Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.
"It has been too long, Albus" The dark figure by the fireplace says, as Albus walks into the room. The screams and shouts of the fighting behind him muddles as he walks through the doorway, and he can hear his own heartbeats drumming in his head. Oddly calm, he meets Gellerts eyes.
"I have imagined this many times, old friend" Gellert continues, tapping his wand at the fireplace, the small tok tok of itechoing round the room. "You coming to me, begging for forgiveness, admitting you were wrong to fight me. And sometimes…" he shakes his head, the short hair a mocking to the memory of the golden curls of his youth, and averts his gaze. "Sometimes I would even accept the apology."
"But you know that is not why I am here." Albus says, his robes dirty and his hair and beard in a mess. The blue eyes, however, are as piercing and clear as ever. Gellert Nods.
"Of course. The time for apologies and forgiveness are long gone."
"Yes."
"But even so, I am sorry, old friend. It shouldn't have ended the way it did."
"And then I would have been there, by your side, as you killed thousands."
"Maybe I wouldn't have if you were there." The last words emerge as a whisper, but Albus cannot listen, cannot take it to heart. It is far too late.
"The children, Gellert. And the women! You cannot pretend that this was all for your greater good!"
"I did what was necessary."
"Then you must realize that I have to stop you." Albus says, his face turning solemn while raising his wand.
"It will not be a fair fight" Gellert responds, holding up a wand of his own. "I have the Elder Wand now."
"And perhaps that will be your greatest weakness."
The atmosphere of the room changes in an instant, as spell after spell are thrown between the men, one display of power more terrifying than the other.
"You never understood the worth of real power, Albus"
"And you never understood the weakness of it, Gellert."
The people who saw the fight would talk about it for many years to come. They would tell of the darkness in Grindewalds spells that seemed threatening to engulf not only Dumbledore but the entire room, the entire world, where it given room enough. But they would also tell of the beauty of the opposition. How the shapes and forms of Dumbledore's spells seemed to teem with light, a golden chime with each blow against the dark beasts of Grindewald's magic, a defense small but piercing, like a swarm of light-wasps attacking a great lion, circling it and hitting in many places at once. Slowly, carefully, weakening the beast until all that remained was a weak, pathetic man shooting useless sparks out of the most powerful wand ever created.
"Well done" Gellert says, coughing out a laugh as Albus sits down by his side, carefully taking the Elder Wand out of his hand.
"You should finish it" He continues, weakly as he takes Albus hand to point it towards his chest.
"I asked you for that once. "Albus answers, removing his hand and standing up.
"And my answer is the same as yours."
He turns his head, and walks away. He nods to the crowd of his allies gathered in the doorway.
"Put him where he liked to put all those poor muggles. Let him know just what he did. And do not let him die."
When he gets out of the building, he sags against the wall, letting out shaky breaths. The Elder Wand in his hand has never felt so useless.
He had done everything exactly as he planned this night, except for one thing.
I never asked him for the truth. The truth about Ariana.
Coward.
It's late, and the paintings of the old headmasters are all asleep. Severus has just left the office in anger, and the conversation has left a foul taste in Albus' mouth. It was a necessary evil he tells himself. …You're starting to sound just like him.
He turns the wand over in his hand, winching a little at his blackened hand. He thinks of Severus, and how his love never was requited, and yet he holds on to it so long after her death. He thinks of Gellert, and realizes that he himself is even worse. It's over a hundred years ago, isn't it? And yet still you miss him. Even now, when you know your time is up. Albus rubs his eyes and puts a hand on Fawkes who has flown over to show his support. Why the bird has given him his loyalty after what happened to its old owner, Albus will never know. The bird lets a tear fall on his hand, and he smiles at the phoenix. "Thank you, Fawkes, but this is something not even you can heal."
He thinks of Severus again, and realizes there is one key difference between him and the potions master. I had love. If only for a few hours, if only hidden under other motives, if only a feeling darkened by the events that it led to, for that night, I really had it.
And that, he thinks, is something to hold on to.
Oh.
I guess this means that I'm really dead now.
He's on a small road, in the middle of a thick, white mist. The cobblestones feel familiar as he puts his feet on them, and there is a smell in the air that he hasn't smelled in many years.
It's the road to Godric's Hollow.
I should have known. It is to me what Kings Cross is to Harry.
He's been waiting in another place for a long time, waiting for Harry to show up. The boy deserved an explanation, and he could not leave until he had given him one. But now… Now he has done his last duty. It is time to leave.
He follows the road for a while, until he sees a building in the distance. He knows right away that it's his old home, even though there are no other houses on the street. As he approaches the house he sees three figures by the gate, and he knows who they are. Of course they would be here. It's his death, after all.
He walks up to his father first. He expects to see a stern, angry face, but the old man is smiling.
"I am proud of you, son." He says, and puts his hand on Albus' shoulder. When he died, Albus had been taller than his father ever grew, but now he's here, he is once again just a young man, as he was when he last saw his father, and their eyes are at the same level. But he cannot bring himself to look into his father's eyes.
"Why?" He asks. "I failed you, I failed all of you."
"Yes." His father answers and Albus cannot help but search his face for the condemnation he expects. But there is none. His father just puts his other hand on his shoulder, and smiles.
"But I forgive you." And with those words, it's like a weight is lifted from Albus' shoulders. There are tears falling freely from his eyes, and he doesn't bother hiding them. He smiles to his father, and hugs him close. Then he turns to his mother. She looks much more healthy than she had done that last Christmas together, and her eyes are smiling.
"I forgive you" She says, and takes him in her arms. Yet another weight lifts, and he smiles into her embrace. As she releases him, however, he feels his stomach clench. He knows who he must face next. And there, sitting on the fence with her legs dangling, is his dear little sister, not a day older than the moment she died. For so long, he hasn't been able to face her memory, and now here she is, in person. He falls to his knees in front of her, sobbing as he apologizes, over and over again.
"I killed you, Ariana, I killed you, I am so sorry I am so-"She jumps down from the fence, and puts a hand on his head.
"I know." She says, and crouches down to his level, before taking his face into her hands, and forcing him to look at her.
"And you have punished yourself enough for it. I forgive you, big brother. I forgive you"
The biggest weight, the one that had been anchored around his heart for so many years, finally lifts. He cries, cries like a child into her arms, and then he stops. Because he has cried all the tears he needs to cry.
He wobbles a bit, but manages to stand up.
"Is this it? Will we continue on together, all of us?" he asks his family.
"Not quite yet. There is one more." Ariana says, and points to a small figure, an old man hunched over in a fetal position by the fence that used to stand between his house and Bathildas.
"Gellert." Albus says, but the figure just sobs. He walks over to him, crouching down and taking the old man into his arms.
"Gellert it's me." The man looks up, his hands shaking and his eyes red.
"So many people, Albus. All these people. Look at them, look!" There is no one there, and Albus realizes that this, too, is a place seen differently by whoever is watching.
"They are judging me, Albus. Looking at me with their angry, angry eyes, telling me I killed them."
"But you did kill them." Gellerts eyes widens.
"I did… Yes, yes I did. But- but they tell me they forgive me. I cannot-"
"But that's good, isn't it? Getting forgiveness?"
"No, No! I cannot! They aren't supposed to forgive me, that's not right, that's not fair!"
"Gellert-"
"The pain, Albus. The pain and regret is who I am. If I am not hated, what am I?" He sobs even more, and starts rocking back and forth.
"Gellert, look at me." He does, but his eyes are still filled with panic.
"I destroyed your life, Albus. I used you, I hurt you, I killed your little sister and made your brother hate you." Albus nods.
"You did."
"I won't apologize, I won't!" Albus can't help at smile, looking at the young blonde haired boy now cradled in his arms. "I know" He leans forward, and presses his lips to Gellerts.
"But I forgive you anyway."
...the true master of death does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.
And that's the end, guys! Amazingly enough, I managed to make a kind of happy ending to this angsty fic.
I havent had much readers to this one, but it has been mostly like therapy to me, writing this, to be honest. And I hate some and love of it, and thats good I think. So thank you, if you stayed with this all the way:)