"Normal speech"
Thoughts
"Mental speech"
"Non-English speech"
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.
Chapter 36
Gellert paced across the small room nervously as he waited for Severus to arrive. After some consideration, he had decided to remain in the converted storage crate until the potions master returned to Hogwarts. After that, he would relocate to Spinners End. While Severus had not complained about the shared living quarters while his house remained under surveillance, Gellert had seen enough to recognize that the man far preferred solitude over forced company. In contrast, Gellert, after suffering five decades of near total isolation, was desperate to be around people.
Why isn't Severus here yet?
Severus apparated into the room, Hellspawn on his shoulder. Gellert saw that he was already in his Mordred disguise. Severus quickly surveyed his appearance, taking in the fine burgundy dress robes and carefully combed hair. He said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow in amusement. Gellert refused to feel embarrassed. He would be seeing Albus for the first time in forty-five years. His vanity demanded that he make a suitable impression.
"You are certain?" Severus asked.
"Yes. Let's go beard the lion in his den." Gellert took Severus's proffered arm, and they disapparated.
They reappeared on a quiet muggle street across from a row of townhouses. Gellert waited as Severus crossed the street and then disappeared. The Fidelius at work. A few minutes later, he emerged, walking back to Gellert and handing him a small scrap of parchment. He read it, recognizing Albus's handwriting despite the long years. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Gellert looked up as another building popped into view. A middle-aged witch watched them from the open doorway, staring sternly at him. He flashed her a charming smile and bowed low. Beside him, Severus rolled his eyes.
Crossing the street, he bowed again when he reached the entrance. "Madame, might I beg entry to your honored establishment?" Rising, he returned the scrap of parchment to her, eyes dancing merrily in amusement.
The woman's lips pursed into a tight frown. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Lord Grindelwald," she said, tone obviously struggling to remain polite. She likely remembers the days when I was in power. Gellert recognized a Scottish accent.
"Minerva McGonagall," Hellspawn supplied. "A potential ally."
Hellspawn launched himself from Severus's shoulder and circled once around McGonagall before landing on Gellert. The woman raised her eyebrows at this. At her evident surprise, Gellert chuckled softly.
"I am no longer the man I was fifty years ago, madame. Though the blood on my hands can never be cleansed, I shall attempt as best I can to make amends."
McGonagall nodded curtly, her expression easing slightly. Good. She might never like me, but she might be able to work with me.
"Perhaps we should go inside, Headmistress McGonagall?" Severus asked. She stepped aside to let them in, and then led them silently down the hall. Gellert noted the severed house elf heads mounted to the walls, the troll leg table, and half a dozen dark artifacts as they walked. What a lovely base of operations. I think I actually prefer the storage crate.
There were only two people in the kitchen when they entered. Gellert guessed that Albus had wanted to limit the potential for conflict that his mere presence would engender. A heavily scarred man with a bright blue magical eye leaned against one wall. From Severus's description, Gellert immediately identified him as Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.
The other man was Albus.
Gellert's breath caught momentarily, but he quickly forced himself under control. From what little he had seen of it, Severus's polyjuiced impersonation of the man had been excellent. However, no one could truly capture the full force of Albus's presence, his exact mannerisms, his inner nature. Gellert loved the man almost as much as he loathed him, and there was no substitute for the real thing.
Albus Dumbledore had clearly been pacing the room, filled with the same nervous energy that Gellert had felt earlier. His sparkling blue eyes widened a fraction as he took in Gellert's appearance. Gellert allowed himself a small smile. Surprised I look so much better than you expected, Albus? We have Severus to thank for that. And how nice to see that, despite the years, I can still read you. Albus, for his part, looked worse than Gellert had expected from the polyjuiced impersonation. He looked older, more tired. Difficult week, Albus? He wore relatively sedate robes of deep blue. Gellert remembered that Albus had worn something similar the first time they had gone out to dinner together. A conscious choice?
"Hello, Albus," Gellert said. "It has been a long time."
-DVDVDV-
Albus Dumbledore paced restlessly in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It had required a surprising amount of persuasion to convince the Order members not to assemble en masse for today's meeting. I am losing control of them, too, he realized. Not just Hogwarts and the Ministry. Gellert's escape, the prince's insinuations . . . it's all too much, too soon.
Alastor Moody, of course, had insisted on staying. Surprisingly, so had Minerva. No amount of arguing had managed to persuade her otherwise. Sirius had wanted to be part of the meeting, insisting that this was his house. Fortunately, Molly Weasley had managed to convince him to remain upstairs, ostensibly to protect the children in case anything did happen. A good thing, too. Sirius might mean well, but he does not think through the consequences of his actions, nor can he always control his temper. He might say something to Gellert or Mordred to cause an explosion. And his judgment is so woefully blinded by his prejudices . . . . After the Azkaban breakout, he proved that he cannot be trusted with anything important.
Albus continued to pace. He knew he was not ready to see Gellert again. He was not sure he ever would be. He had never loved anyone since, not as he had loved that laughing, mischievous blond. If it hadn't been for Ariana . . . . He cut off that train of thought. There was no use in dwelling on might-have-beens.
Someone knocked on the front door.
"I'll get it," Minerva said. "Albus, stop pacing. You're acting like a nervous fourth-year." Moody chuckled.
Albus stilled, waiting for Minerva to return. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard faint footsteps from the hall. A moment later, the kitchen door opened to reveal Minerva, followed by Mordred and . . . and Gellert.
Albus's eyes widened when he saw his former lover enter with Mordred's magnificent phoenix perched on his shoulder. Gellert was so much older than he remembered. He knew that he was no longer young himself, but the difference struck him painfully. So many lost years. The laughing young man was gone . . . No, Albus realized, his eyes are the same. The windows to the soul. They still sparkle just as they did all those years ago.
Gellert looked better than he did in his wanted posters, Albus saw. He was thin, but not as skeletal as the photograph had made him seem. He had a full head of hair – white, of course, rather than the blond he remembered so fondly – not the wispy baldness from the posters. And someone – Mordred, Albus assumed – had replaced his teeth. All told, he looked surprising healthy.
And handsome, a small voice in his head said. Albus fought to ignore it.
"Hello, Albus," Gellert said, his German accent stronger than he remembered. "It has been a long time."
"Gellert," Albus replied. "I . . . I have missed you." And Albus was surprised that it was true. Didn't I want you to remain in Nurmengard?
Gellert smiled, but it was a sad smile, lacking in the familiar mirth. "Then you should have visited. I accept that I needed to be stopped, that I deserved my imprisonment. But there are provisions allowing for the visitation of prisoners for a reason. Five visits only, the last on Christmas day, 1950. My last Christmas present. I know you were busy, rebuilding the wizarding world. But forty-five years is a very long time, Albus. A very long time."
"I –" Albus began, then stopped. Gellert had always made it harder for him to think clearly.
"Before we go any further," Moody said, breaking the awkward silence, "I want one thing cleared up. I can maybe accept that he," he nodded at Mordred, "is fighting for the light. You, however," he nodded at Gellert, "are another matter entirely."
Gellert nodded. "Auror Moody, I presume? I admit that it does seem dreadfully unlikely, given my history. But I have had time – considerable time – to reflect. I was – and am – a monster. But sometimes you need a monster to fight a monster. Or so my friend Mordred has told me." He smiled, eyes twinkling.
"And you expect us to believe that you aren't just going to take Voldemort's place?" Moody demanded.
"I have tried ruling before, when I was younger and stronger. I failed then. Why should I expect to succeed now?"
"Then what is your objective?" Minerva asked, speaking for the first time. "If we defeat You-Know-Who, what will you do then?"
"In the unlikely event I survive, you mean?" Gellert asked, amusement evident. "I do not know. Returning to Nurmengard seems rather foolish. Perhaps a quiet retirement?" He glanced at Albus. Is he asking me to join him? Albus fought the temptation to ask.
"Swear it," Moody demanded. "I want an Unbreakable Vow."
"Surely that is not necessary –" Albus began.
"Of course," Gellert replied genially. "Mordred, if you would take my hand? Auror Moody, would you care to act as bonder?"
Mordred and Gellert both knelt on the kitchen floor, each grasping the other's right hand. Moody, surprised, took a moment to stomp over. He touched the tip of his wand to their entwined hands.
"Will you, Gellert Grindelwald, assist in the destruction of the wizard born Tom Riddle?" Mordred asked.
"I will." A thin stream of fire shot out of Moody's wand, weaving around the joined hands.
"And, should he be destroyed, will you refrain from taking his place?"
"I will." A second stream of fire joined the first.
"And finally, will you aid our allies for so long as they remain true?"
"I will." There was a final stream of fire, finalizing the Vow.
For the first time since the dementors had attacked Harry, Albus relaxed. Even Moody seemed to ease. Working with Gellert again . . . I never thought it would happen. We parted so badly, and when I realized what he'd become . . . . But he's changed. There's a phoenix on his shoulder. I would never have guessed it had I not seen it.
For the first time since the dementors attacked Harry in Little Whinging, Albus Dumbledore felt hope.
A/N: Please review!