What significant events happened in 1946 in the wizarding community? Whatever happened, Grindelwald is out of it. A lonely old witch jumps for her five minutes of fame. So does the entire wizarding community. A feared Dark Wizard tries to figure out prison life without magic.

1946

14 April 1946

Dear Gellie

It has been so long since I heard from my darling nephew. Some of your lady friends visited over the weekend. Such nice ladies. I like the Vinda woman, even if she seems to come from a fast set. Those pesky Aurors have to turn up halfway through tea. And we were having so much fun looking through your baby photos. You were such a cutie-pie with your lovely big eyes. Whatever will the neighbours think? Well, your friends Disapparated out and so did those Aurors, but not before some spells and hexes were tossed about my parlour. Do they have to be so enthusiastic about their work? Mr Mittens got stupefied. And I could have sworn I saw an attempt at a Killing Curse by your friend with the weird accent – Henrietta something? Thankfully, it missed. A dead Auror on the hall carpet might be a little hard to explain to the Ministry, you know.

Seeing as you have a life sentence, I decided to clean out some of your old stuff, including your private letters. You made quite a name for yourself and any income from auctioning your stuff will go to fixing up my cottage. Then some Ministry guy swoops in and pays me off for the entire lot. Something about the security of the wizarding world. The skinflint. Those few Sickles will not go that far. Some Skeeter chap from the Daily Prophet asked me for an interview about you.

Naturally, I seized the chance to set the record straight. You were such a misunderstood little sprout. All that trouble at Durmstrang and then that awful accident with the Dumbledore girl. It's enough to scar anyone and you such a sensitive soul, like your dear departed mama. Well, it was your father's fault for not sending you to Hogwarts like your mama had so wanted. I even gave them your baby pictures so everyone will know what a little angel you were.

Please write back?

XXXX

Your Auntie Bathilda

P.S. I send you another jersey in red and yellow. Hope you like it.

Autumn 1946

Dear Albus

It has been almost a year since I was able to hold a quill to write. I am horrified you seem to have so little care for my reputation as a Dark Wizard. You sent your man to confiscate all those letters you wrote to me but did nothing to stop my aunt from giving that tabloid interview? You hypocritical jackass. I would have incinerated the entire family album had I known about those pictures. Do you have any idea how hard the guards were laughing at that front page picture of me in a lacy dress at the age of three and how my mother's pet name for me was Giselle?

Fine, my mother wanted a daughter. I was her big disappointment.

My dear aunt had to bring up that tragic incident involving a Hungarian Horntail that had my father being asked very awkward questions by the German authorities. About how that entire zoo outing ended, it was Father who pushed Mama into the dragon pit. I did not push Mama in so I can see a Threstal, unlike what tabloids say. Yes, I pushed dear old Nanny Schmidt in to distract the dragon. The beast was fairly satisfied afterwards.

Still, I think you can appreciate I do not wish to have my family's dirty laundry flapping about the front page of the papers. How would you feel if the Daily Prophet started trumpeting about your murderous father, mad sister, and depraved goat-loving brother? Wait, your old man made the headlines, your sister's death, madness, and tragic events leading up to it was on the centrefold and little Aberforth and his goats made page 2.

I seriously hate you

Grindelwald

P.S. What is it with the red and yellow woollens Auntie keeps sending? Please tell her to stop sending me those colours. They are your House colours, not mine. Maybe I can do with those stylish sleeping outfits that are all the rage now…

31 October 1946

Dear (Gise,scribble out) Gellert

Please believe me when I say we had no idea about that interview by your dear Auntie or those baby photos, though it has been a great revelation to all. I always did wonder about your fondness for lace cuffs. You never told me about how your mother and nanny died. This really does put a different complexion on things back then. We will not touch further on the juvenile verses we exchanged in our youthful folly. I still suppress a shudder now thinking of that drivel.

How exactly did your father end up in the equivalent of St Mungo's up in Budapest? Did you really use an Unforgiveable Curse on him after he was released from prison? Everyone is coming out of the woodwork now claiming to know you and what you did as a child, including folks who, unless they have been utilizing a Time Turner, could not possibly have been around until we are both adults. The papers are having a field day the likes of which has not been seen since the Walk of the Qilin in 1932.

You do realize that you are still a bit of a hero to your alumni mater up north? We understand each graduating class now attempts to recreate that incident of Winter 1898, selecting an unfortunate and much disliked member of the faculty to be the recipient of the spell. Seriously, did you really freeze your Dark Arts master into a block of ice and use him as a sled for a night of wassailing fun? Or have the wild rumours taken on a life of their own?

Oh, rest assured Abe will hold his tongue about the time he walked in on us in the barn. My fifth-year students have a little betting pool on how far he can magically toss those reporters that come a-calling at his place. The furthest he has tossed them so far is up against the old Whomping Willow, which I doubt is accidental.

Ah, how I miss the simple joys of educating the younger generation. Now that I have delegated most of the heavy work to the capable young wizards and witches out there, I do hope to spend my days at peace shaping young minds with the leisure time to write to you in your scenic Austrian hideaway.

Will see what I can do about those pyjamas. I am more a nightshirt type. I wonder if grey stripes will suit or do you prefer orange?

Your friend still

Albus Dumbledore

Supreme Mugwump

P.S. Please do write to your Auntie. Your silence is breaking her old heart. Or she might be prompted to bring out more family albums for a chat with those reporters.

Winter 1946

Dear Albus

I have received that care package from you. I. Hate. You.

Is there any reason why in lieu of the stylish new pyjamas I requested; I received a long nightdress with lacy cuffs? And why is this addressed to 'Giselle'? Did Auntie mix up the Christmas presents again or were you spell-packing drunk? At least the woollen socks are a proper black this round. Not too sure about the bobbles.

About my scenic hideaway… The only view I have is a snowy courtyard. It is a stinking pool of mud in summer. What is this cheap souvenir of some house-elf on the toilet and a postcard? Enjoying The Yuletide season in sunny Spain… Hm, did I mention I hate you again?

I wish to bring to your attention that thanks to the increasingly stringent anti-magic measures imposed on my person, it has become near impossible for me to maintain my personal hygiene to a standard I am used to. The bath is five flights of dark, narrow stairs down and there is only cold water. I am not whining about the cold water, but surely at our age, it cannot be good for the joints. I cannot cast any warming spells without bringing down a half dozen guards on my head.

Do not even get me started on the toilet. I am currently provided with a stinking (literally) bucket that needs to be hauled down those pesky stairs to be emptied when full. The warden gave me the job for exercise after that last guard tasked with it had an accident on the stairs. I tried dumping it out the window, but someone put a deflecting charm on it. I had to mop up the mess in my room sans magic and they would not even allow me a little freshening charm to rid the place of the stink. Oh, I am sure my mattress has fleas after they stopped me from using magic to fumigate it. The fireball that accompanies the spell is totally harmless, I assure you.

Fine, maybe I should not have used that showering spell to start a small flood in the recreation room. I was bored. The original plan was to have install an indoor pool there anyway, well at least before the last round of changes. Surely, I must be entitled to a shaving kit? I promise not to try cut any throats… The last time we tried that, the blade went all floppy before they confiscated the lot, including my toothbrush and comb.

Albus, I am dying in my own filth here! This is cruel and unusual punishment.

Oh, I received the soap in the care package but surely you cannot be serious about me using one that smells of lavender. I am rather fond of Old Spice.

Grindelwald

Author's Notes:

Embarrassing baby pics galore and Gellert's family laundry gets an airing. I have no idea what Gellert's family life was like, or what experiments got him in trouble in Durmstrang. But he is definitely no angel.

The elf on a potty souvenir is based on the Caganer – just picture Kreacher taking a dump.