Thank you for the ideas on how to get the letters flowing again.
This one is going to be horribly OOC, but I am adding it for laughs.
1950
New Year's Day, 1950
Dear Dumbledore
Can you please check on my Gellie boy please? He did not send me a Christmas thank you note this time… I am worried. He normally writes to complain about my gifts. I still think you are a bad influence on him, but you seem to be only one he really cares to write to regularly.
Bathilda Bagshot
Dear Mister Grindelwald
I am Tom Marvolo Riddle and I must say that I am your biggest fan. I tried to sign up for your organization in 1940, but your people told me to go back to school and finish my studies first. Now I am done with my N.E.W.T.s, you went and got yourself imprisoned. Defeated by that fuddy-duddy Dumbledore no less. May I check if there is any chance of a daring jailbreak?
Or perhaps I should consider striking out on my own. Any advice for a budding Dark Lord?
Tom Marvolo Riddle
P.S. This letter will explode when you are done reading. Or not.
7th January 1950
Dear Gellert
Sincerest apologies for the extreme discomfort you found yourself in. I assure you that we did plan for the troll guards to be replaced with golems but somehow the owls went missing in Albania. We understand that the trolls held on until Halloween before leaving you walled up with two weeks of food and water. It was only when the Austrians went to investigate that fireball in the mountains that the mix-up was discovered. I trust you are recovering well from your ordeal.
We understand that the deprivations of these weeks have left you weakened and have requested the best healers to attend to you in the undamaged part of Nurmengard while repairs are made to your cell. Your Auntie sends you her gingerbread and her love. No fruitcake this time.
Your friend still
Albus Dumbledore
Late spring 1950
Dear Albus
Sincerest apologies?
Those two words fail to recompensate me for the horrors and indignities I have suffered over the past months! Try being crammed into a hole in the wall by trolls and walled up to die a slow, painful death from hunger, thirst, and cold. They wrapped me up in that thin excuse of a blanket before walling me up. Otherwise, I only had my day clothes and socks on. And about those victuals? Idiots left them on the other side of the wall. I had to lick water off the stones and eat bugs to survive. Me, the feared Grindelwald, reduced to eating creepy-crawlies and squatting in my own filth like some animal for two freezing months. To cap it off, the morons left a stone out so I can watch the local birdlife eat their fill of the bread they left on the table, just out of my reach. You once mentioned some Muggle Greek myth about some king that I feel aptly summarized my situation. Clearly classical literature appreciation is catching on among troll-kind. I managed to coax a few sparrows over, but the birds got smart after a few days and the bread was gone in a week.
Just when I was giving up all hope, a small owl delivered a letter from some student of yours - some Riddle kid. The bird was a real lifesaver, even if a bit raw to taste and bony. I thought you had finally deigned to write back after all this while. The little blighter set the letter to explode in my lap when I was halfway through it.
That was the fireball everyone was referring to.
Thankfully, the anti-magic wards broke enough for me to throw up a shield spell against the worst of the blast, but some damage still suffered to the lower body as you no doubt can read from the medical report. They would have sent you a copy. I suppose you find it amusing that I needed assistance relieving myself for the past months. Very unpleasant assistance that involves tubes and one of those veela nurses in attendance. You know veelas, right? All fluttering lashes and golden hair, before the claws come out. My manhood was utterly ripped to pieces by their snide remarks each time I need to go, especially on full moon nights.
Do you seriously hate me to the extent of having some snotty-nosed brat rig a booby-trap to almost destroy me and have the veelas finish the job with their words? Seriously, if this is your idea of friendship, who needs enemies?
I hate you always
Gellert Grindelwald
1st May 1950
Dear Gellert
Apologies once again. I am sure I wrote skilled house-elf nurses, not veela in the letter of instruction to the Austrians for your care arrangements, but my German is a tad rusty. To make up for this, I am sending you a pet to keep you company – you wanted an Irish phoenix when younger, did you not? About that Riddle kid, he sounds a little familiar. I doubt any of my students will write to you, but if you are keen on joining a pen pal circle… How about I ask your Auntie to introduce you to her friends? I am sure they will be mature witches or wizards who will not hex your letters.
Maybe this isolation thing they insisted on might not be working, but they will not budge on that count. About the new cell. We might forgo the bars if you do not try anything silly, like climbing out of the window. Maybe do some wallpapering, add a fireplace or a nice kitchenette for nights with warm cocoa and marshmallows… I regret that it is out of my hands now the British Ministry of Magic ended the Nurmengard cooperation project with Austria. Budget cuts. And I think they are still sore we refused to loan them that Dementor for you or have you posted to Azkaban.
How serious are they about that no-visitors rule? Well, your Auntie applies to visit every summer and got rejected. Your maybe-wife tried in 1946 but got turned away because she could not provide them with a copy of your marriage certificate (at least not one that has proved not to be magically altered).
Albus Dumbledore
13th August 1950
Dear Sir Grindelwald
I know we have both moved on since then, but I really need some confirmation from you that the annulment went through - that we are not still married to each other. You see, I have met this wonderful man, Lucacio, and he proposed to me. He may be a squib, but he is pure magic in the kitchen. His pizzas are to die for. I cannot wait to have a half- dozen bambinos with him. However, we need to take our vows in the town square. I just want to be sure that I will not be committing bigamy. His grandmama charmed the place so any dishonest vows uttered will cause the speaker to burst into flames. The old witch is the village strega.
I admit that I was young and foolish then. The whole situation would never have worked out. But you were the only one in the lawyers' office when the final papers were filed. I was grabbing some refreshments with Helmut. I just need to be sure as that office was flattened in 1945 and I cannot go poking into the New York City Registry of Marriages for the annulment papers as I am still on MACUSA's wanted list.
Your hopeful ex
Vinda Rosier
P.S. We really did try to break you out, but we guess it didn't work. And we sort of drifted off to listen to this new Tomas guy who is filling in where you left off.
Autumn 1950
Dear Vinda
Though it is nice to hear from you after this while, words cannot convey my disappointment in you. Of all the wizards in the world, you must fall for a squib. Imagining you in some picturesque Italian village with a dozen offspring is making my skin crawl. You should have been in that same office filing the papers with me. Instead, you and Helmut were grabbing each other in that alcove. I recall clearly there were no refreshments, save the brandy the lawyer was offering me as the soon-to-be ex-husband.
The mistake was as much mine as yours. We are utterly incompatible. Remember that dinner by the bayou in New Orleans? I ordered seafood and you paired it with rum. Rum! Who pairs oysters and snapper with rum? A nice merlot or sweet white will be acceptable, but never rum! You were dancing out with Helmut, Carrow and the others while I was puking my guts out with food poisoning on top of billywig fever. On the train up to New York, the en-suite facilities were occupied by you and that handsome gent you had join us for dinner. If I were less civilised, I would have blasted the both of you into oblivion. You never realize how thin the train compartment walls can be even with a Mufflato spell, which neither of you bothered to maintain.
I am sorely tempted to have you say those vows and then we will see how strong a spell an Italian strega can cast. I am sure your wedding reception will be one for the entire village to remember.
Regretfully yours
Gellert Grindelwald
P.S. Yes, the annulment went through, for the sole reason I cannot bear the notion of my family's estate falling into your hands as my legal spouse should anything befall me. May you be happy in that dingy pizzeria with your Luca and your howling brats.
Author's Notes
The Greek myth referenced is that of Tantalus. In folklore, the veelas dance on full moon nights to entrance unwitting men and lure them to their deaths. In some versions, they can turn into harpies.
Voldemort has no love or respect for anyone, and it is very unlikely he will fanboy Grindelwald.
Strega (Italian) – witch