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Although I don’t always agree with Gellert’s methods, I turned a blind eye to those of late. Tom wishes a war and is recruiting for such, however his strongest supporters have a habit of disappearing without a trace. Gellert is too cunning to be tied to any of these missing persons and deaths, I know only because I know my husband. I pretend not to notice as he sneaks out of bed or vanishes for hours. I said nothing only because I knew the alternative would lead to more death. Even at his worst and most bloodthirsty, Gellert is a better man than Tom.
We spoke not of Tom or the growing danger he presents until it is long past due, such is the way of our relationship. Gellert returned from one of his outings as the sun rose. I waited for him seated at the kitchen table.
“You missed his birthday.”
“There was something that needed to be done,” Gellert shrugged and hung up his cloak.
“Hm, I was busy as well, trying to convince our son that Vater still loved him.”
“The boy should be old enough to…”
“You made him a promise and broke it.”
“Do not make this about your own insecurities, Albus.”
“We brought these children into existence, Gellert, you have responsibilities.”
“And where do you think I’ve been? Cleaning up the mess of your old pupil. That boy despises you, Albus, and he cares not for the age of those he murders.”
“I know what Tom is capable of.”
“Yet you sit back and play with your Ministry and puppet shows while I make this world safer.”
“Not all of us see the justice in getting one’s hands dirty.”
Our owl, a young barred owl that Fawks had a soft spot for, flew in then with the morning paper and mail. I glanced to the rolled parchment then reached for my tea. “The mail is here.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Read the paper, Gellert,” I said with the force necessary to make him obey. Gellert sent me a final glare but unrolled the newspaper. His ire transfigured to surprise as he saw the front page. I drank my tea as he quickly read. I had a vague idea of what it said but only learned the headline when Gellert unfolded the paper to continue reading on an interior page.
“Murder Unmasked!” The paper proudly declared and in smaller print “Self Proclaimed, ‘Lord Voldemort’ Real Name Thomas Riddle Jr.”. Along with picture of Tom with his prefect badge superimposed next to a slightly blurry photo of him as Voldemort. Gellert started chuckling. There was much to amuse him in that article. The schoolboy’s anagram of his name to ‘I am Lord Voldemort’, the history of his mother’s family’s mental illness and poverty despite their blood status, and the suggestion that his obsession with blood purity was nothing more than unresolved anger directed at his absent father. It had taken quite a bit of effort to collect the sparse evidence, Tom had erased most of his history, but I believed the end result was worth it. Let Tom’s followers deny, the truth and an irrefutable blood trace from Riddle Senior’s grave were on my side.
“The Dark Wizard Riddle?” Gellert set the paper down.
“A name that will live in infamy.”
Gellert laughed again, “and I was concerned he would soon gain the Blacks’ support. They won’t touch him now.”
I hummed noncommittally, purposefully more interested in my tea than my husband. “I have wronged you, Liebe.” Gellert walked round the table but still I ignored him. “I underestimate you still. After all these years I should know better.”
“Hm, yes you should.” After decades of marriage I could finally boast some resistance to his charms. And after comforting our son I was determined to make him work for forgiveness.
“You’re like Fawks, mein mann. So pretty I forget how deadly you can be.” Gellert knelt by my chair and kissed my free hand.
“Hm.” I hummed in a more encouraging fashion this time.
“Will you allow me to make it up to you, my love?”
“You have two hours until the children wake up. Their favorite breakfast and surprise birthday gift, I think.”
“A free hour then? Plenty of time.” He grinned and picked me up.
“Gellert!”