Albus didn't leave the house for the next four days. He spent all his time in either his study or his bedroom, scribbling notes, sleeping or lying in bed staring at nothing, replaying the events of the last couple of days in his head. When he'd first met Gellert, he'd thought that his life was finally heading in a new direction, that he'd finally found his soulmate. Gellert was perfect in every way. But now all the light had gone out of Albus' life again, leaving him even emptier and deader inside than he'd been before.
When Albus slept, his dreams were strange and troubled. He dreamed of Gellert's lips on his and the touch of Gellert's skin, but there were other images in the dreams that couldn't have been from Albus' memory. He dreamed that he was a little boy who hated his father and sister, full of pain and and rage, unable to deal with it except by taking it out on others. He saw himself in the woods, killing animals with his wand, tearing their bodies apart, and although part of him was sickened and horrified at what he was doing, another part of him was excited, ecstatic. He never felt so alive as when he was in the presence of death. In a gloomy forest, he saw a grove of holy trees with ropes hanging from their branches, and on the ends of the ropes dangled the bodies of animals and humans, their throats slit, their blood dripping onto the ground, making crimson puddles. He could smell the blood, taste it in the back of his throat, and his stomach heaved.
No, that can't be. Magians don't practice blood sacrifice any more. We stopped doing that hundreds of years ago when the Romans came. He saw gangs of crows huddled on corpses, tearing at the pale flesh with their beaks. Cronus. The crow, the god of Time. Grandfather Time, Grandfather Death with his sickle. He comes to harvest the souls of the living for the land of the dead. And he sows the new crop of souls for the next season, the new harvest. Life becomes death and death becomes life. Death eats life and life eats death. Like the wand and the wizard. "Take my power and let me take yours in turn. We will feed on each other, grow stronger..." The wand becomes the wizard? Or the wizard becomes the wand? "The wand is a gift from the trees. There is magic in their veins, and magic in ours also." Magic in the veins. In the blood. It comes from the tree. You may eat of the tree of life and death. But the tree of knowledge of good and evil, you may not eat of it. For then you shall become as gods."If we seize the power of the true magic, we can create a perfect society, where all people live together in harmony and peace. There will be no more suffering, no more wickedness, no more death." And will we become as gods, Gellert?
Death feeds on life and life feeds on death... This is my body and this is my blood. Eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, and my death will become your life... I die, that you may live forever... everything has a price. Only death will pay the debt of life. Every light casts a shadow. Everything that is born must die. Light and dark, life and death, the wand and the wizard, together as one... joined together... feeding on each other... becoming each other... my powers and yours... my life and yours... touch me, take me... become me...
He saw pale corpses rising, the walking dead. Inferi. They shambled along the ground, their movements jerky and unnatural, their very existence a blasphemy against life. One of them looked directly at him with its blank, dead eyes. He felt his skin crawling with revulsion. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He was in the grip of death. Let me go. Please, Gellert, let me go. I don't want this. It's not worth it. The price is too high. We don't do blood sacrifice any more. If this is true magic, I don't want it. I want to go back to my silly books and my paper spells...
Albus was kissing Gellert, but Gellert became a skeleton, a corpse. Gellert's flesh sloughed off his body, leaving behind nothing but bones. Albus was kissing a grinning skull. He was kissing death. There was nothing inside Gellert but darkness and corruption, the stench of the grave, fire and brimstone. The darkness came slithering out of Gellert and swallowed Albus up. It fed on him, and he fed on it.
He saw two serpents twining together, a giant dragon biting its own tail. He saw a man who was also a god, tied to a tree, pierced with iron and hung with rope, crows gathering about his dead flesh. But the man came back from the dead, and death only made him stronger. Woden. The Wise Father. He conquered death, came back from the dead. But he is a god, and we are only human.
He saw a symbol, limned in fire: a line, half covered by a circle, enclosed within a triangle. He saw the symbol written in ink on an old, stained parchment. He saw it burned into his own flesh. He saw it carved in marble, on a tombstone that he recognised.
That's our cemetery, beside the temple in Godric's Hollow.
He saw the stone sculptures in the cemetery glowing in the moonlight, the angels and spirits keeping watch, and the tall, marble grimhounds. One of the hounds was moving towards him. A Grim. People are scared of Grims because they are fierce and they represent death, so people call them hellhounds. But in fact grimhounds are holy beasts who guard temples and churches from evil. There is nothing to fear.
The Grim was coming closer and closer. They were no longer in the graveyard but in Albus' bedroom. Albus was lying in bed and the Grim was padding towards him. A Grim in my own room. That means Death has entered my house. I am going to die soon. Somehow the thought didn't bother him at all. He felt peaceful, distant, like he was watching everything from a long way away. The Grim reached his bed, leapt on top of him, stood over him with its face directly above his own. He looked up into its long, lupine face, saw its cruel teeth, its red tongue.
And then he saw its eyes. Those cold eyes, burning with sapphire fire, those eyes that haunted him day and night.
"Gellert," he whispered.
Albus woke with a jolt, shivering and sweating in his bed. Sunlight was was filtering through the curtains and birds were singing, so it was probably early morning, but of which day he couldn't say. He had lost track of time these past few days.
What had he been dreaming about? He could never remember. There was just a confused jumble of images and a feeling of dread in his stomach, like something terrible was about to happen. There was something about Gellert... he'd been kissing Gellert until... death and darkness...
He lay in bed for a few more minutes. What was the point of getting up? What was the point of anything? He was trying to remember what the purpose of his life was. Before he'd met Gellert, there must have been something keeping him going. He'd been Head Boy in Hogwarts with many friends and admirers, teachers and students alike. He'd been proud of his achievements. But now it was all ashes in his mouth. His life was empty. It always had been.
He would never find love and happiness like normal people. He would grow into a lonely, bitter old man, jealous of the others around him. How often he had seen a lovestruck couple walking hand in hand, gazing into each other's eyes, laughing and smiling from the pure, simple joy of being in each other's company. He knew that he would never have anything like that, never know the joy of touching another person, never have anyone to love him, to share his life, to be there in the good times and the bad.
It hurt sometimes, this loneliness gnawing inside him. Why couldn't he be a normal person, just like everyone else? Was this how it would be for the rest of his life? People said he was the most brilliant wizard in the world, but what did he have to show for it? This cold, empty room, a stack of books, and the guardianship of an invalid sister and ungrateful brother. Of course his parents had just assumed he would look after his siblings if anything were to happen to them. That was what Albus Dumbledore did: he was responsible, dutiful and dependable. Of course he would put his own life on hold to do whatever needed to be done.
But did it ever occur to them that this wasn't enough for him? Being lauded for his academic skills, being the responsible one, it just wasn't enough. He was a young man, wasn't he? Didn't he have the right to stretch his wings, to see the world, to experience all the pleasures of life while he was young and strong? No, of course not. He must have been born under a bad star. He would never know the good things that other people took for granted.
And what was it Bathilda had said? That all of magical philosophy should be grateful that Albus Dumbledore chose to pour his energy into his studies instead of romance? Well, at least someone was profiting from his misery. He would throw it all away, all his achievements and prizes and praise, all his so-called gifts and talent, for one chance at love. Just one.
Albus closed his eyes and lay still in bed. Shadows grew and twisted on the walls as the darkness gently enfolded him in its wings.
"Well?" demanded Aberforth. He gestured towards the plate, which Ariana hadn't touched. "What's wrong with it? Do you only eat Albus' cooking now? Mine's not good enough for you, is that it?"
Ariana sat with her face downcast and worried, her hands clasped in her lap.
"I'm worried about Albus," she said.
"There's no need to worry about him. He can take care of himself."
"But he's hardly come out of his room in the past four days."
"He gets like that sometimes. You know how moody he is."
"Yes. But I'm still worried. He looks after us, but he has no one to look after him."
Aberforth snorted. "Firstly, Albus doesn't look after us. Not unless by "look after", you mean "ignore until his conscience bothers him and he spends a bit of time with us, before going back to his room." Secondly, Albus is much older than we are, and much wiser too, as he likes to remind everyone. If we try to help him, he'll only shake his head and say that he can deal with whatever it is on his own. So stop worrying about him and eat your breakfast."
But Ariana wouldn't eat, and she looked like she wanted to cry.
Aberforth sighed. "All right, I'll check on him after breakfast. Satisfied? Will you eat now?"
Ariana nodded and picked up her fork. She had barely eaten one mouthful before there was a loud knocking at the front door. She froze and looked at Aberforth.
Aberforth frowned. "Wait here," he said. "I'll check who it is."
As he walked through the hall, he wondered who it could be. They hardly ever had visitors, except for Bathilda Bagshot, and she certainly wasn't the one knocking so forcefully at their front door. It might be some other neighbour, perhaps to complain about the goats breaking into their field.
Aberforth opened the door. The man standing there was even taller than Albus. He had wavy golden hair and a friendly smile.
"Good morning," he said. "This is the Dumbledore residence, yes?"
"That's right. Who are you?"
"My name is Gellert Grindelwald. I am staying with my great-aunt, Professor Bagshot. I am a friend of Albus'."
Aberforth looked Gellert up and down. A friend of Albus'? I'll bet you are, pretty boy.
"And you must be Aberforth," Gellert continued, holding out his hand. "How do you do."
As Aberforth shook the proffered hand, he felt the strength in Gellert's grip and the roughness of his palm. This one is a sportsman or an athlete. Not like Albus. And for all his smiles, he seems dangerous. I don't think I could beat him in a fistfight and I bet he's good with a wand, too. The thought made him uncomfortable.
"How do you do," Aberforth said gruffly.
"In the last few days I have not seen Albus. I wish to visit with him today."
"He's been unwell. He might not be up to it."
"I am sure he will want to see me."
"Well, all right. I'll just go check on him."
"Perhaps it would be best if I come inside and see him."
"That's not a good idea." For some reason, Aberforth didn't want Gellert to be in the same room as Ariana.
"He will not mind." Gellert pushed past Aberforth on his way inside.
"Wait." Aberforth reached out and grabbed Gellert's arm. As he'd guessed, Gellert's physique was hard and well-developed underneath his coat. Gellert turned and locked eyes with Aberforth. For ten seconds neither of them moved or spoke. Then Aberforth released his grip and Gellert turned and kept walking.
Aberforth lingered at the door for a few moments more, blinking. He didn't quite know what had happened. One moment he'd been staring into Gellert's hard blue eyes, the next he was letting him go. Had Gellert used some kind of magic on him? No, the big blond boy didn't need to use magic. He was extremely self-assured and charismatic, which was a kind of magic of its own.
Returning to his senses, Aberforth hurried through the hallway and arrived in the kitchen on the heels of Gellert, who was staring at Ariana.
"Good morning. You are Dumbledore's sister? Great-aunt Bathilda did not mention about you."
Ariana sat frozen with a fork in her hand, her eyes very wide. She didn't seem to want to look at Gellert directly. When Gellert moved closer to her, she trembled and dropped the fork.
"You are pretty," Gellert said.
"She's very shy around strangers," Aberforth broke in. "Get away from her."
Gellert turned and fixed him with his hard stare. "Where is Albus?"
None of your business, you bastard. You think you can just barge into my house and do what you like? Get out, get away from me and my family.
Aberforth said, "He's in his bedroom. Upstairs, last door on the right."
"Thank you." Gellert gave Ariana a smile. "Goodbye," he said to her, before he left the dining room and they heard him climbing the stairs.
Aberforth returned to his seat beside Ariana, who looked as shaken as he felt. The Dumbledore family were not used to visitors, especially not those as overpowering as Gellert Grindelwald.
So this was why Albus had been acting strange for the past few days. He had a new... friend. But why would Albus be with someone like Gellert Grindelwald? The two of them were so different.
"Are you all right?" he asked Ariana, but no matter how he coaxed her, she wouldn't speak for the remainder of breakfast.