Outtake scene - Dumbledore's realization
(During chapter 18)
Albus believed in the power of love but at times like this he was most tempted to abandon the concept; to agree with Tom Riddle's belief that love was a weakness.
After all, it had been love that drove his father to avenge Ariana, love that blinded him to the true darkness behind Grindelwald's intentions and love that prevented him from finally confronting him despite the atrocities he had committed. Now it was love that tore at him as he realised the consequences of his own careless actions once again.
He resented Grindelwald, hated him even, but he loved Gellert. Gellert was the boy that had researched with him, that had understood him and brought treats from his homeland over for tea. Grindelwald was the man that tore his life apart with a single curse, killed his sister and alienated his brother. Maybe it was also love that made him hate him more for that single moment than all the other atrocities he had committed.
It was Gellert that he had found in Nurmengard after 48 years and he'd been overjoyed to find his old friend. A hope had rekindled among the nerves, that maybe, just maybe he could regain his friend.
Of course, Gellert had ignored him for the entirety of the term. No, that was wrong, not ignored him, just not paid him much attention. Whether the many extracurricular activities were designed to avoid having to speak to him or a genuine want to teach, Albus could never work out. Either way, Gellert had worked miracles on the students and he could hardly complain because it was Harry's year group. The parents were beyond pleased and for once Lucius Malfoy wasn't causing trouble in the Board. Of course he expected tomorrow's post would change that. (And he guessed the most recent turn of events wouldn't have a hope of meeting Malfoy's expectations, either.)
He only had himself to blame. Himself and his stupid, foolish mouth.
He hated Grindelwald, that man knew where it would hurt, he knew exactly where to shove those poisonous words to wound him the most, every point mirroring what he already believed, affirming those terrible truths.
But he hadn't meant to send him back to prison, because it seemed Grindelwald was once more Gellert - whom the students needed.
But he had, and now his second chance was gone, taking with it any hope of a renewed friendship, any hope of reliving those idyllic days in Godric's Hollow, any hope that there might be something between them.
He could justify his actions – Harry was protected by the blood wards with his aunt and at least they kept him humble. James and Lily had been destined to die, prophetised. It had absolutely nothing to do with him borrowing the Cloak that allegedly hid its owner from death. Returning it to a baby would have been foolish, so he'd been keeping it safe. If he used it... that was because it would be a waste for such a powerful magical artefact to go unused.
Yet in the end Grindelwald was right. He had robbed Harry.
He'd robbed him of his inheritance but worse, by doing so he had cost him his parents, his childhood and his future. If he hadn't taken that cloak, maybe Harry would never have had to live with his aunt, would never have lived under a stairwell. Prophecies failed to come true in the way they had been expected to, he'd seen the evidence when he had been friends with Gellert.
He stood hurriedly, his robes swirling around his feet as he stepped around the desk and hurried to Gellert's office. Hopefully he wouldn't have gone down to breakfast yet, if fate was kind it would have him hiding in his room, afraid to face the students that he undeniably loved.
He should have known better. Albus only found the empty room.
The bed was neatly made, covers folded with the military precision that had been drummed into him at Durmstrang. The walls still glowed with writing, the concealment charms fading slowly to leave a spider web of overlapping words and diagrams. The desk stacked neatly with library books. At least the wardrobe was empty, his friend must have found a way around the prohibition not to take anything with himself. But no – most of the clothes Dumbledore had found a moment later on a chair, along with a note to the next teacher with a summary of his curriculum. In a spell-sphere lay Gellert's last project, the teenage Tom Riddle's diary, about which the young Weasley girl had shared so frightening details. A quick look at lose sheets just outside the bubble revealed that Gellert must have busied himself with cleverly getting information out of the worryingly dark object, as it was his specialty. Next to these lay a letter addressed to 'my brother in all but blood', dense with Gellert's resigned acceptance of his fate.
Dumbledore ran out of the abandoned quarters of his defeated friend, only to be stopped at the Great Hall's backdoor entrance by Charity Burbage. He only caught a glimpse of the old man as he'd marched out of sight, as he'd activated the portkey pendant whispering the German for 'for the Greater Good'.
The next thing he remembered was Minerva gently guiding him back to the hall as Flitwick was answering a cacophony of the students' questions. Albus didn't care about what was being asked or what Filius's replies were. He was staring out of the windows.
The grounds outside were dreary, as if matching his mood. Rain misted across the grounds, obscuring the gravel path. If he craned his neck he could just see the doors to the entrance hall, he could just see the place where his friend had been. The last place he had stood as a free man.