15th July 1899- Afternoon- Albus' POV- Miss Bagshot's Cottage, Godric's Hollow, England-

When Miss Bagshot had invited Albus over to tea, he had been pretty certain as to what to expect, having been going over there weekly during the holidays since he was thirteen. Usually, he would arrive promptly at three in the afternoon, presuming that all was calm at home, knock once and then be invited in warmly. Miss Bagshot would maintain a near constant monologue (which was pleasant in an odd sort of way, even though, in order to stay sane, he would tune most of it out) on the theme of how skinny he was looking ('same as your brother! It's as if you don't eat!'). Then he would sit down on exactly the same, slightly sagging, rose damask chair in the parlour, and she would pass him a cup of tea from the same rose tea set. Whilst Miss Bagshot was setting out the cakes he would find something to compliment her on, whether the décor or the garden, and she would smile contentedly. Only once he had managed to force down a third helping of everything ('growing boys always need food!'), would they continue on to the next, unpleasant, stage of the conversation.

At that point, Miss Bagshot would always rearrange everything on the table, in an attempt to avoid eye contact, as she inquired, as delicately as possible, and in a far softer voice than usual, her face full of pity, as to Albus' health, his mother's (when she had still been with them), then Aberforth's, and finally, Ariana's. Also looking down, he would always reply that his health, and that of his brother, were splendid but 'My sister is, alas, still delicate.' As if that will actually ever change. Once that had been said, the air always seemed to clear, and once his hostess had stated her health was, as usual, 'well enough, considering,' the conversation would travel down more interesting avenues. Tea forgotten, Miss Bagshot's progress on her work would be discussed ('slow, dear, but fascinating') and any new discoveries she had made in her tomes, some of which she would lend to him if asked, and whether she was planning on publishing any articles soon. Albus would then fill her in on what he himself was doing, be it dragon's blood or alchemy, which gave a pleasant illusion of activity for the sake of academia rather than necessity. Finally, just as the sun began to dip, they would discuss all the magical developments of the past few months before, after a couple of hours (of peace), Albus would make his excuses and go. He would usually be back the next week, as Miss Bagshot seemed to like the company and it was a chance to … (escape?), a thought which Albus was not proud of.

He had, quite wrongly as it happened, presumed that today the usual formula would be followed. Before he arrived, that was…

Miss Bagshot had seemed incredibly flustered when he arrived, taking care to jump the broken paving stone in the path, which had presented itself through her behaviour becoming even more erratic than usual. She had kept peering up the stairs, leaving him standing like some form of ornament on the doorstep before she actually seemed to remember he was there. She had then knocked over the hat stand in the hall as she shut the door behind him, apologising profusely when it barely missed his foot. They had, somehow, managed to enter the dining room rather than the parlour, before Miss Bagshot had realised her mistake. Albus' initial bemusement was changing rapidly to a vague feeling of panic. She didn't even use her usual monologue, something truly awful must have happened.

Once in the parlour, she had proceeded to pour out tea for three, hopefully a mistake, but which he decided not to mention due to her obvious agitation, deciding instead to keep his head down and drink the proffered tea. Unless it's that Miss Anderson again … please no. A minute or so later, Miss Bagshot had sighed loudly in apparent frustration before marching determinedly off, shouting something in the hall before going up the stairs. And then she'd come back … with him …

In normal circumstances, Albus prided himself of being a reasonably good judge of people, but when it came to Miss Bagshot's grand-nephew, he was at an utter loss. The other boy was obviously, as evidenced by his accent, from one of the Germanic or Scandinavian, or possibly even one of the Baltic states, which was surprising in itself, as he had presumed Miss Bagshot to be as English as they come. He was obviously also reasonably well off as all his clothes were new, making Albus feel horrendously underdressed. He was approximately Albus own age, but slightly shorter, and a tad stockier. His hair was a mass of blond curls, which seemed to keep getting in his eyes by the way he kept fidgeting with it. It gave him a rather wild look, which Albus knew he himself definitely didn't have, and which was not helped by the mischievous gleam in his clear, grey eyes, which seemed filled with an unintelligible amusement and intelligence. Other than that, all Albus could really think was that he looked nothing whatsoever like Miss Bagshot.

There was, of course, the other boy's face, which Albus had deliberately not been looking at, for fear of catching the other boy's eye and having to make conversation for an extended period of time. His face … the other boy was slightly tanned, though that was offset but the obvious flush of oncoming sunburn across his cheeks and nose, and, despite the fact that he had a hint of dark circles under his eye, was … very nice looking … with well-defined cheekbones and plump lips. At that thought, Albus firmly schooled his features into apparent disinterred … although he had worried for a moment that the other had noticed him looking for a tad too long. Though the boy's expression only really seemed to change from mild amusement to something resembling irritation when Albus stopped looking. A contradiction in itself. … But before Albus could delve too deeply into that mystery, Miss Bagshot had introduced them and the moment was (thankfully) broken.

Pleasantries were exchanged with perfect politeness, and more tea handed around. Albus was, however, perfectly aware of the fact that the other boy was sizing him up, and that he was doing the same thing, to some extent. Then, suddenly and seemingly out of the blue, Gellert smiled a brilliant smile, which was impossible not to return. After that, the tension which had been in the air seeped rapidly away, replaced by a comfortable silence in which Gellert and Albus focused on their food, and Miss Bagshot on her knitting.

According to Albus' estimation, almost ten minutes passed before the other boy broke the silence, speaking with a strong accent … but what he said … that … that was unexpected …

'I have read your articles in Transfiguration Today, and the Practical Potioneer. That recent one on the question of life in transfigured objects was particularly …' The young man seemed to struggle for a moment to find the word. 'Insightful. But surely-'

They seemed to lose Miss Bagshot somewhere around the fifteen minute mark, as evidenced by her glazed expression, after her offers of more tea for the both of them were rebuffed. Gellert barely even looked at her when she spoke, his gaze instead fixed rather unnervingly on Albus, a strange, feverish quality in his eyes. Miss Bagshot looked happy, however, or enough that Albus didn't feel guilty about continuing his conversation with Gellert, that they both seemed so animated, and to be getting along so well. Truthfully, they were getting along like a cauldron on fire, Albus could not remember when he had actually met someone his own age who had knowledge and understanding of, and relevant opinions on, as many topics as the other young man seemed to. In fact, they seemed to be equals in everything from skills to intelligence. The only disruption to the conversation came in the form of Gellert having a coughing fit after attempting to drink some of the, admittedly rather overbrewed, tea, which he was apparently not used to, before discarding it, earning him a reproving look from his Great-Aunt.

Amazingly, wonderfully, the conversation carried on and on, getting increasingly detailed and pedantic. Gellert gestured rapidly, his previous apparent tiredness forgotten, his face flushing more, his eyes sparkling with an almost feverish excitement. His accent definitely became increasingly difficult to understand and his frustration more apparent when he could not find the word he wanted to express a particular theory. Albus couldn't look away, wouldn't. For the first time in a while he was actually useful, and interested, and in good company.

They danced from topic to topic, the verbal jousting becoming increasingly challenging. Albus himself, close to the end, actually found himself struggling a little, until … until Miss Bagshot finally put her foot down. It was getting dark and she seemed to have decided that now was the time to exert some form of authority.

'Albus, dear,' She said firmly, yet not unkindly. 'Gellert must be tired after his journey. And surely-' The time- Oh Merlin, the time-

Attempting not to blush slightly in embarrassment, Albus replied, 'Oh,' before managing to think of something more eloquent. 'Yes, you are quite right of course. I have to go … if I may be excused of course.' The blond was still looking at him and Albus internally curled up at how much of a fool he was sounding and uncertain of how to improve the situation. In the end, he decided not speaking was probably best and instead stood, carefully placing his forgotten cup back into its saucer. 'If has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Grindelwald.' And for once he actually meant it.

'Likewise.' Gellert stood and they shook hands again, firm and warm. Miss Bagshot also stood, and made to escort him out. 'Frauline-' Gellert, to Albus surprise, and apparently to Miss Bagshot's as well, quickly interjected. 'Tante – mein Gott, Aunt, I mean. I insist, allow me.' Smiling, Miss Bagshot sat back down, knitting in her hand, once again, and one of her ginger cats beginning to take up residence on her lap.

Albus turned to smile back at her. 'Goodbye. Ad thank you for the tea. Would it also be possible, if it is convenient for your of course, for you to look through one of my articles if I drop it off here tomorrow?'

Her smile turning rather sad, she replied, 'Of course, dear. Have a nice evening.'

They walked in silence to the front door, only breaking that state when Gellert decided to break the bounds of acceptability by grabbing Albus arm and tugging him to one side, stopping him leaving, that infectious grin on his face again. 'I don't suppose you would be willing to show me around a bit tomorrow. Around the village, that is? Also, maybe we could speak a bit more- oh- by the way- make sure you correct me if I get anything wrong with my English. It would be … good … to talk some more. You seem interesting … like you understand …' Gellert trailed off for a moment, apparently thinking deeply. 'If you have time of course,' he stated suddenly, seeming to have remembered that he needed to be polite.

Yet again, Albus was rather caught off guard by his companion, still, he only had to think of home, and his decision was already made. ' time would suit you, Mr Grindelwald?'

'Gellert, please.'

'Gellert, then. Albus …' He gestured at himself. '…me, that is.' Willing the ground to open up and swallow him, and wondering why his usual eloquence had chosen now of all times to go on holiday, Albus mentally winced yet again at his latest spectacular show of awkwardness and ineptitude as his tongue seemed to carry on of its own accord.

The only sign of amusement in his companion was a momentary growth in his grin, though he most definintely went up in Albus estimation when he didn't actually laugh aloud. 'Albus,' a trace of amusement still causing a slight lilt in his voice, 'it has truly been a pleasure to meet you. Eight tomorrow would be convenient for me, if it suits you? Before the heat.'

'Until then.'

'Until then.' Gellert finally let go of Albus, allowing him to exit, and closing the door softly behind him.

For the first time in a while, Albus felt completely content as he walked home, which, conveniently, happened to be just next door. The afternoon had been unexpectedly good, and he actually had something to look forward to tomorrow. All in all, today has been an unmitigated success. That was, until he actually opened the little wooden gate to get into their (his, now) front garden, and remembered.

It was, as always, the garden which caused the memories to come flooding back. It was not any change which Albus could specifically put his finger on, it just was. The garden was almost, if possible, too perfect. It had been his mother's domain, an escape from her from domestic drudgery, and, if he was feeling uncharitable, which seemed to be happening a lot more recently, an escape from Ariana's gaze. Kendra had always taken pride in the appearance of her cottage and garden, no matter their financial situation. She had spent hours, always whilst Ariana was sleeping, tending her plants, and painting and cleaning the cottage's slightly tilted façade. Now, between Albus and Aberforth the garden was still being tended, the front of the house still well maintained, but it seemed colder, more perfunctory, and his mother's roses were, ever so slightly, starting to wilt.

It was worse inside of course. In basic design, their cottage was exactly the same as Miss Bagshot's, and nothing like their old house, which had been more modern, larger, and, of course, filled with laughter. They had no library, however, just two more bedrooms. Inside, the décor still belonged to his mother, a carefully cleaned, and fashionable, yet, if one looked closely, ageing, collection of ornaments and wooden furniture, all of which had been repaired carefully following the … accident ( … murder …). There were some family photographs in all of the rooms too, lit at night by the gas lights, which worsened everything, as most of them had been taken before …

For a moment, Albus delayed his entrance to the house, pretending to study one of the wilting roses, then, feeling bad, he straightened his shoulders and went in. Aberforth was on him before he had even wiped his feet.

'Where in Merlin's name have you been?! I needed you, she needed you!' His brother's usually surly expression had been replaced by one of absolute fury, of accusation.

'Just at Miss Bagshot's. You could have called if-' He tried, attempting not to respond to his brother's anger.

'Yes- when she's having one of her turns of course I can just leave the house and go searching the village for you. You're the only one of us who is old enough to do magic, remember? Or is it because we aren't some dragon blood, or whatever shit you're working on, experiment? Would you actually remember us then?'

I will not be baited. Remember mother. I will not say anything, Albus determinedly mentally chanted. It's hard though, so hard. 'Well,' he said calmly, but not without supreme effort. 'I'm back now. Have you eaten? Has she eaten?'

Aberforth, for a moment, looked close to actually hitting Albus, which he had never actually yet done out of spite. 'Like you care. I made something an hour ago. 'Course as you were too busy.'

'Look! I'm trying!' Albus' temper finally broke.

'WELL YOU JUST AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH THEN!' Aberforth yelled.

Fighting back angry tears, Albus was just attempting to think of something really cutting to hurl back at his brother when they both froze, having heard the small whispering movements from the second-best parlour. All too familiar sounds. Dirty boots and arguments forgotten, they both sprinted down the hall, skidding around the corner and through the door.

Luckily, very luckily, the sounds they had heard which usually meant … that … was happening, were merely being produced by their sister turning the pages of a massive encyclopaedia, humming quietly to herself and apparently unaware of her brothers' presence. By some unspoken agreement, Albus and Aberforth looked at one another, then tiptoed back out of the room, and back in to the hall.

'Sorry for being out so late. I lost track of the time. It won't happen again.' Albus muttered, feeling guilty when he thought about Aberforth having to have on Albus' responsibilities all day, and even guiltier when he remember what he had arranged for the morrow. 'I know that I'm not very good at this, but I will get better, I promise, Ab.'

His brother seemed to consider for a moment, then the anger seeped out of his features. 'I know. It's just … I just … she just … Today was a rough day.'

'I understand.' What occurred next happened so fast that, later, when he replayed his it in his mind, Albus could almost convince himself that he hadn't seen it. For just a moment, he could have sworn that his usually dour brother's eyes seemed to fill with tears, and, to his utter disgrace all Albus could think was, 'please no, if you do I will. I can't stand it.' But then, fortunately, the moment passed with Albus only having to pat his brother on the arm, though, for a second he felt as though he should embrace his brother … like Mother would have … like a parent … like I'm the parent. And that was not a reassuring or pleasant thought.

Clearing his throat, his voice a little too hoarse, Ab looked awkwardly at the floor, tracing the vine patterns in the rug with one of his feet. 'Might go out for a bit, just to feed the goats, y'know. Just for a bit, if you can just keep an eye on her? I mean, she's eaten and everything so it'll just be putting her to bed later, checking she stays calm. After this morning, she's been ok.' Albus held up a hand to stop his brother rambling.

'Tell me about it tomorrow. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her this evening.' Ab smiled at him, something he hadn't done in a while.

'Thanks.'

'It's my responsibility anyhow, and it's not an unpleasant one.' It's not really lying, not really. 'As for tomorrow.' Please stay calm. 'If I do some errands in the morning, but promise to be home and with the both of you by one o'clock at the latest, could you watch her? Then you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.'

Aberforth seemed to be tempted to say something for a minute, something which, by the look in his eyes, would not have been nice, before looking shrewdly at his brother.

'Swear?'

'I swear.' Albus replied, attempting to look earnest. After all, what could realistically delay me so much that I would be late tomorrow, it is not as if there is that much to show in Godric's Hollow.

Looking as though he was tempted again to say something else, Aberforth opened his mouth, before closing it again, and, nodding brusquely once, turning and heading off into the night. Is that what he does? How he coped? Talking to however many goats he has? Albus thought in a moment of clarity, a moment which was rather alarming as, for the first time, he began to view his brother as perhaps approaching adulthood. Then it passed- just as long as he doesn't throw goat dung at that woman's head again, as long as he doesn't do that everything will be fine.

Albus then mentally braced himself, knowing what he must do next. Clearing his features, and replacing his concerned expression with a gentle smile, went back into the room where Ariana was. At first, she seemed to almost blend into the décor, the shade of blue in her dress almost exactly matching the rag-rug his mother had made years ago, when she had been expecting Aberforth, he thought. The fire was lit, despite the heat, which didn't seem to affect her in the slightest, though the embers only glowed faintly. Someone, Aberforth he presumed, as he was not certain Ariana knew how, had turned on the gas lights, which produced odd, sputtering shadows. Everything is the same! It's always the same! The same dark oak furniture, the same comfy chairs, the same books, desk, furnishings … photographs … I can't bear it. Blinking back tears yet again, yet somehow managing to keep hold of his small smile, Albus went over to where she sat, crouched on the rug, still looking through the huge, leather bound encyclopaedia, trying as he walked, carefully avoiding the artistically placed small tables, to ignore the shadows dancing across the painted, blue-vined wall paper with its motifs of birds. In the light, they look alive … they moved almost like … it … did.

She didn't acknowledge his presence in any way until he sat in one of the armchairs beside her. Then, she merely looked up at him and smiled that sweet, vacant smile, one of the thing he found hard about her condition. Once, she had looked bright and vivacious, lively and always looking for mischief. That girl, he had to regularly remind himself, was gone, and, from the looks of things, was not coming back. Most of the time, however, the hardest thing was reconciling the fact that, in terms of age, she was barely two years younger than Ab, four younger than Albus himself, as they were world apart, she always seemed so much younger. It was hard to believe that, if she were … normal … she'd be like any of the other girls at school now, interested in boys and dresses, giggling with friends over inconsequential things … beginning to think about her owls. Albus knew he couldn't think like that, so rarely allowed himself to. That way madness lay, and Albus didn't know how his Mother had avoided it. As it was, here she sat, empty, except for when … that … happened. Her blonde hair falling down her back neatly, her face devoid of expression, other than that vapid smile, and her eyes empty, yet broken, like a smashed mirror, almost.

Albus was somewhat taken aback when she spoke, which was a relatively rare occurrence, especially to him. 'Papa used to collect these books, didn't he?'

'Yes.' Albus said, keeping his voice, through some miracle, level, jolting between being delighted that she seemed to actually remember something like that, and want to talk to him about it, and trying to avoid looking at the pictures on the wall. His father was a lot of those, a man he had always viewed as larger than life, and whom he didn't know. I never told Mama one thing, that I don't remember him well, or Ariana as she was, or any of it. I'm not sure I want to, if I'm honest ... especially not like that- smiles always look fake in photographs … even if they're real … like those were.

For a moment, a slight expression of confusion marred Ariana's expression. 'But he's not here?'

'No, Anna, he's away for a while.'

'Oh. What's this mean?' And like that her focus had changed, to a passage on muggle locomotives, which Albus happily explained to her. Ariana was a fast learner. She would have been- no, is- clever. The only thing they taught her was what had happened to their parents. A white lie really, and therefore not really a lie at all.

Contrary to Albus' expectations, they actually passed a very pleasant evening, discussing everything in the book from locomotives to the positioning of different countries and wizarding communities around the world. She's having a good evening … and that's a blessing. For once, I have a sister.

At one point, Albus saw Ab peering in, and nodded at him, to indicate all was well, then Ab went up to bed, seemingly content to leave them as they were. When the clock on the wall chimed ten, Albus decided that he should probably be the adult, responsible older brother, and chivvy Ariana to sleep.

'Anna, bed time?'

'Sure. Read to me, please?'

'Of course. Which story?' This was a regular thing between them, a love of reading was one of the few things he seemed to have in common with his sister, and, if he had the time, he always read to her. It seemed to help to keep her calm overnight. Every evening, when he was free, they would sit in here and choose some new book, then, after a chapter, or a story if it was a compendium, she would go up to bed, and he would go to his room and work on whatever he was writing at the time.

'Beedle the Bard- the Tale of the Three Brothers.' She said gleefully, knowing that that was both of their favourites.'

'A good choice.' Albus retrieved the book, Ariana deciding to sit on the chair next to him, leaning over so that she could trace the pictures in their old copy of the book with one of her fingers whilst he read. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw that Ab seemed to have come back downstairs for something and had discreetly edged into the room to listen. For once all is good, and we're a family. 'A long time ago, in a far away land,' he read. 'Three brothers were travelling along a lonely road at twilight.'

16th July 1899- Morning- Gellert's POV-

Gellert was seriously regretting arranging to meet Albus (his apparent new friend) at eight in the morning. Despite the fact that he'd slept very well, when he had actually got to sleep after reading until perhaps a little too late (in his defence the book had been very interesting), he was not naturally a morning person and had managed to spectacularly underestimate how tired he was. He had been reluctant to get up when the charm he had cast activated, and dressed (light clothes, due to the completely uncivilised heat), and breakfasted (the wonders of porridge … never again) in a sort of stupor. And Tante Bathilda's cupboard had contained no coffee, always a bad start to a day. Still, and he brightened considerably at the thought, it should be an interesting day at the very least, despite his misgivings about the strength of the sun already pouring through the kitchen windows, illuminating the chaos of the room, and the lack of any apparent breeze.

Albus was, however, the most interesting person he'd met in a long time, perhaps ever. Certainly the most promising, and definitely not what Gellert had been expecting from someone who lived in somewhere like Godric's Hollow. In fact, Gellert had a slight, and rather alarming, suspicion that Albus was, perhaps, marginally cleverer … and potentially marginally better at magic … than he was … at least an equal … which had made him feel inspired (or maybe uneasy) enough to dig out all the journals he could find, actually reading up on all the latest magical developments, not just the ones he was interested in. He had even fine-tuned his opinions and re-read the other boy's work for himself (which, although he did not like to admit it, had been ever so slightly scary), as well as filching some of his Tante's work … which Albus seemed familiar with (which was even more alarming as, from what she had said about Albus, she seemed to think of him as very close to her academically, even when his age was considered). Gellert had to admit that he was suddenly wishing, something he had never done before, that he actually had published something to prove his intelligence, rather than just knowing it was present and putting it to other uses. He'd also made copious (well, as copious as one could do in one night) mental and physical notes from some more of his Tante's library. That late night reading, along with the previous day's travelling, and the fact that he'd gotten accustomed to later rising after leaving Durmstrang, was probably why he could hardly keep his eyes open despite being firmly sent to bed at nine by his Tante (an occurrence which he was determined would not occur again). To be fair, he had gone through the motions of going to bed, to stop Tante Bathilda interfering, but as soon as his customary locking charm was on the door, and his own was out, he'd simply cast lumos, put a cover over the light and himself and read and written … until three, by his estimation. In hindsight, that had been a mistake on a day when he wanted his mental faculties to be at their best … and when there is no coffee.

He was, he had to admit, quite excited, an unusual state of being for him when it was linked to another person, rather than to his work.

'Gellert! Is that you? Where are you going?' Tante Bathilda shouted from what sounded like the library as the dining room door, which he had been trying to close gently, slammed. Gellert had to strongly resist an urge to answer- 'No, of course bloody not.' Who else? Perhaps his aunt was having an illicit affair, he laughed to himself, Now that would be interesting!

'Guten Morgen, Tante- I mean Aunt. Just out for a while, Albus said that he would show me around the village a bit-'

'Good, good. Just be nice, dear, he's been having a rough time recently.' Hmm? 'And-' As if she had suddenly remembered that she was acting as his guardian- actually cared. 'Don't be back too late- I want to see you at lunch!'

'Fine.' He responded, rather reluctantly. 'I will be! Auf Wiedersehen!'

A few things struck Gellert the minute he shut the front door. First, that he'd been so distracted by actually meeting someone intelligent that they hadn't arranged a meeting place. Second, that he had absolutely no idea where Albus lived, and thirdly, that he was on time but there was no Albus in sight. There were village people, for sure, some muggle, some wizard, but no tall, red-headed ones. Shit. Gellert sat, feeling rather dejected. For the sake of his own pride, no matter what happened he most definitely wasn't going back inside until lunch, and would be incredibly annoyed if he had been stood up.

He must have sat there, he supposed, for about half an hour, marvelling at how any place could be quite as boring as Godric's Hollow seemed to be. For starters, the road was dirt, and very dusty, which caused Gellert to wrinkle his nose in disgust, having always been a bit more of a city person, then there were the cottages, which all seemed to be identical to his aunt's, and which were actually quite close together, with his being able to look at the wilted roses in the next front garden from his position on the wall. From where he was, all he could see were these cottages, although he presumed they must be close to some countryside, and to something resembling a village shop, or a church … or anything. Then there were the village people, who also seemed pretty similar, all seeming to know one another, wearing outdated clothes and wandering about their errands. There seemed to be minimal other young people, though he noticed some children chasing a hoop down the road. All in all, Godric's Hollow was living up to his expectations exactly.

Gellert finally, after the half an hour passed, stood, cursing Albus as he did so, and preparing himself for the embarrassment of telling Miss Bagshot what had happened, and was just about to declare the meeting a bad lot and go back inside to get more sleep, when Albus actually emerged from the cottage next door. He looked rather flustered, hair forming a sort of mane around his head, his robes slightly askew and his face red. Gellert half waves from his place standing a rock at the side of the path and Albus seemed to perk up when he saw him, the worry lines etched in his face disappearing. They joined one another on the road and set off together.

'I have to run a couple of errands, if you don't mind that is, then I'll show you around properly.' Albus huffed out in one breath, the worry lines reappearing. 'Morning, by the way, and I apologise for being late.' Gellert was almost tempted to voice his irritation at having been made to wait, when he saw the shadow which had passed across his companion's face as Albus looked at his feet, glaring as if they had personally offended him. 'My younger sister, Ariana, is very delicate, and she was unwell this morning.'

'Oh.' Was all he could think to say (well done, good for me) as dealing with the emotions of others had never exactly been his forte. Albus actually looked quite upset, and tired, usually clear blue eyes clouded and downcast. Gellert considered patting him on the shoulder, then decided that he didn't know the other boy well enough to do that yet, and that it probably wouldn't help even if he did, so instead he decided to seek refuge in attempted to create what he hoped would be a comfortable silence until the other boy had recovered a little. His mouth, however, seemed to have other ideas and clawed around for something to say. 'So you had to help your mother, then?'

At that, Albus, if that was actually possible, looked even more depressed, dangerously close to tears, in fact, and Gellert immediately realised that he had, in some way, managed to open his mouth and stick his foot in it. 'My mother passed on two weeks ago … there was an accident … they told me in a letter …' Gellert winced. Oh Dane, of all the things I could have said … Some God is laughing at my expense. But he carried on- oh Merlin- for some reason he carried on in the same vein.

'Your father, then?' Before saying that, Gellert had been certain that the situation could not get any worse, he was wrong. There was pain in the other boy's eyes, then blankness- concealment.

Albus seemed almost to steel himself before providing an apparently well-rehearsed answer in a dull, monotonous voice. 'My father died in Azkaban last year.' (What? – then who?) Then, as if recognising that right at that moment Gellert was, in another first, absolutely mortified, and apparently attempting to save him from further embarrassment, without sharing too much more information about this apparently, and naturally, sensitive topic. 'I live with my younger brother and sister- I'm in charge of them.' He stated, bluntly, though with a tiny bit more life in his voice. Despite the valiant attempt, Gellert still wanted the ground to swallow him. He couldn't imagine that- he'd always had a guardian, no matter how bad, he'd never been responsible … limited … held. He groped around yet again for something acceptable to say, something which would not seem like he was prying, but which would allow him to keep and get to know better his new friend.

All he could come up with was. 'I'm truly sorry for your loss. I didn't know. Are you certain you want to show me around rather than being withthem?' Brilliant, fantastic, very, very original. But he wasn't used to being comforting.

'What about you?' Albus said, changing the subject as he steered them left onto what appeared to be the village's main thoroughfare, if it could actually be called that. It was, to be honest, just marginally larger than the road they lived on, and had slightly bigger houses, though Gellert thought he could see a church and marketplace in the distance. 'If I may ask, why are you living with Miss Bagshot? I didn't even know that she had any family abroad.'

'Orphan too.' He stated, briefly. 'My parents got Dragon Pox when I was seven, remember that year when it was really bad? Yes, well, I've lived with different family members ever since.' Gellert didn't like talking about this, not because it upset him, or was painful, in reality he couldn't really remember them, just disconnected images. He didn't like talking about it because it was uncomfortable, with people expecting him to show more emotion whilst they looked at him with pity in his eyes, an emotion he truly could not stand.

'They didn't make it.' He continued. 'I was staying with family at the time so …' Albus nodded, understanding, but luckily there was little pity in his eyes, which made the conversation, which Gellert supposed was necessary for them to move on in their friendship, infinitesimally more bearable.

'Ja, two. Johannes, five years older, and Magdalena, three years younger. But they were with my parents when-' It was not really necessary to continue that sentence and Albus was taking his turn to look uncomfortable.

'Sorry.' They both took thankful refuge in comfortable silence.

They were just turning into the marketplace, which did indeed have shops and a church, when Albus spoke again. 'So Miss Bagshot is your great-aunt then?'

'She's my grandmother's youngest sister, and she's technically my guardian now, I think.'

'Guardian?' Albus sounded mildly surprised. 'How old are you?'

'Sixteen.'

'Oh, I thought you were older- the same age as me.'

Gellert grimaced slightly. 'You're eighteen, right?'

'Seventeen.'

'Same difference. Tante didn't tell you about the circumstances in which I left Durmstrang, did she?'

'Ah.' Said Albus, understanding, though he didn't seem to be overly shocked.

Both looked solemn for a moment before Albus suddenly started grinning. 'And on, arguably I know, a more cheerful note, here before you are the wonders of Godric's Hollow.' He gestured, showing off an old church, with an extensive graveyard, and a paved square with a flower bed in the middle and shops surrounding it. Gellert groaned, it was as boring as he had feared.

'Please tell me there's something else here.'

'Fields. You need to go to London if you actually want to get anything. I mean you can send owl post, and there's a very small apothecary, and a book shop which takes orders. Other than that you can buy food and get a bicycle repaired, that's all, even for muggles this place is pretty bad.'

'Great, just great.'

Albus laughed. 'You'll get used to it.'

Gellert partnered Albus on his errands, chatting about new muggle inventions, magical developments (which made Gellert very glad of his research the night before) and general facts about the village. The book shop was decent, other than that Albus merely picked up food and ingredients from the apothecary and a few assorted shops which looked exactly the same, and in which everyone seemed to know each other. By the time they had got back to the church, Gellert was certain Albus had assured over thirty people of his continued health, and heard innumerable responses in return.

'I need to head back now. I promised my brother. But, there is one interesting thing in this village. You see the graveyard, well, the Peverells areburied there. The ones who are supposed to be in the Tale of the Three Brothers in Beedle the Bard.'

'Really?' Gellert asked, intrigued.

'Yes, we can go see the graves at some point, if you're interested that is?'

'Ja, naturlich … Yes, I mean, yes … when?'

'Whenever. I might be free tomorrow afternoon.'

'That would be great.'

It was only as they raced back home, laughing, that Gellert realised why Albus seemed strangely familiar, other than because of his published works. It was the glint of red hair in the sun which jogged his memory, and the heat, which was, as midday approached, just beginning to become unbearable. My vision …

I'm back! Just started uni so have been really busy but hoping to write and post the next chapter pretty soon. Please review as it really helps and I hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. :)