Outtake –Contrasts and a small mistake

(Between chapters 14 and 15)

It was a wonderful morning in mid-January. The rising sun's first rays shimmered on the snow and on the ice around the edges of the lake. The water rippled in the middle where it hadn't frozen over.

The castle had been quiet when Grindelwald woke, but by now several students were awake. Some might even beat him to the breakfast tables, which was fine, it wasn't a competition, and... it wasn't like he deserved an early breakfast. Or any sort of breakfast at all.

He had dreamt about people he had let down, about people whose deaths he had once considered acceptable losses. He hadn't really minded, back then, but he bitterly regretted that attitude now. Worst of all was how they now ignored him. There had been no ghost to keep him company in Nurmengard and even that chance meeting with Henry and his muggle partner at Halloween only served as a reminder of how utterly alone he was.

Unforgiven.

Still lost in thought, he cast a colour-changing spell, ensuring that his (normally blue) right eye remained brown. Or bronze, as some of the teachers were now teasing him, in reference to one of the House colours.

It was welcome, to be teased. It meant they didn't fear him. From the half-goblin Ravenclaw leader, it wasn't even degradatory, it meant 'you're one of us' and in his softer moments Grindelwald felt inclined to accept that bond. He had never been Sorted, but considering it was his thirst for knowledge that had gotten him expelled and exiled, he might have had Ravenclaw traits in his youth. He certainly wasn't a Slytherin, he hated hiding in the shadows. He was no Hufflepuff, that was out of question, and so was Gryffindor: he could keep out of sight when he absolutely had to.

From the wintry panorama he turned back to the spacious room. He didn't deserve any of this. Not the opportunity to teach, nor the comfortable accommodation and the full meals, definitely not the illusion of belonging to a house. He belonged to nowhere but the bleak and abandoned Nurmengard, where he would be safely locked away from his victims... and from their descendants, he corrected himself, considering his students of various origin.

With a sigh, he grabbed a quill and started to plan out the Deutsche Sprache lessons for the following week. He had intended to teach some adjectives and give a brief overview of Durmstrang this month, but the student for whom he had chosen the topic had landed herself in the Infirmary after a dose of tainted Polyjuice. He had to save the school discussion for the time when those effects wore off.

To catch a break, he dispelled the sphere around Riddle's diary, and wrote a half-lie about some late homework. The friendly tone of the reply reassured him that the dark object had no sense of time, and neither did it detect the powerful spell Gellert had surrounded the booklet for over an entire day.

He cast the copying spell, then put the diary down and continued with his lesson plans. He wished his pupils could bring up their own prompts for the extracurricular, but their vocabulary wasn't on that level yet. And, most bitterly, Grindelwald remembered he wouldn't be here for long enough for that to happen.

There were his other notes on the bookshelf above the worktable, he summoned them and jotted down a few additions to many - including the school comparison lesson plan. In Durmstrang they taught the basics of dark magic, in Hogwarts, the children could only learn how to defend themselves from it (in a good year). In Durmstrang, you got expelled if you went beyond the curriculum, but you could earn a reward for great services to Hogwarts after creating a horcrux. (No, this wouldn't pass as school appropriate topic, he realized. He crossed it out. He bitterly wished he hadn't been refrained so easily, but he was a prisoner here and he had to abide the rules Dumbledore had set.)

He continued the same sheet with a different aspect. Durmstrang focused solely on wizarding people's education about their own culture, so there weren't any classes about muggles and the children born from them weren't taken in, either. Meanwhile, Hogwarts staff actively worked on bringing the two worlds together. The current headmaster of Durmstrang was a pardoned death eater (he had to look up the word in German, to be sure, but it was 'Todesser' – a literal translation) still being watched closely, while the headmaster of Hogwarts was the Supreme Mugwump who got away with minor breaches of the Statute of Secrecy.

He imagined his lesson plans would ruffle some feathers and make Albus's hair even whiter than it was now, but nobody could accuse him of spreading his own ideas this time. With a shrug, he dried the parchment and levitated it back to the bookshelf. He was meant to be working on the next lesson's theme chart, anyway. Last week they had covered Quidditch and numbers from eins to einhundert-fünfzig; maybe they could discuss the basics of strategy and directions next. He'd have to be careful not to get carried away, these were beginners who hadn't spoken a word of German before late November last year.

He was writing down the word 'die Täuschung' when he had a vision of Dumbledore finding the diary and the copied sheets next to it. The man seemed sad and burdened.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Whenever he'd spotted Albus in the past three and a half months, the old man appeared cheerful and his occlumency shields were tight like a rock wall. But in this vision, he didn't care about the appearances. He was crumbling under the weight of being the sole hero and nominal leader of the magical world. Grindelwald had pointed this out to him, sarcastically, several times, but only now did he get a true glimpse of the toll this responsibility was taking on his once-equal. At the peak of Riddle's reign it must have been even worse on him, organizing an unofficial fighting group and doing his best to cooperate with the local Ministry and with all those who couldn't be trusted.

Well, it was Albus's choice not to share world leadership with him.

An unbidden thought rose. Was it? Wasn't it Grindelwald who ran away after their first clash? And who was the first to call the other an enemy?

His thoughts returned to the barren prison that was his rightful share of the Wizarding World. And to Albus passing the wards as he had come asking for his help.

He focused on the diary and the dark magic seeping from the pages. He had a duty here. Albus was an enemy and he had long since accepted that, but the school Albus was leading was full with people who were magical, hence, his responsibility.

In the end, it was simple as that. Magicals were his people. He owed them.

He had his duty.

He reached for the rowan wand that had slowly accepted him, and dwelled into the magic that immediately reconnected with him.

Deciding he wasn't as skeletal as five months prior, he pointed the wand at his left eye, turning it to blue. He had already told the fifth and sixth years he'd been using self-transfiguration in his youth, and how that had been one of the first topics that had brought him and the headmaster close. There was no harm in blue eyes.

He was halfway down to the Great Hall for breakfast when his path crossed with Dumbledore's. The old wizard looked at him, confused. Something had to be off, but to both their annoyances Albus couldn't tell exactly what was wrong.

It took almost a minute of awkward silence before Dumbledore laughed out, his merry twinkle glimmering honestly in his eyes. "All right, so which eye colour did you plan to go with today, Abernathy?"

Grindelwald gave his defeater, one-time rival and former arch-nemesis a confused look.

Still grinning, Dumbledore pulled out his wand (the wand won from him almost half a century before) and pointed it at one eye. "Finite."

Oh. He hadn't been paying attention and had miscoloured both.

"I hope at least I made your day with this," Grindelwald growled, too proud to say thanks.

"Oh, you definitely did," Albus replied. "You looked so odd with brown on the right and blue on the left."

Oh, Albus, he was so careful not to show how much that hostile 'gratitude' had hurt him. The temporary Defence teacher took a breath. Maybe he should try and return the lack of abuse with a somewhat nicer attitude. "Heading to breakfast? I thought you'd take the opportunity to sleep in."

"Wizengamot session at nine," Dumbledore sighed. His earlier mirth was gone, but so was his hurt at the superficial jab.

Grindelwald remembered an earlier vision of a blond boy writing a peevish letter and demanding the Whomping Willow to be cut out in revenge for a sports tool. "If you see Malfoy, tell him to buy another broom for his heir. The current one will be broken in a childhood dare after quidditch training sometime next week."

Albus seemed to be wondering if replacement of a broom even before the former one would be broken would be wise, but then he realized that couldn't be Grindelwald's plan. Indeed, Gellert was counting on the opposite to happen.

The headmaster, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump nodded before finally admitting, "I missed the company of a true seer."