Fic: Two Months of Insanity
Title:
Two Months of Insanity
Author/Artist:
DHFiccer aka Lynn
Rating:
PG, really... Later chapters will be PG-13 or R.
Pairing or Character(s):
Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Disclaimer:
Not mine, naturally. Owned by J.K. Rowling, though I hope to do them justice.
Author's Note:
Beta-read by Tree.
Chapter Three
Family Woes
There were, the blond teenager that had come to stay at Godric’s Hollow realized, so many details that he had never considered. Really, though, he was happy he had never considered them. Not having thought of them before gave Albus and him so much more to talk about, so much more to write about in their letters --one might almost call them essays!-- to one another. One such problem that he had failed to consider was marriage. Naturally, there were half-bloods already in existence, but would unions between magic and non-magic persons be allowed when they gained power? Over the past three days that they had spoken and written, the word ‘if’ had become ‘when.’ Could a member of the Wizarding world marry a Muggle?
It was a difficult question, as far as Gellert was concerned, and he was wresting with it, sitting at his desk in the room his great-aunt had given him for his stay. If the answer was no, then what happened to those marriages already in place when they gained power? If yes, then would the Muggle marrying into the magical family allow that Muggle the same rights as the Wizarding members of the family? His hazel eyes narrowed at the parchment in front of him. It was titled ‘On the Issue of Marriage Between Wizards and Muggles’ and was blank beyond that. He and Albus were keeping careful record of their essays on various issues, so that when the time came to assume positions of power, they would be armed with everything that they would need to make the new laws of the land.
He was saved, momentarily, from further aggravation on the subject by a soft hooting noise. On his windowsill, Albus’s tawny owl was perched, ruffling his feathers. Gellert looked up and smiled faintly. He had not closed his window in days, since he was always, it seemed, waiting for an owl from Albus.
“Thank you, Icarus,” Gellert said to the owl, and it ruffled its feathers in reply. He untied the note from its leg, a little surprised at how short it seemed to be, but he refused to let himself be immediately disappointed. He was rewarded for the momentary patience when he unrolled the parchment and read it.
‘Would you like to join me for dinner at seven? My siblings will be around, so I will understand if you don’t want to.’
It was a surprising offer. Gellert had, twice now, walked to Albus’s home with him, stood on the stoop as they found a breaking point in their conversation, which they continued with letters for a good portion of the night, yet he had never once been invited in. He turned the parchment over and dabbed his quill into his inkwell.
‘I would never refuse a chance to spend time with you.’
He tied the note back to Icarus’s leg and sent the bird back to its owner, watching it fly across the street and down, even watching it land on the windowsill of an upper story window that faced the street. That had to be Albus’s room.
Gellert left his room and ventured down the stairs far enough to spy the grandfather clock that his great-aunt was so proud of. An hour and fifteen minutes until seven, the clock read, and he ascended the stairs again. For a good half hour, he concerned himself with what to wear. Once dressed, this time with the waistcoat and jacket on, he polished his shoes with a flick of his wand, and, a moment later, he fixed where his hair had became slightly ruffled by changing his clothes with another charm. He slid the wand up his sleeve, where it could be accessed easily, and made his way down the stairs again, glancing at the clock on his way. He still had forty-five minutes to waste, though he decided that he could make his way over to Albus’s a little early. So that left half an hour more to be dealt with, and he simply could not concentrate on the essay he had been trying to work out all day. His mind would not process the subject at the moment, and he knew that further attempts without distraction would be equally futile.
The half hour was wasted away by pacing through the study, answering a question from his aunt every so often. He had not really heard any of the questions, but quiet, non-committal murmurs satisfied her and she did not act as though she knew she was being ignored. Finally, when the grandfather clock chimed that it was a quarter until seven, Gellert set off from the house. He arrived at Albus’s doorstep less than five minutes later and knocked, affecting a casual demeanor as the door opened.
Standing there was Albus. His wand was in his hand, and he had a smile on his face as he saw his new friend.
“Come in, come in!” Albus said cheerily, taking Gellert’s hand and shaking it slightly as the blond stepped into the house.
It was about the size of his great-aunt’s, Gellert noted, and it had much the same floor plan. It was a little more well kept than hers, though, and the carpeting was not quite as faded. Albus led him into the den, still grinning.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Gellert said quietly, sincerely.
“I’m so happy you decided to come,” Albus replied. Spotting his brother, he then said brightly, “Ah! Aberforth! Gellert, this is Aberforth, my younger brother. Aberforth, this is Gellert! I‘ve mentioned him.” The young man, perhaps fourteen or so, that he had mentioned was standing in the den, watching the two of them. The first thing that Gellert noticed about him were his eyes. They were exactly the color of Albus’s, but the genius that Albus had in his did not radiate from these eyes. No. Compared to Albus’s, this boy’s eyes were very flat, very dull. He kept his hair shorter, too, and it was lighter than his brother’s, more light brown than auburn.
Albus watched the two that he had just introduced, and his smile faltered when they did not approach one another. Gellert looked over at him and, after a moment, looked back to Aberforth and stepped forward, a hand extended. Aberforth, even more reluctantly, raised his own hand. Their hands had barely touched before they broke apart, but Albus seemed satisfied.
“Dinner is almost ready,” he said with a grin. “I’ll go check on it. You two can get to know one another.”
He left the two alone, and they watched one another. Neither sat in any of the available seats, and they did not speak to one another. Hazel eyes met blue eyes. A blond brow arched, and the younger male frowned sharply. Each one dared the other to speak first. It was Aberforth who broke the silence.
“He shouldn’t be out so much.” Aberforth spoke quietly, but there was something stern in his voice. He sounded older than he was, and he straightened his back, looking Gellert right in the eye. “He shouldn’t be out so much,” he repeated, a little more forcefully. “I’m not supposed to do magic outside of school, and we need him here.”
Gellert looked at him, his expression never changing. “You would be so heartless as to make him stay here? All the time? With you?” As he spoke, his voice became lower, colder. He advanced slightly on Aberforth, and the boy seemed to consider backing away, but he decided against it. He cocked his head slightly, but it did little to hide his unease at the look being given to him by Gellert. “He is too brilliant to be cooped up here, to waste his time with you and your sister.” He knew little about Ariana, but he knew enough as far as he was concerned. “He was meant for so much more, and,” he paused, drawing his wand from his sleeve and placing its tip right against Aberforth’s neck, “I will not allow him to be held back by something as pathetic as the two of you.”
Before Aberforth could respond, the sound of footsteps in the hall broke in, and Gellert stepped back, slipping his wand back up his sleeve. A mere second later, the door of the den opened, and Albus was standing there again.
“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, looking at Aberforth’s expression then at Gellert. The blond merely shrugged.
“We were having a little chat, nothing more.” He looked at Aberforth, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks, almost daring him to say what had happened. It was a challenge, a challenge to Aberforth as to whether he trusted that his brother would believe him or this new friend, this equal.
Aberforth said nothing.
“Dinner is ready,” Albus told the two, his tone making it clear that he was a little uncomfortable, the tension lingering in the air known to him but unexplained.
“I’m not hungry,” Aberforth said, his voice sharp. He walked out of the den quickly and made his way up the stairs. Albus and Gellert followed into the hall, and Gellert caught sight of a young woman at the top of the stairs, just slightly older than Aberforth. Her blue eyes stared at him for a moment, but she turned quickly and hurried into her room, her blond hair almost shining in the light of a lamp near the door.
“I do apologize for that,” Albus murmured, still staring at the door his brother had gone into moments before Ariana had retreated into her own room. “I don’t know what has gotten into Aberforth. Ariana I expected not to eat with us, but I really didn’t think Aberforth would be so rude!”
“It’s no trouble,” Gellert assured him, clasping Albus’s shoulder with one of his hands. After a pause, he said, “That food does smell good. We should probably go eat.”
“Oh, yes” Albus said, startled out of his thoughts. “Yes, I suppose we should.” He led the way into the dining room, where the table had been set for three. The two young men sat across from one another, summoning food onto their plates with murmured incantations, and Albus filled both goblets with butterbeer. For a moment, Gellert considered asking his friend if there was anything stronger to be had, but he decided against it.
The two ate in silence for several moments, Albus watching Gellert’s reactions to the food laid out as the blond tasted each bit on his plate. He was, Albus noticed, moving the food around a lot more than actually eating anything, but the blue-eyed male also knew the look in Gellert’s eyes. He was thinking about his plans, their plans. After a few more moments and a few bites of food himself, Albus spoke again.
“I hope that Aberforth wasn’t rude to you.”
Gellert did not respond for a few moments, but he finally said, shrugging his shoulders just slightly, “He wasn’t. I do not think that we will see eye to eye any time soon, but he was not rude.”
“I’m afraid he hasn’t been too happy with me lately,” Albus explained, an apologetic smile on his features as he regarded Gellert. “If he took that out on you, I really am sorry.”
“There is nothing to apologize for, my friend. Nor do you have anything to apologize to him for.”
“Oh, but I do. I really have been out too much. I‘m afraid I‘ve been neglecting Ariana.”
“You deserve a break every now and then.” Silence fell for a moment, and Albus stared at the goblet in his hand and its contents as Gellert continued. “I can only imagine how much stress you must feel, Albus. A sister in her condition and an underage brother. No parents to help you.” His voice was warm, and he thought he saw an extra shine to Albus’s eyes. The beginnings of tears? “If there is anything I can do, Albus, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask, and I will do all I can.”
“Gellert,” Albus said softly, and he blinked several times in rapid succession to clear his eyes of that glistening. He smiled a little, though it was a sad smile. “It isn’t easy, no, but I do love them. I want the best for them.”
“They’ll have the best,” Gellert replied, his voice low and his eyes earnest. “When we have what we need, they will have everything.”
Albus started to speak but faltered. He did not try to speak again for several moments, instead taking another drink and shutting those blue eyes of his. When he opened them, he took a long, deep breath. “What about you?” he said suddenly, and Gellert was aware of the tremor in his voice. He did not want to discuss his family further, and Gellert would not press. “I’ve never heard you mention your own family.”
“There’s really no one to mention,” Gellert replied. Albus gave him a curious look, and Gellert sighed. His hand rose, a request for a moment or two to collect his words properly. “My father ran off before I was born. Couldn’t handle having a child, it seems. My mother… Well, she was a curious one. While I was growing up, we moved often. She kept talking about how ‘they’ were coming, how ‘they’ were going to get her. It took a lot of coaxing for her to even let me go to Durmstrang and leave her side. During my fourth year there, I was pulled out of a dueling class to be informed that my mother had been taken to Wahnsinn Memorial.” He nodded after a moment, when Albus didn’t seem to understand, adding, “It is rather like your Saint Mungo’s. She,” he paused, “snapped, it seems. Badly jinxed a poor witch who happened to bump into her on the street and kept screaming that ‘they’ had finally come for her.” His tone had altered itself during the tale but ever so slightly. No great emotion overtook his features, though an air of loneliness seemed to have crept over him.
“Gellert,” Albus said again, this time reaching across the table to touch his friend’s hand, trying to offer some kind of comfort. The other merely waved a hand.
“I have survived so far, and, now,” he smiled over at Albus, taking up his goblet and tilting it toward him, “I have someone who I feel is just as good as any family.”
Albus smiled, this smile lighting his eyes back up, and he picked up his own goblet and raised it slightly as well. “So have I.”
The two drank and were silent for the rest of the meal.
It took the two of them an hour before they finally admitted to having enough to eat, even though the food was barely touched, and even though their plates were not empty. Their glasses of butterbeer, however, had been drained and refilled several times. They were still silent, both likely in contemplation over the other’s family situation, when they retired to the den of the Dumbledore house. Albus sat on the couch and seemed moderately surprised when Gellert sat beside him rather than in one of the armchairs around.
“Gellert, may I ask you a question?” Albus was careful as he spoke, and that made Gellert nervous. The way that the question was posed meant that Albus thought he was walking on thin ice. Still, there was only one answer.
“Of course, Albus.”
“Why were you expelled from Durmstrang?”
Gellert was silent, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Albus sighed, seeming to think that Gellert was angry with him, and he shook his head.
“You don’t have to tell me, Gellert. I understand that it’s--”
“It’s quite all right. You are the first person in a long time that I feel like I can call a friend,” Gellert said slowly, considering his words very carefully. “You deserve to hear about some of my less than admirable moments.” Albus seemed to falter slightly, but Gellert pressed on, leaning back slightly. “After my mother lost it, I dedicated myself to studying. One of my best subjects was dueling, and I decided that I had to set myself apart from the rest. I started designing my own spells. Some of them are rather nasty, but they need to be so. If you are up against a real opponent, you have to do everything you can to survive!” Albus gave a slight nod, watching Gellert’s hazel eyes as he spoke. “Another student, Eugen Kalb, thought it necessary to spread horrible rumors, saying that I was trying my new spells out against unarmed first years and other such incapable opponents. He also denounced me as mad for taking the legend of the Deathly Hallows to be truth rather than fantasy. We quarreled, often, and I finally challenged him to a duel, to settle our score once and for all. It was a vicious fight, and he did well. I daresay he had the upper hand, but I,” he paused, as though admitting a dark, dark secret, “I lost control. I used the Cruciatus Curse on him. I thought I held it on him for only a second.” He looked at Albus with an almost pleading expression. “When I was being brought in front of the professors, I was told that, despite what I thought, he had been under the curse for ten minutes. I was ashamed of myself, and I did not argue with them when my expulsion was decided upon.”
His expression was that of a perfectly penitent, pious young man making his confession.
Albus regarded him in silence for several moments, and Gellert bowed his head in an imitation of shame. His fate, his posture announced, was in Albus’s hands. Everything about him proclaimed that he was sorry for his actions, that it was the mistake that a panicked youth taught to duel to solve problems was apt to make, but that he would not try to excuse what he had done.
“You didn’t mean to use an Unforgivable Curse?” Albus questioned after several long moments of silence.
“Of course not,” Gellert assured him.
“Only once?”
“I would not dare show my face in your company again if I had ever used any of those terrible spells other than the one occasion in which, and the fault is purely mine, I lost control.”
Albus seemed to deliberate this, opening his mouth to speak and then shutting it before anything had come out. He did this once more before ceasing his attempts to speak. He looked right at Gellert, who had since raised his head to meet those blue eyes with his own. Albus’s hands steepled his fingers, licking his lips just slightly as he sorted through his thoughts on this action of his friend’s.
“There is no reason for me to hold it against you,” Albus finally announced, and Gellert allowed himself the faintest of smiles. “It is in the past,” Albus murmured, and Gellert was under the impression that he was speaking more to himself than to the blond, “and it was one time only. Horrible to do, but a mistake that another might easily have made.”
Gellert said nothing, reaching forward to take one of Albus’s hands in both of his, squeezing it slightly. Albus could not help but smile a little at his friend’s reaction.
“Your pardon is all I need,” Gellert murmured after a moment, and Albus smiled a little more. “My actions were deplorable, and to know that you are good enough to forgive me them… I could not ask for a greater act of charity.” The two fell silent for several moments, and Gellert lifted his head when he heard a grandfather clock somewhere in the house striking nine. “I should go,” he said quietly, releasing Albus’s hand and rising.
“I’ll write to you tomorrow, at the very least,” Albus said with a smile. “Maybe things will be quiet enough around here for us to even go out. I’d love to show you Diagon Alley.”
“Great-aunt Bathilda has mentioned it. I would rather enjoy going with you sometime, but I don’t want to drag you away from your family.”
“I am not sure we could do it tomorrow,” Albus said quietly, considering this, “but we will go someday soon. Aberforth can take care of Ariana for a day.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Gellert said.
The two boys walked to the door together, and Albus opened the front door for Gellert. The blond descended the stoop, took a few steps down the street, turned back and waved a little to Albus. When his friend returned the gesture, Gellert turned back around and walked toward his great-aunt’s house. With an Unforgivable forgiven, he was certain now more than ever that this was a friend, a true comrade.
Besides, Kalb had been asking for it.
Two Months of Insanity
Author/Artist:
DHFiccer aka Lynn
Rating:
PG, really... Later chapters will be PG-13 or R.
Pairing or Character(s):
Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Disclaimer:
Not mine, naturally. Owned by J.K. Rowling, though I hope to do them justice.
Author's Note:
Beta-read by Tree.
Chapter Three
Family Woes
There were, the blond teenager that had come to stay at Godric’s Hollow realized, so many details that he had never considered. Really, though, he was happy he had never considered them. Not having thought of them before gave Albus and him so much more to talk about, so much more to write about in their letters --one might almost call them essays!-- to one another. One such problem that he had failed to consider was marriage. Naturally, there were half-bloods already in existence, but would unions between magic and non-magic persons be allowed when they gained power? Over the past three days that they had spoken and written, the word ‘if’ had become ‘when.’ Could a member of the Wizarding world marry a Muggle?
It was a difficult question, as far as Gellert was concerned, and he was wresting with it, sitting at his desk in the room his great-aunt had given him for his stay. If the answer was no, then what happened to those marriages already in place when they gained power? If yes, then would the Muggle marrying into the magical family allow that Muggle the same rights as the Wizarding members of the family? His hazel eyes narrowed at the parchment in front of him. It was titled ‘On the Issue of Marriage Between Wizards and Muggles’ and was blank beyond that. He and Albus were keeping careful record of their essays on various issues, so that when the time came to assume positions of power, they would be armed with everything that they would need to make the new laws of the land.
He was saved, momentarily, from further aggravation on the subject by a soft hooting noise. On his windowsill, Albus’s tawny owl was perched, ruffling his feathers. Gellert looked up and smiled faintly. He had not closed his window in days, since he was always, it seemed, waiting for an owl from Albus.
“Thank you, Icarus,” Gellert said to the owl, and it ruffled its feathers in reply. He untied the note from its leg, a little surprised at how short it seemed to be, but he refused to let himself be immediately disappointed. He was rewarded for the momentary patience when he unrolled the parchment and read it.
‘Would you like to join me for dinner at seven? My siblings will be around, so I will understand if you don’t want to.’
It was a surprising offer. Gellert had, twice now, walked to Albus’s home with him, stood on the stoop as they found a breaking point in their conversation, which they continued with letters for a good portion of the night, yet he had never once been invited in. He turned the parchment over and dabbed his quill into his inkwell.
‘I would never refuse a chance to spend time with you.’
He tied the note back to Icarus’s leg and sent the bird back to its owner, watching it fly across the street and down, even watching it land on the windowsill of an upper story window that faced the street. That had to be Albus’s room.
Gellert left his room and ventured down the stairs far enough to spy the grandfather clock that his great-aunt was so proud of. An hour and fifteen minutes until seven, the clock read, and he ascended the stairs again. For a good half hour, he concerned himself with what to wear. Once dressed, this time with the waistcoat and jacket on, he polished his shoes with a flick of his wand, and, a moment later, he fixed where his hair had became slightly ruffled by changing his clothes with another charm. He slid the wand up his sleeve, where it could be accessed easily, and made his way down the stairs again, glancing at the clock on his way. He still had forty-five minutes to waste, though he decided that he could make his way over to Albus’s a little early. So that left half an hour more to be dealt with, and he simply could not concentrate on the essay he had been trying to work out all day. His mind would not process the subject at the moment, and he knew that further attempts without distraction would be equally futile.
The half hour was wasted away by pacing through the study, answering a question from his aunt every so often. He had not really heard any of the questions, but quiet, non-committal murmurs satisfied her and she did not act as though she knew she was being ignored. Finally, when the grandfather clock chimed that it was a quarter until seven, Gellert set off from the house. He arrived at Albus’s doorstep less than five minutes later and knocked, affecting a casual demeanor as the door opened.
Standing there was Albus. His wand was in his hand, and he had a smile on his face as he saw his new friend.
“Come in, come in!” Albus said cheerily, taking Gellert’s hand and shaking it slightly as the blond stepped into the house.
It was about the size of his great-aunt’s, Gellert noted, and it had much the same floor plan. It was a little more well kept than hers, though, and the carpeting was not quite as faded. Albus led him into the den, still grinning.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Gellert said quietly, sincerely.
“I’m so happy you decided to come,” Albus replied. Spotting his brother, he then said brightly, “Ah! Aberforth! Gellert, this is Aberforth, my younger brother. Aberforth, this is Gellert! I‘ve mentioned him.” The young man, perhaps fourteen or so, that he had mentioned was standing in the den, watching the two of them. The first thing that Gellert noticed about him were his eyes. They were exactly the color of Albus’s, but the genius that Albus had in his did not radiate from these eyes. No. Compared to Albus’s, this boy’s eyes were very flat, very dull. He kept his hair shorter, too, and it was lighter than his brother’s, more light brown than auburn.
Albus watched the two that he had just introduced, and his smile faltered when they did not approach one another. Gellert looked over at him and, after a moment, looked back to Aberforth and stepped forward, a hand extended. Aberforth, even more reluctantly, raised his own hand. Their hands had barely touched before they broke apart, but Albus seemed satisfied.
“Dinner is almost ready,” he said with a grin. “I’ll go check on it. You two can get to know one another.”
He left the two alone, and they watched one another. Neither sat in any of the available seats, and they did not speak to one another. Hazel eyes met blue eyes. A blond brow arched, and the younger male frowned sharply. Each one dared the other to speak first. It was Aberforth who broke the silence.
“He shouldn’t be out so much.” Aberforth spoke quietly, but there was something stern in his voice. He sounded older than he was, and he straightened his back, looking Gellert right in the eye. “He shouldn’t be out so much,” he repeated, a little more forcefully. “I’m not supposed to do magic outside of school, and we need him here.”
Gellert looked at him, his expression never changing. “You would be so heartless as to make him stay here? All the time? With you?” As he spoke, his voice became lower, colder. He advanced slightly on Aberforth, and the boy seemed to consider backing away, but he decided against it. He cocked his head slightly, but it did little to hide his unease at the look being given to him by Gellert. “He is too brilliant to be cooped up here, to waste his time with you and your sister.” He knew little about Ariana, but he knew enough as far as he was concerned. “He was meant for so much more, and,” he paused, drawing his wand from his sleeve and placing its tip right against Aberforth’s neck, “I will not allow him to be held back by something as pathetic as the two of you.”
Before Aberforth could respond, the sound of footsteps in the hall broke in, and Gellert stepped back, slipping his wand back up his sleeve. A mere second later, the door of the den opened, and Albus was standing there again.
“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, looking at Aberforth’s expression then at Gellert. The blond merely shrugged.
“We were having a little chat, nothing more.” He looked at Aberforth, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks, almost daring him to say what had happened. It was a challenge, a challenge to Aberforth as to whether he trusted that his brother would believe him or this new friend, this equal.
Aberforth said nothing.
“Dinner is ready,” Albus told the two, his tone making it clear that he was a little uncomfortable, the tension lingering in the air known to him but unexplained.
“I’m not hungry,” Aberforth said, his voice sharp. He walked out of the den quickly and made his way up the stairs. Albus and Gellert followed into the hall, and Gellert caught sight of a young woman at the top of the stairs, just slightly older than Aberforth. Her blue eyes stared at him for a moment, but she turned quickly and hurried into her room, her blond hair almost shining in the light of a lamp near the door.
“I do apologize for that,” Albus murmured, still staring at the door his brother had gone into moments before Ariana had retreated into her own room. “I don’t know what has gotten into Aberforth. Ariana I expected not to eat with us, but I really didn’t think Aberforth would be so rude!”
“It’s no trouble,” Gellert assured him, clasping Albus’s shoulder with one of his hands. After a pause, he said, “That food does smell good. We should probably go eat.”
“Oh, yes” Albus said, startled out of his thoughts. “Yes, I suppose we should.” He led the way into the dining room, where the table had been set for three. The two young men sat across from one another, summoning food onto their plates with murmured incantations, and Albus filled both goblets with butterbeer. For a moment, Gellert considered asking his friend if there was anything stronger to be had, but he decided against it.
The two ate in silence for several moments, Albus watching Gellert’s reactions to the food laid out as the blond tasted each bit on his plate. He was, Albus noticed, moving the food around a lot more than actually eating anything, but the blue-eyed male also knew the look in Gellert’s eyes. He was thinking about his plans, their plans. After a few more moments and a few bites of food himself, Albus spoke again.
“I hope that Aberforth wasn’t rude to you.”
Gellert did not respond for a few moments, but he finally said, shrugging his shoulders just slightly, “He wasn’t. I do not think that we will see eye to eye any time soon, but he was not rude.”
“I’m afraid he hasn’t been too happy with me lately,” Albus explained, an apologetic smile on his features as he regarded Gellert. “If he took that out on you, I really am sorry.”
“There is nothing to apologize for, my friend. Nor do you have anything to apologize to him for.”
“Oh, but I do. I really have been out too much. I‘m afraid I‘ve been neglecting Ariana.”
“You deserve a break every now and then.” Silence fell for a moment, and Albus stared at the goblet in his hand and its contents as Gellert continued. “I can only imagine how much stress you must feel, Albus. A sister in her condition and an underage brother. No parents to help you.” His voice was warm, and he thought he saw an extra shine to Albus’s eyes. The beginnings of tears? “If there is anything I can do, Albus, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask, and I will do all I can.”
“Gellert,” Albus said softly, and he blinked several times in rapid succession to clear his eyes of that glistening. He smiled a little, though it was a sad smile. “It isn’t easy, no, but I do love them. I want the best for them.”
“They’ll have the best,” Gellert replied, his voice low and his eyes earnest. “When we have what we need, they will have everything.”
Albus started to speak but faltered. He did not try to speak again for several moments, instead taking another drink and shutting those blue eyes of his. When he opened them, he took a long, deep breath. “What about you?” he said suddenly, and Gellert was aware of the tremor in his voice. He did not want to discuss his family further, and Gellert would not press. “I’ve never heard you mention your own family.”
“There’s really no one to mention,” Gellert replied. Albus gave him a curious look, and Gellert sighed. His hand rose, a request for a moment or two to collect his words properly. “My father ran off before I was born. Couldn’t handle having a child, it seems. My mother… Well, she was a curious one. While I was growing up, we moved often. She kept talking about how ‘they’ were coming, how ‘they’ were going to get her. It took a lot of coaxing for her to even let me go to Durmstrang and leave her side. During my fourth year there, I was pulled out of a dueling class to be informed that my mother had been taken to Wahnsinn Memorial.” He nodded after a moment, when Albus didn’t seem to understand, adding, “It is rather like your Saint Mungo’s. She,” he paused, “snapped, it seems. Badly jinxed a poor witch who happened to bump into her on the street and kept screaming that ‘they’ had finally come for her.” His tone had altered itself during the tale but ever so slightly. No great emotion overtook his features, though an air of loneliness seemed to have crept over him.
“Gellert,” Albus said again, this time reaching across the table to touch his friend’s hand, trying to offer some kind of comfort. The other merely waved a hand.
“I have survived so far, and, now,” he smiled over at Albus, taking up his goblet and tilting it toward him, “I have someone who I feel is just as good as any family.”
Albus smiled, this smile lighting his eyes back up, and he picked up his own goblet and raised it slightly as well. “So have I.”
The two drank and were silent for the rest of the meal.
It took the two of them an hour before they finally admitted to having enough to eat, even though the food was barely touched, and even though their plates were not empty. Their glasses of butterbeer, however, had been drained and refilled several times. They were still silent, both likely in contemplation over the other’s family situation, when they retired to the den of the Dumbledore house. Albus sat on the couch and seemed moderately surprised when Gellert sat beside him rather than in one of the armchairs around.
“Gellert, may I ask you a question?” Albus was careful as he spoke, and that made Gellert nervous. The way that the question was posed meant that Albus thought he was walking on thin ice. Still, there was only one answer.
“Of course, Albus.”
“Why were you expelled from Durmstrang?”
Gellert was silent, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Albus sighed, seeming to think that Gellert was angry with him, and he shook his head.
“You don’t have to tell me, Gellert. I understand that it’s--”
“It’s quite all right. You are the first person in a long time that I feel like I can call a friend,” Gellert said slowly, considering his words very carefully. “You deserve to hear about some of my less than admirable moments.” Albus seemed to falter slightly, but Gellert pressed on, leaning back slightly. “After my mother lost it, I dedicated myself to studying. One of my best subjects was dueling, and I decided that I had to set myself apart from the rest. I started designing my own spells. Some of them are rather nasty, but they need to be so. If you are up against a real opponent, you have to do everything you can to survive!” Albus gave a slight nod, watching Gellert’s hazel eyes as he spoke. “Another student, Eugen Kalb, thought it necessary to spread horrible rumors, saying that I was trying my new spells out against unarmed first years and other such incapable opponents. He also denounced me as mad for taking the legend of the Deathly Hallows to be truth rather than fantasy. We quarreled, often, and I finally challenged him to a duel, to settle our score once and for all. It was a vicious fight, and he did well. I daresay he had the upper hand, but I,” he paused, as though admitting a dark, dark secret, “I lost control. I used the Cruciatus Curse on him. I thought I held it on him for only a second.” He looked at Albus with an almost pleading expression. “When I was being brought in front of the professors, I was told that, despite what I thought, he had been under the curse for ten minutes. I was ashamed of myself, and I did not argue with them when my expulsion was decided upon.”
His expression was that of a perfectly penitent, pious young man making his confession.
Albus regarded him in silence for several moments, and Gellert bowed his head in an imitation of shame. His fate, his posture announced, was in Albus’s hands. Everything about him proclaimed that he was sorry for his actions, that it was the mistake that a panicked youth taught to duel to solve problems was apt to make, but that he would not try to excuse what he had done.
“You didn’t mean to use an Unforgivable Curse?” Albus questioned after several long moments of silence.
“Of course not,” Gellert assured him.
“Only once?”
“I would not dare show my face in your company again if I had ever used any of those terrible spells other than the one occasion in which, and the fault is purely mine, I lost control.”
Albus seemed to deliberate this, opening his mouth to speak and then shutting it before anything had come out. He did this once more before ceasing his attempts to speak. He looked right at Gellert, who had since raised his head to meet those blue eyes with his own. Albus’s hands steepled his fingers, licking his lips just slightly as he sorted through his thoughts on this action of his friend’s.
“There is no reason for me to hold it against you,” Albus finally announced, and Gellert allowed himself the faintest of smiles. “It is in the past,” Albus murmured, and Gellert was under the impression that he was speaking more to himself than to the blond, “and it was one time only. Horrible to do, but a mistake that another might easily have made.”
Gellert said nothing, reaching forward to take one of Albus’s hands in both of his, squeezing it slightly. Albus could not help but smile a little at his friend’s reaction.
“Your pardon is all I need,” Gellert murmured after a moment, and Albus smiled a little more. “My actions were deplorable, and to know that you are good enough to forgive me them… I could not ask for a greater act of charity.” The two fell silent for several moments, and Gellert lifted his head when he heard a grandfather clock somewhere in the house striking nine. “I should go,” he said quietly, releasing Albus’s hand and rising.
“I’ll write to you tomorrow, at the very least,” Albus said with a smile. “Maybe things will be quiet enough around here for us to even go out. I’d love to show you Diagon Alley.”
“Great-aunt Bathilda has mentioned it. I would rather enjoy going with you sometime, but I don’t want to drag you away from your family.”
“I am not sure we could do it tomorrow,” Albus said quietly, considering this, “but we will go someday soon. Aberforth can take care of Ariana for a day.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Gellert said.
The two boys walked to the door together, and Albus opened the front door for Gellert. The blond descended the stoop, took a few steps down the street, turned back and waved a little to Albus. When his friend returned the gesture, Gellert turned back around and walked toward his great-aunt’s house. With an Unforgivable forgiven, he was certain now more than ever that this was a friend, a true comrade.
Besides, Kalb had been asking for it.