FIC! entry 8
January 1st, 1953
Gellert--
You do seem to realize that you will not talk me out of my plans for the object in question, for which I am glad. It would be a shame to wear the wings off owls arguing over this for the rest of our lives.
I have of course felt what you feel. But do you realize the danger of it, old friend? Surely the old history of Ilmarinen has spread to your corners of the North. There are some things that must be destroyed. And it is not, Gellert, alive. This is crucial. It has no memory, no soul, no life within it. It is not killing to prevent it from staining future generations with as much blood as ours.
One of its powers, I fear, is that the wizards that bond to it do so with an obsessive passion that borders on twisted love. I am sorry to see you affected by this. But I will not apologize for what must be done for--yes--the greater good. The future will be better off without the temptations this thing offers. Breaking its blood inheritance will turn over a new leaf in the relations between the powerful wizards who are steeped in the mysteries--and I'm afraid that writing on New Year's Day makes me maudlin.
But, yet, again, I am sorry for the condition I must leave you in.
Yet you are correct. Cruel as it is to say, it is the truth--I am ashamed. But It is a small, strange pleasure that I am able to provide you with some comfort. I thought, though, that you liked hearing the screams of Muggles?
It is a bad habit of mine to distract people with sweets. In lieu of that, perhaps, more books? I think Gertrude's grammatical eccentricities might provide you with some entertainment.
I admit, Gellert. I admit that I've been thinking overlong myself on our boyhood time together. It has been so long since I was so intimate with another, without fear, without witholding. You are correct again. I cannot change history. And it is difficult to deny the joy of those months spent in abandoned pleasure and ambition. But the cost, Gellert. The cost. You left me burying my sister and forever uncertain of my own decency. You left me with parts of myself I must ever hide.
Ah, here is the dawn, coming up cold and misty over the Scottish hills. No potted fields here around Hogwarts. The clouds are thick round the dark forest near the grounds, and I have not slept tonight, and I...
Enjoy your books, Gellert.
Albus Dumbledore
[entry in the Grindeldore for Goats Blogathon Venture; sponsor me here!]
Gellert--
You do seem to realize that you will not talk me out of my plans for the object in question, for which I am glad. It would be a shame to wear the wings off owls arguing over this for the rest of our lives.
I have of course felt what you feel. But do you realize the danger of it, old friend? Surely the old history of Ilmarinen has spread to your corners of the North. There are some things that must be destroyed. And it is not, Gellert, alive. This is crucial. It has no memory, no soul, no life within it. It is not killing to prevent it from staining future generations with as much blood as ours.
One of its powers, I fear, is that the wizards that bond to it do so with an obsessive passion that borders on twisted love. I am sorry to see you affected by this. But I will not apologize for what must be done for--yes--the greater good. The future will be better off without the temptations this thing offers. Breaking its blood inheritance will turn over a new leaf in the relations between the powerful wizards who are steeped in the mysteries--and I'm afraid that writing on New Year's Day makes me maudlin.
But, yet, again, I am sorry for the condition I must leave you in.
Yet you are correct. Cruel as it is to say, it is the truth--I am ashamed. But It is a small, strange pleasure that I am able to provide you with some comfort. I thought, though, that you liked hearing the screams of Muggles?
It is a bad habit of mine to distract people with sweets. In lieu of that, perhaps, more books? I think Gertrude's grammatical eccentricities might provide you with some entertainment.
I admit, Gellert. I admit that I've been thinking overlong myself on our boyhood time together. It has been so long since I was so intimate with another, without fear, without witholding. You are correct again. I cannot change history. And it is difficult to deny the joy of those months spent in abandoned pleasure and ambition. But the cost, Gellert. The cost. You left me burying my sister and forever uncertain of my own decency. You left me with parts of myself I must ever hide.
Ah, here is the dawn, coming up cold and misty over the Scottish hills. No potted fields here around Hogwarts. The clouds are thick round the dark forest near the grounds, and I have not slept tonight, and I...
Enjoy your books, Gellert.
Albus Dumbledore
[entry in the Grindeldore for Goats Blogathon Venture; sponsor me here!]