16th July 1899- Midday- Gellert's POV- Miss Bagshot's Cottage, Godric's Hollow, England-
It was a relief to get inside and finally gain some protection from the incessant, burning sun and the heat. Despite their being careful to get back home before the hottest part of the day, Gellert was pretty sure that he had added to his sunburn and was also feeling rather cheated as he had been informed, reliably, or so he had believed, that England was a relatively cold and wet country. But it was worth it, Merlin, it had most definitely been worth it. The day before he had suspected, to some extent, Albus' potential, but today he had, yet again, been pleasantly … no, scarily … surprised, and somewhat awed, by the scope of the other boy's knowledge and understanding. And as for power, well, we shall see.
Admittedly, they had not spoken for nearly as long as he would have liked, or about as many things as he would, ideally, have wanted but, and Gellert was now almost certain of this, Albus Dumbledore would prove to be important, useful, and most definitely interesting. Someone he had most definitely expected to exist after the sheer mundaneness of the minds that he had encountered at Durmstrang, and, come to think of it, anywhere. I won't lose him. I can't, not until I know him better. And Gellert was also pretty certain that Albus was just as bored, as frustrated, and perhaps as brilliant, as he was, a definite bonus. And the vision! It must be him! It must! He could not, of course, be absolutely certain; he knew better than most already that prophesising was a very inexact magical discipline, but he did know, as surely as there had to be at least four more uses for dragons' blood than the currently discovered six, that Albus was going to be a big part of his summer, at the very least.
Although, with the apparently large extent of Albus responsibilities, seeing him was going to be a bit of a challenge, but one that Gellert was more than willing to meet. He knew how persuasive he could be, and he wanted to spend more time with Albus, to learn more about him, so he was going to make it happen. Especially when he considered the end of their earlier conversation, when Albus had mentioned … them. The Hallows! I was right! I was right! But that was a thought to be further explored later, once he had visited the village graveyard. For now, Albus was his new priority. It was as he stood there, in the blessed cool of Tante Bathilda's cottage's poky hallway, thinking, that the woman herself called for him.
'Gellert! Is that you!' No- it's a Martian. Her voice was slightly muffled- the kitchen then.
'Yes, T-aunt Tilda.'
'Lunch is in here. Make sure you change and wash your hands before you eat- it must have been dusty out there.' Because Godric's Hollow apparently has not yet discovered proper roads. And of course, I would have, I'm not a savage, no matter what Inke might have told you.
'Of course, Aunt Tilda.' He called back, trying, and semi-succeeding in keeping the sarcastic inflection, the frustration, out of his voice. Turning to climb the stairs, Gellert sighed. His tiredness was returning with a vengeance now he was no longer distracted and excited by his engaging companion. He was overheated as he had completely forgotten to speak to his Tante about getting some lighter clothing- and now could not really bring himself to, especially considering the selection (of lack) of shops in Godric's Hollow, and the faded, old-fashioned, and suspiciously homemade-looking styles his aunt seemed to be partial to. His sunburn hurt, and the headache he was developing was not being helped by the carpet his aunt had chosen, on which the pattern had faded and torn so much with use that it now consisted of wild, geometric shaped which in no way resembled the stairs, causing him to fall and bark his knee painfully. 'Verdamnt!'
'Are you alright dear?' Tante Tilda called.
'Yes, fine. I just- what is the word- slipped.'
'Oh- I keep meaning to get that carpet replaced.' Gellert decided not to deign that with a response. Damn it all- Inke, Tante Tilda, the sun, Albus' responsibilities, Gellert's own stupid age, stupid Godric's Hollow, stupid Durmstrang- the small-minded pricks- cursing under his breath and in a thoroughly bad mood which showed no sign of abating, he continued to his room, feeling sorely tempted to just collapse on the bed and sleep until his Tante saw fit to wake him. But it would not do to upset Miss Bagshot, he supposed, not yet, at any rate- not with Albus and the Hallows, and with my being so close to finally becoming an adult; who know which relative I would get farmed out to next if this does not work out. At least Bathilda appeared to be alright with him- so far, at any rate.
So, trying hard to feel slightly more positive, but with little apparent success, Gellert, squirming slightly at the unpleasant sensation, literally peeled his jacket and shirt off, deciding that for the rest of the day he would risk only shirt sleeves- it might not be proper, strictly speaking, but at least he would not get heat stroke. And Tilda was so laid back she probably would not mind anyway.
His room was a mess, he knew, which was quite unusual for him, as usually there was an order to the chaos, bed into him by Durmstrang's strict rules, and his own liking for logic. It had been caused by the frantic cramming of the night before. Yellowing sheaves lay across ancient tomes and shiny new journals and magazines in the dappled sunlight, dust motes casting eclectic shadows as they darted through the shafts of light. Quickly, noticing the sun, and the beginnings of severe stuffiness in his room, he quickly pulled the curtain to, trying hard to ignore the very unfortunate ancient blue and gold pattern, before his room became a sauna. The mess, he decided, could wait a little. He couldn't face it and it was not as if, until he met Albus again, he had much to do, as he was too tired to do research right now.
Bathilda's bathroom was the next stop- one that Gellert felt summed up its owner nicely. It was chaotic, old fashioned, dubiously functional and, in some areas, bordering on lunacy. Products were strewn everywhere, a rather droopy lily sat atop a pile of books (ranging from 'An Appraisal of Magic in Brittany 1783-1801' to 'Everyday Spells for the Modern World'), atop the vanity. The mat was- by the looks of it- handmade very inexpertly, making it another hazard. And as for the drawers, Gellert did not even want to go there. Washing his hands only took a minute, though he winced when he saw how burnt his reflection looked, and then it was off to the kitchen for lunch with Bathilda.
'Oh, there you are, dear. I was just going to call you again.' Tilda beamed up at him from her seat at the little wooden table. Today, she had elected to war a light blue crinoline, at least twenty years out of date, with slightly worn and yellowing lace frills and, in a concession to the heat perhaps, had dispensed with her shawl. The kitchen itself was relatively cool, the window being shaded by the overgrown honeysuckle and open to tempt in any breeze which might appear. She appeared to have made an effort, as the table was cleared of the mess which had covered it the day before, fully laid, and a decent amount of food had been provided- sandwiches by the looks of it- but Gellert was too hungry, thirsty, and tired to really be fussy. He was beginning to miss continental cuisine, proper cuisine, already though. And tea- yet more tea- always more tea… 'Oh Merlin!' His Tante gasped just after had had sat down, making him jump slightly in surprise. 'You are burnt to a crisp.' She exclaimed, apparently finally taking in his full appearance. 'I'll make up a potion for that.'
Gellert was very tempted to say he would make it up himself but decided against it when he saw the hopeful look in her eyes. 'The weather has been most unusually warm this- 'She babbled happily on- a state Gellert was beginning to view as her natural one- almost sending the milk flying as she leant over to pass him the various foodstuffs. 'I'll make it after lunch.' She seemed almost pathetically delighted to have someone there, appearing to listen, although he was pretty sure she would, and did, carry on talking either way. He jumped again when she placed a hand to his forehead, then cheeks, managing not to slap the hand away. I'm not a child.
'Yes, very warm. Oh, you poor dear. Your hair is lightening up something lovely though. Hands?' Obediently, knowing the drill well already, Gellert held them up for inspection. Tante Bathilda appeared to have read some form of parenting book and was trying to follow it step by step 'Good. Well, there's no need to stand up. Sit. Sit. You must be starving. Boys always need food. It's just sandwiches I'm afraid, but just feel free to ask for something, buy something or make something up for yourself if you get hungry later. Actually, it might be better for you to buy something or make it yourself as I'm a little busy with my research at the moment- Giant Wars, you know? Anyways, we'll usually eat breakfast and lunch in the kitchen and dinner in the dining room, although, come to think of it, I do not know what time you breakfast? So maybe-?' She paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing. 'Oh, and I might have to ask you to do some little jobs for me sometimes whilst you are here, just errands and the such like, if that is agreeable?'
Gellert nodded, taking a rather suspicious bite of one of the proffered sandwiches, then trying hard not to gag to noticeable. Tante Tilda's tea yesterday had not been so bad, but still … he tentatively looked at the filling, seeing something pink and mushy which might once had been meat. Yeuch.
'Erm … what is-?'
'That- oh- just corned beef.'
'Korned-? What?'
'Beef, dear. Beef- from a cow. Never had corned beef before?'
'No.' And if I ever have it again it will be far, far too soon. I thought English food was supposed to be alright, not brilliant, but better than this. With a feat he believed to be worthy of an Order of Merlin, he managed to force the sandwich down, suddenly appreciating the tea infinitely more.
His Tante looked at him for a minute, then at her own teacup, awkwardly almost. 'How was Albus?' There was something which sounded suspiciously like pity in her voice.
'Well, I think, although he seemed very … what is the word? … busy? Flustered?' Gellert tried hopefully, cursing the language, or, more accurately, his Tante's lack of German.
'Yes … yes. I can imagine.' Bathilda sighed, apparently lost in thought for a moment. 'Poor, poor boy. Too much responsibility, really, for one so young.'
Trying and failing miserably not to be nosy, Gellert finally gave into the inevitable and began to probe for some more information. 'Is there no one else to take in the younger ones? Won't they go back to school soon? And the father? Albus tole me where he was …'
'No, no.' Tilda sighed, looking sadly at Gellert, eyes almost brimming. 'Poor little ones. It's just the three of them. The mother died very recently … a tragic accident. And the father, well, I do not want to betray confidences but if you looked in a newspaper, or perhaps eventually have a proper conversation with Albus himself about it … yes, not a nice business.' Gellert immediately made a note to do exactly that as soon as possible, wishing more than anything to learn more about his new companion. 'I imagine Albus will have to start looking for some form of employment reasonably soon, once he receives his NEWT results, of course. Such a waste- he could do so much … As for school, well, the brother, Aberforth, you probably would not have seen him yet, he rather keeps himself to himself, will go back soon- he is about your age, I think. And the sister, Ariana, she's- 'Tilda paused, momentarily, but long enough for Gellert to notice, and to wonder… '-too frail for school. Of course, Albus will get appointed to any job he applies to, but still … you keep an eye on him, Gellert. It will be good for the both of you.' Tilda sounded surprisingly firm, catching his eye for the first time since they had begun this uncomfortable part of the conversation. Gellert smiled at her, meeting her gaze; he certainly intended on staying close to Albus.
'Speaking of families.' Warning bells immediately went off. 'The post was late today, but your Aunt Inke wrote to me.' Gellert's smile faltered, then vanished, all the merriment gone- what now? 'She wanted to know if you had settled in.' Like she cares, like she is not just making sure that you are not intending on sending me back. 'I was planning on writing back and saying that you have- unless you want to write to her yourself?' She looked at him, questioning.
'No, you can. It's fine.' He was worried for a moment that he had replied too quickly for politeness, thereby perhaps making Bathilda suspicious, but she smiled her rather vague grin and he knew everything was fine. She had not yet suspected the level of indifference he harboured for his family.
'Wonderful. Now- if you will be staying here longer term there is something I want to talk to you about.' She poured lemonade (a blessed relief from the tea) into fluted glasses and gave him a large slice of some form of sponge cake- as if trying to soften in oncoming blow. 'Your schooling.' She paused, gauging his reaction.
Gellert winced slightly. He had known that this conversation was bound to come but had not expected it to appear quite this soon.
'I know things … did not work out … at Durmstrang.' Well, that's one way of putting it. 'But you appear' appear? 'to be a bright you man, and surely you realise the value, no, the necessity of education.' Not really for me, no. 'With some application on your part in relation to the language, which I know must be challenging, I am sure if I spoke with the Headmaster Hogwarts might would consider letting you complete your education there.' So Inke didn't tell you? That's why you agreed to take me. 'Or you could study from home, but I am sure that it would be nicer for you to be around people closer to your own age, not some old fogey like me.' No, Gellert had absolutely no intention of re-entering school in any form. Firstly, because all other young people his age bored him to tears (except, apparently, surprisingly, Albus- but he has already completed school anyway) and secondly, even if by some miracle Hogwarts did accept him, he had finished the whole curriculum himself already. Still, I do need Tante Tilda on side, at least for the time being. Tilda was busy enough, and apparently unobservant enough, that he was sure if he kept a relatively low profile he could carry on with his research without her noticing, an occurrence which was highly unlikely to occur if he was sent back to his German family.
'I have yet to find out my OWL grades.' He tried, hoping against hope that she would realise where he was going with this, without his having to explicitly state his wish not to re-enter education.
'Of course. We can decide how to proceed then. They should probably come through in a couple of weeks, I suppose.' Tilda seemed, then, not noticing Gellert's almost imperceptible sigh of relief, to feel that she had done enough guardianship for one day, finally allowing him to eat (the cake was infinitely better than the corned beef- Merlin, he missed German food!) and quench his thirst in peace, as she turned to the most recent copy of Transfiguration Today- which Gellert, considering Albus' apparent prowess, made a mental note to ask to borrow later.
He was just about to ask to be excused when an idea struck him, one so obvious that he could scarcely believe it had not come to him before.
'Aunt, would it be possible for me to borrow your owl, please?' He deliberately turned on the charm, the merry, mischievous smile which usually worked so well on everyone. She looked up, half her mind still obviously on her work.
'Owl? Of course, dear. Cage is in the scullery. He's called Emrys. Short journeys only! He's quite elderly.' She called at his retreating back.
'Thanks.' He hollered back from the base of the stairs. Inke would have been suspicious, but Aunt Tilda was not, and that was a blessing. He shot up the stairs two at a time to his room and immediately began searching for a quill, ink, wax and parchment, before settling himself at the desk by the window. The sunlight was still streaming in, but he could tell that the heat was changing, becoming muggy, a haze beginning to develop in the sky.
After quite a lot of thinking, a few dictionary checks in the library, and a lot of discarded parchment, he came up with what he believed to be an acceptable opening communique.
'Dear Albus,' he wrote, long ago English composition lessons now fresh in his head, and hoping against hope that he had actually seen fit to properly learn them so he would come across at least decently. 'It was very nice' He internally groaned. 'meeting you today. Thank you for showing me the wonders of the town.' Albus, he knew, would pick up on his sarcasm. 'I understand that you must be very busy, but was wondering whether I could impose upon you again soon, at a time convenient for you, of course, to show me around the churchyard you mentioned- perhaps tomorrow, as you said? It would also be pleasant to continue our conversations of today. Hoping to hear back from you soon. Yours sincerely, Gellert.'
It was short, perhaps a little too much so, but to the point, and Gellert was fairly certain he had made no glaring grammatical errors or social faux pas, and, considering that he rarely wrote social letters, and then always in his mother-tongue, did not think it was too bad. He then rolled and sealed it, writing his new friend's name clearly on the front, before going downstairs to send it, giving an owl treat to the tawny Emrys to keep him onside, as he had a feeling he was going to have regular need of the owl. After that a blissfully free afternoon loomed, which he decided to fill with nabbing the journal from his Tante and reading it in the garden with some more of the quite excellent lemonade. As he headed outside he absentmindedly touched the necklace he wore, smiling slightly, pleased with the day's work so far.
16th July 1899- Midday- Albus' POV- The Dumbledore's Cottage, Godric's Hollow, England-
'How the hell did it take you that long?' Aberforth's angry should from the kitchen was the first thing that greeted Albus when he shut the heavy oaken front door of his family home. He seriously debated attempting to delay the inevitable confrontation by lingering in the hall, but then decided against it. He might be, but I am not a child. Sighing, and feeling as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, he traversed down the gloomy hallway, noting sadly that the wallpaper needed touching up, to the blindingly bright, sunlit opening that was the door to the kitchen.
When he entered the room, the scene was almost exactly the same as when he had left it, it resembled some grim parody of the family post-cards his mother had used to send friends at mid-summer, portraying the happy family together, in domestic bliss in the heart of the home, the kitchen. But only his two siblings, which still rather shocked him, still expecting Mama to be standing at the stove, were sitting at the small, wooden table set against the window, sunlight streaming onto the yellow-gingham table cloth with the remnants of a late breakfast strewn across it (he could have cleaned that, … actually done something …), an a blue china vase full of slightly wilted roses (Mama's favourite … but Albus, as he had become accustomed to doing, pushed that painful thought firmly away.)
Ariana, at least, seemed to be calm again. He nose was buried in 'Celeste and her Magical Cast,' her current favourite book. (She sometimes looks as if she would have been so smart … always reading … such a waste …) not even really appearing to register that he had entered (better that way, really.) A small, guilty part of him, that he could never quite quash, wondered why she just couldn't be normal. She was neatly turned out, however, blonde curls brushed, light blue dress, even her absentminded smile was endearing, in a way (A far, far cry from this morning … no … it isn't her fault.) Part of Albus, a part he tried hard to ignore, did wonder, however.
'Well?' Aberforth demanded, his face reddening. He was not a pretty picture, blue eyes, so like Albus' own, flashing in barely contained fury, ruffled and, as per usual, smelling slightly of goat. Albus hoped he had washed his hands before eating, but doubted it. Albus was far too tired for this, could not face it.
'I was out buying food, and showing Miss Bagshot's grand-nephew around, at her request. I did not linger, I assure you, but we did need food.' Reason, and patience, Albus felt, were usually lost on his brother; he usually tried, though, even when his brother was an obnoxious git.
'You didn't have to make a Grand bloody Tour out of it.' That hit scored.
'Well,' Albus' calm was rapidly fading, his temper, that familiar beast which he usually tried so hard to quell, rising rapidly to meet his brother and the stubborn set of his jaw. 'Some of us are actually trying to get along with our neighbours, rather than throwing goat dung at them- which, by the way-'
'You aren't mother! You with your superior attitude. You're no better than us! Acting like you care cause that's what's expected! Hypocrite! Asshole! F-' His brother shouted, coming closer, invading his personal space.
Albus was just about to respond when a low whine permeated the room, causing the two brothers to freeze. 'Stop it! Stop it! Stoooooppp iiiittt!' Ariana was screeching, at increasing volumes, hands over her ears and eyes slightly tightly shut. She was shaking, no, something under her skin was moving, trying to get out. Albus and Aberforth looked at each other, animosity not forgotten, but no longer a priority, and sprang into action, settling on either side of their sister. Twice in one day … it's getting worse … please no … not now …
Luckily it did not happen, but they did spend the best part of the next quarter of an hour talking quietly, calmingly, to her; mostly variations along the lines of 'it's alright,' 'we're fine,' and 'don't worry about it, we're just tired.' After all, white lies are not always bad, mama said that. That thought was also painful, however, so Albus once again pushed it away. Once Ariana was finally calm (disaster averted), nose back in the book, Albus conjured up a lunch of sandwiches and tea. They were mostly silent, they had found from experience that it tended to be better that way. If only we could get away from each other for a bit…
'Post arrived.' Ab stated, tersely, the civility in his voice very forced. Dane, please just don't- couldn't you have just been normal, too. Or perhaps I could have been an only child, Albus thought he might have liked that.
'I'll take at look at it after lunch- then I need to finish that article.' Albus knew that the civility in his voice was equally forced, but there was no point explaining what he was doing, Aberforth was never particularly interested, and neither he nor Ariana were likely to understand.
'Fine. Off you go then. I'll clean up.' Relief flooded Albus, a cowardly sort of relief, but he needed to get away- away from that sun-drenched kitchen filled with its memories, his mother's ghost, his brother's hatred (if it had not happened, could we have just gotten along? We managed it before) and Ariana's blank stares. Away from this boredom, from the pervading taste of failure- away from his life. But it has to work, it must … mama wanted it to … mama said …
'I will be down later. Be good. Enjoy your book, Annie.' He chucked her gently under the chin as he passed. She smiled slightly at the nickname, but that was all. Celeste was just getting a new cat, and that took all her attention.
Albus managed not to run out of the room, but it was a close thing. The letter were on a little mahogany table in the hall, as usual, and Albus carried them up to his room. It was not a large space, barely big enough to fit a bed, wardrobe and desk, not like in the old house … but that had been a lifetime ago. The walls, Albus vaguely remembered, had some form of blue paper, but he had not seen them in a while as every available inch of wall space was covered in book shelves, all in perfect order ranging from his schoolbooks to journals to older manuscripts borrowed from or given by Miss Bagshot, Flamel and his other correspondents, and fronted by various trophies and certificates.
He settled at the desk to read, carefully moving the manuscript for his new article to one side, ensuring his quill and ink were nowhere near the parchment. There were five letters today. The first was clearly from the bank, which Albus decided he was far too worn out to deal with right know- he knew what it would say anyway- something he could not tell Ab about. The second looked like it was from Transfiguration Today- he did not open that either- he already knew full well that his article was late. The third was from the Ministry of Magic- probably offering him a job he could not take up- that he also decided to save for later, not wanting the longing and disappointment. The fourth was in a familiar, neat, cursive hand, one which had appeared on his schoolwork feedback for the past seven years. He opened it-
'Dear Albus,
I hope that this letter finds you well, or as well as you can be, given the circumstances. Your loss must still be very hard to bear and I was most saddened to hear about it. I have no words that you will not have already heard a thousand times, but know that we at Hogwarts are always here, should you require our services.
On another, more pleasant note, your exam results should, I am told, be arriving soon and, although I understand that you will now not be going on your Grand Tour with Mr Doge, I wonder if you have given any more thought to the discussion that occurred between us at the end of term-' Albus stopped reading- he could not take this- not now. He threw the letter aside.
The final letter was also in a recognisable hand- a rather untidy scrawl which Albus had also known for seven years.
'Dear Albus,
Oh my dearest friend! You will not believe what a time I have been having in Egypt! Continuing on from my last letter, as you know I took the 'Queen of the Desert' from Crete to Alexandria last week, then have been travelling down to Cairo. It was planned that I would just take a boat trip down the Nile, just to experience even a fraction o the country would have been a blessing, before staying for some few days in the city, before moving on the Mesopotamia. Well, plans do most certainly change fast! Egypt is truly a magnificent country! The heat is almost unbearable of course, but I purchased some white robes and one of those explorer hats- very dapper, I assure you!- which have helped immensely- been life-savers, in fact. Oh, and please do not tell Addie, but I have been a little unwell- nothing to worry about, old thing- but I ate, well, I did try this local goat dish (don't tell Aberforth!) on the boat over which did taste a little dubious and most definitely did not agree with me and Addie distinctly, and in no uncertain terms, told me to be careful of the food. I am better now, however, so no harm done.
Anyway! Alexandria! It truly is one of the jewels of Egypt, the world, in fact! The sculptures alone are a marvel- I shall have so much to tell you and so many pictures and stories upon my return. It is my only regret that you are not here to experience these wonders with me, but perhaps someday, hopefully soon, we shall travel together- and I shall be a well-versed tour guide! Imagine that! And, dear old chap, do not think ill of me- as I know how you despite them- but you should, any day now, be receiving a post card with a little gift. I used a slower, and if I may say cheaper, owl for them so I am a tad uncertain as to the exact arrival time. The image is of a Temple of Amun, who, it is believed, was some form of Sun God back in the day.
I am currently staying in a little boarding house by a market. Merlin! I have visited it so many time that I suspect the shopkeepers are starting to view me as some form of permanent fixture! But oh! The colours! The vibrancy! The life!
The wizarding community here is fascinating- they even breed sphinxes! You can imagine my alarm when I came across one caged in the corner of the market! I did not get too close after that experience with the chimera, I can assure you! After that, I simply had to find somewhere to sit quietly and became quite enamoured with a little restaurant on the edge of the square in which the market is located. It is a very small place, but perfect for when you want to escape the heat, and an eclectic mix of characters seem to gather there. On my third day in the city, I met this elderly gentleman there, who stated that he was headed for the pyramids and so-'
Albus stopped reading, jealousy consuming him as he skipped to the epistle's final page, telling himself he would read the rest later, but knowing in reality he probably would not.
'and so it's off to Mesopotamia next, having learnt my lesson about entering tombs without the proper preparations! I hope all is well with you. Send all your news by return owl as soon as possible! My thoughts and best wishes are with you, your friend, Elphias. P.S. I hope you like the post-card.'
Albus laid the letter down, on top of a book entitled 'Wizarding Communities of the East.' Jealousy and anger continued to roil inside him, and suddenly, without warning, or really meaning to, he grabbed the book and threw it hard at the wall, which it struck with a satisfying thump. He tried hard not to scream in frustration. Next to join the book were his unfinished article, then his ink pot, then all the contents of his desk, one by one. The book shelves shook. He lent forward, head on his arms, trying hard not to cry.
Then then was an odd, scuffling noise, and he looked up. Miss Bagshot's owl was there, with a letter written in an unfamiliar, angular hand attached to its leg. Suspecting who had written it, hoping, he quickly tore open the seal, scanning the page, a slight smile lifting his lips.
Reparo, accio, he thought. He looked at the unfinished article which had reappeared before him, the letters which needed replies, and sighed, deciding. He picked up a piece of parchment, smoothed it, thought for a minute, then reached for his quill and ink. Outside, the haze became storm clouds which rolled in and broke, rain, thunder and lightning darkening the sky.
'Dear Gellert,' he wrote.
An update for this is very overdue and I'm sorry about that but in crazy university exam time which should, luckily, be over in two and a half weeks, after which updates will occur more regularly. All belongs to JKR and no opinions expressed are my own etc. Hope you guys are still reading and enjoying this. Please comment! :)