A/N: Hope you enjoy!

• TWO •

And Then He Came

"I'm going out."

"Of course you are."

The heat was back again and the two brothers stood in the tiny kitchen, facing each other on either side of the scrubbed wooden table. Aberforth's wand drummed against his thigh as he watched Albus, whose blue eyes kept straying to the window. Bathilda would be expecting him any minute.

"I'll need you to make dinner for Ariana. There should be some bread in the larder-"

"I don't need you to tell me what to do. I make dinner half the time, anyway."

Albus sighed, looking down into his younger brother's defiant face. "I know you do. But I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I don't need looking out for. Especially not by you."

The heat rose in Albus' face. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, taking a couple of steps backwards.

Aberforth shrugged. "Nothing. You're just a terrible babysitter."

Seeing red, Albus opened his mouth to argue, to reason, to make his brother see sense. But then he closed it again. There was no point. Aberforth had always been mouthy. Their relationship had always been strained, even more so since the death of their mother, when they'd finally lost the person who could reconcile them. "If you say so. But you won't have to worry about that today because I'm visiting Mrs Bagshot."

"Good riddance," muttered Aberforth, turning away, his fist clenching on the handle of his wand. "I hope she and her great-nephew rot with you in hell."

"Aberforth!"

"What? It's true. I don't care if you're my brother. That doesn't make you a saint."

Albus sighed and made for the door, the summer breeze brushing his cheek as he passed the open window. Outside, he could hear distant voices - Bathilda's window must be open. "Look, Ab, I don't have time for this. I'm sorry you don't like me, but you're all I have. I need you to cooperate. And if you won't cooperate, then... well, I'm going to have to make you."

Aberforth opened his mouth to snap back, but Albus talked over him.

"I don't want to hear your ridiculous talk. I need to get going. If I'm not back before seven, you can put Ariana to bed, all right?"

"Fine," Aberforth mumbled, glaring at the floor. "And I'll leave the window in your room open. It'll be boiling in there, otherwise."

"Thank you," said Albus quietly. The two brothers looked at each other.

"See you later," grunted Aberforth at last, slumping into a rickety chair.

Albus pulled the kitchen door open and disappeared into the hall, turning back to Aberforth as he went. "Bye." He closed the door behind him, then slipped out of the front entrance, making his way down the garden path towards the dusty lane. The sweet scent of the roses reached him as he passed the garden gate, followed by the tang of mown grass. Bathilda's honeysuckle joined the medley as he arrived at the cottage next door.

Politely, he knocked on the blue-painted wood, hearing Mrs Bagshot's voice floating through the living room window. There was a slight break in the conversation as the people within registered his presence, then an unfamiliar voice reached Albus' ears.

"Aunt? Is that your visitor?"

Mrs Bagshot gasped. "Oh, bless my dragon horns, it must be. You stay here, Gellert dear, I'll let Albus in."

Albus stood there and waited, the back of his neck sticky under the glare of the afternoon sun. There came the sounds of shuffling footsteps, the clink of heavy bolts, and then the smell of honeysuckle was outdone by the aroma of lavender perfume and freshly-baked cakes. Bathilda Bagshot appeared in the doorframe.

"Oh, Albus, you came! Do come in; Gellert's been itching to see you."

"Thank you," replied Albus, as he stepped past Bathilda into the hallway. The scent of baking was even more powerful here and his mouth watered.

Bathilda smiled at his expression. "I made a whole tray of cakes especially for you," she told him, leading the way towards the living room. "You can't have been eating well since poor Kendra went."

"I've been managing," said Albus, stiffening, but Bathilda was already pushing open the door and noticed nothing.

They emerged in a small, homely little room full of squashy armchairs and lace. Stubs of candle wax dripped over the edge of the candelabras and a series of familiar gilt-framed photographs were clustered on the mantlepiece. Bathilda led Albus into one of two empty chairs by the fireside, and he dropped down into it, grateful for the fact that for once the fire was not lit.

"You just sit there, that's it. Make yourself comfortable while I see to those cakes." Bathilda shuffled back out of the room and Albus continued to look around.

"Hello. You must be Albus." The voice came so suddenly that Albus almost fell out of his chair. It was confident but lilting, the words pronounced with deliberate but imperfect precision.

Turning, Albus saw that a stranger had moved out of the shadows, appearing from the most distant corner. He was tall and fair, with shoulder-length golden curls and azure eyes. His whole face seemed to glow with mischievous life, seemed alight with youthful eagerness, and Albus' breath hitched.

"Yes," he said quietly, as the boy looked down at him. "My name is Albus. Albus Dumbledore."

"I am Gellert Grindelwald. Old Batty's relative. From Durmstrang."

"Durmstrang?" repeated Albus in bewilderment.

Gellert smiled, his eyes dancing. "Yes. I was expelled for... matters I could not help. But you went to Hogwarts, or so my aunt tells me."

"Yes," said Albus, as Gellert sat down next to him in the other armchair, his eyes still locked on Albus'.

"And you are a great wizard."

The ghost of a smile found its way to Albus' lips. "Well, so they say."

"Here you are, boys." Bathilda was back in the room again, squeezing herself in between Albus' chair and the round coffee table to set down the tray of cakes. "They've got blueberries in them, I picked the berries last week- Oh, Gellert, so you've met Albus?"

Gellert smiled again as his aunt looked from Albus to him, brushing flour off her robes. "Yes, I have, aunt. And I think we will be firm friends."

Bathilda beamed as she straightened up. "How lovely! I was going to ask Albus about his latest Transfiguration paper, but why don't I let you two talk? Poor Albus has been alone ever since his mother died. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company."

Reaching out for a cake, Albus froze; Gellert's expression had morphed into one of concern. He tried to smile as Bathilda backed away, but his fingers shook as he touched the china plate.

As soon as Bathilda was gone, Gellert's eyebrows knitted. "Your mother is dead?" he asked quietly. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Please don't be." Albus didn't think he could stand any more pity. "It was an accident."

Gellert's frown turned back into a smile. "You are tired of all the sympathy, then?" he asked, taking a cake of his own and biting into it.

Albus bit into his too and a sweet, plump blueberry burst over his tongue. "Yes. In a way. I know people mean well, but it makes it much harder to bear when all I hear is 'poor Albus. Poor, poor Albus'."

Laughing, Gellert slumped back in his armchair. "I have never thought of it that way. Tell me about Hogwarts. It is a huge castle, am I right? Somewhere far north of here?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Albus finished the cake, nodding as he did so. "Yes. I left about a week ago. It's supposed to be one of the best schools there is - apart from Durmstrang, of course."

Gellert inclined his head. "I think so too. But then, Hogwarts has never thought much of the Dark Arts, has it? I've always thought that it lacks a little there."

"You have?"

There was silence. Albus wasn't sure what to say and Gellert, it seemed, preferred to watch Albus rather than talk. Slowly, one by one, the plate of blueberry muffins emptied, yet the boys still looked at each other, eyes wide, keen to learn every detail of the other's face.

"How did you get expelled?" The question had risen to Albus' lips more than once already, and now it burst from him without permission. He watched his new friend apprehensively for a moment, half afraid that he'd crossed some invisible line, but Gellert's face remained as good-humoured as ever.

"Are you certain you want to know?"

Albus hesitated. What if it was something truly awful? He'd only known the other boy for ten minutes. But hunger for knowledge overpowered his misgivings. "I want to know everything."

Gellert smiled. "My aunt does not know I was expelled. She thinks I have come to see more of her, to see more of England."

"She certainly thinks well of you."

"Oh, many people do. Many are taken in by my charm."

The smile widened and Albus was overcome by the brilliance radiating from his face, captivated by the power Gellert Grindelwald held. He fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, brushing invisible crumbs from his lap. "So. You were saying about Durmstrung."

"Oh, yes." Shaking his curls off his face, Gellert's face became serious. He leaned forwards and, without being aware of it, Albus did the same. "Durmstrang was my home for many years. It was powerful, it was influential and I learned a great deal. But it had rules, strict rules, and I found them to be... limiting."

The delicate stress laid on the word made Albus shiver. "What sort of limiting?"

"I craved power," replied Gellert. "I wanted to rule, to dominate, to learn. My experiments were frowned upon by the staff and my inferiors. They believed I was growing too influential; they dismissed me."

"But why?" Albus' mind was reeling. Experiments... Domination... Learning... Here was a boy who at last understood him, who knew the pull of fate, the temptations of power.

A humourless smile twisted Gellert's features, tugging the corners of his lips upwards. "The weak envy the strong. The poor overthrow the rich. You'll know all about jealousy, of course."

He wasn't just referring to Albus' knowledge, the gleam in his eyes said that. Gellert didn't even know about the students who had followed and praised Albus at school. He felt the pull of the young wizard's charisma as though it was a rope, as though they were bonded together by a physical silver thread, and he shivered.

"How long have you been trapped here?"

"About a week," replied Albus quietly, now certain Gellert knew how he'd been feeling. "I was going to go on a Grand Tour of Europe with my friend Elphias Dodge."

"But your mother's death forced you to return here?"

Albus smiled bitterly. "I have younger siblings to care for."

Gellert leant backwards, tilting his head towards the ceiling, and Albus' eyes went to the expanse of white skin exposed just above his collar. "Ah..." He looked back at Albus again, and his gaze was questioning. "Magical siblings?"

"Sort of." The truth of Ariana's predicament went through him like a knife.

Gellert seemed to know what he was thinking. His eyes sparkled. "You are very reserved with me," he told Albus, and Albus looked down at his fingernails, examining the smooth, white hands that rested in his lap.

He said nothing.

"Is it just that I am a stranger or do you act like this with everyone?"

Albus looked up, biting his lip.

Gellert smiled. "Tell me about your siblings."

"I..." Glancing up at Gellert, Albus sighed and slumped back against the cushions of his chair. "I have a younger brother, Aberforth, who still goes to Hogwarts. But it's the summer, so he's home for two months. And I have a-" he faltered and Gellert's eyebrows contracted.

"Go on."

Albus fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. "I have a younger sister, too. Ariana. But she's... She doesn't go to Hogwarts."

Curiosity flashed across the other boy's expression, but his gaze did not waver from Albus. "She is a squib?"

Albus winced. "No," he said flatly. "She is just... ill."

"I see." Gellert seemed to know that it would be useless to press the subject. A faint crease had appeared on his forehead, but it faded as his smile returned. "Well, I suppose I should stop asking questions. I wouldn't want to scare you away."

"You won't."

The smile widened. "Really?" Gellert asked and Albus hesitated before nodding.

"Yes."

Silence fell for the first time. Albus sat there, motionless, his eyes on the little wooden clock on the mantlepiece. It sat there ticking, its sound mingling with the clatters and murmurs of Mrs Bagshot as she bustled around the kitchen. It was a few seconds before he realised that Gellert's eyes were on the mantlepiece too. He turned. A few inches away from the clock was another cluster of photographs, silver-framed this time, their occupants waving out at the cluttered living room. At the very back, curly-haired and laughing, was a blonde-haired boy who looked barely older than thirteen.

Albus' eyes widened.

"Me," said Gellert unnecessarily, turning from the framed picture to look at Albus. "Old Batty asked my mother for that picture. She's been longing to see me for years, but I never came to Godric's Hollow before now." His eyes travelled back to the photograph again, his expression thoughtful. "Bathilda is my great-aunt. And a celebrated historian."

Albus smiled slightly. "I know," he told Gellert. "I've been in touch with her since we moved here."

"You moved here?"

Pain flashed through Albus' chest. "From Mould-on-the-Wold. We've lived here for eight years."

"I see."

Albus felt Gellert's eyes on his face, searching it curiously. He turned away.

"How are you getting on, boys?" Bathilda was back, standing in the doorway, her grey eyes crinkled. An apron covered most of her robes, and she had a wand in one hand and a saucepan in the other.

Gellert beamed at Albus. "Very well, thank you. Albus has been telling me about his family."

Albus tried to smile as Bathilda's expression sobered.

"Oh, yes, of course, the poor dear. How are they getting on, Albus? Aberforth hasn't been doing anything odd to those goats of his, has he?"

"No," said Albus, dropping his gaze to his lap.

A softer look came into Bathilda's eyes. "And Ariana? How is she? Has she been coping since the accident?"

"Yes. She has."

"Poor Kendra. She worked herself far too hard for Ariana and now she's-"

"I know."

There was a long pause. Bathilda seemed to sense the awkwardness in the air. Albus kept his eyes on his lap, studying the fabric of his clothing, counting the cake crumbs which littered it. Gellert's eyes, he knew, were still on him.

"Would you like me to invite them around for dinner?" asked Bathilda, failing to dispel the pity from her voice. "It would be no trouble at all and it's such a shame that Aberforth has to cook."

Albus hesitated, glancing at Gellert. How long could the truth about Ariana stay hidden?

Bathilda seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Does he know?" she asked Albus, ignoring her great-nephew's questioning look.

Albus shrank backwards slightly. "No."

"Oh, dear. Well, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt. I'll invite them, shall I? Would you like to stay here while I run around and-?"

Very quickly, Albus stood up. "No. You mustn't bother yourself. I'll go."

"Are you sure-?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure." Unable to look at any of them, he strode to the door and stepped out into the corridor. "Thank you for the cakes. I shouldn't be long."

Bathilda's anxious voice floated to him through the door. "You're very welcome, dear," Albus heard her say and then, without another word, he slipped from the house and down the garden path.

A/N:

Thanks for reading the second chapter :) I hope it was okay. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last one - it means a lot! I've never written anything like this before, so your feedback is very helpful.

~ Lacy