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„The Ministry is full of Death Eaters. I am free because I’m of the right status, but most of us had to run. They are now holding trials of all Muggleborns the Ministry accuses them of stealing magic. Those found guilty are held in cells deep in the Ministry. For some reason Death Eaters do not trust Azkaban to hold anyone anymore. Possibly because the dementors have left their posts and are accompanying the highest officials at the trials. Or they are afraid of what Sirius Black might have told the Order about escaping Azkaban.” Here Arthur Weasley stopped, as if waiting for Dumbledore to comment.
What terrible times he had lived to see. Albus assumed Voldemort would start his purge given the chance and he wasn’t wrong, but it was still horrifying to see it up close. He and Gellert changed the houses every month and this time they were in Muggle London, but even here it was plain to see that something had changed. Muggles, once ignorant of everything around them now looked afraid, especially during the night. As if they started to see things normal people shouldn’t see.
“And we have figured out that You-Know-Who’s name is the Taboo, so the Ministry will know who used it and where. This is how they hunt us down.” Arthur continued. “We have evacuated most of the Order’s hideouts – they should become the last resort and we cannot risk anyone uttering his name there.” Here Albus nodded his head. That was certainly a good precaution. What once was a show of courage now became a lethal mistake. Arthur looked as if he was waiting for Dumbledore to give him an order to act, but this was something Albus couldn’t do.
“I think now keeping everyone safe is our upmost priority. Especially Harry and his friends.” He finally said, and Arthur fell silent. “We cannot risk an open conflict with them now, there is too few of us and every life is precious. We are at disadvantage.” Albus continued, cursing himself that all he could offer were pleas to lie low. He was still the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but the Order had now become just a distraction. A group of rebels and since most of them were public figures – Aurors, Ministry officials, Hogwarts teachers, Albus couldn’t risk them being exposed as his allies. At least not yet.
“What about Grindelwald? Can’t he stir up some trouble to distract You-Know-Who and his followers?” Arthur inquired and Albus was hit with a wave of guilt.
Gellert, true to his word, tried to take back his position as Muggle studies teacher at Hogwarts. Yet the moment he entered the castle he was accosted by Severus, the newly appointed Headmaster, and Carrow siblings, determined to take him down. He barely escaped, sending Amycus to the Hospital Wing were Mrs. Pomfrey apparently did what she could to pretend she was healing him without actually doing so. Gellert quickly figured out why the Carrows called him by his true name and he wasn’t even angry. No, if he had been angry, it would have been alright because it would mean that he expected Albus to be better than that. Instead, Gellert came back injured and resigned, demanding they changed their hideout. The only commentary Albus got was “Could have warned me before I went there.” And that was it. That was the end of their conversations. Every day Gellert left home and came back in silence.
“Can we risk him getting into their hands?” Albus replied, not wanting to share this particular problem with Arthur. Gellert would probably agree to cause some trouble, prepared to be another one of Albus’ sacrifices and Dumbledore couldn’t do that again. Wouldn’t do that again, rather, because he had proven he was heartless bastard who could sell the love of his life to the enemy.
“I don’t know, Dumbledore. But Harry is missing and I wonder whether the next time we hear about him is from the news… They have no opposition, aside from Hogwarts so they can look for him all the time and they will find him… Find them… My son, Dumbledore…” And Albus understood. He always did, but what difference did it make?
“Grindelwald is at the Diagon Alley, searching for any trace of Ollivander. That’s all I know. When he comes back, I will try to persuade him to cause some drama, but I have no real authority over him, Arthur.”
Arthur Weasley did not call out Albus Dumbledore on his lie, but his silent gaze was enough.
He disapparated, leaving Dumbledore alone again.
All they could do was wait for Harry to find the horcruxes. Dumbledore joining them, contacting them –that would too much of a risk. Two Undesirables together? Who could miss it? Still, the passiveness was driving him mad. All he could do was receive reports from the members of the Order and tell them to hide, to wait. To stay alive. It was the hardest thing to do, Albus was well aware, to have fight in your blood and still when it mattered the most, give up. But they needed to give up. If Albus’s guess was correct, they would all meet at Hogwarts, for one, final battle and the Order couldn’t allow any losses before that.
The door thumped closed and Albus could hear the scratching of shoes on the floor. Gellert was back.
Were they going to remain silent until the very end?
No. That would be a waste of time they were granted. So Albus stood up and moved to the hall. It was strange how quickly he got used to the Muggle house they took residence in. Before that they were hiding at some cottage in Wales and Albus didn’t like it as much as this small London house. It was empty when they came and Gellert actually paid money for renting the place. That was some development. The old Gellert would have killed or obliviated the owner. It was sad really, how Gellert was clearly able to change while Albus was still his old, miserable, lying self.
“I’m glad you are back.” He called and the man taking off his shoes looked up to meet his eyes. Gellert was wearing some strange man’s face, yet there was this familiar glint in his eye that betrayed his true nature, at least to Albus.
“What is the most prized thing in the Headmaster’s office?” Gellert asked instead, dutifully using questions to identify Albus. As if he couldn’t tell fake Albus Dumbledore from the true one. Then again, he possibly could and simply took every opportunity he could to annoy Albus. His questions varied from silly to too personal at times. Maybe Albus should start annoying him too.
“My collection of lemon drops. In a golden box.” Gellert rolled his eyes.
“That’s cold. Not Fawkes?”
“Fawkes is a phoenix, not a thing.”
“Grammatically, he is a thing.”
“You are not a native speaker of English, may I remind you.” Gellert’s glare would kill a lesser man, but for some reason Dumbledore felt better now than he had during the whole week. Apparently Gellert was talking to him again. It was a familiar feeling, this relief when Gellert forgave him some mistake or other.
“Oh, and I’m still not sure if you are you, so what is your favourite drink?”
“Blood of my enemies served in a cup made of their bones.” Replied Gellert venomously and Albus actually laughed at that.
“Like I said, I’m happy you are back.”
Here, Gellert sent him a long, tired look.
“Albus, don’t use the words you don’t understand, it is pathetic at your age. You have never been happy in your life.” Not true. He had been. For two months in his life, when everything seemed to be just as it should, when he was living under the illusion that all of his problems would soon disappear, he had been happy. Not that he would tell that to Gellert now, when the man was still angry at him.
“I have got an early Christmas present for you. You are going to hate it.” Gellert said, taking off the Transfiguration charm and looking at Albus with his own eyes.
“I’ve never liked any of your presents.”
“We both now that isn’t true.” The suggestive tone in Gellert’s voice reminded Albus of one particular Christmas ball at the Ministry in 1920. He had a so called moral hangover after that one, but yes, indeed, that wasn’t a bad present at all.
“Why am I going to hate this one?” Albus asked, attempting to change the subject. With sitting around and waiting he was tempted to finally address whatever it was between them, but he couldn’t with clear conscience let them both concentrate on their unresolved feeling while the rest of the world suffered.
“Mostly because I hate it with passion.” Gellert replied and handed Albus a book. From the front cover a tired and unhappy face of one Albus Dumbledore looked straight at him. The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter, the title proclaimed. Rita, of course. He had never liked her while he was at Hogwarts and she truly despised him, for whatever reason. Since she began her journalist career she had never passed up any opportunity to write something nasty about him.
“Is it so bad?” It didn’t look as if Rita could dig up anything interesting about him. Maybe she had written down her memories about him at school? How he favored Gryffindor (not really) or punished students for being intolerant? (He did.)
While Albus was staring at the book, Gellert moved past him and went to the kitchen. In a valiant attempt to protect his own tea from Gellert’s hands, Albus moved after him and cast a quick spell that produced a cup of hot water in seconds.
Gellert, slightly disappointed, took a teabag out of the cupboard and accepted his own cup of tea. He sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip, not bothering to wait for it to cool down. Maybe Albus was the British one here, but it was Gellert’s relationship with tea that was bordering on unhealthy.
“It is even worse, to answer your question. She managed to get a hold on my aunt.” Oh. Albus sat down on the other chair, opposite to Gellert. Merlin’s beard… Bathilda Bagshot?
He opened the book and looked at the table of contents.
Everything was there. His father, the death of his mother. The death of Ariana. And of course, a whole chapter about him and Gellert. Thankfully, only about the summer. Apparently no one had anything to say about Albus’ less than stellar conduct while Gellert was gathering his people in Europe. His life after 1945 was barely discussed at all, at least until Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts. Here Rita let her imagination go wild, for there were chapters such as “Unhealthy relationship?” and “The Boy Who Lied and Whose Lies He Was Made to Tell”.
“I think the best part is the last page. Albus Dumbledore, finally fired from his supreme position as Hogwarts’ Headmaster has run away from all accusations and instead of facing his crimes decided to enjoy vacation. Some sources say that his chosen companion is none other but the former dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald himself! This ends our account of the life of Albus Dumbledore and we hope that continuation that will bring answers to all of our questions will come soon. See you all in volume two, my dear readers!, honestly, the woman wished you a quick death and no one batted an eye.” Gellert sounded truly angry and Albus finally understood why the man decided to suddenly forgive him - they had a common enemy now.
“Well, she is not wrong. I am enjoying my vacation with none other but former dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald himself.” Albus pointed out gently.
Gellert looked really tired all of a sudden. He seemingly decided to occupy himself his tea and ignore Albus entirely.
“I think the Ministry let her publish it on purpose. They want everyone to look for me not for political reasons but for personal ones. It is far more engaging to look for a potential murderer of his own sister and an old man harassing the Boy Who Lived than a man who annoyed Ministry one time too many. “
“Of course. And they managed to do it. The whole Diagon Alley is decorated with your face, as well as Potter’s. The book came out around September, we have missed because of moving around and apparently the Order had better things to discuss with you than some gossip-ridden book of Skeeter. Remus told me most of you usually read her pieces to know what she isn’t writing about, to know what really matters. “Here, Gellert stood up and switched on an ordinary electric kettle. Seeing Albus’ questioning look he simply shrugged.
“I am the former teacher of Muggle studies. I like kettles.” Albus was now strangely concerned about any further relationship between Arthur Weasley and Gellert Grindelwald. Two Muggle enthusiasts in one place… Had it been happier times, the two would possibly get on well. Had it been happier times, Gellert would have taught at Hogwarts for longer than a year. Had it been… But it wasn’t.
“After Christmas I would like us to move to Godric’s Hollow.” Gellert suddenly said.
“No.”
“I want to see what they did to aunt Batty. She wouldn’t have told them anything, she had to be forced. “
“I’m never going back there.”
Gellert’s eyes turned to Albus and he was met with hot fury burning behind them.
“Why not? Are the memories too much? You won’t let me see my only living relative because you are afraid of your dead ones?”
“You can go alone and leave me here.”
They were interrupted by the kettle happily announcing that the water was ready. The cheery beeping was distraction enough and when Gellert filled his cup he was already calm.
“I can’t go alone, you know that. I am here to protect you and make sure you live through all of this. However, I am not entirely sure what your life would look like if you keep on running away from everything. After this is over, after we win there will be a new world to live in. A new future to build. And you can’t do that if you are trapped in the past, Albus.”
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live…” Albus muttered, a strange sense of déjà vu overwhelming him. He used to say that, didn’t he? Had he learnt nothing?
He hasn’t noticed the moment Gellert left the kitchen.
They spent the rest of the day separately, with Albus reading his own biography and Gellert doing Merlin knows what in his bedroom.
The chapters about his early life were the worst, Albus decided. They were the closest to truth, especially taking the included letter into account. He had never thought that Gellert had kept his letters, but apparently he didn’t take them with him while he was escaping from England. They were left in Bathilda’s possession and Albus was truly happy that Rita had chosen this one and not any other. The things he used to write to Gellert, he, so in love and so foolish… Now when he thought about it, maybe Gellert did take the letters with him, since Rita wouldn’t pass up the scandal – Albus Dumbledore in love with his greatest rival.
The picture of Ariana was still the worst thing that Albus had found in the book.
The evening found him sitting in the chair in the living room and simply staring at her childish face. The Ariana from the picture kept on hiding her face with her hands and smiling shyly from behind her fingers, as if flattered and worried that he was looking at her. It was a great picture, showing her as she was – delicate, unsure, but so alive…
“I’ve got a deal for you.” Gellert’s voice brought Albus back to reality.
“A deal?”
“I will stir up as much trouble as I can without getting caught to buy Potter time. And after that you go with me to Godric’s Hollow.”
How did he know?
Gellert seemed to read the question from his face because he simply sighed.
“I spoke to Arthur. He was quite sure you’ve talked to me already. Since you haven’t I assume you wanted to but was unsure of my reaction. So I’m telling you. I can be your mad dog if you want, but I demand of you to man up and let us see my aunt.”
Gellert’s tone held no anger, but grim determination.
Albus hesitated.
What if Gellert never came back?
But if not Gellert, then one of the members would finally do something, worried sick for Harry and his companions. Gellert had better chances of survival, as much as Albus didn’t want to admit it, this was the best option.
It would be like using him as tool, but it would be effective. And Gellert actually allowed himself to be used, so…
It still didn’t make it right.
But it was the only correct choice.
“Alright. I agree.”
Gellert laughed, a mirthless sound without any joy in it
“I knew you would.”
*
They have finally reached Godric’s Hollow a week after New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t easy to dodge the Death Eaters but Gellert managed to do that and to bring Albus back to where everything had started. For both of them.
Gellert couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel any nostalgia while walking down the streets he had seen so many decades ago. The town changed, obviously, but there was still some quiet around it, something magical and yet warm at the same time. If he was as romantic and dramatic as Albus, he would say it was great love, still lingering in the air, whether Lily Potter’s, Kendra’s or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. Still, he felt good here, despite everything.
His aunt’s house was ruined. A piece of bedroom had been blown up and from what he had learned, some said they have seen the Dark Lord himself here. Maybe. That would mean that Albus was right and Tom Riddle was indeed looking both for Harry and for the Hallows. Or at least for one of them. The Elder Wand. Too bad it was in Albus’ possession.
His poor aunt was dead. Had been dead for a long time and it was quite possible that Rita Skeeter was the last one to see her alive. From the note he found in the house it seemed that Skeeter had used veritaserum on Bathilda. The use of which was mostly illegal, so his suspicion that Rita had been working with the Ministry was finally confirmed. If he ever found her on the street she was fair game then. He could even claim self-defense. Albus would not believe him, but then again Albus didn’t believe him on principle these days, so what difference would it make?
He still visited her house every day, just to reminiscence. He had visited aunt Batty quite often during his youth, though not for long. That’s why he had met Albus only after he had been expelled from Durmstrang. Batty was old-fashioned and a bit too Victorian, but she had always allowed Gellert to learn and answered all his questions. His father, a researcher for Gregorovitch always said that Gellert lacked any sense of adventure and only rebelled without any meaning to it. His mother in turn assumed that Gellert was not really her responsibility since her husband brought no substantial money and she had her own career to look to, being a jeweler. Only Batty actually took time to talk to Gellert and to teach him. He hadn’t been a great fan of her lectures, mostly because she could go on about the smallest details for hours, but at least she talked to him.
And now she was gone.
Not knowing that her nephew was free and ready to protect the school she so loved and that young Dumbledore boy she was so fond of. Then again, he should ask Albus about his relationship with Bathilda after Gellert had run away. Maybe they had never forgiven each other for that one summer after all. Maybe they had commiserated together about that evil Gellert who broke both of their hearts.
Today he decided to stop simply feeding his nostalgia and to do something about the abundance of things Batty left behind. They were valuable but useless now, since their only owner was dead. He roamed around the house, trying to decide what to take. If he managed to survive the fight with Voldemort then maybe he would come back here to restore the house and change it into a museum. Bathilda was the greatest historian of magic after all. She deserved it.
He finally decided to leave the abandoned house, taking only a few books with him. He was her only heir so no spell prevented him from doing that. And, when he looked at them closely, some of them were even his, brought here from Durmstrang.
He walked slowly, enjoying the snow and looking at the colourful lights around Muggle houses. He passed the Potters’ house, a bit cheered up by the messages of support still engraved into the statue. There were people willing to fight, to hope. He felt as he did so many years ago – righteous and ready to fight. But this time there was a possibility wouldn’t end up in prison for what he was about to do. Maybe.
He entered the house they were renting with Albus and waited for a greeting, or a question. There came none.
His heart started to beat faster, worry and panic entering his mind. They couldn’t have known, could they?
There was no trace of fight.
“Albus?”
No answer.
He didn’t bother to take off his shoes, just looked around the house carefully, the books left in the hall, long forgotten.
There was no one there. In the living room there was still a page from Daily Prophet hanging on the wall. Gellert had been quite proud of his raid on the Ministry. Vicious attack on the Ministry of Magic: 28 criminals set free, proclaimed the heading and below it there was a picture of Ministry’s atrium engulfed in blue flames. Interestingly, the Prophet did not mention his name, even though the Death Eaters, both the ones present at the Weasley wedding and at the Ministry, should recognize him. Apparently they decided to keep quiet about former Dark Lord turning against the current one. Or they were waiting for the correct moment to announce Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald’s attempt at overthrowing the Minister. Gellert wondered what their angle was, but he assumed that the Death Eaters were unsure of his standing now. Despite what Rita Skeeter wrote, they weren’t truly sure how committed he was to Dumbledore and didn’t want to risk making an enemy out of him too hastily. Still, twenty-eight people accused of ‘stealing magic’ were set free and Gellert returned safely (mostly due to Tonks and Shacklebot’s intervention, but still). And he had hanged the article on the wall like a prize and Albus laughed at him then…
And now Albus was gone.
If there were no traces of the fight, there was only one place Albus could willingly go.
Gellert left the house, carefully closing the door behind him. They were going to come back here. Both of them.
*
Dumbledores’ house was very unassuming. One would never guess that the most powerful wizard of all times was once spending his summers in such a small, yet lovely house. It was away from the centre of the village, near the river. It looked like a place from a novel, where people look back on their happy childhood and find out that nothing has changed in the place, even after so many years.
But the house has changed. It fell into ruin, not bought by anyone, abandoned and unneeded. Gellert had often admired the front as he waited for Albus to come out for one of their walks. The house was built from a dark brick, but the front had been painted light brown and it looked truly homely. Gellert had never met Kendra Dumbledore, but Batty always said that the house didn’t match her personality and style at all, it was too informal.
Gellert moved passed the gate and noticed footprints on the dusty porch.
He entered the house and looked around. The portraits, the furniture… Everything was as it used to be. Apparently Aberforth had left the house right after the funeral, just like Albus had done. No wonder, there was nothing here for Dumbledore brothers to come back to.
Gellert didn’t bother to check all the rooms and moved straight to the one Albus was most probable to visit.
Once again, his guess proved to be correct.
There he was, the mighty Albus Dumbledore, sitting quietly on Ariana’s small bed, tears running down his broken nose.
For a while, Gellert allowed him to be, not drawing any attention to himself. Albus needed some closure. And it was the best Gellert could give him, this moment of solitude.
Minutes passed.
“I used to promise her I would read to her every evening. And every evening I forgot about it, because I was with you. Aberforth read to her in my stead and she complained to me the next morning.” Albus suddenly said. Gellert remained silent.
“When I found the stone… I used it. I had to ask her, to know… She said she forgave me, but she didn’t know who killed her. And then I realized, I would never get absolution, because it wasn’t her. It was just a phantom, my reflection of what I wanted her to be. Of what I wanted to hear.”
Gellert wanted to move closer, to let Albus lean on him, to do something, but he knew he couldn’t. This time, it wasn’t about him. It was entirely about Albus.
“Why couldn’t I have loved her?”
Gellert was sure it was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother answering. But then Albus looked straight at him, despair clear in his eyes and Gellert realized that this was it. This was the moment they finally talked.
“You did, Albus. But you didn’t care for her. There is a difference between loving somebody and caring for them deeply.” Gellert said slowly, still not moving from his position at the threshold.
“She was an obligation to you, a burden and if you hadn’t loved her, it would have been easier for you. But you did love her, you simply couldn’t care for her, couldn’t make her more important to you than anything else.” He continued.
“But that is not your fault. You were never taught to care for people.”
It was brutal and possibly unnecessarily cruel, but Albus needed to finally accept himself as he was. As they both were.
“But my mother…”
“Your mother did everything she could to raise you all properly and to give you what you needed. But she was not kind, nor warm. You were loved, Albus. Just not cared for.”
This seemed to be too much.
“How dare you speak like that of my mother!” Albus got up and charged at Gellert, but Gellert moved first and caught Albus’ hands before he could reach for his wand.
“I will not allow any of us to cast more spells in his house.” He said quietly, and Albus lost his will to fight. Gellert used this moment to force him into an awkward hug. They were not huggers, both of them, but this was the best he could to hold Albus in one place and offer him some kind of support as well.
“You have never met my mother, Gellert.” Albus finally said, tiredly.
“No.” Gellert admitted.” But I have met you. Your love is not wild, untamed and powerful. It is limited by duty, by what is right and what is important. You admire Lily Potter because her love escaped every reason, every survival instinct humans have and you know you are not capable of doing the same.” He could still feel the tension in Albus’ body, but he kept on speaking nonetheless.
“You would never die for love, Albus Dumbledore, you would only die for a cause. You were taught your duties, but never how to love someone. So you try, you fight with yourself and with your feelings only to end up feeling guilty for not loving the right person. Or for loving the wrong one.”
Here, Albus broke Gellert’s hold and took a few steps back.
“If you are referring to yourself…” He started, his voiced laced with anger, but Gellert was having none of it.
“Of course I’m referring to myself! You think I don’t know you well enough to know how you feel? You think I didn’t notice that almost every book I had ever owned landed either in Hogwarts’ library in the Restricted Section, or in your office? You think I don’t know why you still don’t trust me, even after I risk my life for you over and over again?”
He wasn’t really angry, if he was to be honest with himself. He had replayed variations of this conversation in his head for years now and somehow all the anger was gone. But Albus had to finally see.
“You have changed.”
“No. I have changed my focus, that’s all.”
Albus just looked at him in silence, as if trying to catch Gellert at a lie. He wasn’t. He had never lied to Albus.
“I don’t know what you want from me. To say I do love you? You just plainly told me that my love is worth nothing at all. To say I care for you? Even if I do, what of it? We are still at war and we are both too wise to concentrate on each other now. What do you want me to do?”
Oh, that was easy.
“I want you to forgive, Albus. Yourself and me. I want you to stop being the lonely god at the mountain, trying to save the world. Yes, we will save it, we will fight and win, but after that – you need to stop. There are others worthy of caring and fighting for the future.”
Albus lowered his eyes and took another step back, to finally sit on Ariana’s bed again.
Gellert followed him, dropping to one knee in front of him, to look into his eyes, searching for an answer.
He didn’t know how long they were there, motionless and dwelling on years and years of pain and mutual hatred mixed with guilt, but finally, Albus sighed.
“I’ve always thought I was the wiser of the two.” He said and Gellert was hit with a wave for fondness for this sanctimonious fool.
“You never could see that you were wrong, so this misconception is understandable.” He replied and Albus smiled at him, weakly. But this light-hearted moment was gone as quickly as it came.
“You need to face it – we are both terrible people with terrifying natures who do everything in their power to fight for the right cause. We will never be pure, good-hearted and naïve. But we can still be happy and fight the good fight. You just need to let go.” Gellert said softly, his heart hammering in anticipation. Everything he tried to achieve here was now in Albus’ hands.
“Iwill.” Thank Heavens! Gellert allowed himself to smile, but then he saw the grim-resolve on Albus’ face.
“I will.” the man repeated. ”But you need to tell me. Who did it?”
Under Albus’ intense gaze, Gellert fought with his thoughts, trying to shield them from Albus at the same time. One wrong answer and everything… Everything was gone, just like that.
The question was simple. Who did Gellert care about the most. Himself? Or Albus? Which one of them would Albus forgive?
There was only one answer.
For the first time in his life, Gellert Grindelwald lied to Albus Dumbledore.
“I did.”
And Albus believed him.