Chapter Text
Albus should have realized that something was monumentally wrong the moment he was invited to the Ministry without the usual accusations and recriminations. He should have pried, he should have asked what the commotion was about, but even if he had, nothing could have prepared him for how inevitably screwed he would be once he found out the exact reason behind his urgent summoning.
Now, it wasn’t unusual for him to be present at International Conferences and occasional reunions of the Wizengamot. His name was one of the most influential in the entire Wizarding World after all, and the majority of the higher ups usually valued his opinion on most matters.
An exception being the Grindelwald problem, of course.
Many of his decisions on the matter hadn’t been taken particularly well by the Ministry, but that was to be expected, he supposed. For one, his constant refusal to fight him certainly was not helping his position, he was sure.
Another thing he was sure of was, however, that they had no idea of the reason behind his frequent “No’s” and “I cannot”. They probably believed him a coward, or something of the sort, which... was not ideal certainly, but it was always better than the alternative.
The alternative being the truth, as it always happened to be with him.
Records, they had called them.
Where and how in Merlin’s name they had managed to find extensive records on the current war was beyond him, but what they had shown until now had been... scarily accurate, as it was stated times and times again during the last couple of hours. No one could have known and recreated to this extent Newt’s trip to New York. No one even knew most of the things they showed, and yet, somehow, they were accurate. Every second of it, every single word.
Magic works in mysterious ways, he thought dimly while he watched them prepare the second set of memories, or records, whatever they were.
He had been rather lucky during the last bout, his name only coming out once, from Gellert’s lips. Well, Percival Graves’, technically speaking.
What makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?
He had been surprised by the question.
Newt hadn’t said anything about it, probably deeming the comment unimportant, when in reality it had been crucial.
Thankfully, no one knew about his connection with Gellert, so it was quickly dismissed by almost everyone in the room. It was a question that could serve strategic purposes on Grindelwald’s part, after all, it didn’t have to be any more personal than that, despite the peculiar choice of words.
Needless to say that Albus’ heart had dropped drastically after hearing it, he had felt like his eighteen year old self again, with butterflies in his stomach and skipped heartbeats. It wasn’t Gellert’s voice. Hell, it wasn’t even Gellert’s face, but it was him nonetheless.
He felt the uneasiness in his stomach get stronger as he watched the Aurors work. He didn’t know what was to come and it unnerved him to no end, but he forced himself to stay calm. He didn’t even know for sure if he would be present in this set of records, even though he feared he would. He may not be able to See the future like Gellert could, but he could very well guess what was to come.
During the last few weeks his informants had told him that Credence was on the move, headed to Paris specifically, and Albus had been planning a much needed... persuasive chat with Newt, in the hopes that he would find the obscurial and bring him to safety. This narrative seemed to focus on Newt’s actions, so there was no way that he wouldn’t make an appearance soon enough, something that the Ministry surely would not like.
None of them could be sure that what they were going to be shown - admittedly the future - was going to be accurate. But nothing during the previous part had made them believe otherwise, so it was highly probable, and it terrified him. What if the records showed memories of him and Gellert? His frequent visits to the Mirror? What if they showed the fateful duel that haunted him, still? Maybe he would learn at last which one of them had killed his sister. But he wasn’t ready, he would never be. Ignorance was... a bliss, in this instance, since the hope that it wasn’t his curse that killed her was the only thing that kept him alive, that kept him going.
He pinched his nose and groaned softly, drawing Newt’s attention in the process. “Professor?” He called. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to find a way to defeat him.”
Albus felt a strong pang of shame for feeling relieved in front of Newt’s misunderstanding. He certainly could do absolutely nothing to defeat him, because...
The blood pact.
Merlin and Morgana, what if they found out about the blood pact?
Every prospect that crossed his mind kept getting worse and worse.
But wallowing in self pity and “what if’s” would do him no good, so he steadied himself, took a deep breath and tried to empty his mind. It’s not like worrying to no end would change anything, he would simply have to face the consequences when the time came.
“Sir, we’re done.” The voice of an unremarkable Auror cut through his thoughts, causing his breath to hitch slightly. Newt, bless his soul, sent him a worried look, but other than that, he made no other comment.
Travers nodded at the Auror, giving the signal to start. The Hall quieted at once, and Albus could see how everyone started to lean forward, eager to know what the future had in store for them. Fawley and Picquery also gave a curt nod in the Auror’s direction, and the circular center of the Court Room was soon filled with the records’ projection.
Albus slowly put his hands on his lap, took a deep breath and looked right in front of him, where the first scene was beginning to unfold.