Chapter 4 Falkbeer Counter-Gambit (Blacks counterattack)

"There is only one thing that can form a bond between men, and that is gratitude… We cannot give someone else greater power over us than we have ourselves." Montesquieu in Persian Letters (1721)

Gellert rose his wand and summoned our Lutine waitress. He made the arrangements, paid the elf an absolutely ridiculous amount of galleons and, after a small while, a couple of Lutines came back pushing a dinner cart with a fire crab covered in green emeralds on a platter and another platter covered by a lid. They set all over the tree stump mossy table, which could be detached from the waterfall. As soon as they did, a head, very much like a tortoise's head, pocked out from the jeweled shell, taking in its surroundings.

He explained: "I thought the emeralds would go well with the room."

I smiled listlessly. Seeing the fire crab made it all more real. I started feeling a bit sick.

I wish that my malaise had been bad enough to make me stand up and leave. But I was 300 hundred miles and ten years away from home and in such weird surroundings that it was not easy to hold onto any sense of reality. I was also pulled towards giving in both by my curiosity and the need to please a friend. A bad combination that makes it harder to stick to your guns and do what you know is the right thing. Which is what makes standing up to your friends such a big act of bravery.

I was staring at the poor beast with a sense of foreboding, when the door swung open and an imposing man in an old fashioned wizarding dinner frock walked in. His clothes seemed outdated even for 1889. He was older than us, twenty two, twenty three, but not older than that, which was not that much older to justify such fashion choice. Perhaps he couldn't afford a new one, just like me. He sported a bushy blond mustache, closely cropped hair and had a martial air about him. He was handsome in the roughed way outdoorsmen often are. He addressed the Lutine in German. I realized he must be one of the professional gamblers Gellert had mentioned and that he was probably used to have to communicate with the French dilettantes through the Lutines.

Gellert didn't let the Lutine translate, he addressed the man directly in German of which I didn't speak one single word. I took care of rectifying that later on.

The man with the bushy blond mustache bowed and Gellert bowed back. Then he looked at my direction and posed a question. Gellert denied. The man nodded again.

They faced each other, one of the Lutines flipped a coin, the bushy mustache called it. I don't know if he won or lost, but, without any further delay, the man bowed to Gellert, pulled his wand of ivory white Aspen from a pocket in his frock, marched purposefully towards the table and waited.

The Lutine waitress sounded a hunting horn that had been under a silver platter and the fire crab, who had been eying the fairies with somewhat sinister intent, rapidly hid in its shell. Gellert pointed the wand to the beast and made it spin around as a top. Apparently if it was your turn to poke the beast, the other player spun it.

The man walked round the table a couple of times. Then with clockwork precision he shoved his wand on one of the shell's extremes, aiming inside to hit a soft part. The tortoise head of the fire crab poked out angrily biting at the Aspen wand that the bushy blond mustache wizard barely had time to pull away. The game of fire crab roulette had begun.

It was Earl Grindelwald's turn. The same ritual of the Lutine sounding the horn, Gellert bowing and bushy mustache spinning the crab happened. Then Gellert walked around the table as bushy mustache had done. I held by breath when he poked the beast; a terrible rumble resounded and not two seconds later a big explosion of sizzling green colored flames came from the fire crab's behind. Gellert had barely had time to cast Protego.

I let the air slowly out: "That was too close call for comfort."

The conceited fool smiled as if he had done something grand: "It is good form to cast at the very last minute possible. It is also good form not to stare at your opponent while they try their luck. Though, since you are not playing, I guess it is fine for you to sit there gawking at us."

The Lutine horn was blown again, Gellert spun the crab and bushy mustache went around the table.

I cocked an eyebrow: "Blessed be old fashioned chivalry. Can there be good form for this savagery?"

Before Gellert could answer, bushy mustache who had been circling the table, poked the fire crab and another barrage of green flames exploded. Bushy mustache disapparated also at the last minute possible. He apparated near the absinthe waterfall. With a flick of his wand a glass submerged itself in the fairy pond and flew to his hand. He leaned on a mossy wall, sipping his sugarless absinthe and watching the fairies play, with polite disengagement.

The score was one to one and it was Earl Grindelwald's turn again. He poked and nothing happened. Then it was bushy mustache's turn, he again disapparated when the crab exploded and went to stand by the pond sipping sugarless absinthe with dispassionate calm. Gellert went next, the fire crab exploded too and he cast Protego at the very last minute.

It went on like that for a while. The ritual of the horn blowing, the crab spinning, and then poking was beginning to get on my nerves. It was as if we were in the middle of one of Lewis Carroll's Hooka pipe dreams, perpetually performing the same senseless ritual over and over and over. A manic Red Queen race in which we had to run madly, just to stay in the same place.

I began feeling lightheaded. We hadn't had lunch; and my empty stomach didn't help me feel grounded to earth. I got up and walked to the absinthe pond just to have something to do besides gawking at them. I stopped myself short of serving a glass. I had heard so many terrible stories about absinthe. Supposedly you could get hooked on it with just one sip. A part of me thought those were just tales spread by teetotalers, but I didn't want to risk it. So, instead, I grabbed a glass of icy cold water and a handful of sugar lumps. I was about to eat them when the same fairy I had rescued hovered over them and gave the one on the top of the pile a playful lick.

I signaled no with my finger, pulled my hand away and ate the cubes saying: "No, no, mademoiselle. Ça ne se fait pas."

The fairy fluttered overs my lips licking at the sugar crumbs. I puckered them to try to shoo it, but it kept stealing licks from my lips until I gently blew it away. Then I wiped off the residues of sugar with my tongue to keep the fairy away. But that didn't work, it sat on the top of my head and I had to shake it until I made my red locks fly about me to make it go away. The fairy fluttered around me reproachfully and then it went back to gaze at its reflection.

Bushy mustache, who had seen the whole thing, chuckled. So gawking at someone who wasn't playing wasn't considered rude. And perhaps he understood more French than he had let on or the language of gesture conveyed all that he needed to know of my clownish exchange with Mademoiselle Fée Vert.

I went back to sit on the divan. It was bushy mustache's turn, he shot me a bemused look before going around the table and, before poking the fire crab, said something to Gellert that made him laugh out loud. When the crab went off, he apparated by the absinthe fountain, picked up his glass and leaned on the wall.

I asked: "What did he say? Was it about me?"

"He commented on your kindness towards fairies and on your furiously red head. He said with the white jacket you are wearing you make a charming toadstool for the sugar plump fairy to adorn. It is a witticism that only works in German. He is Swabian and a gambler, he is bound to be at least a little superstitious. He thinks toadstools mushrooms are die glückspilz literally lucky mushroom. So he thinks you are here as a charming luck, a lucky charm." Gellert chuckled: "What about that? It works in English too. Hmm, my charming luck, my lucky charm, I like the sound of it." He rolled the words in his tongue and ended with a lopsided grin: "I will have to save that in my arsenal for later use in impressing Viennese or English debutantes at balls."

The mustached Swabian, recognizing the word glückspilz, nodded smiling brightly at me and rose his glass in a toast.

Oh my, weren't we witty? This must really be a wide world, if someone can think a poisonous mushroom is lucky, as toadstools -Amanita muscaria- are particularly toxic. And it must be an even wider world if someone could think calling you mushroom, poisonous or not, is flattering. But, then again… What do I know? I am not an English debutant.

I was not a debutant, but not really a man of the world either. Crossing the borders of species, I went from toadstool into Amanita rubescens (blusher mushroom), I went red to the tip of my pointy nose. It is one disadvantage of being furiously redhead, at times you blush without really wanting to. In other circumstances, I would have challenged bushy mustache to a duel, but I decided against it. Under the cheap frock the man looked sleek and dangerous. If memory served right, back in1889, when we presently were, duel to death hadn't been banned yet from all the continent. Perhaps it had already been in France, but I just couldn't positively remember. In any case, I didn't want to get into a mess when I was, technically, ten years from being officially of age. I was trying to be a conscientious time-traveler.

Gellert went around the crab once and I braced myself for what could be another explosion of green colored flames, but he continue to go round the table with officious slowness as he spoke: "Are you familiar with the tenets of Zen Buddhism, Monsieur Dumbledore?"

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you are familiar with the tenets of Zen Buddhism, Monsieur Dumbledore."

I snorted: "I heard you the first time, but, do you think this is really the best time for starting a discussion on obscure Asian religions, Monsieur Grindelwald?"

He laughed softly, going around the table: "I think this time is as good as any, my friend."

I chuckled: "I think your concept of opportunity is really skewed. Shouldn't you be concentrating on what you are doing? That crab could go off at any minute."

"After having fired so much it won't go off unless I poke it. And nothing in the rules says that I have to do it right away. I'm allowed to take all the time I need. In fact, some may considered it a strategy to get on my opponent's nerves. Something that may be useful, if I'm ever going to win this game. I'm playing with a very skilled player. Which figures, I'm sure the Lutins don't want to make this gamble easy. Besides, talking relaxes me, you don't want me to play a dangerous game like this being tense? I may get hurt." He continued his slow walk around the table.

"Gellert, you are a far better schemer than this; you degrade by resorting to obvious manipulation."

"Then chat with me, Albus, just because you enjoy it and so do I. You'll be my glückspilz."

I breathed in: "To answer your question: No, I'm not familiar with any aspect of Zen Buddhism."

"I am, I used to have the most engaging conversations on the subject by owl and crane with this charming witch at Mahoutokoro. We got really close, so she let me call her Uzume-chan and I let her call me Gella-kun. Did you know they use ideograms called kanjis for writing?"

I don't know if his purposeful walking was having any effect on the Swabian, but it sure was having it on me. I replied tensely: "Yes, I'm aware of it."

"The implications that has for the way they write their names is that there is no set way for writing them, which gives them a certain leeway for being creative. Uzume-chan wrote hers with the kanjis for cloud, pearl and gorgeous. Combine them with her family name Mikoto which she wrote with the Chinese character for noble and it can be understood to mean either noble or true harbinger of day. That was enough to have me pick her up from a stack of correspondents when I was at Durmstrang Institute. I was quite a romantic at twelve, and the name seemed so poetical..."

There was no rushing him, so I decided to let him play his game within the game: "It does sound poetical, the name I mean. Though, for my life I don't know how this relates to religion or gambling."

"Well, the tie in to religion is readily apparent if you are aware that in Shinto, an ancient religion of the isles, Ame-mo-Uzume-no-mikoto is the goddess of dawn and the sister of Amaterasu Omikami, the sun goddess; from whom the Emperors of the islands claim to be descended. Mikoto Uzume-chan is the heir to a wizarding family that could have claimed the throne of Japan, before the Statute of Secrecy, that is. Zen Buddhism, however, is not a religion at all but a life philosophy."

I was interested despite myself: "Is there a difference?"

"There is one capital difference, religion is often used to create a wall of delusion which obscures reality. Zen Buddhism aims to do the exact opposite, it aspires to allow you to lift the veil of Maya and see things for what they truly are. One of the ways in which they seek to achieve it is by having you practice living in a state of perfect present."

I frowned: "I'm not sure what you mean by a state of perfect present."

"In this life we are of usual so troubled by the past and the future that we seldom allow ourselves to be fully present in our here and now, Albus. If we managed to devoid our mind of the worries of things that have gone by and of things that may or may not come -which are in essence both things we cannot control- then we would be able to achieve that perfect state of being in the present. That state would allow us to live each instant to its fullest promise of what that instant should really be. Achieve it and the future you want unfurls itself one instant after the other and you won't regret what has passed."

"I must say that state of present sounds really hard to achieve, plus there is no way you can live solely in the present without any regard of the consequences of your actions and of your history..."

He laughed: "Albus, take it from a Seer, and by that I mean someone used to seeing past and future as infinite arrays of possibilities: there is no way that you can measure and ponder all the possible consequences of your every action. Try it and that is the surest way of plunging yourself into paralyzing doubt, which won't allow you to move forward, let alone of letting go of burdens that ground you."

I sighed: "I don't know if I could ever do it. I cannot escape my past and giving up all thought of my future sounds scary, at times hope for the future seems to be all I have. Not these past two days…"

He smiled: "Fear comes from uncertainty. There is no fear, my friend, if you are certain of living each instant to the fullest. I think that is the appeal of this game to me. Everything in it conspires to make you live in the here and now, the repetition of the ritual of the horn, walking around the table. It's like mesmerism. You can do nothing else but just concentrate in whether poking the beast will set it off or not. There is no better way to live an instant to the fullest than when you are betting your life on it."

For a moment it seemed as if he were going to finally poke the crab, but he didn't, and I couldn't help crying out: "Oh by Merlin's wand, just poke the bloody crab and be done with it!"

And he did, to a great fanfare of green colored flames. For some reason I had known that was going to happen, I also knew that Gellert was not going to be able to cast Protego. I saw it all in slow motion, unable to lift a finger to help him. I didn't know if by intervening I was going to make him lose the game. I also didn't want to get in the way, if he actually had time to cast anything. I was paralyzed by doubt, just as he had said I would be, stuck pondering every possible consequence of my actions.

Somehow he manage to Disapparate and Apparate near the door, which swung open brusquely to let in a drunk angry wizard. By the cries in the corridor, the wizard had been opening every door looking for someone brandishing his wand menacingly. The door had swung open and hit Gellert, propelling him forward into some decorative stones. I heard his leg cracking when it broke against the rocks.

A pack of Lutins fell on the wizard, disarmed him and took it through one of the doors. Two Lutines approached Gellert who let them carry him to one of the divans and explained to them that he would be fine to carry on playing as soon as he could cast a mending spell on his leg.

Then the Lutines had said something in a rapid barrage of French that Gellert didn't seem to follow. I covered my hand with my mouth and explained: "They say that you cannot cast a spell to fix your leg. It is against the rules to magically cure any injury you get while playing. So you cannot mend your leg, unless you are willing to forfeit the game."

He protested: "But I wasn't injured during the game. If they had stopped that drunk dimwit in time my leg wouldn't be broken at all!"

The Lutine repeated her speech word by word.

"She says..."

Gellert rose his hand stopping me: "She says just the same that she said before… There is no point in arguing with a Lutine, they have no flexibility when applying rules." He tried to get up and fell back down to the divan, grimacing in pain: "Help me get up, Albus, I'm going to try to play like this."

I approached him but denied: "Nonsense, you cannot play like this. Why don't you forfeit the game?"

He laughed bitterly: "Because I cannot afford to lose the entry fee, Monsieur Dumbledore."

"The way you were spending galleons, Gellert, I'd thought you had unlimited resources"

"The family fortune is extensive, but I have to draw from it discreetly. I am still a minor. I can justify some expenses like dinner, clothes, and such to maintain the life I'm accustomed to. I have a sizable allowance. But any unusually large cash withdrawal is reported to the executor of my parent's state, who is none other than the Old Bat. It took me six months to be able to accumulate enough for attempting this once. I cannot afford to lose another six months, Albus. I have to do this now."

"I've told you not to call your aunt that, it is no nice." The Lutines were watching us with interest, their pointy ears stood up at the mention of the word nice. I decided to drop the subject and address the other one. Inhaling deeply I said: "For the love of Merlin! I cannot believe that I'm going to do this…"

He was looking at me intently: "What can't you believe you are going to do, Albus?"

"When the door to the dilettantes' room opened one of them was saying that now Timothée was going to have to take Phillipe's turn or they would lose, so apparently the rules allow for a stand in."

Gellert frowned: "I think that has to be agreed among the players."

I smiled: "Translate for me to German for the Swabian and I think I can get him to agree. You are not the only one who can be persuasive. Something tells me if he agrees, then the Lutines will agree too."

He sighed: "Are you sure? You did not want to play the game. And it is not the kind of game you can enter lightly, you can get seriously injured, if you are not focused on playing it."

"Of course I'm not sure, but I don't want to be paralyzed by doubt anymore. If I wanted to feel stuck, I would have stayed back home. And I don't want us to lose just because that sot broke your leg. I can do this. I've accurately predicted if the crab was going to squirt flames or not the last three times you two have played. Is not the first time that has happened, I have been getting this leaps of intuition since I was a child and, so far, they have never failed me. Trust me, I got this."

"Very well, what do you want me to say to the Swabian?"

Ginny got up clapping: "I knew he was going to play! I just knew it!"

Hermione was frowning: "Am I the only one who thinks that wizard swinging doors couldn't have possibly been an accident?"

Ron said: "Aren't you being a tad bit paranoiac, luv?"

Harry nodded: "I have to say I'm with Ron here: How could Grindelwald had known that was going to happen? And he seemed genuinely surprised that a stand in could play."

"I'm just saying that it was all awfully convenient for that to happen when it did. I bet they are all in cahoots, even that Swabian guy. Maybe even the Lutines… It could all have been a set up to get him to play."

Ron chuckled: "Change a tad bit to a whole lot paranoiac… You are no making any sense, luv."

"It just doesn't feel right."

Ginny sat back: "We can discuss that later, keep on reading, this just got really interesting."

Harry laughed: "Oh come on, Hermione, indulge the pregnant lady!"

"...Trust me, I got this."

"Very well, what do you want me to say to the Swabian?"

"Tell him that he just got the chance of betting his skill against my luck. I think that will interest him."

The Swabian had asked why he would bet against a lucky charm; he said it looking at me as if we weren't speaking through a translator.

I smiled looking directly at him too and said: "Isn't that what gamblers do? You bet against someone's luck all the time. Why don't we lose the intermediary? Play me."

The Swabian chuckled and agreed to play against me under two conditions: that the Lutines agreed so he could still claim the prize, if he won, and that I would toast with him.

I bit my lip. Gellert frowned: "What's the problem, Albus? You said you thought the Lutines would agree."

I sighed: "I think they will. Let's get that out of the way first." We told the elves about the agreement and, after confirming with the Swabian, they acquiesced.

Gellert smiled brightly: "That takes care of that."

I denied: "Not quite, I'm not sure I can do it."

"Don't tell me you are getting cold feet, aren't Gryffindors supposed to be fearless and honorable?"

"Those are just rumors, I've witnessed plenty of cowardice and underhandedness in the common dorm. Boys will be boys... But I'm not talking about the game… I don't know if I can toast with absinthe. I've heard so much about that drink...Would it be possible to order something else?"

Geller muttered: "I don't think so, he has already poured you a glass. Albus, this wizard looks dangerous, so far he seems quite taken by you, but I don't think it wise to cross him. I've had absinthe plenty of times and all people say is hubris. Believe me, there are far more dangerous, addictive substances that you can purchase for a few coins at the chemist's: like morphine. Just drink and play."

I nodded: "OK, but tell him that I have a sweet tooth and he should add at least two sugar lumps to it."

The Swabian put two sugars on a slotted spoon and poured icy water over them. Then he handed me the glass. I drank a big gulp and had to stifle the need to vomit. I hadn't tasted anything that awful since the last time I had decided to give Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans another go and had got one that had tasted precisely like vomit.

While the Swabian took his turn, Gellert poured me a glass of water stifling a laugh.

"That's disgusting! I don't understand how people can drink this!"

Outright laughing Gellert pointed out: "People drink absinthe for its effects, Albus, not for the taste."

"It is effective. My ears are still ringing, I'll give you that. I guess the silver lining is that there is no way in hell that I can get addicted to this mulch."

"Bless Merlin for silver linings. There's one more thing that we must discuss before you play, Monsieur Dumbledore."

"What would that be, Monsieur Grindelwald?"

He looked at me and using Legilimens, sent me a mental message: "I think we should discuss this in private."

I was a bit weary of letting him in, but I did, if only so far. We had a mental conversation.

"I know Arithmancy is not a mandatory subject at Hogwarts, but have you taken some courses?"

I smiled: "I've taken all the courses available. I thought Arithmancy was not taught at Durmstrang."

"It is offered as an optional subject only on a very basic level. But Nagymama didn't trust any school enough to leave my education entirely to them. She taught me Arithmancy and Ancient Runes herself. She was good at both subjects and she was my favorite teacher, her lessons were rigorous but a pleasure too. I don't know how good your teachers were; but let me ask you this: How good are you at calculating probabilities?"

"I can do it in a fairly basic way, Muggle mathematics are not really a big part of the syllabus."

"Can you calculate the odds of getting heads five times in a row?"

I frowned: "That's quite simple, assuming a fair coin in which each trial is independent and in which for each toss you have a 50 percent chance of getting heads, then the probability of getting any number of heads in a row is 1/2 elevated to the nth power, n being the number of trials, in this case 1/2 elevated to the fifth power which is 1/32 or a little over a 3 percent chance."

"That's a fairly small probability after just five trials. Add another five heads in a row and the probability is 1/1024 or less than 0.01 percent."

"As much as I love Arithmancy and as interesting as this disquisition is, what is the point that you are trying to make, Gellert?

"My point should be readily apparent, if you have really found the fire crab's tell. Winning too obstreperously will not be a smart move. I'm not sure about where the Swabian was schooled, but he seems like a clever chap. And you cannot possibly be a successful gambler without at least an intuitive understanding of probabilities. What do you think will happen if you play this dangerous man and keep getting heads, Albus?"

"Oh, I see your point. I need to get tails once in a while or he will get suspicious we are cheating."

"Yes. And that is quite unfortunate, because I really don't want you to get hurt, my friend. So here is my advice to you, don't try casting anything fancy. Have you gotten your Apparation license?"

"I got it just before going on my Grand T..." I cut myself short. My botched Grand Tour was not something I wanted to discuss with him, I don't think I could have handled his pity. Instead I said: "Yes, I got it on the first trial. Even got a mention for outstanding performance."

"We'll keep that spell in reserve, I'm not quite sure how the traces for illegal apparating will work on you, while time-traveling, spells involving age can be tricky. I wish you were wearing your own anti age-trace charm like I do. We'll make sure you are wearing one the next time."

"I could charm one now."

"I don't know how the Lutins will react to you casting it now. And we don't want L'Argent et Bleu Chevaliers Aurors on our trail. For now stick to the standard Protego, don't be a braggart, and give yourself enough time to react."

I cocked an eyebrow: "That's not what you were doing. You said it was good form to wait until the last possible minute to cast the spell."

He smiled: "Yes, but I'm a petulant arse. I was trying to impress you. Don't be like me, play it safe, Albus, get that carapace and let's get out of here."

"I might not get the carapace, you said most games end without a winner."

"I trust you, if you say you got this, I know you do."

"Then you are surer than I am. I think I got this, but I won't be sure until I actually try it."

"Well, I think you are going to have to try. The Lutines and the Swabian look restless, I think the time for planning is over, it is time to act."

"Alright, lets do this."