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And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life. - 'The Tale of the Three Brothers', from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.
To any disembarking passengers he would be hard to distinguish. His long white beard and pale robe merging into the almost blinding white oasis of the station, and the passing whiffs of clouds, which seemed to move without the assistance of any wind. Drawing closer to where he was seated, one could see his robe was embroidered with delicate fire flowers, and broken by a maroon sash, which wrapped around his slender middle. He appeared to be waiting for someone, as he carefully removed a timepiece from out of a pocket of his robe and examined its face. Of what matter, or form, time took in this place, that was a very good question.
With a barely perceptible nod, accompanied by a brief flicker of his eyes downward, and a long deep breath, he fumbled with the timepiece again, and it slipped back into his pocket, as if slipping under the waters of a swiftly flowing river. A few minutes or hours later, there came the sound of a train whistle, as if from a great distance, and then, a few train-car lengths down from the bench, another man stepped out from behind a tenuous veil which curtained the platform.
This other man was also thin, though perhaps unlike the seated figure, terribly frail. However, he possessed a definite strength and a tone of pride about his posture. His shoulder length silver hair hung in thinning wild curls around his face and his clothes were of a plain cloth of similar color, with ragged ends. As he stepped onto the platform he surveyed his surroundings a bit warily, but then lifted his head, and strode forward with the gait of someone who had no more fears.
As he neared the bench upon which the other man sat he paused suddenly and drew himself up. Something seemed to change in his expression, which though still guarded, took on a more focused gaze. There may have even been a spark lit in the depths of his eyes.
"I must say I am surprised to see you here, Albus," he said in greeting to the seated man, who was still staring into the distance from which the train whistle had sounded. At first it appeared as if he must not have heard, but after a few moments he replied.
"It is quite a surprise to me as well. Nor had I a preference to meet you here quite so soon, my friend. But to me that duty was assigned."
And finally, he turned his head, and looked up into the newcomer's face, examining his features, as if to take in every detail, which may have altered, or have remained still the same, since their previous meeting: the creases around his still lively pale brown eyes, the multitude of lines around his still firm lips, the further definition of his sunken cheekbones. A single tear welled up in Albus' clear blue eyes, and he looked away again.
There was yet another shift in the other man's countenance, of precisely what emotion one could not say, and he broached to speak again. Though it was almost to himself that he spoke this time.
"To think, how I have had so many years to prepare for this meeting. For death. To think, how it was once the crowning pursuit of my youth to master it." There was a sideways smile here, almost a laugh, displaying some inborn charisma he still readily possessed, and then he continued, "And still, still, it manages to catch me off-guard. Off-guard, and yet, I am almost convinced I have not failed in that pursuit."
The mists around them seemed to take on a golden sheen for a moment. And Albus' cheeks seemed to take on an almost rosy sheen as well.
"Perhaps to be a master of death, is not what we once thought it to be," Albus replied, "Perhaps there is something to be said for a well-planned surrender or sacrifice."
And he turned once again and gazed up with his own, tamed, half-smile.
"Albus-you know, I never was able to-"
But Albus interrupted him, and for the first time spoke his name, "Gellert-please-please be seated. You've had a long journey, you must be tired" and he patted the bench next to him.
"I'm not tired." the other man replied, rather bluntly. And then again, that hint of a handsome grin, which denied the brittleness of his other features. But he acquiesced to the request. And, as the silence of the moment drew on, gently laid his veined spindled hand over the other man's hand, which was still resting there beside him on the bench.
They may have sat there for some time, as the mist rolled by them, before Gellert turned towards Albus, his eyes quite fierce, perhaps as fierce as they had ever been in those days of his youth.
"And which train shall we take next then?"
Albus did not turn his head, but after a pause, he replied,
"The one towards eternity, if you'd like."