Dumbledore is sulking and not writing back for a while, but Auntie Bathilda is happy to take up the slack and driving her nephew up the wall.

1948

15 March 1948

Dear Gellie

It is nice of you to send those thank-you notes. I would like to hear more from my favourite nephew – well, second favourite now I guess, now your Cousin Odo bothers to write a letter back. The roses will grow so nicely in the garden come spring with the latest new spell in the Gardening Gnome. My garden gnomes have taken a liking to the flamingos I installed on the lawn and there is now a regular Saturday night flamingo race over at the old Dumbledore place. It drives the Muggles crazy.

Mister Mittens is getting old. His fur is starting to fall out. He lost most of his teeth too so I have to feed him milk. I will miss that kneazle for all his furniture-shredding, fur-shedding and caterwauling. Speaking of caterwauling, are you still in touch with that Dumbledore boy? I recall the two of you scamps experimenting with magic in my kitchen and the sparks that flew. Does that add a tail spell work? That fluffy tail did suit you, at least for that afternoon. Poor Mittens lost his tail to a Snapdragon. Do you think I could use the spell to give him a new tail?

I have set a world record in the longest scarf knitted by a witch or wizard, without using magic. The Wizard Book of Records just verified it. I started the project way back when you were living with me, so as not to take a switch to your behind especially after you obliterated my prize dahlias. It is very calming, don't you think? I add a few inches each time you make the headlines. We cannot haul the entire thing out of my knitting bag as it will spill down the road to Wales.

I think Mistress Hagge cheats at bridge each Wednesday night. Do you have a spell to stop her from doing that? Preferably something that will make her return all her winnings to us. I tried to get a niffler, but the Ministry has classed them as restricted beasts. One must go through a whole load of paperwork to even apply for a permit to own one. It is such a pain – all these Care-of-Creatures licenses. Got one from a troll in a back alley, but it turned out to be a regular rat. Mittens ate it and got a tummyache. The poor kneazy.

Be a good boy, change your socks regularly, brush your teeth and do not be rude to the wardens. With much love,

XXXX

Your Auntie Bathilda

P.S. do write more often, at least twice a year – I send you fruitcake. Please write? Mittens sends his love too.

Summer 1948

Dear Albus

Perhaps I might have overstepped myself in my last missive, but I would like to resume my exchange with you for the want of an intelligent conversation partner. If I have read one more line about kneazles, gardens, and knitting, I will go mad without the need for a stint in Azkaban. How does she stand it? The mind-numbing smallness of an English village. And that fluffy tail was on you, not me. You did look awfully cute – maybe removing it like you insisted was a mistake. Same for those kitty-ears. Those were the days…

About Auntie's fruitcakes… they should be categorized as a health hazard of the highest order. Even with magic, her fruitcakes never seem to work out right. I fed one to a snallygaster once and the poor creature expired. It was bad enough when she only sent them during Christmas, but what is it with the cakes coming for Easter and Halloween as well? I just pile the whole lot by the wall and see if we will get big enough pile for me to climb out Muggle-style. I doubt they will rot.

For the sake of brevity, may I list out the topics not to be touched in our letters?

Your students – not that I know most of them. Generations of snotty-nosed young wizards and witches graduating from Hogwarts have nothing to interest me, apart from the select few you have sicced on me in the past. If this is your idea of recruiting acolytes, you seem to have bested me in terms of talent. It is so hard to find or convert gifted believers to a cause after they hit maturity.

Your nephew – he was not that bad a kid. In fact, I think he was a bit too good to run about with the likes of Carrow, Krafft and Rosier. He is a bit like that redhead Scamander – will pick up an injured creature, even if it tries to bite his hand off. After his phoenix, he once tried to take in a bear cub.

Your sister. Less said the better, I agree. Is your brother off-limits too?

Please write back (no, I am not pleading)

Grindelwald

Autumn 1948

Dear Albus

Are you still mad at me? You have not replied to my letters. We were friends once… Remember that summer? Or is that another off-limits topic now? Will a written apology help? Or are you expecting me to deliver it person?

Still not pleading yet

Grindelwald

Winter 1948

Dear Albus

I am sorry about whatever I may have said and done to offend you. Please do not ignore my letters. Is there anything I can do to put things right between us? It need not involve any blood…

Grindelwald

Winter 1948

Dear Auntie Bathilda

For the last time, no more fruitcakes!

This is not a thank you note. You stupid hag!

Your nephew

Gellert

Winter 1948

Dear Albus

Merry Christmas, please write… please?

I am very sorry for trying to transfigure you into a Kneazle that summer. I am sorry for that entire business in the barn and the blood troth. I am sorry about what happened to your sister, brother, and nephew… Sorry about the incidents in New York, Paris, Bhutan… Were you involved in that Russia incident in 1917 too? And those dead Aurors who may have been your students at Hogwarts…

Will you please reply to me?

Grindelwald

P.S. Please tell Auntie to stop writing about her Kneazle's ingrown toenails and sending me fruitcakes. I will write to her myself but I do not want to encourage her to continue.

Author's Notes

Two teen wizards mucking about in the kitchen with magic. What can go wrong? Dumbledore is 'ghosting' Grindelwald.