Albus Dumbledore had traveled across Europe, combed cities, meadows, forests and villages searching for her. However, he could not have entrusted this task to any other person. Bathilda Bagshot was the only other one who knew how to access her, yet the poor woman was too old to travel across such long distances.
He knocked on the gate, hoping this was not another, for the thousandth time, Muggle household. There was no answer. He knocked again, and again, before deciding it was useless. He was ready to leave, when the gate suddenly pushed back, revealing behind it a young girl with a short, boy-ish haircut. She had wearing a traditional long chemise, with a colorful red panel of material as a skirt, held by a belt wrapped around her waist.
The man was ready to leave, yet noticed, right as he was ready to turn on his heels, a wand stuck in the belt. Easy to mistake for a short branch by a Muggle, yet it was obviously a wand.
"Hi dearie-" he started, and it was the girl's turn to turn around, screaming after someone in the house.
"Lele Avizino!"
"Aah?"
The young witch invited him in with a movement of her hand, and with a nod of his head, Albus stepped inside as the girl closed the fence behind him. The woman who answered was a short, lithe, woman, dressed in navy robes. She was sprightly in her step as she stepped towards him, and Albus couldn't help but notice her age as she approached, and her wrinkles and white hairs poking from her headscarf became more and more bicycle.
"I hope I find you in good spirits - saru'mana, doamna." Albus started, bowing his head to the witch. "I do hope I have the right person… Are you, by chance, Avizina Amariei?"
The woman folded her arms, and snapped her fingers towards the girl, murmuring something to her quickly as she stepped back and left them alone. She pointed towards a large sturdy table in the garden, and invited him to sit down as she did the same.
"With what business?" Her voice had an intimidating gravity to it, and Albus thought of how she must have been as a headmistress. Wondered what she sounded like when she asked, no, told Gellert to leave Durmstrang.
"I have gotten you a gift. I asked a dear, good, good friend of mine, Bathilda Bagshot, and she has recommended that I certainly do not come, well, 'with my hand up-', so I hope you will accept my gift." He produced a large bottle of mead, and placed it on the table. " My name is Albus Dumbledore, the-"
"You're him?"
The witch's demeanor changed as he introduced himself, and she was now regarding him with interest. Her arms unfolded as she set them on the table, leaning forwards to have a better look at him.
"It's you.What… what are you doing here? It's about him, isn't it? That stupid, foolish boy- Well, I guess he's not a boy anymore, now, is he? He should be around your age now."
"Two years younger." Albus replied drily. "I am surprised you have heard of me, I must admit."
"Avizina's fine, dear." the witch raised a thin wand, and brought over two glasses. "Everyone's heard of it by now. News reaches us quickly, even in these remote parts. Tell me then, what brings you here?"
Albus looked at the witch's piercing grey eyes. She looked completely different to the way Gellert described her - however, he was but an angry sixteen-year-old who had been expelled. How else would he speak about the Headmistress who dared to speak against him?
"I came to ask you about the circumstances of Gellert Grindelwald's expulsion from Durmstrang. I need to know the true reason. I need to understand what led to this."
Avizina chuckled, and she pulled her headscarf back, using it to wipe the back of her neck. She took her time, pouring them both two glasses.
"Well, I assume it's only fair to want to know your foe's past.
When I first started studying at Durmstrang, there were barely any students. Magic was still taught in families and villages - like I'm doing right now this girl. In my youth, reading and writing in themselves were skills not many had, let alone anything that reminded anyone of a school. Families were unwilling to give their children away, fearing it would actually be attempts to purge wizards.
Many a time, you would find villages of wizards using forms of magic considered obsolete to their counterparts in the west. We were secretive in our ways, even from others we knew as wizards. What if? What if we'd be all killed for what we knew and what we could do?
Now, Albus my dear, you will have to excuse me, as I know you're a bit more different in the west, but we have educated and trained - and as long as I live and will have a say in it- will educate and train our students on the basis of the 'what if'. The students under my wing, both in Durmstrang and those I educate one-on-one know how to hold their ground no matter the threat.
They know the threats, because they have been properly educated on how to recognise and neutralize. And for those wizards and witches who wish to be more advanced, who have a thirst for knowledge… we aim to both sate and further that thirst.
When it comes to Gellert- well, Gellert's thirst for knowledge was directed towards specific branches. His mother wanted him to study at Hogwarts, where she was from, but his father, educated at Durmstrang, wanted him there. Nice student, his father was. And Gellert, he had a precocious talent for magic. Anything that had to do with charms. potions, alchemy, runes - throw anything at him, he absorbed like a sponge. I didn't teach back then, yet it was obvious to his teachers and myself that he was one of the brightest minds we've seen in many a year."
Albus couldn't help but wince as the witch described Gellert and his accomplishments. He knew. He knew all too well. He took a sip of the mead, only for the witch to mistake his reaction.
"Oh, come on now, young man. It does nothing to describe awful, truly despicable wizards as brilliant. If they weren't brilliant wizards, they'd just be stupid sods no one would hear of. For better or worse. You ever taught, Albus?"
Hearing the question, he couldn't help but straighten his posture. Despite his position, he couldn't help but answer with reverence, almost as if he were again in front of Dippet, in the Headmaster's office, being interviewed for his first post.
"I used to be the professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. I am now the current Headmaster."
"Good for you! Respectable, noble position this is, isn't it? You guide young minds in the right direction. Ensuring that as you do so, they learn good from evil. That they understand the limits, what is to be and what is not to be touched by magic. What our unspoken laws are. Leave Ministries, leave statutes, leave everything written by us. Ethics. Morals.
Gellert struggled with this. I do wonder, sometimes, you know. Of course, I will never blame my teachers, there was not a single one not abiding by our creed, but I do wonder. If he were challenged more, if we had-"
The witch mused as she swirled her glass, as if trying to find her thoughts. Ethics and morals indeed.
"There's this old fairytale about these things, the Hallows - three objects that, when controlled-"
Albus tuned Avizina's explanation out, as his mind got flooded with memories. He knew everything there was to know about them. There was not a single piece of information the old witch was uttering that he did not already know by heart. He had researched everything, had gone over it again and again ever since that summer. He held one of them right now. As she was talking about them as if they were a foolish children's story, unknowingly to her, he was holding one right under her nose, right under the wooden table they sat at.
"Gellert became more and more interested in old pieces of magic. From the fifth year, we open electives to students. On Alchemy, Divination, and so on. One of them particularly of interest to him and the reason you came to see me, was on Historical Magic." Noticing his reaction, the witch started explaining, employing a softer tone. Albus couldn't help but notice the traits of a professor in her, and the traits of a good professor at that.
"It's a course on the forms of magic developed in Northern and Eastern Europe. Old, ritualistic magic. What our ancestors used to do back in the day. When there were no wands, when there was no Statute of Secrecy. When we didn't know how to read or write. Due to its content, it's theoretical. Only theoretical."
Albus was slowly remembering odd snippets from Gellert. How they'd stand around a fire, and Gellert would draw figures in the flames with his wand. Now a bear, now a wolf. He would start talking about their meaning, then suddenly stop.
"I have heard this before, you know, Avizina. While I can pick your brains, could I ask why?"
"Of course you can, my dear Albus. If they wish to know how our ancestors used magic, they are most welcome. We will never stop their thirst for knowledge. But some magic is too fickle. Too dangerous to use. Too lost for our modern needs. Some are too incomplete to even try to use or modify. Too difficult to translate, in both meaning, intent, and desire. Some spells require special training, and can only be performed by those who have had that.
And even then, they can only be passed down by wizards or witches, usually witches, who have been trained themselves. It's an enormously difficult process altogether to be trained in it, and as I said, most will agree this branch of magic is not rewarding or useful for our modern times. Why do an entire ritual, when we now have wands, and when we are in contact with the wider wizarding community?
Well now. Gellert was quite interested in the subject. Started learning Bulgarian. I thought he had caught an interest in the founder, and encouraged him. Then I noticed he started dabbling in other languages, slowly going back to their old forms. To be able to translate the spells and rituals, you see. I've started monitoring him by this point personally.
I started noticing the way he spoke. Back in the day, back in my day, and even back when he was a student, children from non-magical families were killed at times by their parents, if their gift was shown to them before anyone magical managed to get in touch.
This burned something in him, I think. We explained to them, Albus, we all did. Those folks don't understand us, but we must not give them reason to fear or hate us. It is on us to be the understanding ones.
If news ever came to Durmstrang of any killing, I have not allowed my students to retaliate. Yet the way Gellert would react, the way he would explode, the way he would talk about them, and about how we, as wizards, would thrive in a society filled with only our own-" she paused once more, and Albus noticed, for the first time, she had broken eye contact, and was not looking towards a tree behind him.
"I remember it as if it was yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night. For some reason, I don't know why, I just had to open the window to get some air. In January. And that's when I saw smoke. Large, big clouds. It was Gellert. I didn't see him then, but I went to check. And there he was.
I should have had someone with me, but it was just me. The way I found him, Albus. The state of him. Arms covered in mud up to his elbows. Blazing fire.
See, there is one of those damned Hallows. He carved them on one of the walls, I won't forget about those wretched things until I die. He carved them, and had an obsession with each. What if he could find the resurrection one - but what if he couldn't? What if he could mimic its effects? What if one of those old pieces of ritual magic actually works? What then?
I should have expelled him for destruction of property when he carved that sordid sign. What he tried was to mimic resurrection. Necromancy, it's called sometimes. Not creating Inferi, true necromancy. What if one of those poor killed kids from non-magical families returned to life, and enacted revenge on their family? What if he would be one step closer to controlling the lives, the death and rebirth of wizards? The lives of those alive through his charms, the lives of those once dead through Charms." her voice rose in a crescendo as she spoke, and her brows furrowed. In spite of the many creases on her face, Albus could see, even if only for a moment, the face of the young woman from that night. Who had woken up in a cold January night to face the horrors of a young boy stretching the limits of magic.
"Stupid, idiotic, boy. I don't remember whether I let him pack his bags. I told him I wanted him out, and never to see or hear from him again. I asked him where he wanted to go. He told me he'll go to England, to his great-aunt. On a goddamn island, far and away - I was ecstatic to see him out. He wanted me to not tell anyone. I told him his acts do him no pride, and hoped it would reform him. I figured he is out of education. He has no one to sate his thirst for knowledge. He has no one to share his ideals with, and they'd fizzle out, and he'd mature. See the error of his ways. Get out of this obsession with the Hallows.
So I went with him. Some of his classmates left when they got letters from him - they decided they'd rather follow him. Good riddance, I thought then."
"What made you think differently now?"
"They're dead now, Albus. All of them, every single one. For his cause. All of those kids are now dead, while Gellert's alive. That's when I decided I could not continue. Under my time as headmistress, one of the darkest wizards of our times rose to power, and killed, and maimed, and who knows what else…"
"Do you ever regret having resigned?"
Avizina turned her head, and faced Albus. She pondered his question for a moment, before nodding lightly. She did not seem to want to elaborate, and Albus watched her mouth open and close a few times, before she finally spoke again.
"Tell me again now, why did you come here, young man?"
"I had a student myself.I kept him under my watch, and monitored him closely. He started dabbling, asking questions, delving into obscure branches of Dark Arts. I think, just as Gellert, that his thirst for knowledge is continuing still. I do not know what he is doing now, however I do doubt this is the last I will hear of him. I wanted to ask- if you could go back, what would you have done differently?"
"I rid my school of Gellert as soon as I could." her answer was quick and to the point, before she took a minute to herself. Pondering. "I foolishly thought that out of that environment, he would change. And I left him at that. What I knew, I brushed aside and did not get involved. By the time the extent of the torment he wrought reached my ears, it was too late.
With this student of yours - you need to understand everything about him. Don't leave him out of your watch just because he is out of school. I don't know much about Hogwarts now, who the Headmaster is, but if I were you, I would dig into his psyche. Into his family. As far as you can go. If you truly believe this student of yours is going down the same path as Gellert.
Why, ask yourself why."