sorry about that," Gellert said. "How old are they?"
"Fourteen and fifteen. But my sister…" he hesitated. He shouldn't tell, not even Bathilda knew.
"Go on," Gellert said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Albus smiled. He didn't know why, he'd only met the boy a few hours ago, but somehow he felt that Gellert was worthy of the truth. "She's not…quite right. She has outbursts of magic, she can't control it. That's how Mother died. I think it might have been a Cascading Jinx or something. Really, she's the sweetest girl you'd ever meet, she wouldn't hurt a fly on purpose. But when she has a fit, the spells just happen."
"Has she always been that way?"
Albus shook his head. "When she was six, she was attacked. I don't know exactly what they did to her, though I have my suspicions, but she's never been the same since. Three Muggle boys."
"Gits," Gellert muttered.
"Anyway, I can't leave her. She can't go to Hogwarts; it's too dangerous. And Aberforth still has three years to go."
"So, as the oldest, you need to be the responsible one even though it means getting the short end of the stick," Gellert concluded.
Albus smiled again. "I suppose that's one way of putting it." He turned to Gellert again. The flames from the torch were dancing in his eyes. "So what are you doing here?"
Gellert studied Albus a moment before responding. "What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?"
The name threw Albus back in time and into Hogwarts Castle. He was in his second year, looking through the restricted section of the library for a History of Magic essay. The book had been ancient, and it had provided very little information for his essay (Wizard-Muggle Relations in the 15th Century), but there had been a short section that had caught his attention because it had mentioned his favorite fairy tale, the Tale of the Three Brothers. The book hinted not only that the brothers of the tale were real people, the Peverell brothers, but that the items in the story were real as well, that seekers were calling them the Deathly Hallows, and that any wizard who united them would be the Master of Death.
The idea would have been appealing to his 12-year-old mind even if he had not received word less than a month ago that his father had died in Azkaban. Though he had always loved the story growing up and been fascinated by it, the idea that it could be real had captured his mind and not let go. A Resurrection Stone would mean he could bring his father back. An Invisibility Cloak would mean that Ariana wouldn't need to be kept in the cellar, but could go out and play like little girls ought to be able to do. And an unbeatable wand…
Albus had already known that he was better at magic than any of the other students, even seventh-years, and probably better than most of the teachers, and that was just with his ordinary wand. The thought of what he could do with a wand of that power had taken hold of him more so than any of the others.
Albus had spent the next years trying to find anything else he could on the subject. Teachers easily allowed him access to the restricted section despite his young age, and he'd read story after gruesome story about wizards who claimed their wands were the best, boasted of the magic they could perform with them, and then got murdered for their troubles.
Yet he heard nothing more of any invisibility cloaks that were better than any others, and no book ever mentioned any artifacts, stone or otherwise, that could awaken the dead. As the years had passed, the idea of the Hallows had slowly slipped to the back of Albus's mind, and though it had remained there—he'd never forgotten about them—he focused his attention and research instead on Transfiguration, on discovering new spells, on becoming the best pupil Hogwarts had ever seen.
"The Deathly Hallows," Albus whispered, looking at Gellert in the dark. "I haven't thought about those in years."
Gellert's face lit up. "You know about them then?"
"I wanted to find them when I was younger," Albus said. "I can't tell you how many hours I spent in the library…"
"The library," Gellert said with a laugh. "Forget the library. Come with me." He rose suddenly off the ground, and Albus scrambled up as well. Gellert grabbed his hand and Disapparated them.
They appeared in a cemetery. A second glance told Albus it was the Godric's Hollow cemetery, the same one his mother had been buried in last week.
"Lumos," Gellert said. He cast the light on one tombstone, then the next one. Soon he was running from grave to grave. Albus lit his own wand and hurried to keep up with him. "Help me," he said. "We're looking for Peverell."
Peverell. Of course, the brothers. They were buried here, in Godric's Hollow? Albus was certain he'd never come across the information before—he would have remembered if the supposed owners of the objects he so desired had lived in the same town that was Albus's home.
With a thrill of excitement Albus had not felt since the start of NEWT exams, he and Gellert both ran up and down the aisles of tombstones, casting their wandlight on each one in turn.
"Here," Albus called a minute later. Gellert dashed over to join him. "Is this the one?"
Gellert's beam of light joined Albus's. "Yes," Gellert breathed. "Ignotus Peverell. Come here," he said, taking Albus's hand and dragging him to the head of the grave. "You see that?" he said, pointing to a symbol carved over the name. "That's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows." He held his left hand up, the palm facing Albus, and drew the mark with his wand. "The wand…." A straight line burned into his skin like a tattoo. "The stone." A circle joined the line. Then a triangle surrounded them. "The cloak," Gellert finished triumphantly. "The Deathly Hallows."
"I've never met anyone else who believed in them before," Albus said, staring at Gellert. "That's why you've come here. You think they're real, you want to find them."
"Of course they're real. You've heard of the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny. It's the Elder Wand of the tale."
"And the Resurrection Stone?" Albus said. This had been the one that caused the most doubt. Wands were obviously real, invisibility cloaks were real even if most of them were not as perfect and infallible as the Tale of the Three Brothers implied. But the stone, as much as Albus wanted to believe, had seemed so far-fetched. The closest thing Albus had come across in his reading was a Philosopher's Stone, and while clearly powerful, keeping someone alive didn't seem nearly as impressive as bringing someone back from death. "You really think the stone is real, too?"
"Yes! Think, Albus. Think what we could do if we had them. You could bring back your parents, to start."
The longing expression that crossed Albus's face was very brief, but Gellert caught it, and it was enough for him. He grabbed Albus's right hand with his left and pressed their palms together. Albus felt a momentarily tickling sensation in his hand, and when they pulled apart, the Deathly Hallows symbol was burned in his palm, too.
—
Albus dreamt vividly that night. Gellert kept appearing, whispering promises in his ear, then laughing and vanishing again. Albus soon realized he had the Cloak of Invisibility, the Hallow, that was where he kept going. But not just that—he had all three. Albus wanted the Stone, but Gellert wouldn't give it to him. Just when Albus caught up with him to take it, he disappeared under the Cloak again. Albus tried to follow the sound of his laughter. He started to grow frustrated. He pleaded with Gellert, though he couldn't see him, begging to let him have the Stone so he could bring back his parents.
"But they're already back," a voice whispered in his ear. And there Gellert was, beside him, his eyes twinkling at Albus, the sun shining in his hair. His gaze followed where Gellert pointed, and sure enough, there they were. Standing on the hillside, happy and whole, holding hands with Ariana while Aberforth smiled with them.
"Now you'd better hurry up," Gellert said, taking both Albus's hands in his. "Or we'll miss our portkey. Don't you know it's tradition, Albus, for wizards to take the Grand Tour after they've finished school?"
Albus began to laugh. Here he was, the whole world before him, this handsome boy beside him, his family waving, happy to see them off…
When he woke, he did not want the feeling of contentment to go away. Would it really be possible? If he had the Resurrection Stone…why shouldn't it be? Would they be able to find it, Albus supposed, would be the better question. Well, maybe Albus or Gellert on his own wouldn't be able to find it, but if they worked together…
He'd known him less than a day, but it had taken Albus only minutes to realize that Gellert was like no one he'd ever met. Never had anyone been able to keep up with Albus, match his train of thought, make connections as quickly as he could. The others, even the ones Albus knew were smart themselves, were always amazed at what Albus could do with his wand and with his mind. Gellert hadn't looked at him that way. He'd looked at Albus and seen an equal, someone to conspire with, not ask for advice or instruction or leadership.
Albus threw his covers back and jumped out of bed. He wanted to see Gellert again, he had to. He raised his hand and inspected the palm, where the symbol of the Deathly Hallows was still etched into his skin.
A glance out the window told him Aberforth was out back with the goats, and after hurriedly dressing, Albus rushed downstairs and met him.
"Aberforth," Albus said, and the younger brother looked up from the goat he was petting. "I have to go out, I need to meet someone. Could you make breakfast for Ariana when she wakes?" He left without waiting for an answer. It was a formality, more than anything. Of course Aberforth would tend to Ariana while he was gone. He would be back later anyway.
As he made his way down to Bathilda's, mind running wild as he anticipated what he and Gellert would talk about, Albus got the strange feeling he was being followed. He glanced round automatically but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. A Muggle down the street was reading a newspaper on his front porch, but it was still quite early in the morning and there was no one else in sight. Albus put the matter out of his mind and continued on his way.
Gellert probably thought the Cloak was here in Godric's Hollow, or if not the Cloak itself, at least a way to trace it. That was why he'd come. The wand shouldn't be too difficult to find, it was the most famous and had probably passed through the most hands…
Albus stopped in his tracks again. He was still a few houses away from Bathilda's, still the only one out on the street, and yet he could swear someone was following him. He turned back again, this time scanning the fences and shrubs along the street to see if anyone was hiding in there.
And then he heard it—something, a noise, from somewhere. Not a voice, but not an animal, either. A rustling? But where? The air was still. Albus turned around in a circle, deliberately, concentrating with all his might.
Then out of nowhere, a finger tapped his back.
Albus whipped around. He heard the noise again, and this time realized was it was—a soft laugh. Then he could swear he detected movement (though what was moving, he couldn't tell). However, he was prepared for the tap on his back this time, and grabbed the hand before the person could duck out of reach.
The fingers struggled in his, but Albus had a firm grip. He heard the laugh again, and smiled back, though he wasn't sure where his face was. Once he felt out the fingers in his hand, he could just make out their outlines, just barely. He looked up, trying to determine the rest of Gellert's outline now that he knew it was there, but he couldn't quite manage it. He detected movement again—it looked like the air was shifting—and then Gellert was there, fully visible and grinning at Albus.
"Very clever," Albus said. "I've never seen anyone perform a Disillusionment Charm before; how ever did you manage it?"
Gellert laughed again. "I'd like to see you do a better one. You never would have found me if I hadn't gotten bored and made it easy for you."
Albus smiled. He twirled his wand and disappeared before Gellert could have a chance to prepare himself, then took off at a run.
He went to Bathilda's home and into her back garden. Gellert followed him, able to predict that he wanted to get out of the Muggle street and somewhere private.
"Homenum Revelio," Gellert said, pointing his wand into the yard.
"That's cheating!" Albus said.
Gellert laughed and hurried in the direction of Albus's voice and the spell. Albus darted away again. Gellert's eyes started to follow him, but had soon lost him. "Finite!" he shouted, pointing his wand several feet to the left of where Albus stood.
Albus laughed, involuntarily giving away his position. Gellert grinned and lunged for him. Albus dodged him, but Gellert drew his wand again. The counterspell was on Gellert's lips, but Albus quickly thought, Protego!, and the Disillusionment Charm remained active. However, he was now surrounded by a faint blue light, and his own Shield Charm prevented him from going anywhere. He and Gellert looked at each other—or rather, Albus looked at Gellert, and Gellert looked at the place where he knew Albus must be. Both were waiting, calculating their next move. Albus acted.
He silently got rid of his Shield Charm and made a run for it, but he wasn't quick enough. Gellert tackled him, taking him the ground. Albus shivered as the large hands ran across his invisible chest, feeling for his arms. He lay quite still in the grass, content to have Gellert use the sense of touch to feel out precisely where Albus was. A light hand traced his face, and Albus took advantage of the moment being invisible to stare shamelessly at the strong jaw, the light pink lips, the sapphire eyes. He really was such a beautiful boy.
Gellert was looking at Albus know—he'd estimated where his eyes were, though he couldn't see them. Or maybe he could, barely, at least when Albus blinked.
"Finite," Gellert whispered again, barely moving his wand because his right hand was pinning Albus's wrist to the ground.
Now that Gellert could see him, Albus suddenly felt shy and self-conscious about their closeness. Maybe Gellert sensed it or maybe not, but either way, he smiled at Albus quickly before getting off him, then reaching his hand out to help him up from the ground.
They walked toward the house together. "Did you eat breakfast?" Gellert asked as they entered the empty kitchen. He Summoned the tea kettle from the stove and began to fill it with water from his wand.
"Not yet," Albus said. "Where's Bathilda?"
"Taking her 'morning constitutional,'" Gellert said. He winked at Albus. "We won't be overheard."
Albus smiled back and helped Gellert make breakfast.
"So you've lived here all your life?" Gellert asked, waving his wand and causing eggs to crack over the hot pan.
"Not quite. We moved here from Mould-on-the-Wold when I was ten. That was when…" He trailed off, but Gellert gave him a searching look. "Ariana," Albus explained. "My father went after the Muggle boys that did it. They took him to Azkaban for it. That's when Mum brought us here."
Gellert shook his head. "If it weren't for the stupid Statute of Secrecy, that never would have happened. No Muggles would dare to try hurting a witch. And even if they did, no one would try to imprison your father for getting revenge."
"I don't think they'd have sent him there if they knew the real reason why," Albus said fairly. "But he couldn't tell them. They would have taken Ariana to St Mungo's if they knew her real condition."
"Things would be so different if we were out in the open," Gellert said. He stirred the eggs a moment before turning to Albus. "Just think what it would be like with no Statute of Secrecy. Wizards and witches performing magic whenever we want without any fear of some stupid Muggle seeing and blabbing. We'd be free, truly free."
"We weren't free before the Statute of Secrecy," Albus pointed out without looking at Gellert. He ran his wand over a piece of bread, toasting it. "Muggles have always been scared of magic. They'd strip witches and wizards of their wands before imprisoning and even killing them. Sure, plenty of us were able to escape, but not everyone. Especially the children. Ariana would probably still have been attacked."
"That's because we let the Muggles control us, instead of us controlling them," Gellert said. Albus glanced at him and could see fire dancing in his eyes as he spoke. He seemed to have forgotten about the eggs entirely. Albus put the fire out under the pan to stop them from burning. "Think, Albus!" Gellert said, grabbing his arm and making eye contact. Albus noticed that his Eastern European accent got slightly thicker with his passion. "We have powers that Muggles can only dream of. If we came together as a society to use it, to take what is rightfully ours, just think what life would be! Muggles would never dare to challenge our authority, would respect us the way we deserve."
"What are you talking about, Gellert?" Albus asked, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt. "The Statute of Secrecy has been in effect for over 200 years. It took ages to get all the Ministries of Magic of the countries to agree to it. No one's going to overturn it."
"No," Gellert agreed, "unless—"
He was interrupted by the kitchen door opening and a red-cheeked Bathilda walking in. "Oh, hello, Albus," she said cheerfully. "You boys made breakfast? Excellent. Why don't you pour us a cup of tea?"
Gellert gave Albus a significant look. It was much like the one they'd exchanged the previous afternoon. This conversation was not over.