Together, We Can Go Anywhere

by Bubble_Pomme

Summary:

Albus and Gellert travelled around the world, and searched for the Deathly Hallows, amongst other things.

Or: Adventuring was a full-time job; especially when you wanted to start a revolution while you were at it.
(Sequel of: I'm Not Gonna Go With Anyone Else)

Notes:

Hello everyone!
I hope everything’s alright for you, and that you spent a nice summer (or winter, depends on where you are).
Ok, so the promised sequel! It’s probably going to be long (‘probably’ she said, you can taste the denial hahaha). I hope you’ll enjoy it! I’m very excited to share it with you :D

Chapter 1: The Cloak Of Invisibility

“The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”
George Bernard Shaw

 

Summer 1899

Bathilda had fled the room, ‘to refill the tea pot’, as she had said. But since her departure, the minutes had dragged on and on, and it had soon become clear: she only had taken the first excuse she had in order to leave the two of them alone.

Usually, this kind of transparent set-up would annoy Albus immensely. He always hated when people tried to force his hand, and at first, he could tell from the way his face had clouded, that it had annoyed Bathilda’s nephew just as much.
For it was a set-up from Bathilda’s part, without doubt. She knew he visited her every Monday’s afternoon, and if the lemon pie and the coffee she prepared for the occasion was anything to go by, she had planned it carefully, in order to please them both and reached a sort of compromise.
Her nephew had barely touched his plate, the pie too sweet for him, if the grimace he made was any indication. Albus had barely tasted his drink, disliking the bitter taste.
But, despite it, Albus was curious.

He had immediately recognized Bathilda’s nephew as the man he saw in the graveyard.

Albus had first noticed him two days ago and really, how could he not? Any stranger was sure to stand out in their little village of Godric's Hollow, where everyone knew everyone. Albus had an inkling of what the other young man had been searching for, crouched to the ground next to Peverell’s tomb.

So far, Albus’s summer had consisted in making sure lunch and dinner had been served on time, while living his thirst for travels through Elphias’s letters, so the idea that someone, might, believe the tales of Beedle the Bard to be true was… positively intriguing.

All in all, Gellert Grindelwald was proving to be terribly distracting.

His hands moved when he spoke; like a ballet improvised for him. His heterochromatic eyes were mesmering. His golden locks framed his face perfectly. They looked soft. Albus’s fingers inched to run inside them.

He forced himself to not stare so obviously; but his mind kept taking notes of his every move, of the variation of rhythm in his speech, of his tone. Even his voice was interesting, neither too deep nor high; it was a perfect middle ground, soft and assured at the same time, marching with precision. His faint accent, almost invisible (but of course Albus remarked it), charmed him even more.
Grindelwald continued to talk about the article Albus’s wrote and he felt that he ought to tell him so.

“I wrote this, actually.” he said feeling awkward and by Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t blushing. His grip on his spoon was too tight, so he decided to put it down. He took a breath and forced himself to relax, surely it shouldn’t be so hard. “Last month, I also had another one of my article published in Transfi-”

“Wait.” Grindelwald cut, leaning even closer to him on the couch and putting his cup down with a ‘click’ on the low table of Bathilda’s living room. Grindelwald was either unaware of personal space or chose to ignore the notion entirely. Albus was very torn by the lack of distance between them. On one hand he wasn’t against having him closer, quite the contrary. On the other, he feared Grindelwald would be able to hear his rabbit heart hammering into his chest. Boom, boom. (He could picture it clearly, him betrayed by his heart.) “You’re the one who wrote it?” he repeated fascinated, before realization drawn on him, “A.D. Albus Dumbledore. You signed them with your initials.”

“I admit, not my most creative move.” He smiled nervously. He wished Bathilda had told him about her nephew coming; he certainly would have been more mindful of his appearance . He passed a hand into his hair, subtly trying to make them more presentable. It was hopeless, he knew, but it busied his fingers.

Grindelwald’s whole face light up in excitement and Albus might have stopped breathing for all he knew. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you’re the one who wrote all of this.” he smiled and the praise made Albus’s heart beat faster. “I thought you were some old scholar, living like a recluse, in the middle of nowhere.”

Albus laughed, amused by the image. “I hope you’re not too deceived.”

“Believe me, I’m not.” his eyes shone in interest. One of his arms came to rest on the back of the couch. “And call me Gellert.” he demanded, “I’ve Seen you, and it makes me believe that we’re going to be close.”

He had ‘seen’? What a strange choice of words… ‘Seen’ like a Seer would? He shook his head with a smile, discarding the notion entirely. He knew better than to believe in Divination, especially when there were more logical explanations. Gellert was Austrian. He must have mistaken a word for another. Or maybe, he had spotted him that day at the graveyard too.

“As close as brothers?” Albus wondered instead.

Gellert’s smile became full of mischief, but his eyes stayed soft. “I was hoping, closer than this.”

 

*
Paris, 1900, April, Sunday 22nd

Albus knocked on the heavy black door after checking the address written on his card, one last time.

51, rue de Montmorency.

The woman who opened the door looked very old indeed, with long dark and grey hair, going way past her shoulders and into her back. She wore a simple deep orange witch’s robe. It gave him hope that they were at the right address.

“Yes?” She asked, guarded. One of her hand was tight against the wood of the door-frame, while the other was hidden from view. Her casting hand, he suspected. Her pale green eyes swept to him to Fawkes on his shoulder to Ariana in rapid succession. His fingers brushed against his wand secured onto his belt, ready if he must.

Albus smiled, ignoring her tense posture. “Hello. Are we at the Flamel?” she nodded. He tried to put her at ease. “I’m Albus Dumbledore, and this is my sister, Ariana,” Ariana did a little bow and positioned herself next to him.

Realization drew on her, and her whole demeanor changed. “Oh!” she smiled, making even more wrinkles appear. “Sorry, sorry, I’m terribly rude.” she apologized and opened her door wider so they could enter, “I’m Pernelle Flamel, my husband is out, but he should be back shortly. Please come in, you must have made a long travel.”

 

*
“I’m very happy you could finally visit me, Albus.” Nicolas said after they shook hand, delicately of course, Albus didn’t want to break him. Ones tended to be fragile when they reached a certain… age.

By the time it took her to prepare them something to drink, Nicolas had come back, grim at first, but he immediately perked up when he noticed their presence. Meanwhile, Pernelle had refused all help with the tea, and on the contrary insisted to take care of it.

The inside of the Flamel’s house was better than the outside.

It seemed to have many floor, the house being narrow but high. Pernelle said that they had a little owlery at the top for his bird if he wanted. He shook his head in negative while thanking her, Fawkes enjoyed following him, and without Giselle, Gellert’s moody owl, to keep him company he might sulk if Albus agreed to it.

An ancestor painting was hanging on the hallway, greeting them with a detached politeness. The rest of the house was cluttered with many things. Mainly papers and books, but he also spotted a huge maritime map, full of notes, exposed on the wall. The furniture were rather exotic; he saw a Chinese dresser and a painted fan resting next to a dark Victorian table. The mix of style was surprising at first, but not unpleasant.
For Albus, it was as if stepping into a dozen of country at the same time and he enjoyed trying to find the inspiration behind each items.
The living-room, where she had leaded them, was cozy, with its little windows showing the streets and the pots of flowers they hung to it. The chairs they sat on must have been older than all of them reunited. Well, older than Ariana and him, this was for sure. Under their foot was an impressive Persian rug, its size almost reached half of the room, and its rich color made sure it was noticed.

“I’m glad to be here as well, Nicolas.” He assured him in a smile. There was a white mat covering the table. He thought it was hand-made.

“Your letter, informing me of your visit, surprised me though.” Nicolas gently remarked, “Is Egypt not as stunning as I remember it?”

“Oh no, it was absolutely amazing.” some hours ago, Albus and Ariana were still in Egypt with Elphias, gazing up at pyramids. He liked it a lot there, and could understand the passion in which his friend talked about it. The sun warming the pale yellow sand, the Nil lazily flowing, its waves barely touching the shore, like a caress, unshakeable as ever, even when empires fell under its feet. The pyramids, these immense graves made by kings and queens wanting to be remembered after Death had struck. He found all of this fascinating, and in another life, would have been content with only this. “But I was needed in Paris; a friend of mine may have found something of interest.” He informed Nicolas as he took the light china cup between his fingers.

He took it to his lips and tasted a strong aroma. Jasmine. He saw Ariana doing the same, with some apprehension, she was clearly anxious to make an abrupt movement that could result in breaking the cup. Fawkes was trying to gulp down a biscuit in one go. Albus feared he gave him an awful example.

“Merlin knows it’s a pleasure to have both of you here, but it’s not an ideal moment to visit Paris, I’m afraid.” Nicolas sighed.

Ariana tilted her head to one side in consideration. The English curls she made with her blond hair for the occasion, brushed over her face at the movement. “Because of the Universal Exposition?”

The Universal Exposition of Paris had started last Saturday, 14th, and reunited Muggles of all countries, gathering themselves to discover the latest invention that might revolution the new century. He heard the wizarding community in Paris had copied the Muggles and was holding an impressive Exposition of its own. Albus couldn’t wait to go. Especially since Gellert must be roaming there already.

“Oh no.” Nicolas waved the matter away, “Though, lately it’s been a source of concern as well.”

“Of concern?” Albus repeated, “What do you mean?”

Nicolas and Pernelle shared a look as she came to sit with them. “Yesterday there had been an accident there. A bridge fell down suddenly. Le Ministère is investigating on it.” Pernelle informed them.

“It’s terrible.” Ariana breathed. Albus shared the feeling. “Do they know what happened?”

“Not yet.” Nicolas told them, “This is why I was out in fact. They asked me to take a look at it. So far, it seems like a regrettable accident. It had been built for the Exposition, and in such a haste, you see.” He explained with a shake of his head.

“May I ask, what is the main concern then? I couldn’t help but notice how tense you seem.” He told Pernelle in particular. She appeared to be exceptionally calm, which made her attitude at the door even more curious.

She gazed down at her warm drink, “There had been several cases of disappearances these past months.” She admitted gravely.

“Disappearances?” Albus frowned at this.

“Yes.” she nodded, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, “All wizards. Those missing cases are worrying.” her grip on her cup tightened, “La Ministre has been beside herself, trying to find them. For now though, they have no leads.”

“Which is why they became a little paranoid with yesterday’s accident. All those strangers, reunited in the same location… They fear a diplomatic scandal.” Nicolas revealed, worried. “The last missing case put the whole Ministère into stupor.” he explained, “Some must have thought they would be protected thanks to their surname.” Nicolas bit into his first biscuit, while Fawkes was, at least, into his third.

“Who disappeared?” Albus questioned after seconds of silence.

“The Rosier’s daughter,” Pernelle said, “Vinda Rosier.”

 

*
Nicolas, when Albus wrote to him and told him of his project to go to Paris soon, had offered to house the two of them.
Albus had been reluctant at first; he didn’t want to impose, especially in such a short notice. But Nicolas had assured him that it would be a pleasure for him and his wife, so he had accepted.

The rooms they were given were agreeable which was all Albus demanded. They both got their own, on the same floor, with a little bathroom each. Ariana looked ready to crash on her bed for the next ten hours when they finally made their way upstairs after diner. Fawkes was already ahead of her, and had curled into Albus’s arms hours ago. He didn’t stir, seemingly lost to the world, as long as he got Albus’ shirt between his claws. He petted his feather’s head absently. Ariana hesitated when they reached her door.

“Do you think something happened to Vinda Rosier?” She inquired, her fingers travelling on the smooth fabric of her dress and pulling at the bow circling her waist.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” he smiled to reassure her, “She’s a Rosier after all.” She seemed hardly hopeless. Which was the worrying part.

Ariana made a moue as if coming to the same conclusion. “What about Gellert? He was with her, wasn’t he?” she prompted, “And you have no more news…” She trailed, upset.

“We’ll find them.” Albus soothed her, “You heard Nicolas: the French Ministry and the others delegations are woking together on it. There are even British Aurors on the case.” he tried to infuse as much faith as he could with his words, though he was starting to believe that each country was trying to use those disappearances to outshine the other. Politic was often about ego. Albus just wished they didn’t forget the main concern: the missing wizards. “And we don’t know yet if Gellert was with Vinda when she disappeared. Maybe he’s researching for her as well.”

Ariana looked as unconvinced as he was by the Aurors’s skills. It had been months since the first case after all. But whatever clouded her, was put on hold as she yawned. He laughed and she blushed, embarrassed.

“Sorry.” She apologized, sheepish.

“Go to sleep, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He promised her. She tiptoed to kiss his cheek and went into her room, to hopefully dream of sands and pyramids.

Albus retired as well. After he abandoned his shirt to Fawkes, leaving him to nest with it, he put on his sleep clothes, and fell into the bed in exhaustion, feeling the matress dip under his weight.

Gellert had flat out refused to come with them on their Egyptian’s tour, declaring that the too hot weather didn’t agree with him. Albus still snorted at the poor excuse. The only thing truly disagreeing with Gellert, was Elphias. He had stayed in Nurmengard, practicing speeches for future rallies. Gellert was a perfectionist and wouldn’t stop re-writing it until he was satisfied.

Then, he had a Vision about the cloak of invisibility being in Paris, and decided to go there.

Gellert had written to him, five days ago, to tell him he was meeting with Vinda in Montmartre. She was to be his guide there, as it happened to be her school’s break.
Gellert and Vinda wrote to each other regularly ever since they met, developing a strange sort of friendship where they compared notes on how to overthrow a government. Albus had actually taken a quick look at it, but for now, had chosen to stay out of it. Their plans were nowhere near successful, he thought he still had some months before he had to intervene.

But, ever since that fateful letter, Albus had received no more news, by neither of them.

Now, Vinda was missing, since fourth days if the Flamel’s informations were correct. Nicolas told them that Vinda’s father was even giving a reward to whoever found his daughter. Gellert was Merlin knew where in the city, and the cloak of invisibility was still out of their reach.

Albus didn’t believe in coincidence. Vinda might have run into troubles during her search of the cloak. Though, whether Gellert had been with her at the time remained a mystery.

He played with the chain of their pendant, twirling it between his fingers. Their blood pact had shown no signs of distress, which must mean that Gellert, wherever he was, was unarmed. He had to be anyway, Albus decided, because if Gellert left him behind again, Albus would hex him so much. He would put Aberforth on him, full time, and Greety too, so he would be annoyed behond his mind and stuffed beyond human’s needs.

Of course, Gellert couldn’t have waited a few days for him, he scoffed. It was ironic when he thought of it, because it was the elder wand that Gellert hungered for, while Albus wished for the resurrection stone fiercely, because, because…

Anyway, Gellert promised him forever.

So there were no need to be anxious. He rolled their pendant inside his palm, it was pleasantly warm.
He gazed at the cracks who marred the white ceiling, drawing dry rivers on it. He tried to will himself to fall aspleep. But the minutes ticked and sleep stayed out of his reach. His mind simply refusing to shut up. He got up again, and left his room for the kitchen downstairs, a cup of warm milk with honey always did wonders on him. Albus swore sugar helped him to sleep, much to Gellert’s consternation.

He made his way there, mindful not to disturb others with noises. But as he entered the kitchen, he came face to face with Pernelle, preparing herself a hot drink.

“Oh.” she startled as she noted his presence, “Trouble sleeping too?”

“Just a bit.” he gently admitted, “I think I’m too anxious to sleep just now.”

She nodded in understanding. “I am as well.” she divulged, “Want some hot cocoa?” She offered.

Albus smiled, “With pleasure.”

She poured the hot liquid into a mug, and gave it to him. He thanked her, breathing in the rich aroma of the chocolate mixed with the milk. He felt marginally better already. He saw her did the same. She sighed in happiness.

“Let’s take this to the sitting room.” she proposed, “Like this, you could tell me what’s bothering you, and I could as well.” she smiled softly, “We may finally reach slumber.”

Albus accepted, and they went to little room. Pernelle lighted the lamps with a twirl of her wand. They gave a soft glow, and after sitting into a confortable armchair, Albus feared to fall asleep there. She took place on a couch near him and sipped into her drink.

The room had not been forgotten by the Flamel’s frantic need to know, it was filled with little curiosities. There was a shelf full of books, where some volumes seemed to have slipped out of it and were laying now on the floor, in a neat pile. There were charms hanging near the windows, and a old looking trunk with a huge lock. He wondered what was inside. But what really surprised him was the crystal ball on the low table.

“Are you or Nicolas fond of Divination?” He asked her, pointing the ball with a movement of his chin.

She smiled, amused into her mug, before answering, “My husband latest obsession. He’s training himself, with this crystal ball, to see glimpses of the future.” she laughed quietly, “He never got it right. He didn’t even see you coming.” she smiled, “I would say, maybe, in some decade…” She trailed in a hum.

Albus smiled. “Nicolas is truly curious of everything.” he noted, “One of my friend, the one I came for, is a Seer. I think he would say that one cannot learn the art of Divination.” he recalled how Gellert had laughed himself silly when Albus had told him how they taught it at Hogwarts. He could still hear him, the memory of his voice still ringing inside his head, as he said breathless and mocking, from where they were both sitting under the old oak tree in Godric's Hollow, the leaves creating shadows on Gellert’s face: ‘tea leaves? Oh this is precious!’ Albus had simply looked at him in fascination. It had been the first time he had witnessed Gellert’s laugher. "He would say that you either See or you don’t.” He took a sip to make himself stop talking about Gellert, and enjoyed the taste of the dark cocoa on his tongue.

“He would probably be right.” she said, “But my husband can be stubborn once he got an idea. And I enjoy watching him fixing that ball of his for hours.” she grinned, “The face he made then.” she mimicked it by opening her eyes comically wide. Albus laughed, it reminded him of when Gellert found out about Fawkes being a phoenix, after Fawkes had burnt part of the furnitures. He had made such a face too. He wished he could preserve it somehow, somewhere, where time couldn’t alter it. Pernelle waved the matter away, forcing Albus to focus on their conversation once again. “But tell me about this friend of yours.” She demanded eagerly.

“He’s from Austria. We’ve met last summer, in Godric's Hollow.” Albus smiled at the memory. “He was visiting his Aunt, Bathilda Bagshot, who happened to be my neighbor. We… went along well.” He explained, remembering Bathilda’s choice of words, ‘like a cauldron on fire’, and discarding it. It sounded… too explicit, he thought.

Pernelle studied him for a moment, “You seem very fond of him.” She finally told him.

“I… yes.” Albus stammered, feeling his cheeks heat. He hoped the poor light of the room hid the worst of it.

“I’m sorry.” Pernelle murmured, “I didn’t want to upset you.” she assured, “It’s only that your eyes become terribly soft when you talk about him.”

Albus was sure he was blushing fully now. “I… They do?”

She acquiesced, “Yes. And I noticed your pendant when we took the tea earlier…” she trailed curious, “Is it a blood pact?”

Albus fiddled once more with the chain, “Yes, it is.” He confessed in a whisper. He could tell her this. Albus trusted the Flamel. It was little sad that he could disclose this to her and not to his own brother. But after what happened last summer in the old barn, Albus wasn’t taking any chances.

“I thought so. I’ve got to say, it’s been a long time since I saw one.” she continued to drink unperturbed, and this more than anything, put Albus at ease. She truly didn’t care that he just revealed to have performed an illegal bonding ritual, or that she suspected him to be in love a man. “Are you meeting with this friend of yours soon?” She inquired in an excited smile.

“I do not know. He was supposed to write to me, days ago, but nothing came. And now I learnt that Vinda Rosier, the person he was with, is missing.” His fingers drummed against the ceramic. He should have worked harder on his deluminator. If it was functioning correctly, instead of only making sparks of lights and messing with electricity, he would have already found Gellert.

“Oh. No wonder you can’t sleep.” she sympathized, “I find myself very troubled by it too. The chances for it to turn into a diplomatic accident are too great. I do not wish to witness another war between wizards nor muggles.” her eyes dropped, unfocused inside her mug, “I saw enough of them.”

Albus bet she did. “I understand.”

She smiled gratefully at him, before wondering, “Are you going to search for the Rosier’s daughter and your friend then?”

“Yes.” he nodded, “I thought I would start by going to the Place Cachée tomorrow.” he said, “For they were supposed to meet near.” Hopefully, he would find a clue on where Gellert went from there.

“Do you need a map? I think I have one laying somewhere…” She trailed as she regarded the clustered room in dismay.

“Yes, I believe it could be useful.” Albus agreed in a laugh.

“I will give it to you before you leave tomorrow then. I’m sure you will find them.” she announced firmly as if to give him faith, “And when you do, do present us to your friend. Someone catching your interest is worthy to know, I believe.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hello everyone!
Thank you for all your kudos, bookmarks and for my one comment ;). It's truly my only way to know if you enjoy this fic, so don't hesitate, I would love to know what you think :)

April, Monday, 23rd

Ariana had agreed with Albus that the best way to find Gellert and Vinda was to start where they had been. And in the last letter Albus had, Gellert had said to be in the wizarding district of Montmartre, for he was to meet Vinda there.

The two of them stood in front the Magical Bronze Statue protecting the entry. He got his wand out discreetly, and after checking no one was looking at them, it was early and the streets were calm, he softly knocked on her feet with it, asking for entrance. She opened her stoned eyes for him, barely glancing at Ariana, before she lifted her robes to let them pass.
Once on the other side, they were assaulted by noises, the streets here far more awoken than the Muggle’s. With the Exposition going, there was quite a crowd gathered there. The streets were paved with booth, from various countries, all trying to sell their goods or to promote their skills.

Albus admitted to be a bit taken by it all. His eyes went to the busy streets, to the shops with their lovely painted façade. He lingered on the posters stuck on some windows, these beautiful Art Déco creation, the curving of the writing, the soft colours, the way all women painted into it were like ancient goddesses with their togas drapped over them, and the serene expression they wore. They seemed as alive as wizards painting and just as secretive, with their smiles, barely tugging at their rosy lips, as if they knew something and it was amusing them to see other guessed on it.
Fawkes nipped, insistent, at his collar.

“What?” he asked him, absently as his eyes were fluttering like a butterfly, in an attempt to not miss a thing. Fawkes nipped at his collar again, but with more force this time. He focused on him, from where he was perched on his left shoulder. “Careful. You’re going to tear it.” if Fawkes could rolled his eyes, he thought he would just now. Instead he made a high sound as he turned his feathered head around. Albus did the same, without whistling. “Elphias?” He called in surprise as he recognized his friend in this crowd of strangers.

“Elphias?” Ariana repeated bewildered, distracted too, by the agitation surrounding them.

“Ah, thank Merlin, I found you.” Elphias said, relief written all over his face, as he made his way to them, “It’s crazy here.”

Elphias stopped before them, and Albus blinked at him, taken aback. The last he knew, Elphias was in Egypt, working on the Runes he found inside a temple, not walking down the Parisian's streets; wearing his favorite bottle green coat along a matching little hat disposed on the side of his head, from which his curly hair were escaping.

“What are you doing here?” Albus asked in stupor.

“I heard about Vinda Rosier.” Elphias told them, “I came because, huh,” he hesitated, shifting on his feet, “Well, you left in a rush and you told me you were meeting with her and Gellert. I’ve wanted to be sure everything was alright for you.” He said, as if unsure of his welcome.

“News travel fast.” Ariana remarked. Fawkes made a melodic sound of agreement.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Albus assured Elphias in a small smile, “But you didn’t have to travel all the way.” Elphias had already been nice enough to guide them around for a week, Albus didn’t wish to bother him more.

“Well, it’s what friends are for.” Elphias smiled sheepish, “Say, do you have a lead on Vinda Rosier yet? Did you find Gellert?”

“No.” Ariana replied, sadly shaking her head, “We only know Gellert was here. We assume that he met Vinda as they had previously agreed on.” She resumed for him.

“Do you know where they were supposed to meet exactly?” Elphias prompted.

“Yes.” Albus said, “Near a pub, called ‘Le Nénuphar’.” he explained, “Why?” He added.

Elphias smiled, “Because, I think I know a spell which could be useful.”

 

*
They found Le Nénuphar after some asking around. The three of them stood before its stylish front. As the name of the pub suggested, there was a big water lily represented on the front with a frog on top of it. It was slowly turning on itself, the pale pink petals caught in an endless spin. Elphias took several steps away from them, and Ariana and Albus watched him with various degree of confusion.

“What are you doing?” Ariana caved first, curiosity eating at her.

“I need space to cast this spell.” he explained as he crunched, his lips brushing the tip of his wand. “Appare Vestigium.” He exhaled, swirling on himself, as his breath swept around them like a breeze.

Under their eyes, footprints started to appear, as gold as a galleon. Soon they were covering the grey stones of the streets. Albus’s eyes widened along Ariana, and even Fawkes decided to fly on the top of a lamppost to survey the result. Forms appeared, like the shadows of previous passers-by, they went and came, their shapes barely coming into existence before fading again, back into nothing. It was like watching an old memory.

“Impressive!” Ariana congratulated Elphias, her little dress and her pale blue coat bouncing as she jumped, enjoyed. She moved out of the way of the golden shape of a man going toward her, even though, it all had happened before, and the man was already long gone.

“I didn’t know this one.” Albus awed, always happy to discover something new. He looked at this ephemeral crowd, his eyes seeking one man in particular.

Elphias blushed and smiled, embarrassed, “Thanks. I only recently learnt of it, to be trustful.”

They circled around the various prints, scrutinizing the ground.
Gellert often wore his beloved high boots, Albus saw the mark they left on the snow, the precise shape standing out in the white powder. He let his eyes roam around, but then Fawkes made a sound from where he was perched above, signaling him something of interest, and Albus followed his line of sight. His eyes settled on two furtives figures, standing in front of the window of the pub. Gellert and Vinda Rosier were facing each other. They seemed to be sharing some pleasantries. Gellert had his backpack with him, Albus could almost distinguish his owl, Giselle, moodily nipping at the bars of her little cage. Vinda was still wearing her Beaubâtons’s uniform.
They were there, and in the the next breath, their shapes disappeared like smoke.

“Here.” Albus pointed as he went and stopped where Gellert had stood. Fawkes landed, graceful, on his shoulder. But Albus only had eyes for the unmistakable shape of Gellert’s boots, accompanied by a delicate pair of feet on heels.

Elphias and Ariana came over to gaze at the footprints as well.

“Alright.” Elphias said after a while, “Now, we follow their trails and see where it goes.”

 

*
They walked around the district blindly, following Gellert and Vinda’s steps with their eyes glued to the ground. They only stopped when the prints ended, somewhere on the top of the hill of Montmartre. The streets here were full of artists, painters with their brushes, applying colour on their canvases, precariously balanced on the uneven ground, while their clients kept pose. There was a broom shop at the corner, who also sold flying carpet. Albus smiled, he saw them in Egypt too, and mused it must be far more confortable than riding a broomstick.
The street kept going higher, and he spotted some people leaving the wizarding district for the Muggle one, through yet another statue, a white marble man this time.

“I've got no idea where we are.” Elphias nervously told them as he looked around, “Should I be worried that we lost ourselves too?”

“No. We’ll find our way back.” Albus appeased. “Pernelle Flamel gave me a map, don’t worry.” He tried to see what stood out here and in what Gellert would have been attracted to. The more close to the footprints seemed to be an art gallery. He wasn’t sure of the revelance it could have with the cloak of invisibility, but if Gellert had gone here, then he must too.

Albus regarded it thoughtfully. The façade of the buiding was tall, with three floors. In its whole, it looked like a house, but most shutters were closed, giving the impression that only the first floor, where the art gallery was, opened to the street and welcoming, was lived; while the floors upstairs seemed devoid of anything. It was an unsettling combination.

“Should we enter?” Ariana pondered as she too gazed at the gallery, looking far more wary than him though.

“Yes, let’s do this.”

 

*
The inside of the art gallery was neatly organized. Most frames were pinned on the walls disposed in perfect symmetry and according to their height.
It didn’t change the fact that the space was clustered with moving images. It kind of gave Albus an headache to see all these movements constantly in the periphery of his eyesight.

He decided to study only one painting at a time. Elphias seemed to have the same idea as he went to inspect the other side of the shop. Ariana lingered next to door, already looking at one.
The one he was inspecting represented a young witch, around Ariana’s age, who was sitting near a river. Her expression seemed melancholic as she stared into the clear water. Her body barely moved, but the details were in the way her blond hair flew, implying a light breeze, the movement of the river’s water, the dress she folded so she could put her bare feet into the stream.

Albus couldn’t explain why exactly - he was not new to wizards paintings nor a great amateur of it, he preferred photography, the art of capturing an instant instead of trying to trap a whole person into only one acrylic - but there was something nagging at him about this picture.
And, whatever it was, it was terribly off-putting.
He came closer and examined it with more attention. It seemed to be of very good quality as the subject looked to be truly real and alive, but that was all. Maybe it was the sad expression lingering on the young girl's face who was upsetting him, but before he could dwell further on it, a shadow fell next to him, obscuring the view, and he looked up.

“Do you enjoy my work?” a witch around her forty asked him. She was wearing an impressive amount of rings on her fingers, and her dark brown hair were falling on her shoulders. She smiled at him, a strange light coming into her eyes as she studied him. “You would make a good model for a painting.” She told him, coming closer, as if to study him.

Ah. The artist of all of this, he supposed. He took a polite step back. “I do like what you create. It’s…” he trailed, searching for word, besides ‘dull’, “Interesting.” He lied easily.

Her smile widened, and became all teeth. “Thank you. But I was serious.” she said, “Between your pale eyes, skin and your hair, you make quite a sight. The contrast would be beautiful.” she said, her attention rapt on him, “I would love to paint you.”

He willed himself not to blush. She eyed him up and down; Fawkes doing the same from his favorite position, his shoulder, though not for the same reason.
Meanwhile, Albus became abruptly self conscious of his looks, the way his hair must have been ruffled from the wind and from Fawkes, how old his open dark wine coat actually was, how his fingers still had smudge of ink on them, because he couldn’t resist working on his deluminator this morning and thus, had to take note of his progress.
There had been only a little blackout this time, he counted this as promising.
He heard Ariana huffed a laugh.

“Ah.” he started, lost of words for once, “Thanks, but I have to decline this offer.” He settled for, forcing a smile. The whole thing, her wide smile, her paintings, made him ill at ease, somehow even more than her clear leering.

She made an exaggerated moue, “That’s too bad.” she sounded truly disappointed, “Take my card,” she produced a rectangular glossy paper, “You know, if you change your mind.” she winked at him. “My studio is upstairs.” She informed him as she looked at him under half-lidden eyes.

He took it quietly and a bit uneasy. The silvers letters advertized:
Doriana Tumer
Painted Portraits and Landscapes
66 Rue des Murmures, Montmartre

Thankfully, Elphias came to put him out of his misery. “We’re searching for two friends of us, you may have met them,” he started, “a young girl-” Ariana elbowed him “-woman.” he corrected, “With black hair, around this height.” he approximately showed her with his hand, “She was with a man of our age, with blond hair.”

Blond curly hair, Albus almost precised. And beautiful heterochromatic eyes. But he easily admitted to be biased.

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember them.” she told them, eyeing them with some suspicion now. “There’s just too much tourists to remember them all.”

“We never say they were tourists.” Albus pointed out. Technically, Gellert was one, but she wasn't supposed to know this.

Her eyes fluttered, in unconcealed surprise, “Oh, I just assumed, since you’re clearly Bristish.”

You’re lying, Albus could tell without having to dive into her thoughts. She was hidding something, and was obviously displeased by their questioning. He forced a smile, “Thank you for your help,” he said, faking gratitude, “I hope we didn’t take too much of your time.”

He felt Ariana tugging at the sleeve of his coat with a ‘that’s all?’ expression. She, too, seemed to think that the witch knew more that she let on. He took her hand with his and tried to express with a look that this was not over.

“No, of course, not.” The witch lied just as much as him, “Do think about my proposition. I would love to paint you.”

He didn’t know why, but this sounded like a threat.

 

*
“She’s so suspicious.” Ariana declared as they walked back to the Flamel’s house. Fawkes made a sound of displeasure, he seemed to not like Miss Tumer at all.

“Yes, but we can’t hardly tell her this and then ask to search inside her home.” Elphias replied. “Which is just too bad. The prints stopped there, we really need to search inside her home.” He sighed tiredly.

Albus hummed in agreement, “You’re right. We need to go inside and see by ourselves.”

“But she will never let us.” Elphias reminded him.

“We could go inside without her knowing.” Ariana suggested. At Elphias wide and shocked look she added, “Not to steal anything! Just to look around, and if there’s nothing, we leave just as we enter.”

“This is still illegal!” Elphias exclaimed wildly.

“But they’re our friend.” she countered, fiddling with the brooch she put at the center of her coat. It was a pretty little thing representing a chamomille flower. Albus knew that it was Gellert who gifted her this. She rarely parted from it ever since she got it. “They’re more important than some law.” She continued in a small voice.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Elphias shifted on his feet.

Albus intervened before they could both confound themselves in apologies. “Breaking-in is a good plan, but we need Miss Tumer either busy elsewhere in the house, or, more preferably, gone.” He explained.

“And her house must have wards. We can’t just tear them down. It will alert her.” Elphias continued.

“The wards won’t be a problem,” Albus said in a smile, “I know someone who can pass us through.”

Elphias looked at him in wonder, “Really?”

“Well, then it’s easy,” Ariana brightened, “Since we already knew how to keep her busy.” She smirked.

“How?” Albus asked, genuinely curious.

“With you.” she took the card Doriana Tumer gave him out of his pocket, “I‘m sure you will be an amazing model.”

 

*
Elphias, after some convincing from both Ariana and him, accepted to stay with them at the Flamel’s house. He apologized a lot to Nicolas and Pernelle for imposing his presence, but Nicolas shutted his platitude with a quick reassurance. Pernelle catched Albus’s eyes meaningfully, clearly wanting to know if Elphias was ‘his friend’, to which Albus shook his head and cursed his fair complexion as he felt his cheeks heat. She looked terribly put out.

Since the Flamel only had two spare bedroom, Elphias shared his room for the night. It was a little like back at Hogwarts, when they shared dormitory, with their beds side by side. It made him feel nostalgic.

He was sure Gellert would hate it. He was so jealous of Elphias, unreasonably so. Albus didn't understand why.

“You never told me,” Elphias’s voice rang from the other side of the bed, where he was laying on his right arm and looking at him in amusement. After a long negociation, Fawkes conceded to sleep on his perch instead of taking the other side of the bed. Another thing that Gellert barely tolerated. ‘He may be a phoenix, but beds are for human, Albus. I’m not sleeping with him.’ He had said after… a pecular circumstance. To this day, Fawkes and Gellert still tended to gaze at eath other warily, both wondering if the other would dare to take their rightful place on the mattress. Albus blinked his reverie away, as Elphias asked, “How is it to live in a castle?”

Albus laughed, “It’s nice.” he shifted on the bed, turning on his stomach and putting his head to rest on his crossed arms so he could easely see Elphias, “There’s Greety, the house-elf I wrote to you about, who’s living there as well. She’s something.” he chukled but didn’t divulge more, letting Elphias the surprise, “You should see the view we have on the mountains.” he said, dreamy, “I shall do a photograph of them and send it to you, but even then, I fear it won’t be as amazing as the original. There is a study, where I wrote my last Transfiguration paper, with the windows facing them. I find it peaceful.”

Elphias hummed and his eyes took a far away look as he seemed to try to visualize it. Then, he asked carefully, “And what about Gellert?”

Albus noted Elphias’s hesitation, “It’s fine with Gellert too.” he said, strangely on his guard, “He’s still convinced he can get rid of my purple lamp, and I let him believe he succeeds sometimes, before I make it reappear.” he grinned in mischief, “It drives him mad.”

Elphias smiled back briefly. “If…” he shifted on the mattress, before he started again “I mean, if you had troubles, you would tell me right?”

“Why would I have troubles?” Albus questioned back. “You mean, if I had troubles with Gellert.” He precised, feeling his shoulders rose, either in defence, either so he could hide completely inside his arms, he wasn’t sure.

Elphias exhaled as he passed a hand in his short hair, managing to mess them, “It’s not that I’m not happy for you,” he explained quickly, “because I am.” he assured. “But last time when he left you, you were just so…” he trailed, his hand trying to describe it by slashing the air. “Depressed, Albus. Even in your letters I could tell.” his eyes seeked his, gentle and apologic, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed. You’re putting so much of yourself into this. And I fear that, if it didn’t end up well, you might shatter this time.”

Albus was the one who broke eye-contact first. Hiding sounded good right now. Where was the cloak of invisibility when you needed it?

“I won’t shatter.” he promised firmly to Elphias, “I know you’re worried for me, ever since my mother’s passing.” because Elphias had attended Kendra’s funeral without prompting; and Albus almost had to usher him out of Godric’s Hollow with thousand promises to write to him, so he would leave to his world trip. He had no delusion, one word of him then, and Elphias would have stay in Britain. He was this kind of friend. But Albus had been stuck in place and unwilling to chain Elphias there, even if it would have give him company. He would never have been this selfish. “But I am fine.” he tried to soothe him, “And be sure, if something was amiss, I would tell you about it. So we could make it alright again.” He smiled at him, thinking that if Gellert left him, (again, his treacherous mind added) nothing would make him feel better.

Maybe, Elphias was right to be worried.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Sorry for the delay between chapters guys, and thank you for your patience :)
Enjoy!

Summer 1899

Albus was pretty sure this plan was doomed from the start. For one, Aberforth watched over his goats like an untrustful goblin. For two, Gellert liked to mess with his brother too much to be discreet about it.

“This is going to work, believe me.” Gellert assured him again, in a low whisper.

They were laying on their stomach on the grass near Aberforth’s fence and half hidding behind it. Gellert was wearing an ecstatic expression that promised nothing good, and Albus wondered why in the world he even agreed to participate.
This was going to blow up to their faces. Or Aberforth’s. He wasn’t entirely sure.
But they needed something to test their coloring potion on. Albus had been thinking of a piece of furniture or a clothe. Gellert had suggested something else, rather readily if he was honest.

Put the potion on the grass after altering it just a bit, so it wouldn’t colour the grass directly. Wait for his brother, to cut the grass and feed his goats with it. Then, wait until the goats turned into varied color.

It had been tempting.

What they hadn't expected was for Aberforth to drone on and on about his day as he fed his beloved goats. They had to witness the whole thing, because with how much they modified the potion, they had no way of knowing when it would be efficient, and finally changed the goats’ coloration. And timing when it started was part of its test.
Gellert looked almost regretful as the minutes dragged on, and he seemed ready to hex Aberforth, just for being boring, and leave it to this.
Honestly Albus was not far behind. If he had to endure another: ‘and then of course I thought of you and cut you grass’, he wouldn’t be responsible of his action.

“We better hope it does.” Albus whispered back. Their shoulders were touching, as he laid next to him. He was surrounded by Gellert’s unique scent, enveloping him like a blanket. This was probably why he even said yes in the first place. He needed to build a better resistance when he was around Gellert if he wanted to stay clear-headed. “If I have to endure another one of his fit for nothing, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” His lips turned down at the thought.

Aberforth’s tantrums these days, were common.
If it wasn’t about how he didn’t do something for Ariana, or how he did it badly, it was because of the time he spent with Gellert. His brother and their new neighbour had taken one long look at the other, and seemed to have disliked what they had seen.
A sort of hatred at first sight, he thought with a roll of his eyes.

“He won’t annoy you if he knows what’s good for him.” Gellert gritted between a clenched jaw, annoyed as ever, when they talked about Aberforth.

“What do you mea-” he cut himself off, as one of Aberforth’s goats, who after some chewing on her freshly cut grass, was starting to turn yellow-ish. “Look, this is starting.” He grinned, eager.

Sure enough, another one began to turn into a pretty indigo, while her comrade next to her, was more leaning toward pink. It was advancing on them like a rainbow in the sky.

“Almost fourteen minutes.” Gellert pointed after checking the time with a Tempus, “Still shorter than a usual coloring potion.” He announced proudly, before taking in the mess he created raptly.

Albus hummed, tearing his eyes from the bright spectacle happening in Aberforth’s made-up farm. His brother was running and checking each goats, while opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He focused on Gellert instead. “Yes, I think the cut mandrake's leaves truly made a difference.”

Gellert smiled at him. His eyes weren’t leaving him now, not even when the sound of Aberforth’s cursing reached them. “I still think we would have won more minutes if we had added toad slime.” He agued, stubbornly.

“And I still maintain that it would only have shortened the effect.” Albus argued back, “It risked to fasten the whole potion too much.”

Gellert turned pensive. “We should find a way to stabilize this, so the potion start earlier, but is efficient longer.”

Albus hummed, “Perhaps, if we added –”

“Pixies' dust.” Gellert and him finished at the same time. They smiled at each other.

“You!” Aberforth shouted having spotted them. He pointed his finger at them, raising it like a warning, “What did you do to my goats?!” He continued on the same volume, face red like, well, one of his goats. Albus barely fought down a laugh.

“This is our cue to leave, I believe.” Gellert said as he stood. Throwing caution into the wind, he sent one smug and satisfied smirk at Aberforth, who in answer, growled and took the fork he used to lift the hay with. He started to march toward them.

Gellert grabbed Albus’ hand, who had barely stood up, before fleeing like a mad man in the direction of the fields. Albus somehow managed to keep up with him, as they passed house after house and almost collided with the few people who were walking down the road. They stopped their wild run into one of the fields near the woods, as Gellert abruptly lost his equilibrium and fell. Albus unprepared for it, went down along him with a yelp of surprise.

He landed on Gellert, who had fallen on his back. Their respiration caught, Gellert probably under his weight, Albus because his chest hit Gellert’s; the collision too unexpected, too sudden for him to have anticipated it. They stared at each other for a beat then. Their breath were loud into the tranquil afternoon; the red poppies' peaceful day seemingly only interrupted by them. The wind was still gently brushing through those fragile flowers when they bursted into uncontrollable laughers. They must look so childish - silly even - pranking his brother and then running away like thieves; but Albus just felt free.
He wished they could have gone further away.

“Did you see his face?” Gellert asked him, breathless, “God, I think one of his goat was vomit green.” he laughed harder, “Vomit green, Albus.”

“Disgusting.” he was smiling so wide, it was starting to hurt. But he found out he loved Gellert’s laugh some days ago, and was adamant to keep hearing it. “He’s going to be so mad.” He said, unconcerned for once as he rolled off Gellert.

With his back now on the ground, he could stare at the blue sky above, clear of any clouds. He thought that the earth was big but only had one sky. If he borrowed the broomstick he knew Bathilda hid inside her attic, he could go anywhere. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t; so this left him here, staring at his exit and not taking it.

Gellert’s hand brushed his, and he was called back to the moment. “He always seems angry. But I don’t really want to talk about him.” He confessed.

Gellert’s fingers entwined with his. Albus’s confused heart beat and beat. “What do you want to talk about?” He asked softly.

“Where would you go, if you could leave?” Gellert asked, curious and close. His hand was warm in his. Albus hadn’t known it had been something he had missed, and how could he, when he never had it? But he had missed it all the same; like when you realized how freezing the winter had been before the summer’s sun came back. “You said you had planned to visit Greece. Would you still go there?” He wondered.

“I,” he started. He took a shaky breath, overwhelmed by so little. Before Gellert, Albus had been so cold. He didn’t know if he should tell him this. He definitely shouldn’t think of it. Another exit he couldn’t take. “I guess. I mean,” he bit his lower lip, “I’ve planned this trip with Elphias. But, now, I,” he stammered, “I guess, it didn’t really matter, where I go.” he finally settled on, “As long as I go.” With you, he didn’t add. This would be saying too much, far too soon.

It would be better to not say anything else. Smarter to shut up now, while he still could. To not admit more than what he had already said.
You can stare at the exit, but you cannot take it, he reminded himself as he drunk Gellert with his eyes. He couldn’t leave. Not then with Elphias, and certainly not now with Gellert.

Ariana needed him. She only had him. And Gellert was… not a good idea.
For one, Albus wasn’t sure they could afford another stab at the law. He had no idea how they managed to pass their mother’s death for an accident, but the less the Ministry of Magic looked at their way and investigated on their family, the better.

And despite his protest, Aberforth needed to finish his schooling. One year. After, Albus could leave Godric’s Hollow. Maybe.

Would Gellert still be in Godric’s Hollow after a year? He wondered. Gellert’s desire to set-off was obvious, he had never hidden it. But plans could change, so perhaps, he would still be there. Perhaps, he would have been gone long before.
There were just too many possibilities and Albus didn’t know how to make the one he truly wanted happen.

Gellert smiled, “Then I hope you will find your way to anywhere. Who knows, you and I may end-up taking the same path.” He said, his hand’s grip on his tightening. A suggestion that sounded like a promise.

Albus’s heart hoped and hoped. He smiled back. “We may.”

 

*
1900, April, Tuesday, 24th

Albus wasn’t sure he liked this plan.
First, he would rather roam inside a house than sit while someone stared at him. Second, the looks she casted upon him was unwanted.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.” She had told him when he came back into her shop the next day.

“It’s your talent that convinced me, Miss Tumer.” He had rarely said such a blatant lie, and knew this was only the beginning.

“Oh, please, call me Doriana.” She had insisted in a flirty smile.

Now, they were on the second floor on her house, into her little studio. It had a high window, which let the sun of the afternoon crept in. She had made some sketch, to ‘capture his figure’ before she had made him sat on a high stool, while she faced him with her brushes laid out, and a white canvas in which she was now meticulously applying colors on.
She instruted him to relax, which was truthfully hard to do when knowing that your sister and best friend were currently breaking into the house, some floors above. He knew that Greety would have no trouble making them pass through the wards, but feared that she was going to insist on feeding them. He imagined her following aorund with cakes and sweets, and told himself that he wasn’t envious.

It was only that he could use something sweet to lift his spirit right now.

Doriana was throwing furtive looks at him which somehow made him more tense than a full scrutinization would. He had dressed up with the best clothes he had packed in his suitcase for their ‘session’, because it would have been expected of him to do so for a portrait. He was wearing his navy blue three piece with a dark shirt because once Gellert commented that dark tones suited him. He thought Gellert’s own preferences for them had clouded his judgment, but still, the remark stayed with him.

The more her gaze drifted over him, the more he didn’t like their plan.

He had to let Fawkes in the Flamel’s care for the day, which he could tell his bird friend hated, but he guessed that his presence would be unwise. Fawkes didn’t like Doriana, and Albus would like to know what she was hiding before his phoenix decided to use his claws on her. (And honestly, if someone asked him how much galleons he wanted in exchange of Fawkes again, he might lose patience, and cursed them first, before leaving them to it.)

“Tell me, do you always wished to be an artist?” He asked her, in an attempt to distract himself from her heavy looks.

“Yes.” she replied easily, “I have always been attracted to beauty. It’s so hard to find it nowadays.” she explained in a frown as she regarded her work. “Even harder to capture.”

Albus tilted his head as he mulled over her words, “I don’t agree. I think there is beauty to find everywhere.” his fingers drummed on his knees, “It’s in the colors of the clouds when the sun set. An unexpected flower blooming under a window. I believe even the more simple thing can be beautiful.”

She huffed a laugh. “You remind me of those Bohemians who are living nearby. What’s their slogan already? Ah yes. Freedom, Beauty and Love.”

“It seems like a noble cause.” He smiled, amused by their movement.

“I don’t know. Most of them are also really drunk too. Completely wasted on absinthe and elf wine. They party every nights in the higher streets of Montmartre. They regroup themselves in a pub near the Muggle ‘Moulin Rouge’. I've heard they accept the most decadent thing there.” she said distracted as she worked. “This is not helping the image of artists."

“Does it truly matter?” Albus asked curious.

“Sometimes it does.” she said gravely. “Take my father for example: he abhorred the idea of me being a painter because he thought all artists were depraved.” She told him harshly, like some old offence that hadn’t been pardoned.

“Yet, you became one.” he said cautiously, before wondering, hopeful, “Did he change his mind?”

“No.” she replied shortly, “Would you like some tea to help you relax?” Doriana offered, changing subject.

“Yes.” he gladly accepted, “I’m sorry, this is my first time sitting for a portrait.” This was maybe the only truthful thing he told her this afternoon.

She smiled, a little sharply, and Albus wished that he could dive into her mind and see what was inside. But she could feel it. Albus was very skilled but this was still a risk, and then they would never know anything. So when she stood and served him tea, he took it, and hoped this session wouldn’t be for naught.

That she might have slipped something in his drink never crossed his mind.

 

*
“Not hungry?” Greety asked them, for the fourth time. Her voice was starting to waver.

“No?” Elphias was beginning to crack under her big watery eyes.

“We’re on a mission.” Ariana tried to stay firm as well, refusing to meet her pleading looks. “A rescue mission. We can’t eat now.”

“Miss can!” she objected, taking on her words literally, “Miss should. Miss is so small!”

She thought it was rich coming for someone so petite. “I’m not small.” She defended in a frown, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she gazed down (down!) at the house-elf. Honestly.

“Please, keep your voice down.” Elphias pleaded with Greety, “We don’t want to be heard.”

She sniffed, “Only master Albus likes Greety.” she mourned, “Master Albus always eats Greety's cakes.”

Ariana and Elphias exchanged an unsurpised look before resuming their exploration.
The elf continued to follow them as they stepped into the corridor, still sniffing. They tried a first door; that lead to a bedroom and after a quick Revelio from Elphias, it showed nothing out of the ordinary. They still probed through her wardrobe in search of clues and found a surprising amount of clothes of various style and size. Probably for her paintings. Ariana heard that some like to dress up with theatrical costumes, yet Elphias frowned.

“This is very strange.” he stated, “The whole wardrobe seems to have been Charmed.” He precised as he contemplated the wood curiously.

Then something caught their eyes. Elphias’s wand came toward it and they barely made out the form of a bird before it shrieked, high and piercing. Ariana grimaced as she hastly put her hands to cover her ears. The sound was awful, a chilling cry that made her gritted her teeth.

Elphias quickly casted a Silencio. “A barn owl.” he said, gesturing to the bird almost growling in frustration at the bar of her cage. “They’re known for their screams.” He explained.

Ariana took a closer look at the petite owl, pursing her lips in thought. “I think Albus told me that Gellert got a brown and white owl.” she told him, “Just like her.”

Greety came forward and took a look at the animal. “This, Young Master’s owl.” she assured in a rapid series of nods, “Good owl, unlike Master Albus’s one.”

“Fawkes isn’t an owl.” Elphias pointed in frown, before he left to the corridor, checking if the noises they made had attracted unwanted attention.

“Greety doesn’t care!” she exclaimed, discretion seemed to be a foreign concept to her. Ariana couldn’t believe she had been worried about the sound her little heel could make against the floor at first. Greety was proving to be a far more noisy menace. “Greety doesn’t want burnt furniture anymore!” she said, upset. She sniffed audibly before asking to Ariana in a pleading tone, “Biscuits?”

“No.” Ariana replied categoric, as she crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t going to be moved by a (little!) house-elf. Nope. She was stronger than this. No matter how big and watery Greety’s eyes could become.

Elphias came back into the room, before Ariana’s resolve could be tested further. He seemed appeased that no one had come barge in. “At least, we know that we’re on the right track now.” He crouched to free the owl.

“Shall you let her out?” she asked, worriedly taking a good step away from the wardrobe. “We can’t afford too much disturbance.” And the owl seemed to possess a nasty temper, she didn’t add. Ariana would rather have a cage between her and the bird’s sharp claw.

“As Gellert’s owl, she might guide us to him.” Elphias explained. “They are truly smart creature.” He smiled, as the owl hopped, or rather stomped, outside, shooting them a sour look.

She fluttered her wings a bit as if testing them, before she took off. They went after her, as quick and silent as they could, with Greety, the depressed house-elf, trailing after them.
They stopped their chase to a closed door.

“Alright.” Elphias whispered, almost out of breath. The owl had certainly not spared them. Couldn’t she have waited for them a bit? Ariana sent an annoyed glance at her. She was serenely cleaning her feathers, and generally ignoring them. “I was starting to think we’ve been paranoid.” he pointed his wand to the keyhole. “Alohomora.” He intoned softly.

The door opened in a loud screech that made Ariana and Elphias wince. Greety chose this moment to blow her nose.
Audibly.

“Greety!” Ariana reprimanded in a low hiss.

She blinked, hopeful, at her, “Miss wants a biscuit?” She presented to them a metallic box full of them. It seemed as if the biscuits were trying to escape from it.

“Merlin, we have to buy her silence.” Elphias breathed in realization, “Give me one and let’s be done with this.” He said as he tended his hand.

Greety smiled in triumph and handed him a large round biscuit. Maybe the biggest Ariana ever seen. Then she gazed at Ariana, expectant. She huffed, “Fine.” She tended her palm for a biscuit as well.

She bit into it and followed Elphias who had entered the dark room with the help of a Lumos. She chewed on her biscuit and tasted orange, one of her favorite flavor. She had to admit that it was good, just not really the place for it. She began to worry about the crumbs they were leaving behind.
She squinted to see what was stored inside the room, it seemed to be even more artwork.

“There is something wrong about these.” Elphias declared. “I don’t know what, but even Albus admitted to me last night that he felt something off about the canvases exposed downstairs.” he pointed the tip of his lighted wand to one. “I just can’t tell what.” He crouched next to one in concentration.

Ariana looked more closely, but without magic, she felt nothing out of place. She wandered around the room as she continued to bit into her biscuit. With the door left open, some light from the corridor was coming inside, and while she couldn’t see the far end of the room, what was next to the door was visible for her. She swept over the canvases rapidely, meanwhile Gellert’s supposed owl simply refused to enter inside. The bird put her face into Greety’s biscuits box greedily. Ariana made a moue. She truly hoped that they hadn’t followed the owl for nothing.
Her eyes went from painting to another, before going back to one in particular. She took a huge step back and dropped her biscuit on the floor in her haste. It fell and broke into two as it hit the ground. She put her hands on her mouth in order to not scream.

“Miss?” Greety asked, “Is biscuit not good?” She worried, her lips wobbling.

Elphias came closer, “What is this?”

Ariana slowly let go of her mouth to point silently at the picture that caught her eyes. “I think I found them.” She said in a hushed tone, her voice shaking a bit.

Elphias’s eyes followed her finger and widen. “Bloody hell.” his breath caught. “We let Albus with her!” He realized in panic. He began to leave the room.

“Wait!” she grabbed his forearm to stop him, and let go just as fast, afraid to have overstepped some boundary. “We can’t let them like this!”

“But Albus is downstairs with a psycho!” Elphias argued agitated. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “I can’t be at two places at the same time. First Albus, then the others.”

“No!” she insisted, forgetting to be discreet completely. “She will know if you go downstairs, and we may not have the opportunity to be here again.”

“We could still call the Aurors!”

“Would they believe us?” she prompted, “What proof do we have?”

Elphias opened and closed his mouth. He paced, undecided, before asking: “What do you suggest?”

“You free everyone.” because she couldn’t, not without wand nor magic, “And Greety and me go to check if Albus is alright downstairs.” It was her fault after all if Albus was with a crazy woman. She was the one to suggest this plan.

Please don’t be hurt, please don’t be hurt, she chanted. Not because of me, not again.

Elphias was clearly torn, but conceded that her arguments were sound. “But what if Albus is not alright?” He demanded, concerned for his friend.

Ariana pursed her lips in thought. She turned to Greety. “Do you have something I could hit someone with?”

 

*
Albus began to feel light headed after two sip. The room’s egdes became blurry, and the light from the high window too blinding.

“Oh. You drugged me.” He realized weakly.

He rarely felt this offenced. As an Englishman, there were little things more insulting than this.
One didn’t touch tea. Was nothing sacred anymore?

He saw Doriana coming closer to him. He tried to stand up, in order to put as much distance as he could between her and him, but his legs were uncooperative and his head was swaying too much. She smiled like a cat who had just trapped a mouse. He searched for his wand, his fingers trying to close around it in vain. They were as lax as the rest of him. She seemed to expect this reaction, and took his wand for herself. She studied it, appraising.

“It’s a pretty wand, you have there.” she turned it into her hand, as if testing it, and he wished he could curse her, but even wandless magic seemed to be out of reach. He just couldn’t concentrate on anything, not with the vertigo he was feeling, and how slow his mind felt. Staying upright on the stool he was seated on was almost too much work already. “It’s such a pity, you know.” she told him in a velvet voice, “I truly wanted to paint you.” She admitted, pained.

“What did you gave to me?” He slurred, blinking his eyes in rapid succession. He truly didn’t want to fall asleep right now, but his body seemed to have others ideas.

“It’s a modified Sleeping Draught. It suppress magic during a short time and make you feel all sleepy. It worked wonders on your friends as well.” she grinned and pointed the tip of his wand against his neck. She dug it painfully into his skin and he let out a hiss of pain. Forgot the curse, he was going to put her dress on fire as soon as the opportunity arose. “Especially on the man. You see, the more powerful a wizard is, the more well this potion works.” she explained patiently, releasing the pressure she put on his neck, “Soon, you will fall aspleep, and I will get rid of you. Like I did with the others.”

He made a valiant tentative as standing up, and almost crashed on the floor. Only his tight grip on the nearest piece of furniture saved him from this fate. He scanned the room, trying to decide where to go. He was near the windows, but in his state he would rather not climb it, and the door seemed so far away from him.

“My friends, what did you with them?” he hoped that making her talk would give enough time for his magic to fight the effect of this potion. “Where are they?”

She bristled as if even the memory angered her still. She went near the door, where she rummaged through a chest of drawers. “They came to me and asked about my father.” she spat, and he saw her put his wand into one of the shelf. Safe-keeping, he thought in displeasure, “I hated him. He was a waste of a man.” she explained, “They wanted something he used to have, I could tell. And there were only one thing he ever owned that had some value.” she said, taking another wand out, a familiar looking one. “This old thing, that cloak. It was my mother’s originally, but after she passed away, he became completely obsessed with it. Jane of Arc knew I despised it at least as fiercely as he liked it.”

“I don’t understand…” Albus tried to follow her words with some difficulty. Everything was so... flat and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. “What did you do of them?” He repeated.

“You truly don’t get it, do you?” she laughed madly, coming closer once again. “They were like you, probing at my shop. And curious. Too curious.” Doriana said, “So I took care of them before they could dig deeper. I offered them tea like I did with you. So we could talk, you know?” her smile became malicious, “I never even knew the girl was a Rosier before I read it on the news. It’s regrettable, I certainly never wanted all this spotlight. But the Aurors will never find them where they are now.” she leaned to whisper in his ear, and he grimaced at the proximity, “You liked my work don’t you? Well, your friends did too.” she divulged in a hush, “So much, that I put them on it.” Albus’s breath caught, “They were good looking, and made such perfect models.”

Albus’s world was starting to waver dangerously. His eyes shutted and shutted irresistibly. Opening them was such a hardship… He was starting to forget why he even wanted to fight it.

He saw Doriana drew Gellert’s wand at him, and he mentally hoped that this would blow up to her face. She spinned it elegantly, the wand sparkling on its tip for a while, before it faded into a hue. She blinked, incredulous at him when nothing happened. He gave her the most bored look he could manage under this circumstance.

She couldn’t harm him, not with this wand. The blood pact prevented it. Not that he was going to tell her. Instead, he watched her as she waved it again, as if it would make Gellert’s wand more cooperative. It only resulted in making her trip, and she fell into her bottom. He resisted the urge to laugh, poorly, but it soon transformed into a yawn.
Merlin, he was so tired…

He barely realized that she had stood back, grumbling. She pointed the wand back toward him and he saw her grit her teeth in anger, but before she could cast anything more, a ‘bang!’ echoed into the room. The sound was so loud, it made his ears ring.
He watched Doriana’s eyes widen briefly before she fell, all her weight drumped unto the floor, unsconsious and unmoving.
That fall had looked painful, he thought without a ounce of pity for her. At the place where Miss Tumer was standing just seconds prior, was Ariana, with an impressive frying pan between her fingers.

He blinked some more, trying to chase the sleep away. “Huh.” Was he hallucinating?

“Albus!” Ariana crouched next to him and patted his cheek gently, still holding the pan into her other hand. Albus eyed it with a tired curiosity. "Are you ok?” She inquired worried.

He hummed, off-key, in affirmative. “Let’s never tell this to Aberforth.” He instructed before passing out.

Chapter 4

Albus' eyes fluttered open.

He stirred from his resting position, feeling as if the world was made of cotton, making him sluggish and unwilling to rise. He still forced himself to sit up, and noticed that he had been laid on a comfortable couch instead of the floor. A much appreciated upgrade.
Once settled, he realized he was still in Doriana's studio; he could spot her brushes and her notebook laying around, though the later seemed to have suffered some damage. Following the paper's destruction, he found Gellert easily. With his back turned to him, he was contemplating the view from the open window, looking down at the street below.

He seemed fine from what he could see, and Albus felt his worries being appeased.

Giselle was not far from her master. The petite owl was digging inside a metallic box full of biscuits, at least she was until Gellert caught her in the act, and shooed her out. He told her to go find Fawkes and stay with him, because unlike him, she wasn't going to rise back from the dead after she overdosed herself on sugar. Her owl eyes had narrowed dangerously, before she left off through the window with an affronted air.

The door of the studio had been left open; many voices were coming from adjacent rooms, which surprised him. The house seemed to be far more clustered than when he entered it. He thought he recognized Elphias's intonations.
Lastly, he took in Doriana's slumped form. The witch was out of it, but someone had deemed necessary to tie her into a chair. Albus could guess who.

"So," he started, his voice sounding weak to his own ears. He frowned and continued in what he hoped was a more firm tone, "I take that Elphias and Ariana found the two of you?"

Gellert's head turned quickly toward him, all but dropping his viewing as he hastily came to sit beside him, "Gods, Albus, are you alright?" He urgently asked, not waiting for a reply before he checked on him with his hands and eyes, as if he was cataloging the eventual differences between now and the last time they had seen each other.

One of his hands touched his flank and it tickled, making him smile even as he tried to get away from it. "I'm alright." he assured him. He took Gellert's wandering hands into his, "I believe I'm the one who should ask you this."

"I'm fine." Gellert grimaced though, "Just fed up. Can't believe she put me into frames." He muttered darkly.

"She put you into what?" He asked, interrogative and offended at the same time.

"Into frames." he repeated. At Albus incredulous look he added, "Her paintings are full of real people that had the misfortune to cross her path. Turned out, her real talent wasn't artistic." He said the last word with such sarcasm; it was clear how little he thought of her 'art'.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I think she talked about it." She did say something about Vinda and Gellert being good models didn't she? Albus scratched his head, trying to recall her exact words.

"Did she now?" Gellert asked in a snort, "Elphias," he continued, his accent just a tad more pronounced, a sure sign of his irritation, "Got us out and is freeing the others from their painted prison." he told him, "Vinda is giving the wands back. Which makes me think..." He trailed as he searched inside his long coat and got out Albus' wand.

He took it with reverence. He made it twirl between his fingers, the black wood responding immediately, its tips lightning up in delight. (And what was with people lately, stealing his wand? He thought with a wave of annoyance. First, Aberforth last summer and now her? Didn't they have theirs? No more wand stealing, Albus swore.)

"Thank you." he told him in a small smile. He cupped his jaw with one hand and leaned his forehead against his. "I-"

"I-" Gellert started at the same time.

"I can’t believe it. My tea. She drugged my tea.” Vinda's voice rang, making the two of them startled in tandem.

Albus sighed in defeat when it became clear that the others were hot on her heels and coming right here. Timing, he mused in an almost pout.

Gellert landed a furtive kiss on his hand. "Later." He promised him, before taking back his position at the window, and fixing Miss Doriana Tumer with an untruthful glare.

Vinda made her entrance into the studio seconds later, the blue dress of her uniform moving along her quick steps. Elphias was not far behind her. Meanwhile, Ariana was still clutching, in a steady grip, a frying pan, so he guessed this part hadn't been a hallucination after all. Albus risked a glance into the next room, and he widened his eyes, stupefied.
Just how many persons did Doriana abducted exactly?
He mulled over it as he Summoned the biscuits' box to him. Albus deemed he deserved it, and he needed sugar if he wanted to fully wake up. He could feel the effects of the potion lingering, dimming, but still like an itch on his skin, something he had yet to fully shake off.

Elphias slumped on the couch, next to him, unknowingly taking Gellert's previous place. “I’ve performed thirty Finite Incantatem.” he said to him. “At least. I’m exhausted.”

Albus nodded slowly, mindful of his throbbing head, “Thank you. You’re the best friend someone could ever wish to have.” He proposed a biscuit to him

Elphias shrugged, “Why not.” he bit into one. He chewed a bit on it, before saying, "You know, it's truly upsetting to think that she trapped all these people..." He trailed.

"But why would she do this?" Ariana asked, as she sat on the other side of the couch, sounding genuinely perplexed.

"Because she's psychotic?" Elphias made a guess. As if knowing they were talking about her, Doriana's body moved, just a slight thing, but it made them pause. Gellert pointed his wand at her without hesitation, but she went back into slumber, and they resumed their conversation.

"She has clear and disturbing father's issue." Vinda told them most seriously as she started to pace the room. She seemed unharmed, if restless. Maybe her skin was a shade too pale, but he guessed this was what happened when one didn't see the sun for a week.

For now, Albus was happy to take those explanations. But he remembered Doriana’s words about beauty and how hard it was to find, and after a quick look at her victims… Well, they weren’t hard on the eyes.
It seemed as if she literally decided to ‘capture’ beauty inside her canvases instead of only recreating it.
Unfortunately, the Exposition must have given Doriana’s trapping tendencies a wider window, as more people visited her shop. But the increasing disappearances could only attract the Aurors’ attention, and in turned, made her a bit paranoid. It must have been why she had been so quick to trap Gellert and Vinda when they came to question her. He supposed the fact that the questions they had asked her mustn't have helped their case.

Albus believed they might just have resolved the whole missing cases happening these last few months in Paris.

"Are you alright?" his sister wondered, her question carrying a worried note. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Gellert's gaze was burning a hole into his skull, daring him to lie. "I'm not hurt." Albus soothed, "Just a bit sleepy, that's all."

"What did she give you?" Elphias asked then, and Albus knew he had to end this before their worries could ricochet.

"Some Sleeping Draught." He hastily replied. Ariana made a guilty face, so he decided to distract her by giving her the biscuits' box.

Vinda made a frustrated noise. "Yes, I do remember feeling tired. Next thing I knew, I was inside her dark closet and stuck." Her clear eyes sent daggers at Miss Tumer's silhouette.

Sounds of cups clinking together came to them. Albus observed in amazement as Greety busied herself, going back and forth in between rooms, with a bounce in her steps. She was, clearly, having the time of her elf life, offering drinks and food at the recently freed wizards and witches, her flying teapot working overtime to satisfy everybody.

"Don't you want to sit for a bit?" Elphias proposed to Vinda who seemed unable to stop pacing.

"No." she declined quickly. “I don’t think you realize the gravity of the situation,” Vinda continued, agitated, “I missed a week of my life, a school free one at that, and I’m not sure if I could ever trust tea again.” she resumed, “She better not be dead.” She wished darkly as she glared at her limp form.

“She’s not.” Gellert confirmed readily. "Yet.”

“Miss wants tea?” Greety asked Vinda, as she made her way into the room with her flying teapot, completely uncaring of the threats they were making on Doriana's life.

Vinda seemed to debate within herself before she joined them on the couch. “Yes. Do give me some, please.”

The flying teapot came next to her and served her a cup.<

“What happened to ‘I will never trust tea again’?” Gellert asked unimpressed. The teapot came toward him as well, nagging at him, but he batted it away.

Vinda tasted her drink before answering, “I decided that laboring ill thoughts over tea will get me nowhere. I love tea, why punish myself?” she took another sip, “And any lingering trauma will be put at ease when Miss Doriana Tumer is, herself, put into chateau d’If.”

“Chateau d’If?” Ariana wondered, leaning forward to catch Vinda’s eyes.

“The French’s prison for wizards.” Vinda clarified as she leaned too.

Gellert frowned at them all. “This is terribly unprofessional.” he noted, still having Doriana at wandpoint. “We’re interrogating her, not having a tea party.” He reprimanded.

“Another ‘bonding’ session.” Elphias breathed lowly into his cup so Gellert couldn’t hear him.

Albus frowned briefly at this and mentally noted to ask Elphias about it. “I’m starting to think he wanted to be Auror.” He cheerfully announced instead as he bit into his biscuit.

“How embarrassing.” Vinda commented.

“I’m sure you could still apply if you wish to!” Ariana cheered.

Gellert regarded them flatly. “A little help maybe?” He drawled flatly, showing Miss Tumer with a move of his wand.

“I just lived a very traumatic experience, Gellert.” Vinda deadpanned.

“You seem to… get this.” Elphia remarked, uneasy.

“I almost lived a very traumatic experience, Gellert.” Albus recited dutifully.

“I can hit her again, if you want?” Ariana proposed, showing off her pan.

“This, bad frying pan, Young Master,” Greety warned Gellert, “Always sticking.” She mumbled before tending a basket of pastries upward.

Gellert regarded it dully. “No.” He told her bluntly. Her big eyes became tearful.

“Oh! I want these!” A witch happily exclaimed.

Vinda frowned at her, “Us first. Give me one please.”

Soon, it was to who would put their hands on the baked goods first. They won, for Greety was with them, and a Vinda who wanted something was impressive.

“Why won’t they just leave?" Gellert wondered moodily, looking at the wizards who seemed in no hurry to leave. "They're free now, what are they waiting for? A souvenir?" his voice carried way past the studio, making heads turned toward him. "You’re all going to be fat.” he predicted at them all, and as loud as he could, making some pause in their chewing. “So fat.” He finished in a very fatalistic manner.

“So bitter.” Albus gently countered, “A little bit of sugar would mellow you.” The nearest wizards made sounds of agreements.

“This is ridiculous.” Gellert glowered at the poor victims of Doriana, making them scatter away from the studio, to escape his ire.

“So is having her at wand point, after you had properly bound her. She’s not even awake yet.” Vinda pointed, "Good job for hitting her, by the way.” She said to Ariana.

“Yeah, this was amazing!” Elphias added.

“Thank you.” Ariana blushed, and tried to hide it behind her palms.

A groan made them all hush. Doriana Tumer was waking up, it seemed. Albus didn’t know if he wished for her to have a head trauma or not. (Maybe just a little one.)

Gellert’s focus turned on her entirely. “Hello.” he told her, with a sharp grin, “Remember me?” by the way she startled back, Albus would say she did. “Excellent.” Gellert continued, “Because I want to know what you did with your father’s invisibility cloak.”

She grimaced, either at the ropes encircling her, or at the mention of her father.

“Listen,” Vinda put her cup down the low table in a soft click, “You’re going to end up in prison either way. Someone probably called the Aurors already. So give us what we want, or even the prison won’t save you.” she threatened calmly, “I’m a Rosier and you just abducted me. When my father, who works in le Ministère de la Magie, learns of it what you think will happen?” she asked Doriana, “I’m his little flower, you see.” She divulged, unashamed.

“He does give a reward for you.” Albus remembered suddenly.

“Really?” Gellert perked up, “How much?”

Albus sent him a stern look, “Gellert.”

“What?” He replied innocently.

“It must be a high price.” Vinda thought out loud, “I’m not cheap. And my father wished for me to meet his new lover. He was very excited about it.” She raised one elegant eyebrow at their hostage, clearly waiting.

He heard Doriana gulp. “I sold it. Last year. I needed the money.”

Gellert tsk’d her. “To whom?” Albus asked.

“To my uncle. He asked me for it, and I was too happy to get rid of it. He wanted to offer the cloak to his grandson.” she explained, “He just turned seventeen last December.”

“What’s the grandson’s name?” Gellert questioned, giving her a warning look when she hesitated.

“Henry Potter.” she divulged after darting her eyes back and forth between Gellert’s wand and Vinda unimpressed face, “He’s in his last year, in Hogwarts.”

They didn’t have the time to process this information fully as sounds of agitation came to them. “La police!” Someone cried in joy.

“Aurors.” Vinda translated. “I would rather not stay there.”

“Everyone hold hands please.” Elphias instructed. They did as told, Vinda promptly grabbing Gellert, even as he narrowed his eyes when he saw Albus’s hand into Elphias. They Disapparated right before the Aurors came into the room, Greety following after them, vanishing into a pop.

 

*
They landed near the Place Cachée where Albus tried to convince Greety to go back to Nurmengard.

“Emotional blackmail.” Gellert whispered to him, as Greety lips started to tremble after they refused her pastries.

They had to insist some more (and to take her pastries) before she agreed to leave. After this, they decided to bring Vinda to her house to soothe her father’s worries.
(If someone noticed Gellert’s hand seeking his on their way there, and holding it a bit too tightly, no one made note of it.)

 

*
The Rosier’s mansion or ‘hotel particulier’ as Vinda called it; was situated into a little street.
It had a beautiful Haussmann’s façade, and a tall double royal blue door. With Vinda with them, they entered easily, but Albus felt the strong wards buzzing on his skin as they passed it.
It opened to a yard, where in its center stood an old cherry tree, its pale rosy petals falling like confetti onto the ground each time a breeze brushed the fragile flowers. There was, obviously, a rose-tree climbing on the sandy stone of the house’s exterior walls, their deep black flowers, running past the second floor.

“One of my ancestors created this variety." Vinda told him when she saw his eyes lingered on it, "She called it the 'Hades' rose', because if you cut one, it wilt right away. She still made bouquets out of it, and even managed to sell them. It soon became very popular." she explained, "She made for herself a little fortune.” she hummed in appreciation before concluding, “We have a wicked sense of affair in my family.”

It was one of her house-elves who noticed her arrival first. He wept in joy when he saw her, before disappearing just as quickly as he went to alert his Master. His cries attracted the others house-elves and they fussed over her as they guided them all into a large sitting room.
They looked around, a bit intimidated, except for Gellert who seemed almost at home inside this luxurious place. The ceiling got those moldings Albus saw at the Flamel, the honey parquet floor creaked when they walked on it, and the fireplace was made in pink marble. The rest of the room was finely decorated, with rich furniture. Strangely, it was the simple Singing Fern, thankfully silent for the moment, resting into a pot at the center of a table which caught his eyes. Ariana took notice of it as well.

“Say,” his sister started, “Doesn’t it look just like one of Aun-”

“Oh ma petite fleur!” a man rushed into the room, and gathered Vinda into his arms. He was tall, with dark hair, with some grey into them, and a fine moustache. He was wearing a sophisticated costume, impeccable despite the distress he seemed to be in, “J’étais tellement inquiet.” He said, squeezing her even more.

“I can’t breathe, Papa.” She mumbled into his waistcoat.

“Oh, sorry.” he released her a bit, without letting go of her completely, “I wouldn’t want you to asphyxiate. This will be too mundane.” He laughed, patting her hair gently.

Vinda nodded, solemn. Elphias and Ariana shared a look while Albus began to grasp that their sense of affair wasn't the only thing that was wicked. He was so focused on them; he missed the second person coming into the room.

Gellert didn't. “Oooh.” he whispered. “Awkward.”

Curious, Albus gazed at the newcomer. And stared. The newcomer stared back. Ariana silently gaped as she stared too.

“The world is a small place.” Elphias breathed.

“Too small.” Gellert stared at Elphias meaningfully. Elphias took a good step back, away from him.

“Albus, Ariana,” Honoria began, clearly ill at ease. She fiddled with her bright fiery hair, as if to put them back into place, “Weren’t you supposed to be in Egypt?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be in England?” Albus countered ass he raised an eyebrow at her.

They shared a look, assessing the other. “I’m an adult.” she stated. “I don’t have to justify myself.” It sounded like she was trying to justify something still.

“I’m an adult too.” Albus told her in a calm smile.

She regarded Ariana pointedly. “I’m… surrounded by adults?” His sister said in a wince.

Honoria sighed. “Fine.” she conceded. “I may have taken the opportunity of Ariana’s absence to visit my… huh. Significant other.” she quickly explained, “And you?”

“We may have taken the opportunity to visit some friends in Paris.” Albus divulged back.

Honoria narrowed her eyes as she gazed at Gellert, Elphias and Vinda, still being pampered by her father. “You didn’t do anything dangerous, did you?”

“No.” the lie fell from his lips with ease. Maybe Aberforth had been right, he should have been a Slytherin, “It’s the Aurors who found Vinda. We merely made sure that she went home safely.”

She narrowed her eyes further, and Albus was abruptly reminded that she used to be a Herbology’s professor at Beauxbâtons. She certainly had the air of one right now. “Is that right?” She asked Ariana, the most likely to slip the truth between the two.

But Ariana made big trusting eyes at her and nodded rapidly, “Sure.”

She hummed, not exactly convinced. Gellert leaned over him, “What did you just give the Aurors all the credit?” he asked him in a hushed tone, “I don’t want them to have the reward.”

“It’s better than having them on our back.” Albus whispered back. The less everyone knew of their involvement, the better. Albus certainly didn’t wish to be questioned by them. Gellert looked disappointed.

“Where’s my manners?” Vinda’s father shook his head in quiet self-reprimand, as he came over them. “I’m Armand Rosier, and it’s a pleasure to have you all here.” he told them, “Are you Vinda’s friends?” He asked them, curious now.

“Yes.” Gellert’s answer was sure and left no room for arguments.

Someone didn’t want to take over Europe alone, Albus thought, amused, despite his best judgment. “Yes, we are.” because he guessed that after all of this, they must be. “I’m Albus Dumbledore.” He presented himself, Armand Rosier shook his hand in enthusiasm.

“Ariana Dumbledore.” His sister shyly said as she did a little bow.

“How cute.” Armand cooed.

“Gellert Grindelwald.” Gellert’s introduction was precise and short. He nodded in greeting, hands folded behind his back.

“Elphias Doge.” He offered his hand to shake readily.

“Thank you for helping my daughter, even if it was only to walk her home.” he told the four of them. He hadn’t let go of Vinda for a second ever since he immobilized her into his arms. He seemed unwilling to. He then turned to Honoria, “I didn’t think I would meet your nephew and niece quite like this.” he smiled, “Ma petite fleur, let me present you to Honoria. Honoria, this is Vinda, my daughter.” Vinda’s father said exuberantly. His Aunt and Vinda half bowed to each other in greeting. “I wished the circumstances of this meeting were better.” he sighed dramatically, and patted Vinda’s hair some more. “But I wanted the two of you to meet since January.”

Honoria laughed. “Now, I know you’re lying." she smiled widely, apparently happy to have caught him in the act, "For we’ve met during new year.”

“I am not.” Armand took her hand in a flourish movement and dropped a kiss to it, entrapping Vinda between them in the process. “For I have wanted to shout out how much I loved you since day one.”

Honoria blushed as she giggled. Vinda made a face that suggested she wanted out. Gellert and Ariana grimaced in tandem.

“Gross.” Ariana mumbled, making a gaging face, proving that spending too many hours in Aberforth’s company wasn’t without damage.

“So needy.” Gellert agreed.

“There’re some things I don’t want to know.” Elphias added in a shudder.

“They’re cute.” Albus said around a smile, just to see the horror drawing on the three others’ faces.

Notes:

Château d'if is the prison in the Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (and it really was a prison, the fortress is situated near Marseille).
Doriana and her paintings are a reference to The Portrait of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde (some of you noticed it already 😉).
Last, an Universal Exposition was truly held in Paris, between April and August 1900.
Thank you for coming to my "culture minute" 😅
Also: j'étais tellement inquiet > I was so worried
Ma petite fleur > my little flower

I hope you enjoyed this chap ^^

Chapter 5

Notes:

Thank you for all your feedback 💜

Vinda half bullied her father to let Ariana stayed the night at their house, citing that she lived a ‘very traumatic experience’. Mister Rosier readily agreed, especially she supposed, given Ariana’s connection with Honoria. Meanwhile, the three boys had gone back to the Flamel, Albus wanted Gellert to meet them, Ariana guessed, and Elphias had seemed content to follow.

It must be one of the first times Ariana was left to her own device, so to speak, without her mother or one her brothers nearby.

Well, her Aunt was here, which was actually the embarrassing part. Armand and her were just so taken by each other. Meanwhile, Ariana was the unwilling witness of this romantic display, seated as she was, on one of the flourish furniture of the Rosier's mansion. She mused that she should have fled when she still could. After all, even Vinda had taken her leave some minutes prior, by saying that she wished to change clothes. Ariana was waiting for her return ever since, wondering if the other girl hadn't found the perfect excuse.

"Oh, Armand, you shouldn't have!" Honoria exclaimed in delight in the other side of the room, at - and Ariana could hardly believe her eyes - the wilted bouquet Vinda's father was gifting her. It looked depressing, yet her Aunt's face was lightning up in pure happiness. Ariana would never understand adults.

"He's really enamored with your Aunt." Vinda suddenly commented. Ariana jumped into her seat, not having expected her to be back so soon. Vinda was watching the couple from afar, with a thoughtful expression. She was now wearing a beautiful emerald dress. Ariana spared a thought for the simple little rosy thing she put this morning. There was, clearly, no comparison possible between the two.

"You're fast." she blurted. As Vinda regarded her curiously, she precised, "I mean, you changed rapidly."

"Or not rapidly enough." she sighed, “To think I had to wear my uniform for five days straight.” Vinda made a moue of displeasure, “I must have looked awful.”

“That’s not true!” Ariana leaped to reassure her, and Vinda’s sharp look settled on her again, “I mean, it looked good on you.” She finished awkwardly, playing with her hands nervously. She never learnt what to do with someone attention when she finally got it.

Vinda seemed to consider something. "Do you want to try it?” She asked her.

“Wh-what?” She spluttered.

“My uniform. I think it would look good on you too. But since this is a hypothesis, we need to confirm it.” She explained in nod, satisfied with her reasoning.

“Bu-but.” She started, searching for counter arguments.

“Or would you rather stay with them?" Vinda continued, pointing at the couple showering themselves with sweets words. Ariana grimaced and she smiled. “This way.” She told her as she all but guided her by the arm.

 

*
Pernelle, when she saw Elphias and him came back with Gellert in tow, had once again caught Albus’ eyes meaningfully, who in turn, nodded shyly. She beamed at him proudly.

“Welcome back.” the witch smiled widely, “I’m Pernelle Flamel.” she presented herself to Gellert, “I’m so glad to meet you.” She almost squealed. Albus was sure his cheeks would never be pale again, and he gazed at the floor in hope it would shallow him. (It didn’t.)

“Gellert Grindelwald. I’m… glad too.” He told her, hesitant, faced to such clear enthusiasm.

She giggled, not deterred. “Come inside, you have to meet my husband.” she said, “Nicolas! We have guests! Come down!” she shouted into the stairs. She seemed to take the following crashing sounds upstairs for a reply. “He’s coming.” she assured them brightly. “Oh! And it’s almost time for diner!” she barely breathed between each words, “It’s perfect, we’ll eat together!” She exclaimed before disappearing into the kitchen.

“She’s very excitable.” Gellert remarked with a quirk of eyebrow.

“She wasn’t yesterday.” Elphias told him, visibly perplexed, “I even thought she was a bit down.”

Albus forced himself to smile, instead of the grimace he wanted to make. “I’m sure she’s only happy to have someone to treat dinner to.” a cacophony of plates was heard from the kitchen. He coughed in a vain attempt at covering the sounds. “Nicolas told me she’s an accomplished cook?”

 

*
Vinda’s bedroom was huge. She had a four-poster bed with bed tables at each side. There was a dressing-table with roses sculpted into the wood. It had three little oval mirrors, and nearby, there was a neat desk with shelves for books. There was another foot tall mirror by the corner, next to a wardrobe.
Everything was just so pretty and elegant. Even the bedding, she was sure, must be expensive. They sure looked like, with how soft they seemed to be.

“I knew it. It looks good on you.” Vinda confirmed as she inspected Ariana.

Ariana looked back at her reflection in the tall mirror, taking in the pale blue dress swinging gently as she moved closer to the glass. Vinda insisted on the hat too, so Ariana found herself wearing the complete panoply of a Beauxbâtons’s student. She studied herself, the way Vinda had brushed her blond hair into a ponytail and how the fluid cape hugged her shoulders before closing up in the front with a bowknot, to the way the dress fell on her gently.
She was not sure to recognize the person looking back at her in the mirror. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

“What?” Vinda inquired.

“It’s just-ha.” she took some steps away from the mirror, “It makes me think about how thing could have been, have I not…” she trailed. Vinda didn’t know about her magic from before, only that she had none. “Have I been a witch like you.” She settled for, because in a way this was truer than anything else. She had stopped being a ‘normal’ witch since she was six.

Vinda considered this, “Sorry, I didn’t think it would make you sad.” she apologized, “But tell me, you do study at home right?”

Ariana frowned at the change of subject. "Yes. My Aunt and my neighbor help me when I struggle.”

“And what are your favorite subjects?” Vinda continued.

She didn’t have to think about it for long. “Herbology. Though I like Potions and Astronomy too.” she smiled, “Runes are interesting as well, I never knew a symbol could do so much.” She thought of Elphias and the pyramids he showed them, still barring runes powerful enough to deter anyone trying to enter into them.

Vinda hummed. “You should come to study at Beauxbâtons with me.” She threw casually.

Ariana shook her head with vigor, “I can’t, I’m not –”

“A witch.” Vinda finished, “Yet, not having magic doesn’t mean you can’t learn. There are classes where you only need knowledge.” she said, “There’re many Squibs, as you called them, attending there as well.” at her surprised look, Vinda lifted one eyebrow, “Did you think that we let them roam into the magical world without education? That would be highly irresponsible.”

“In England, you can’t attend Hogwarts without magic.” she said with a small voice. It stung, still, this missed opportunity. “Even if you come from a magical family.”

Vinda huffed as she raised her chin, “Your Ministry is foolish.” she said with disdain, “Is it why you have to stay at home?” she questioned. Ariana nodded, this was close to the truth at least. “Well, you should consider it then.” Vinda said as she righted Ariana’s hat on her head, “Blue is totally your color, and I would like to have a friend with me at school next year.”

It was the word ‘friend’ that left her speechless. “I’m your friend?” She asked, too hopeful for Vinda not to notice. She tried to temper it down, with little success.

Vinda nodded once, gravely, “Yes.” she smiled at her, “I have the most respect for people who can stop someone with just a frying pan.” her smiled turned pensive, “I seem to favor the bolt, like fortune.”

“It’s my brother, Aberforth, who teached me how to hit someone.” Ariana told her in a smile, “He called it ‘how to ditch an annoying brat’. He tried with Albus too, but it didn’t take.” She laughed as she recalled how Aberforth had shown them moves, and how in the end, Albus had stated that he knew how to use a sword, and considered it to be enough. ‘And how are you going to get a sword?’ Aberforth had asked, in a huff. Albus had just focused for a while, before a beautiful sword with rubies appeared in his waiting hand. After this, Aberforth had spluttered a lot of ‘how’ and ‘why you’.
Albus and her had ended up the afternoon by role playing one of her fairytale. He even gave her the sword for a while, before Aberforth caught them and panicked.
It had been a funny day.

(Last summer, Aberforth not so subtly remembered Albus and Ariana of his ‘precious lesson’. He had said that nothing was better than practice after all, while glaring at Gellert the whole time. Gellert hadn’t understood the reference, even though he knew that it had been an insult of sort, but Albus had, and Ariana knew he had been upset by it.
A not so funny day, then.)

Vinda’s pale eyes lighted up, “With a pan as well?”

“No. This one is all on Greety.”

Vinda let out a surprised laugh, and Ariana happily joined her. It was nice to have a friend, she mused. She wondered if Vinda was a bit lonely as well. She didn’t think so, after all Vinda was accomplished and her family was famous, but she knew better than anyone that all wasn’t always was it seemed.
Beauxbâtons was an unbelievable offer though. Just the thought of it was enough to make her head spin with possibilities.

Vinda laughed some more before promising to show Ariana her family’s encyclopedia on rare flowers.

Maybe, Beauxbâtons was not just another impossible dream, Ariana mused. Maybe.

 

*
“And then, I told her: ‘it’s not magic, Madame, it’s science’.” Pernelle laughed as she told them her ‘younger years’, “You should have seen the face of my professor. She was bewildered.”

Albus smiled, and Elphias laughed along her, amused by the story. Pernelle took a sip of her glass of elf wine, her eyes crinkling in mirth. He bit into the food she had made, with gusto.
The main meal was a well roasted chicken with potatoes. Gellert got two service of it, less because he had asked for it, and more because Pernelle had declared it to be necessary. He had given half of it to Albus when she wasn’t looking, who had accepted it, if only because it was delicious. Nicolas hadn’t lied; Pernelle was truly good at cooking.

“Tell me, Mister Grindelwald,” Nicolas paused as Pernelle mouthed at him: ‘Call him Gellert!” He sighed before he continued, “What are you doing? I mean, professionally speaking.”

“Nothing tangible, I’m afraid.” Gellert replied, as he put his fork down. “Albus and I are traveling for now, and the rest is yet to be started.”

Albus conceded that ‘traveling’ was better than ‘searching for old artifacts no one believed in’.

“So you do nothing?” Nicolas didn’t wait a beat, “Albus still publishes articles. How are you going to live decently if you don’t work?” Nicolas asked; his disagreement obvious in his tone.

“Nicolas!” his wife astonished, “Let the young be young. They have all the time to settle and find a job. They want to see the world, you can’t disapprove of it.” she chided him, “Remind me, how many travels did you do?”

“But,” Nicolas countered in a frown, “I was already a well-known alchemist then. Albus can’t be the only one coming home with money. It’s not fair for him.” He said firmly.

“They’re so new, let’s them take their marks. Honestly dear, you sound like your father when you take this tone.” She told him in a huff. She delicately bit into a potato.

“But -” Nicolas started in a perturbed frown.

“No more buts.” she cut him, final. “You’re a Seer right? Do you use a crystal ball as well?” She demanded to Gellert, as if they hadn’t ignored them all during their exchange.

Gellert looked at them both as if they were mental, before he replied to her. “No. I use a skull-hookah.”

Pernelle sent her husband a very telling look. “I told you, no one use a crystal ball anymore.” Nicolas made an incredulous face at this, while she turned her focus on Gellert again, “Tell me,” she prompted, “How old Nurmengard is exactly?”

Albus watched the conversation playing with a certain degree of detachment. It was better than to admit this was happening.

Elphias leaned over and whispered to him, “They weren’t this weird before, right?”

Albus gazed at Nicolas, frowning deeply at the head of the table, and at Pernelle, conversing while Gellert looked more and more confused with the two of them.

He sadly shook his head, “No, they weren’t.”

“Do you still wish to study dragon blood?” Nicolas inquired. The conversation between his wife and Gellert was like a hum in the background, interrupted now and then by Pernelle happy sounds.

“Yes.” Albus smiled at him, always happy to share his latest interest with his friend. “I’m sure it could have a lot of uses. But in order to study it, I would need samples, which would be difficult to obtain.” He mused out loud, disappointed. Dragons were rare and their owners generally more known for their tough skins and brisk manners than for their willingness to satisfy a scientific curiosity.

“I think I could help you with this.” Nicolas said, his tone eager, “I know someone who had dragons, an old friend of mine who lived in Romania.” he explained, laughing a little at the word ‘old’, “He’s a gruff man, but, I believe, he won’t mind giving you a bit of blood for your research.”

“Truly?” Albus asked, his eyes lightened up in excitement.

“Truly.” he nodded. “And if you need a partner for this, do think of me.”

“I would love to do this with you.” Albus assured, enthusiastic now.

Nicolas laughed before he took his glass. He drank a bit, before saying, “Tell me when you wish to start then. You know you’re always welcome here.” he reminded him, “And your friends too.” He smiled at him.

"I will." Albus smiled back, full of gratitude. “Thank you, Nicolas.”

“– I remember when I met Nicolas's father, I've wanted nothing more than to run away." he heard Pernelle's laugh, "He was so inquisitive, you know? Thank Morgana, I will never be like this." she told Gellert. "Oh, this makes me think, did Albus meet your family yet?"

Albus eyed his napkin and briefly considered hiding behind it.

 

*
“So, this dinner was peculiar.” Gellert told him once Albus closed the door of the room Nicolas landed him. “I feel as if I’ve been interrogated all night by your parents.” He grumbled. it was, regrettably, an apt description, for Nicolas had wanted to know more about Gellert’s family, and Pernelle, how his mother looked like, and when he was going to present Albus to her.
He had been beyond mortified at this point of their evening.

"My mother would never have asked you this kind of things.” Albus thought she wouldn't have bothered. "I wish I could have taken my leave like Elphias did.” He sighed ruefully.

“Elphias was staying at the Flamel too, right?” Gellert abruptly wondered.

“Yes.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Gellert could be so predictable sometimes.

“I thought there were only two spare rooms.” Gellert continued, restless, advancing on him until there was little more than a breath between them.

“There is.” He replied, peaceful. One day he might tell Gellert that his usual ways of intimidation was ineffective on him. Albus liked him into his space too much for it to work.

Gellert gave him a flat look. “And I doubt he was sharing with Ariana.”

“Of course he was not.” Albus happily confirmed, “This wouldn’t have been proper.”

Gellert looked on the verge of saying something terribly rude about the proper etiquette. “So, basically, the two of you slept together.” He said, with tone deceptively casual.

At this, Albus did roll his eyes. “Don’t make it sound so evocative. We shared dormitory in Hogwarts for years, you know.” He reminded him.

Gellert looked even more riled up by this. “I know.” He gritted.

“I also slept with Fawkes.” he slipped amused before he closed the last centimeter between them, and tilted his head so his lips could brush his. “Next time, just wait until I’m here before you go hunting mysteries,” he proposed in a hushed voice, “And I won’t share my room with others.” He finished in a smirk.

Gellert huffed at this. Albus smiled wider, knowing he had him. "Don’t look so smug.” Gellert astonished, before he captured Albus’ lips for a kiss.

They only broke apart to catch their breath, “Aren’t you tired?” Albus asked in a breathy voice, “You spent a whole week into a painting, after all.”

“I’m not.” he proved it by angling Albus’s head so he could kiss him better. “I feel truly restless, Liebling.” he told him in a hush, his fingers creasing the fabric of Albus’s shirt, “And, I missed you.” He admitted.

“I missed you too.” Albus divulged in a whisper. He chased after Gellert’s lips, trying to capture them again. He had wanted to do this all day. “Don’t you dare, worrying me like this again.” He warned, or at least, tried to.

Gellert paused in his effort at undressing Albus of his shirt to answer him. “I will try not to.”

He let Gellert guide them toward the bed. His knees came into contact with the mattress, and they both fell down. Gellert’s weight was on top of him, and he seemed determined to get rid of their clothes, while Albus lost himself in the kisses, his own hands gripping Gellert’s neck and hair, wanting him closer, always closer. Gellert abruptly stopped as his mouth came to his bare neck. Albus made a sound of disapproval.

“What is this?” Gellert asked in a low tone.

Albus refused to admit that he was pouting. “A difficult lover.” He pointed the obvious instead.

Gellert rolled off him, and tilted Albus’ head to the side so he could look at his neck more closely. He seemed… angry.

Albus blinked. “What?”

“Did she do that?” Gellert asked harshly, “That woman.” he spat. “Ariana said you've been with her for some time. Alone. And you were out of it when we came down.”

Albus touched his neck. He completely forgot it. Of course, with the force Miss Tumer used to dig his wand into his neck, and his easily bruising skin, this would have left a mark. He sat as he tried to cover it back with his shirt, but Gellert didn’t let him do. He put two fingers on the bruise and Albus felt his magic travel under his skin. It buzzed warmly with his.

“Thank you.” Albus offered him a small smile.

Gellert remained stiff. Finally he sighed. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I was hardly agreeing to it.” Albus reminded him, with an arch of his brow.

“Exactly.” Gellert continued, “If Ariana hadn’t come down then, you could have –”

“I came for you.” Albus stated firmly. “I wouldn't have left without you.” he stared at Gellert before adding, “You promised.” He breathed and lowered his eyes to the covers. They were white with little green dots everywhere. He found them very... (His heart was hammering into his chest. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, last of all to himself, but he feared that one day, Gellert would leave him behind despite his reassurances. If Gellert had to choose, between him and the Deathly Hallows, what would he do? Who would he chose? Albus thought he already knew the answer even if he didn’t want it. And then –) Yes, the covers were nice.

Gellert caressed his jaw with his hand before he dropped his forehead into his. Albus’ eyes found his immediately. “I did.” he said softly, “And I won’t let us be separated, I swear. But I don’t want you to take risks either.”

“You were the one who began.” Albus pointed. His arms went around his neck, and he kissed one of his cheeks tenderly.

“It was a calculated one.” Gellert argued, though his resolve began to crumble the more Albus kissed him. “Fine.” he kissed him back, briefly, before conceding, "I should have waited for you.”

“Yes, you should have.” he agreed, and smiled against Gellert’s skin, “The good news is that now, we know where to search for the cloak.”

Gellert’s head tilted, and he paused. “Do we?”

“Henry Potter,” Albus started, “Is in Hogwarts as Miss Tumer told us. He’s a Gryffindor, seventh year, same as Aberforth.” He explained.

“You know him, then.” Gellert deduced.

“Yes." he confirmed. "And I know exactly when we could approach him and, perhaps, see the Hallow by ourselves.” He finished in a grin.

Gellert grinned back, looking tempting, with his messed hair and half open shirt. Debauched and dangerous, Albus thought. “When?” He asked him.

His eyes tracked Gellert’s exposed chest, the skin he could see perking through. “During graduation, of course.” Albus replied quickly, as he considered that this conversation had dragged far too long. He tugged at Gellert’s clothes, making him came closer, and kissed him again.

Gellert answered easily.

Notes:

Next chap should be the last one in Paris before we move elsewhere :D also it will have plenty of grindeldore into it, yeah!

Chapter 6

Notes:

Happy Halloween!! 👻 🍬
*whisper* Don't you know? They're talking 'bout revolution...

Summer 1899

Gellert and him had taken refuge inside Bathilda’s house today, the witch being out for the afternoon, and the weather being far too hot to stay outside.

Albus was sitting, cross-legged on her library floor, reading Prophecies by Nostradamus. With the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, he was distracting himself from the heat by generally discarding every prediction the man had ever written down. He huffed a laugh at a particular sentence, and closed the book to search for Gellert. He had to hear this.
Gellert, despite being one, regarded other supposed Seer as rubbish. It amused Albus to no end.

He looked for him, with his book tucked under his arm, bypassing the living. He found him in the kitchen, drinking cold water as if his life depended on it. Bathilda had added pieces of lemons into it, Albus could spot them floating through the transparent glass.

“How you survive this weather is beyond me.” Gellert wondered, as he shot Albus an exasperated look. He didn’t seem to favor hot temperature at all.

To be trustful, Albus had no idea how he was surviving this already. This being: Gellert half-naked body, for he had discarded his usual dark vest and shirt, exposing the flushed skin of his chest.
His hair were wild because Gellert had passed his hands into his curls all afternoon, in a futile attempt to find cool air at first, and then in frustration at the heat. The window behind Gellert showed the countryside and allowed the sun to light the kitchen. It also turned each strand of Gellert’s hair into gold.

It was terribly unfair to create such temptation, he mused almost pouting. For Albus was, for the first time of his life, tempted. Reading Nostradamus had been the safer route he had found under such a short notice. It had been this or… Gellert. And focusing on Gellert could lead to hazardous thoughts.

“Habit, I guess.” And a lot of denial, he didn’t add, giving his friend a small smile instead.

He expected Gellert to return it but his face became serious. He held his eyes as he put his glass down on the counter, slow and deliberate, as if deciding something. The click it made when it touched the surface certainly felt final.
Gellert’s gaze never wavered away from him, not when he walked toward him, not after he was so close, their chests were brushing, his naked skin against his shirt. Albus still had his book between his fingers, the line he wanted to show him forgotten, but he had put the book up and to him as the other man approached.

A paper shield against the unstoppable force that was Gellert Grindelwald. Albus knew his odds.

Gellert caressed his cheek, delicately, before his fingers travelled into his hair. Albus was sure then; Gellert could hear his heart trying to fly off his chest. He must, because there wasn’t enough space to hide anything between the two of them.
Boom, boom.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do.” Gellert demanded in a whisper.

“I,” he started breathless. He tore his eyes off Gellert. Looked at the glass he left behind him instead. The window. The lemons. He ducked his head down. “This is a dangerous talk you’re having there.”

Gellert seemed displeased to have lost his complete focus, but he asked, “More dangerous than my opinion on the International Statute of Secrecy?”

Albus had to smile at this, “Way worst. Political opinion, even the most radicals’ ones, are safer than this.” Gellert must have heard about Oscar Wilde’s trials. He must have known the result as well as the risks. Even if Wilde was a Muggle, it changed very little in the end. The Muggle’s public opinion was the same as the wizards’ on this, their justice just as condemning. Albus shouldn’t allow this. He truly shouldn’t.
But he wanted.

“Being safe is not the same as being happy.” Gellert stated; his mouth so near to his, far too near. If Albus leaned, just a little, he could – “Change can be perceive as dangerous. But the truth is, the world around us is changing. And it’s ours to shape as we see fit.”

Albus’s laugh caught him by surprise. Gellert could be so pretentious sometimes. He wondered if this was how he, Albus, sounded too. A young man with too much ambitions and certitudes. “I think that you, Herr Grindelwald, like to play with fire.” his eyes found him again. It would be so easy to grab this moment. Too easy, he thought, as this could lead to everything. Or he could deny this, get out of Gellert’s almost embrace, and leave Bathilda’s house. It would be simple too. Everything or nothing, then. “Did you See this?” Albus had to ask. “Us, together.”

“No.” Gellert replied. “I do not have Visions of everything. Even I cannot predict how this will end.”

“I would rather you never See the end.” He admitted in a hush. (Albus had always wanted too much.)

And so, he crossed the last centimeter separating them, an offence he needed to erase, and Gellert tilted his head to kiss him. Gellert’s lips on him were soft, almost chaste, but soon turned demanding as his hands began to close around him.
Albus tasted lemons as the kiss became deeper. It certainly made him loved the flavor even more.

The book dropped at one point, in between Gellert kissing him again, and Albus finally running his fingers into the gold of his hair.

He certainly never cared less about Divination.

 

*
1900, April, Wednesday, 25th

Hours later, Albus was half dozing, half sleeping, almost sprawled on Gellert. His head was using Gellert’s chest as its pillow, because Albus liked to hear his heartbeat, as he found the sound lulling. He opened his eyes slowly when he felt a hand tracing symbols on his back. A triangle, a circle, and a vertical line. He turned his head upward, and blinked the sleep out of his eyes to gaze at Gellert, who was looking pensive and far too much awake for the late hour.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked him in hush. “Did you have another Vision?” He knew that it happened sometimes, leaving Gellert wide awake and on alert, as if whatever he just Saw was going to strike them during the night. Gellert rarely seemed to See good outcome, unfortunately.

“No, just having a hard time finding sleep.” he answered quietly, his hands petting Albus hair gently, “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Albus hummed, enjoying Gellert’s touch, “I was hoping to have tired you enough.” He teased, a smile tugging at his lips. He languidly moved his body against Gellert’s to illustrate his point, before giving him a pointed look.

Gellert’s eyes danced in unconcealed amusement. “I did spend a lot of my energy on you.” He grinned.

Albus huffed. “You must think yourself terribly smart.” he breathed, Gellert’s lips close enough to taste if he desired, “To make such subtle innuendo.”

“I believe to be, in fact, quite smart.” He proudly stated.

“And so modest too.” Albus pointed in a smirk.

“Of course; one rarely goes without the other.”

Albus outright laughed at this when, suddenly, an idea crossed his mind. “If you’re not tired, I know what we could do.”

Gellert quirked an eyebrow, intrigued, “Not what we’d done earlier then, I gather?”

“No.” Albus smiled in mischief, “My idea involves going out into a scandalous part of the town, without waking up anyone and going back just as discreetly.”

Gellert’s eyes flashed in delighted, “Lead the way.”

 

*
Finding the Bohemians had been easy. Albus knew they gathered in Montmartre, and from there, they only have to follow the sound of party.

Miss Tumer had not been wrong, Albus thought as they entered an animated street, and an even more animated pub of sort, the wizards and witches present there seemed to be rather intoxicated. There were tables where passionate debates seemed to be happening. Others chose to dance, their close distance clearly beyond what was the norm in public. Some were shocking, the women’s low-cut teasing until it reached their breasts, leaving little to imagination or the way some men had their faces full of make-up, which sparkled under the low light of the pub. Those dancing, high on a stage of sort, with their heels tapping a rhythm against the hard wood, couldn’t be considered proper with the way most of their legs were on display. But there was a sort of frantic beauty to them, that added with the atmosphere, made the room charged with this will to live fully, and to live now.
Albus breathed into it, tasting it.

“Now, I really want to know, how and when you learn of this kind of place.” Gellert wondered, his shoulder brushing his, as his eyes took in the room. A group of women passed them by, giggling, and leering at Gellert under half lidded eyes. There was a kind of unbelievable beauty to them, their figures almost too attractive to be true. Albus frowned at them, not liking it. “And people think I’m a bad influence.” Gellert continued, distracted as he blinked at them in surprise.

Women were rarely this forward. Albus bet they were Veela. He heard a lot of them lived in France. One woman of the group smirked, a small brunet with golden skin, flirty and inviting at the same time. Albus fixed her.

“Let’s take a sit.” He then suggested, taking Gellert by the hem of his coat as he broke eye contact with the brunet Veela.

Because she was one, without doubt now, her purple-ish eyes being her most obvious tell. Veela tended to have improbable eyes color, along others very persuasive… arguments. Some could compel someone, or at least strongly influence them, by only looking straight into another person’s eyes. A bit like Muggle’s hypnotism.
Albus had seen it first hand, it was impressive, but mostly ineffective on Legilimens like him.
He rolled his eyes, without him Gellert would have probably just stay there, and stare stupidly at her, while she made silent promises at him from afar. With only a simple brush inside her mind, he could tell what she wanted. Her thoughts had been rather loud. And specific. Merlin.

Albus spotted a little round table near a wall and directed them here. They could easily see the whole room from here, and the space seemed secluded enough that they could have a little privacy. Once installed, they got rid of their coat, the fresh air of the night not reaching the inside of the pub, in contrary, the air was rather hot and humid, with all those people moving around. He folded his coat carefully on his chair, and he had barely finished, when a house-elf appeared at their table.

“What sirs wish?” The little creature asked.

Gellert opened his mouth but Albus gently beat him to it. “Two pumpkin juice, please.” He ordered.

The house-elf clapped his fingers together and their drinks flew from the bar to their table. He went to serve others clients, leaving Albus with a now sour looking Gellert.

“Pumpkin juice.” he repeated flatly. “What are we, five?”

“It’s healthy and tasty. What do you want more?”

“Alcohol.” Gellert said as if it was obvious.

“You have no tolerance for alcohol.” Albus reminded him. A wasted Gellert was a singing Gellert, at least, he had been the last time he got drunk. “And I said that my plan involved a quiet and discreet return to the Flamel.” He would rather not face Nicolas or Pernelle with a drunk and singing Gellert.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it had been the beers’ fault? They were spiked with something.”

“Yes, with alcohol.” Albus hid his smile against his glass. He took a sip of his juice, and immediately took another. Ah, how much did he like pumpkin juice.

Gellert made an offended face, and huffed. “You’re not taking this seriously. This may be an Irish’s conspiracy.”

“Then you shall tell your concerns to the Ministry of Magic.” Albus grinned at the thought. “I’m sure they will be excited by the case.”

Gellert snorted at the mere suggestion. “I can’t believe you’re going to let the Aurors took the credit. If Vinda and I had been waiting for them to find us, we would have been waiting for a long time. And we could have used the reward Vinda’s father was giving.” He sighed in defeat.

“We’re not so poor.” in fact his last published article in Transfiguration Today had worked quite well, “And can you imagine the sort of questions they would have asked us? We were, by law, still breaking inside a house. And Ariana was with me.” his fingers tapped on his glass. The temperature had made little pearl of water slid on the surface. “I don’t want to expose her to this.” This could open another whole line of questioning, he thought.

Gellert hummed, “Fine. I guess, I would have to do without.” the ‘for now’ was heavily implied. “And, I will find the answer of those beers by myself, and prove to you that I was right.” He declared firmly.

“And, how do you intend to do this?” Albus questioned patiently, humoring him a bit.

Gellert sipped his drink, “I don’t know.” his eyes held his, determined, now that he had been challenged. “Yet.”

“I’ll be waiting for it anxiously.” Albus told him cheerfully, this was going to be funny, he mused. Gellert narrowed his eyes at him for this.

“Your attention.” A wizard started loudly, as he climbed on the stage. He was rather tall, his dark hair coiffed neatly on a side, and covering his temple. He was wearing a belt of sort closing around his waist above his vest, and strangely enough given the circumstances, a tie, which seemed to be held by a delicate silver pin.

“Oi, what do you want Krall?” One witch shouted.

The man – Krall it seemed – gave her a pointed look. He waited for the room to hush, before he continued. “We just learnt that the missing wizards had been found back.”

They were an excited clamor, but a voice managed to break through, the witch again it seemed, “By whom?”

“By the British Aurors,” Gellert shot him a withering look. Albus evaded it by drinking his juice. “But, it appeared that this is not the truth.” at this, Albus listened more closely, “One of the recently found wizard is here with us, and he’s telling a different story.” he said in a grave tone, “He told me, that it was a group of civilians who found him, and,” he paused, the whole room suspended at his lips, “That they are along us, tonight.” uh-oh, Albus had the time to think before the man pointed at them. He stilled under the gazes they now had on them, “Please, come here,” he demanded, “So we can thank you properly.”

Albus would rather not, but Gellert was already standing up, and so Albus followed, albeit with more hesitancy. It was not that he was shy, per se, but if Gellert didn’t want to hide into shadows, Albus had never trusted the light completely. It tended to be blinding, and he knew better than most that a public could hate the same man they cheered as their hero yesterday. It could be more fickle than the wind, and change just as fast.
They stopped next to the stage, Albus refused to climb on it, he had some limits, but this seemed to be enough for Krall.

“What’s your name?” He climbed down as he asked them in a soft voice.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Gellert said pointing at him, “And I’m Gellert Grindelwald.”

He shook his hands delicately. Gellert seemed unwilling to give him his, so they nodded at one other in greeting. “I’m Krall.” He offered no surname to them.

“We’ll rather not have our names mentioned.” Albus said after Krall let go of his hand.

“This, I can do.” Krall assured him. He turned his steady gaze toward the curious witches and wizards waiting for the rest of his speech, “We, witches and wizards of Paris, thank you both, for what you have done. We’re in debts, and if you find yourself in need, the Bohemians will be happy to help you. For Freedom,” He raised a glass.

The others mimicked him, and shouted in unison, “For Beauty, and Love!” At that, everyone drunk down their drinks; in one go.

“This is the kind of followers I want.” Gellert told him as he regarded them in the same way he, himself, must look at a candy shop. Albus bit his lower lip to refrain himself to comment. If their followers spent all their nights into pubs, their revolution wouldn’t go very far. It probably wouldn’t cross the street without walking all funny.

“Do you want to say something?” Krall asked them, before asking the elf to refill his glass.

Albus shook his head in negative, but Gellert positively beamed. “Yes, I would like to.” With this, he climbed on the stage, because of course he would, Albus thought in fond exasperation.

He took a free chair left free near the wall so he could observe him. Gellert already had all eyes on him, Albus could tell without having to check the room. He always seemed to have it easily, without any real effort from his part.

“My brothers, my sisters, my friends," Gellert started in a smile, "I want to ask you, tonight, a simple question. Why shall we be the ones to hide?" he interrogated the crowd who was looking raptly at him, "Why shall we hide our talents? Our magic?" he made a movement of his hand and the lights blinked in and out. He was showing off to illustrate his point, Albus thought in a huff. "Because of the Statute of Secrecy, you will tell me. Because of all the Muggles, the Moldus, all of those who don't have magic, you will say. After all, how many of us had lost a loved one, or a family member, because of their prejudices." the faces around them were becoming serious. Gellert, sensing this change, continued in a sober tone. "I want to tell you tonight, to not be afraid of them. I'm not scared of them," he affirmed, "I do not hate them, either. They simply have a different value. Muggles are in need of directions. Of help. Left to their own, they only create chaos. How many wars did they start? How many more before they destroy everything we'd built? I've Seen a world war," Gellert said gravely. Albus casted his eyes down at this, he remembered the state in which this Vision had left Gellert. He remembered his fear, his urgency. "I've Seen nothing but destruction and death then. But, we can still change it all." he assured to the people who were now hanging on each of his words. "Right now, my friends, we are at a crossroad. Magic blooms only in rare souls," Albus almost started in his seat, surprised to hear his own words in Gellert's mouth. "It's our responsibility to take our rightful place, and to create something new, something different, for the Greater Good of our world. For freedom, for truth and for love." He finished in a playful smile directed at him.

Albus heard people cheering for Gellert distantly, like a faint noise instead of the clamor it must be. He watched Gellert, higher than everyone else and bathed under the applause.
He –
There was a potential in Gellert that appeared clearly to Albus in this instant. A potential for the better, but also for the worst. Gellert could easily just turn their revolution into… something else. Something dark and chaotic, like… a war. He had the charisma to move a crowd, the charm to manipulate anyone he might need. And with Albus whispering the right words to him, Gellert could very well become…
Albus blinked, and averted his gaze. When he looked up, Gellert was Gellert again. Ambitious yes, but not...

He trusted him, and Gellert wanted to lift the International Statute of Secrecy just as much as him, and for the same reason: the good of wizard kind. It was for peace they were working for.
For the Greater Good.

Then someone shouted: “Drinks for everyone!” And Gellert greedily finished his drink in one gulp, making a grimace as the alcohol burnt his throat. Albus sighed, he was betting on two other shot before he came back staggering to him.

Krall took a sit next to him. “So, are you a revolutionary like you’re friend up there, or are you merely accompanying him?” he asked him, his dark eyes curious and his hand still nursing a drink, “You’re awfully quiet.” He remarked.

Albus smiled. “It’s one of my beliefs that those loudly screaming are not necessary the ones that are the more listened.”

“Are you implying that we do too much yelling?” he asked, apparently unoffended, “It helps attract a crowd, you know.”

“Not really. You only remember the tantrums they made, not their words.”

Krall laughed, a loud and rich sound, “You’re probably right. Tell me, are you in Paris because of work or only for pleasure?” He wondered, his tone turning playful at the word ‘pleasure’.

Albus lifted an eyebrow. “Neither.” he wandlessy levitated his pumpkin juice to him, and took a sip, “I’m visiting some friends of mine. What about you, Mister Krall? Are you here for work or for something else?”

If Krall noticed his reluctance to say ‘pleasure’, he didn’t mention it, but he looked at him more closely now, “I’m working for the Indonesia's delegation. You know, yelling things.” he smiled. “For two months, it had been a lot of paperwork to do and legal stuff. Very boring. I found this place by chance, and I come back every evening, ever since.” He explained.

Albus smiled back. “Truly? Tell me, what do you yell?”

“My delegation wishes to promote our country. Most countries came for this, more than anything else.” he confided. “Mine chose to show our culture and also our… local curiosity.” His mouth down twisted down, displeased it seemed.

It only intrigued Albus more. “What kind of curiosity do you show?”

“Maledicta,” Albus froze, his fingers slipping from his glass, “It’s –”

“Someone cursed to be unable to change back from their animal's form as the time comes.” Albus cut, “I heard about them. But I fail to see what your country could want out of them.”

Krall lowered his eyes, “They make them transform for the pleasure of the public. It’s a show.” he must have noticed his disgusted face for he added, “I’m as against as you are. But my Ministry had requested it. I can’t go against their order without attracting their anger for myself. And for what?” he asked, looking tired suddenly, “They will continue to do it. They will only fire me and choose someone else.”

“You’re probably right.” Albus conceded, “But if you do nothing, nothing will change.” He drummed his fingertips against the wood table. Tap, tap, tap.

“Is this why your friend speak to abolish the Statute of Secrecy?” he asked him, “A dangerous talk, he did here.”

“Change can be seen as dangerous. But the truth is, our world is changing even if we do not want it.” Albus said, “Muggles are evolving in ways that escape us. They’re about to fly and conquer the sky now, and what would happen when even the clouds can’t cover for us anymore? We’re running out of place to hide, Mister Krall. The Muggles discovering us is inevitable.” there was so much Obliviation the Ministry could do. “I believe we could build a better world, not by excluding them from ours but by integrating them into it. I believe it could be beautiful.”

Krall regarded him silently for a long time, before saying. “You should go on the stage with your friend next time. You’re great at this.”

Albus smiled amused, “We’ll see.” he then wondered, “What you said earlier, did you mean it? That if we needed help we could find it here?”

“Yes.” he eyed him. “Why?”

Gellert chose this moment to stumble into him, his body colliding with his back. His head ended up into the crook of his neck, as both of his arms circled his middle.

“Mein Schatz,” he slurred, “Ich habe eine kleine wild Blume; Eine Pflanze die zwischen den Wolken blühte.”

Krall was staring at Gellert who was looking up (or trying to, from this angle this was proving to be a hardship) at Albus with a hopeful expression. Albus, for his part, wondered how Gellert managed to not be repetitive in his drunken bout of poetry. It was kind of impressive, If he was honest.

“Is this a poem?” asked Krall, earning himself a nasty glare from Gellert. “I’ll go.” He quickly said, as he started to leave.

“Don’t.” Albus grabbed his forearm. “As I was telling you, I’m in need of your help.”

Krall frowned. “What for?”

“What for.” Gellert echoed but without any interrogative inflection into his voice, “I don’t like you.” He announced to Krall’s face.

Albus smiled peacefully, ignoring Krall’s suspicions and Gellert’s animosity. “I need you to lead me to your delegation's pavilion. I wish to free the Maledictas you told me about.” Krall’s eyes widened in alarm. “The situation won’t change by itself. And you said yourself that you were against.” Albus reminded firmly, his eyes boring into Krall, “This is your chance to do something about it.”

Krall stared at him for a long moment before saying, “I’m going to get fired.” He rubbed his forehead in anxiety.

Gellert nodded; the movement a bit clumsy, “I would fire you too.” His arms tightened around Albus. He tried to raise his chin higher, as if to look down at Krall.

The poor man recoiled, unsure faced to such sulking. Albus sighed, taking Gellert by the arms, and making him sit next to him. He did, but Gellert’s equilibrium was precarious. Albus had to grab his left side to keep him from falling.

“Let’s meet each other in one hour or so,” Albus proposed to Krall, “So some of us could be more lucid.” he joked, but Krall acquiesced rapidly and left without looking back. Albus turned his attention to Gellert, who was still glaring. “You liked him just fine when he gave you the opportunity to try out your speech.” he reminded him, brushing Gellert’s hair back into place with his free hand, “You added some words. I didn’t remember the end to be like this.”

“Had to adapt myself to the public.” his eyes fluttered, shutting themselves, “Was it good?”

Albus smiled, knowing he was biased, for even the sight of a buzzed Gellert trying to fight sleep on a chair, was making him feel terribly fond of the man. “You were perfect.” He replied sincerely, petting his hair some more, the golden locks soft under his fingers.

Gellert hummed, before opening his eyes. “I don’t like Krall.” He repeated, stubbornly.

“Alright.” Albus said, knowing that trying to reason Gellert in this state would be pointless.

“You’re my great.” then he frowned as if taken by a doubt, “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“It depends,” he paused as if considering it, “Are you mine as well?”

“Ich liebe ditch.” Gellert declared before yawning. Albus supposed this answered it.

Gellert probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. There were people everywhere, near them, making a ruckus and laughing loudly. A plan to free the Maledictas was already forming into his head, and he guessed Gellert would enjoy it. After this, they still had to go back to the Flamel, Albus hoped Gellert wouldn’t be as intoxicated as he was by then and –

“I love you too.” Albus whispered back, like a secret that wasn’t really one, held between them.

 

*
“Gellert, where’s Krall? Wasn’t he with you?”

“Oh, he chose to stay inside.”

“I thought he said he was coming with us?”

“He changed his mind.”

“… How come you seem so awake now?”

“I never was sleeping.”

“So, you dozing on me, was an hallucination from my part? Along your singing, of course.”

“…”

“Gellert, where’s Krall?”

“I told you, he decided to stay behind. Don’t worry, Mein Geliebter, I made sure he won’t get fired because of this little break-in.”

“…”

“If he was not so taken by, ah, his responsibilities inside, he would thank me.”

“…”

“Shouldn’t we help the Maledictas rather than dwell on Krall?”

“Does master Albus want a biscuit?”

 

*
Breaking news!

The missing cases clouding Paris’ romantic atmosphere during the last months, solved!
A witch arrested! The victims, including the Rosier’s Heir, found! All the details on their rescue by the courageous British Auror, Torquil Travers, page 3!

A mysterious break-in inside the Universal Exposition!
The Indonesian's pavilion, situated between La Place Cachée and La Rue du Secret had been robbed last night of its main attraction: their three Maledictas (see definition below) were gone when the supervisor of the delegation, Monsieur Khan, came back this morning, worried by the lack of news from his employee. Said employee, Monsieur Krall, had later been found, bounded and gagged to a chair, and seem to have been Obliviated.
The first conclusions of the case show that the thieves were fast and magically powerful enough to go through many wards without alerting any of the Aurors, who were patrolling the streets near the Exposition during the night.
Curiously enough, even though none of the inhabitant of the district had seen a thing, many proclaimed to have heard singing. Some recognized the song as being a German lullaby. To add to this mystery, a metallic box, with only one biscuit left inside, had been found next to where the wards had been taken down.
The Aurors are on the case.

Le Parisien Magicien

Notes:

So writing a revolutionary's speech is hard, who knew? Haha

Gellert's little poem is from a Patricia Kaas' song and means: I have a little wild flower; a plant that bloomed between the clouds.

Mein geliebter: my beloved

Next chap is All About Abe or Aberforth returns into the narrative! :D

Chapter 7

Notes:

Meet Henry Potter!

Paris, 26 April 1900
Hullo.
Today in my Divination class, we talked about Hepatomancy, and how in ancient Greece, Seers read the future inside the entrails of animals. It was interesting, I guess, even if I care little about Divination (I have Gellert for that). But my teacher said that they even used goats to do it. Did you ever try it with yours?
P.S.: Your Aunt is very nice. She knows ways to poison someone without leaving a trace, just by using plants. It’s remarkable. I like her a lot.
Vinda

What the hell?!
Every paper here had been talking about your kidnapping! Are you ok? You can’t just come back and say ‘hi’ as if nothing happened!
Of course, I never tried it on my goats. Honestly. And what did it have anything to do with Gellert? Is he planning to GUT MY GOATS?!
P.S.: When did you meet my Aunt?
Aberforth

Beauxbâtons, 3 May 1900
Oh, were you worried?
I like the term ‘abduction’ better. Kidnapping is such an infantile word.
A pity you never tried. Maybe, we could one day?
I don’t know about gutting your goats, but Gellert talks about your demise often. Do not worry, he’s always very creative.
P.S.: Your Aunt is dating my father. Meeting happened.
Vinda

N-Ye
That’s beside the point! You’re evading my questions.
Please, let my goats live.
Also, sure that’s not worrying at all (sarcasms).
P.S.: You’re joking right? RIGHT?
Aberforth

Beauxbâtons, 10 May 1900
You were worried. This is very sweet. (I was starting to think you only cared for your goats, and then, I would have to eliminate them. I’m sure you would have understood.)
P.S.: No. They are, in fact, dating.
I mourn the fact that I can’t see the face you’re going to make when you read this. A true tragedy.
Vinda

Don’t kill them, damnit. And I was only a bit concerned. Like, a tiny bit. That’s all!
P.S.: what. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? SINCE WHEN? OH MY GOD!
Is there something else I should know?!
Aberforth

Beauxbâtons, 17 May 1900
Your goats are safe for now. You’re very cute when ‘concerned’.
P.S.: The rest is a surprise. Your graduation is still mid-June right?
Vinda

Yes, mid-June. Why am I even more worried somehow? And how much is ‘the rest’?
Aberforth

Beauxbâtons, 24 May 1900
Perfect. You’re only worried because you have a very suspicious nature.
The only clue I can give you is this: red is not only the Griffindor’s color.
Vinda

“Yeah, this clears it up so much.” Aberforth muttered. It was diner time inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts, on a Friday, which meant a lot of chatter was happening for everyone wanted to do something fun for the week-end. Well, everyone except the seventh year, whose projects for the month was to study for their N.E.W.T.s, while stressing over the future at the same time.

Meanwhile Aberforth, despite popular opinion, could do two things at once; namely absently picking at his food and reading his letter at the same time.

“What are you grumbling about again?” Diggory asked in a tired voice. He was trying to go through his notes on Potions while eyeing a cherry pie. His attention seemed very torn between the edible dessert and his last minutes studies.

“Hush.” Potter leant into Diggory in a conspiratorial manner, snatching a slice of pie on his way, much to Diggory sadness, if his pout was anything to go by. “He’s reading his girlfriend’s letter.”

Diggory snickered, and gave into the sweet temptation waiting for him on the table. Aberforth only rose his eyes from his letter to glare at them. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He grumbled for the tenth times this month. This was starting to get old. He folded the parchment in hopes that they would forget about it. He put it carefully inside his robe

Diggory rolled his eyes, “Please.” he bit into his dessert with gusto, “Just admit it, pal.” he chewed on a juicy cherry, “You know, we’re all very happy for you.”

Potter nodded along, “And don’t think I didn’t see you at Hogsmead last time.”

Aberforth stiffened in his seat, while Diggory asked eagerly, “What did you see?” Like the gossip he truly was.

Henry took a very satisfied air, “Abe, going out from the Wrapping Ribbon Shop. It was just before the news of Rosier’s kidnapping broke out.” his smile turned smug, “And we all know this is the place to go when one want to find the perfect present."

Aberforth frowned, “How do you know this?” He asked, deeply unsettled because there had been no other Hogwarts’ students in the streets at the time. He had checked back and forth several times, in order to not have to go through this. In vain, apparently.

“Oooh.” Diggory almost put away his dessert at this. A feat. “You bought her a gift?” His voice was all wonder.

“Absolutely not.” Abe hastily denied. He only bought her a not-gift because she had mentioned, in passing in one of her letter, her approaching birthday

“Keep telling yourself that.” Potter said, relentless.

“You’re a secret romantic.” Diggory remarked, sounding very bewildered about it, “Well, this is unexpected.” He said right before he went back to his pie.

“I’m not,” he told Diggory and to Potter he threatened, as menacing as he could, “Don’t you dare spreading this rumor."

Henry half shrugged, as if this getting out was inevitable anyway. “Still better than McLaggen pinning for your brother.” He shot a side-eyed look at the boy in question.

“I’m not pinning.” McLaggen denied, stopping his read of the gazette to scowl at them.

The Daily Prophet seemed to have finally moved on, he remarked with relief, the cover showing up the latest game of Quidditch instead. Aberforth had begun to get sick of seeing the newly appointed Head Auror, and his ‘impressive success in uncovering the truth’. A certain Torquil Travers, or whatever was his name, who was said to have solved the missing cases happening in Paris during the last months, or as the journalists named them the ‘Portraits' Case’. Travers received a promotion, along a reward from the Rosier's family. It had been on every papers for weeks. Personally, Aberforth was going to wait for Vinda’s version before cheering for the guy.

“I just miss him very much. Especially during Defense and Transfiguration.” McLaggen continued as he sighed in longing, obviously pinning.

Aberforth made a face, while Diggory threw one hand in the air, the one not holding the pie for dear life that was. “Here we go, the Sigh again.” he regarded McLaggen flatly, “Get over it, please.” he made a motion to the Transfiguration Today’s journal that McLaggen had put inside the Prophet, a desperate attempt to fool them into thinking he gave up on his obsessive read of the latest article Albus had written. Aberforth thought this ‘crush’ (he shuddered) was going out of hand. “You’re starting to be worse than Professor Merrythought.” Diggory accused sourly.

“Don’t remind me.” Henry half mumbled into his glass of pumpkin juice, “I actually liked Defense before it turned into a contest of moping on Albus’ absence.”

Aberforth grumbled in affirmative. Since Albus left Hogwarts, the Defense class had become… strange. Professor Merrythought was clearly missing Albus’ clever input and so, she was often lost in remembrance as she said something like: ‘Albus would have done this’, ‘Albus would have understood’. More often than not, this was followed by a lot of sighing from her part.
And McLaggen’s. The two of them sighed in tandem sometimes. It was creepy, and thus, the Defense Against the Dark Arts had been renamed for the circumstance: 'Defense Against the Depression of Albus’. Everyone was trying their best to leave the class unscathed. Meanwhile McLaggen was not helping.

“Is Albus going to be there for your graduation?” McLaggen asked him, so hopeful that Aberforth grimaced.

“This is pathetic.” Diggory interceded, “Get your crush under control, if not for you then for the others who are around.” he gave him an exhausted look. “Have some mercy.”

“I don’t have a crush on Albus!” He blushed violently.

“Yeah, and the sky’s not blue.” Potter muttered, unimpressed.

McLaggen looked ready to combust. Since Aberforth actually had some pity, he told him, “Albus will come for my graduation; along my sister and aunt.”

His brother had written to him to confirm his presence weeks ago. Aberforth was still sore about the fact that he left wihout saying goodbye, he even wrote a long letter to him saying that it was rude and could he please dump Gellert?
Albus had answered that no, he wouldn’t please him, and that if Aberforth hadn’t been snoring into his cup of tea, he would have realized what was happening and be aware of the proper goodbye he was receiving, like Ariana and Honoria did.
Aberforth still denied he snored.

“Is your sister cute?” Henry asked, curious and completely shameless as he interrupted his musing.

“Don’t even think about it.” Abe said lowly, rising a finger at him in warning.

Potter gave him a shit eating grin. “That’s a yes, then.” He glowered at him with little effect. Potter tended to ignore those things with an envious mastery.

Diggory finished his pie before asking, “Say, is your brother still single?"

Henry groaned out loud, “Not you too!"

“Not for me.” Diggory smiled, “I’m asking for McLaggen. All this pinning, it’ll be a shame if it all went to waste.”

“I. Am. Not. Pinning!” McLaggen inserted loudly enough that Minerva McGonagall, a fifth year that Potter had picked up like some picked strays, lifted her head from her heavy book.

“Everyone knows you had it bad for Albus.” she told Mclaggen flatly, before resuming her reading. “Even Albus, I bet.” She lazily flipped a page of her book.

“How…” McLaggen started, baffled, “How do you know that?”

Minerva smirked, proving that Potter was an awful influence.

The man in question snorted. “You’re so not discreet. Next time shout it louder. The Slytherin’s table hasn’t heard you yet.”

Aberforth thought on how to best answer Diggory’s question. In one hand, he couldn’t outright say that Albus was, hopefully only temporarily, with Gellert. At Hogwarts most people were tolerant, but out there, the view on his brother’s relationship could be far more harsh. In another hand, he couldn’t say that Albus was with someone and leaving it to that. It will raise too much interrogation.
He mulled over it as he studied McLaggen. Harmless, wide-eyed, McLaggen. A bit of a nerd, with light brown hair and clear eyes. If Albus had a type, he would have been perfect. In fact, McLaggen was way better than Gellert. For one, Aberforth could intimidate him easily. And he would never dare to touch his goats. He smiled as a plan began to form.

“He’s completely single. Free as a bird.” he told a surprised McLaggen. “In fact, I think Diggory is right for once. You should go for it.”

He watched McLaggen splutter a reply. Even if his matching didn’t work it would annoy Gellert, which was always a plus in his book.

“Guys.” Diggory almost whined, “Do you fulfill the application's form? I just remember it.” he passed a hand in his hair in agitation and sighed, “Merrythought wants it for next week.”

“Yup. Did it days ago.” Potter said unconcerned. He snatched another piece of pie. Diggory gave him a betrayed look.

“I did mine too.” McLaggen replied. “What about you Abe?”

Aberforth hummed. He was, for a lack of better word, unconcerned with his graduation. He didn’t think it would change his life or anything. After school he had no grand career waiting for him, nor parents to impress.
He had no idea what to do, maybe because he was free to do anything. His application's paper was safe somewhere inside their dorms, desperately empty of ink or writing of any form from his part.

"You still hadn’t written anything did you?” Henry guessed by his silence. “Listen. My parents already organized for me to work at the Ministry.” he told him, “My only consolation is that I negotiated to be Auror instead of a boring desk-worker only. And you,” he stressed as he regarded him, “Can do bloody anything, and want to what? Own a pub?”

Aberforth rolled his eyes, “It was a thought.” he defended, “I want to run my own business.”

“But, this calls for money and...” Diggory trailed.

“I don’t have any.” Aberforth finished in a sigh.

“Well, think of something else.” Potter suggested, “I personally wanted to be Dragon Rider. Can you imagine it?” He beamed, his expression turning dreamy.

“No, because I want to live.”

“My parents said the same thing. And Professor Merrythought too.” he sighed, “You’re all so close-minded.” He lamented.

“What ‘bout Auror?” Diggory interceded. “You’re not bad at Defense. You can even do a corporal Patronus. I’m so jealous.” He whined fully this time.

Aberforth shrugged. “It’s not so hard.”

“It totally is.” Henry answered quickly, his whole face becoming animated. “You know, you could try and apply to the Aurors. I’m gonna need a partner.”

“You don’t need a partner. I have faith, you will find trouble on your own.” he told him in a wave of hand. “And working for the Ministry? Please.” He drawled as he rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Henry pushed, curious as ever.

“Because.” He said with some finality.

“What a developed answer.” Minerva muttered, proving that she could read and still intercede in a conversation just fine.

“I guess your family history could play against you, if you were to enter the program.” Diggory said carefully.

Aberforth gave him a hard look. “If I wanted to, I would. It’s just that I don’t see the point.”

“Helping people?” Diggory suggested. Aberforth fully grimaced at this. “Or not.”

“Then, could you help me practice the Patronus Charm? You know, since it’s easy.” Henry said, throwing his words back at him in challenge.

At this, Minerva’s head fully lifted to him. She regarded him with interest. He often found her cat eyes unsettling and now was not the exception.

“Dunno.” Aberforth replied eyeing Potter instead, “Couldn’t you just think of something you like and leave me in peace?”

“No. And peace is overrated. Peace is boring.” he told him, because of course Potter couldn’t be happy without some chaos happening near, to the point where he created it himself, “If you do your pub thing, you will have plenty of peace already. Come on.” he urged. “I’m going to be Auror, I may need it.” He rose his equivalent of the puppy eyes to him. Big chestnut eyes with, weirdly enough, freckles of gold into them, fixed him behind round glasses. He felt himself give a bit under his stare. Damn Potter and his puppy look.

Still, he thought about it.
Henry was not completely wrong, as much as it pained Aberforth to admit it. Potter was a magnet for trouble as much as a troublemaker, which meant that he could, technically, need the Patronus Charm. He huffed, he could already see how their practice would go: Potter, eager and vibrating with energy, and him, moody and irritable. Not a good mix, but then he guessed, he owned Potter for the all Quidditch's match they won, thanks to McGonagall. He pushed her into their team during their fourth year, Abe remembered how he thought she was just some serious girl, with her chocolate hair tied in a severe bun and her quick mind who, everyone knew, almost ended-up in Ravenclaw. But, once put on a broomstick, she had become totally wild.
Minerva McGonagall was fast proving to be one hell of a Seeker, and without Potter, they would probably have missed her out of blood prejudice or just plain prejudice.

“Ok, but if you’re annoying, I’m out.” He warned him.

“Yes!” Henry breathed, excited.

“How the hell do you manage to make people forget all common sense and help you is beyond me.” Diggory wondered as he bit into another piece of pie. “Is it me, or did you get better at it, somehow?” He asked in a frown as if realizing something.

Henry waved the matter away. “It’s the Potter’s charm. It makes us irresistible.” He showed it by making a wide stupid grin.

Minerva smiled at this. Aberforth had little doubt that she would find a way to follow Potter during their Patronus' practice. She had a thing for sliding silently somewhere, when Abe would have sworn she wasn’t even near previously. It was disconcerting.
And Potter seemed to have learnt the trick from her. It was not exactly the same, but he had managed to turn his natural sneakiness into an art form. Everyone knew he was the culprit but there were just no proof or witnesses. It was as if he as invisible as a ghost.

Last month, someone had managed to make several Exploding Snap, well, exploded inside the Ravenclaw’s common room, resulting into an exchange of spells as the sounds startled the students, who in reaction, had started casting. It had been a right mess. Harmless mostly, but still.

Two weeks ago, some Gryffindor’s girls got their shampoo spiked with a sticking potion. Their hair had been stuck in risible ways. The potion’s effects had lasted two days. (And Abe knew they were the same girls who had an argument with Minerva just some days prior).

Finally, three days ago, the Slytherins got their probably depressing common room, transformed into a glaring blue room, showered with snakes’ confetti from what he heard, traumatizing the barely woken up students. Greengrass, the Snake's Prefect this year, had marched into the Great Hall that morning, her heels clicking against the floor as she broke the eerie silence. Her neat and usually wavy caramel hair had been ruffled when she had made a beeline for Potter. She head slapped him as soon as she came close enough to do it. She had left them to their breakfast after that, and it was without saying a word that she had joined her table. Potter had resumed his eating unfazed.

“Still, are you sure you don’t wanna be Auror?” Diggory insisted, as he absently finished his dessert. “I mean, you could try it out and win some money in the meantime.”

“I don’t think this is made for me.” Aberforth mused out loud.

“Only way of knowing is to try.” Henry recited, before he smirked, and combined with his wild raven hair, it made him look awfully wicked. “Look, even McLaggen is going to try is luck at wooing your brother,” he pointed to the boy who regarded them nervously with his chin. “Is McLaggen more brave than you, then?”

Aberforth frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not falling for that.”

“Alright.” Henry told him, tranquil.

“There’s no comparison to make between McLaggen and I.” he insisted, “He once fainted while watching a Quidditch's match.”

“It’s true.” Henry agreed, unperturbed.

“In my defense, I didn’t have the time to eat breakfast that day.” McLaggen said weakly.

“Take a part of pie now.” Diggory prompted him.

“I am a Chaser for Merlin’s sake.” Aberforth continued, “I did plenty of dangerous stuff. I almost get hit by a bludger just to make our team win.”

“I remember.”

“A foolish move.” Minerva commented in a hum.

“So, in what world, is McLaggen more brave than me?! I’m way more courageous!” He affirmed, waving his arms wildly to highlight the fact.

“I’m sure you are.” Henry assured him peacefully.

“Hey!” McLaggen protested.

“Yeah? Well, you better.” Aberforth huffed. “Because I’m going to try for the Aurors.” He declared firmly.

Henry’s grin was victorious.

“Wow. What a surprising initiative.” Diggory congratulated, his voice flat, “When you realize what just happened,” he told Aberforth, “Just remember that we are all a little weak for Potter.”

Chapter 8

Notes:

I’m working on 3/4 chapters at the same time because I want to be sure that all the action/interaction is working well, hence the little delay.
Thank you for your patience!

Summer 1899

Albus was laying on his stomach on Gellert’s mattress. Gellert, on the other side, seemed gone to the world. He slept on his side with his arm still around Albus’s hips. He seemed so peaceful right now, that Albus chose to let him be, even if it was technically the middle of the afternoon. But Gellert’s Visions left him so often restless, Albus had letters coming up in the dead of the night to attest this, so he was careful to not disturb him, now that Gellert had finally found slumber.

Earlier, they had been debating on magical theories, curious about the ideas the other had, before they had been taken by… hum… another kind of curiosity.

They went to Gellert’s bedroom at Bathilda’s (who was gone for two days for her research) in a playful chase. Then, the door had closed behind them, and they had frantically got rid off every layers of clothes, discarded now somewhere on the floor.
Albus still reddened at the memory.

Aberforth was going to be mad again, he mused, as he would inevitably come home late. He was going to question where he had been, once again. Albus was starting to run out of excuses, and Aberforth never trusted them anyway. Maybe, he should just tell him the truth…? His fingers tapped, the sound muffled against the comfy mattress.
Not being able to predict his reaction was making him nervous.

So to distract him until Gellert woke up, Albus decided to rummage through the room. He put the first shirt he found on him, Gellert’s it seemed, for it was as dark as the night.
He bypassed the skull-hookah Gellert owned. He huffed at the way Gellert displayed it, on the top of his desk. Albus thought it was a bit morbid, even if it was efficient, in a very dramatic way. Perfect for Gellert then, he thought amused. He went for the shelves first, driven by curiosity at what Gellert could possibly have there.

There was a quill, along several rolls of parchment. A bottle of ink, and some books.

Albus chose one book, and flopped it down to read the cover. His eyes widened in surprise.
He inspected the book closely and carefully, his hands running along the cover. He smiled when he noted the fixed spine. He leafed through the first pages, recognized the triangle, the circle, the vertical line drawn there (he remembered tracing it, biting his lower lip in concentration, his feather quill tight around his fingers).
It was Albus’s book, without doubts. The one his father had gifted him so long ago. The one Aberforth had damaged during an argument. Albus had given it to Bathilda, after they arrived in Godric’s Hollow, right after his father’s trial. He had hoped then, that someone as her, who loved books as much as she did, could repair it.
She had taken it, hadn’t she? But if Albus recalled correctly, she had told him that she had been unable to fix it. She had never given it back to him. Instead, she had offered him another one.

Yet, here it was, unbroken, and in the middle of Gellert’s possession.

He laughed.

“Hum?” Gellert mumbled, his eyes, heavy with sleep, blinking toward him.

Albus came to sit on the edge of the bed and smiled widely, “You thief.” He accused him, as he gently tapped one finger on his nose

“Was?”

Albus laughed again. Honestly, it shouldn’t be surprising. Hadn’t Gellert stolen all of Albus already? His body, his mind, and he certainly took his heart too. It was almost logical that he owned his favorite book too.
And hadn’t Albus taken almost as much as he gave? To Gellert’s laugh to his shirt.

“Thief.” He repeated in a hush, as he leaned down to kiss his forehead.

 

*
1900, June, Saturday, 16th

“I can’t believe we made it.” Diggory said, eyeing the Fat Lady Portrait as they exited the Gryffindor’s common coom. They were dressed into their full school’s uniform for the last time, coupled with a pointed black hat for the special occasion. The ceremony would begin soon, as most families had already arrived Hogwarts. Armando Dippet, their school’s Headmaster, was going to give a speech, right before the Quidditch’s match for the Year Cup could start. It was only after all this decorum, that they would have the trace on their wands lifted.

“I can’t believe Aberforth made it.” Henry countered, as they stepped on the changing stairs, “You’re so bad at Potions.” He told him in a shake of head.

“Hey.” Abe reprimanded weakly, not aknowledging that his non-total-failure at it, had been a surprise for him as well.

“But, I managed to do a Patronus, so everything possible!” He preened, proud of the fact.

“You managed a white smoke. Barely.” Aberforth reminded him. It had taken many tries, and a lot of headaches from Aberforth’s part. But he supposed it was something.

“You won’t dim my enthusiasm.” Potter told him in a bright smile.

“What did you think of?” McLaggen asked Henry. “They say that the memory has to be powerful for a Patronus to appear.”

“I thought of dragons. Obviously.” he replied, as if it was evident, “And you, did you think of what you were going to tell Albus?” he grinned down at McLaggen, whose cheeks reddened dramatically, “Don’t worry, I will be your wingman my friend.” He declared as he put an arm around him in what Aberforth gathered; was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

“I don’t need a wingman.” McLaggen muttered under his breath.

“Please don’t.” Aberforth pleaded him, he actually needed this matching to work in order to exit Gellert from their lives. “Let him be, ok?”

The three others boys regarded him in surprise.

“You really care about it.” Diggory noted.

“That’s so suspicious.” Potter quickly added.

“Wh-why?” McLaggen questioned him.

“For nothing.” he evaded. “Don’t you all become paranoid.”

Henry hummed while McLaggen frowned at him.

Diggory exhaled, “I think I’m going to miss it, guys.” he admittted, “I mean, it had been seven years of our lifes… I was used to this school.”

“Holy Merlin’s beard.” Henry breathed as he let go of McLaggen. “You know I like you Daniel, but I forbid you to start with the nostalgia yet.”

“Everytime you call me Daniel, you remind me of my mother, right before she yells at me.” Diggory said.

“That’s because you know you’re doing it wrong.” Henry replied without missing a beat, “Look, first, I’m way too sober to hear it. And second, wait a couple of months at least. There are rules.” He told him serioulsy, but then, Potter could sell the most craziest lies with a straight face, so.

“But I’m feeling nostalgic now, Henry.”

“I’m going to help you think of something else then,” Potter generiously supplied. The stairs stopped and they stepped down from them to engage themselves into a busy corridor near the Great Hall. Some student’s family were already there and gushing at their children. A mother was righting her daughter’s hat, a son was running toward his waiting parents… It must be embarrassing, Aberforth decided, to be coddled like this. He ignored the spike of yearning it ignited in him. “Like the fact that the Gryffindor’s team is playing against the Hufflepuff’s for the Cup in less than one hour. And may I remind you, that you promised to help me drench the Hufflepuff’s dorm with jellies if they win?”

“It’s going to be weird, watching a match instead of playing it.” Diggory mused before he blinked, “Wait. When did I promise you that?” He asked.

“Yesterday.” Potter quickly moved on, “And let’s not forget that Aberforth’s mysterious little sister is coming.” His eyes lighted up in mischief.

“You.” he waved a finger in warning at Henry’s face, “Forget about her.” He threatened.

It slid off of Henry faster than water on a duck, “I wonder, what does she look like? Is she more like Albus or you?”

“Seriously, hand-off on my sister.” he said again, trying to put this idea out of Henry’s brain, “Or I will have to kill you.”

“Promises, promises.” A crystaline’s voice sang playfully, to his right. He turned toward it, as he felt an arm linking around his. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw her.

“Holy shit!” He cursed, taking two steps away from her. He bumped into Henry, and anyway, it didn’t shake her off, for she seemed stuck to his arm.

“Hullo to you too.” Vinda grinned, amused and here.

“Would you be… Vinda Rosier?” Diggory asked as he looked at her in unconcealed curiousity. “I saw a picture of you on the Daily Prophet.”

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Mister Diggory. Mister Potter and Mister McLaggen.” She greeted.

“How does she know our names?” Diggory asked in a faint voice, making sure that he was a good step away from her. She merely smiled wider at him, “Scary.” He whispered as he smiled back, uneasily.

Potter, who despite knowning what the word ‘danger’ meant, didn’t care for it, smirked in delight. “Aberforth didn’t tell us his girlfriend was coming.”

Abe wasn’t blushing. Blushing was for those who had something to blush for. He was just… mortified, at his friends’ behaviour. Yes, that was it. His friends were all terrible.

Vinda titled her head to the side, considering Henry with her clear eyes.
To her credit, she was wearing a deep red dress. It ended up at her knees, full and fluffy looking, while the top was like a glove on her skin, perfectly made for her, and showing off her slim waist. She had little sleeves, barely covering her skin past the shoulders, the crimson fabric here wrinkled on purpose. Her black hair were waving lazily and coiffed neatly onto her left side. She wore a styled hat, how it kept on her head was a mystery, decorated with creamy white feathers, that gave her an aristocratic air.

“It’s because, I didn’t outright tell him.” She finally replied unpertubated by the ‘grilfriend’ word.

Aberforth, on the other hand, was deeply unsettled by the ‘girlfriend’ word. And the complete lack of denying. It probably didn’t mean anything.
Right?
Right.

Henry gave Aberforth a very telling look, with exaggerate wide eyes and all. Diggory seemed merely happy to let this play out without him. In fact, he was even not so discreetly beginning to leave them to it. McLaggen for his part was clearly considering this option as well, if the way he was eyeing Diggory’s exit was anything to go by.

“Why didn’t you simply tell me you were coming instead of writing vague little sentences?” Aberforth asked her, a bit grumpy. Henry, on his side, elbowed him and mouthed ‘rude!’ at him. He glared at Potter, even though it didn’t deter him.

Vinda took no offence of it anyway. “I wanted to surprise you. Does it bother you?” She asked, turning her clear eyes on him, full force.

“N-no.” He stammered. He saw Henry rolled his eyes and he heard a definite ‘hopeless’.

She smiled satisfied, “Then my surprise worked.”

“Tell her you like her dress.” Henry proposed as he whispered into his ear. Aberforth swatted him away. “So ungratful.” He told him in a normal volume while making a hurt face.

“Go away.” Aberforth growled.

“He’s very testy, isn’t he?” Henry asked Vinda instead.

“Yes, I believe you’re right.” Vinda grinned at Potter.

“Seriously, go away.”

“I hope, he’s more nice with you.” Potter continued.

“Barely.” she said, “He didn’t even want us to try Hepatomancy on his goats.”

If Henry was shocked by her words, he concealed it perfectly. He shook his head in despair, “I hope for you he’ll come around. A little activity to do together is always good.”

“This is exactly what I thought. I had even choosen something with goats so he would like it.” She sighed a little, a delicate gesture that he was sure was calculated.

Henry gave him a very disappointed look, “You could make an effort.”

Aberforth looked back and forth at them, unbelieving. “Do you know what the word ‘hepatomancy’ even mean?” He asked Henry.

“It’s when you open up an animal in order to read the future into its entrails, no?” He wondered inoncently.

“That’s pretty morbid.” McLaggen commented lowly.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed pointing at him, to show that he wasn’t the only one thinking so, “And this is all the reaction you have?” He asked at Potter.

“It’s not my thing, but hey,” Henry shrugged, “I’m not judging.”

Aberforth blinked at him in shock, “You’re going to be such a lame Auror.” he realized. “I like my goats alive and well, not dead and bleeding.” He grumbled.

“Oh, you’re going to try for the Aurors?” Vinda asked Potter in interest.

“Yes. The recruitments start in September. I hope to be taken.” He rubbed his two hands together in anticipation.

“If they take you, the Ministry will be in tatters before the end of the year.” Aberforth flatly foresaw. He couldn’t see how Potter could stop himself from being himself. It was inevitable, really.

“I hope you will be chosen, then.” She told Potter quite seriously.

“Thanks!” he perked up. “That’s awfully nice.”

“She only wants to rule Britain after you had broken it from the inside.” Aberforth guessed.

Henry gazed at him before he smirked, “Aberforth is trying for the Aurors too, did he tell you?” He slipped meaningfully.

Aberforth grimaced. If this hadn’t turned into a sort of bet where his honour was at play, he would have taken the out right away.
How did he let Potter convince him this it was a good idea was beyond him.

Vinda’s surprised look was answer enough. “No, he didn’t.” she said, before a pensive expression took place on her face, “It seems as if it’s a far more popular carreer’s choice than I thought.”

“You know someone else who’s Auror?” He asked her.

“No, only,” she smiled, “Someone who would have taken pleasure in interrogating people, I believe.”

“So someone creepy, in short.” Aberforth resumed.

Weirdly, Vinda seemed pleased by this, “He can be so cute, don’t you think?” She said to Henry.

“Cute? Now, I have to hear about this.” Henry smirked in delight at the prospect of juicy gossip’s material.

“No, you don’t.” Aberforth said in a rush. Potter was, unfortunately out of pushing reach.

“Say, did you meet Aberforth’s sister?” Potter asked her instead.

“I did.” Vinda divulged, “She’s near the big Pendulum, with Albus.”

Henry’s eyes lighted up. “You’re awsome.” he breathed at her, “See ya!” He waved at Aberforth and winked (winked!), before rushing away, dragging with him an uneasy Felix McLaggen by the sleeve of his robe.

“Why?” He whined to Vinda.

She lifted one elegant eyebrow, “You wanted him to leave, he left.”

“But now he’s gonna pester Ariana.” He sighed.

“I think she can handle him.” she said unconcerned. One of her hand was still resting on his arm. “I wonder, do the kitchens house-elves have a frying pan we could use?”

“What.” he frowned at her, after some thinking, no logical explanation came to him, “What would you want to do with it?” He asked her, lost.

“I don’t know.” she smirked, a bit deviously, “Many things.”

Aberforth stared at her for a bit, before he shook his head. He had no delusions, he never thought he would understand her.

She changed subject with ease, “I have yet to tell you about my traumatic experience.” she told him with a satisfied smile that contrasted with her words, “But first, did you hear that the woman who abducted me is in prison? Chateau d’If is said to be cold and depressing. What a fortunate thought, mon Ministère had, don’t you think?”

 

*
“It’s strange to be here again.” Albus thought out loud.

He watched the soon-to-be-graduated students with their pointed hats and excited grins, surrounded by their families or friends. He didn’t feel nostalgic per se, his own graduation had been concealed as he was to come home before the ceremony could happen.

He wondered if his mother would have come. She so rarely used to leave their house, choosing to stay with Ariana at all times.
He wished she had spared more days for him, before she had run out of them completely. Albus still marveled at it sometimes, how Kendra could have declared that Ariana needed her so fiercely, without once wondering if her sons needed her as well. A mystery for another time, he guessed as he needed to focus.
The cloak of invisibility was, finally, within their reach.

Albus was very torn about it. He liked Henry Potter, even considered him a friend, and he doubted that he would simply let them steal it. Henry protected what was his preciously, and wouldn’t react well to people trying to rob him.

Also, Albus might have begun to wonder if they truly needed the cloak.

Its purpose was to hide. It was the exact opposite of what they wanted to do. Lifting the International Statue of Secrecy was for wizards to finally be seen. They were hiding enough without adding an invisibility cloak into it.
But Albus was also curious, and seeing a Hallow, finally having a confirmation of their very existence, wasn’t something he could pass up.
And Gellert wouldn’t be deterred without at least trying, this he knew, so he would help him try. He showed him a hidden way leading straight to the Room of Requirement. Graduates had their trunk, with all their belongings, inside their dorms until they left.
Henry might have put the cloak there, along his other possession. Albus had described to Gellert how to find and enter the Gryffindor’s dormitory. He would join him later, disappearing discreetly while the match was in full play.
He doubted anyone would notice his absence, and Vinda could divert attention if needed.
Especially Aberforth’s attention.
Now, if Henry carried the cloak on him, well… Albus was on his way to get this covered too.

“It’s strange to be here, period.” Ariana added, breaking his musing, “I never thought I would set a foot inside this school.” she divulged, craning her neck up to watch the little folded parchments happily flapping their wings of paper inside the corridors. “Are your Spectrespecs working?” She wondered.

Albus tapped on the glasses’ frames he was wearing, “I have yet to see any Wrackpurts.” he hummed as he looked around, searching them. “What did you decide about the French’s school? Beauxbâtons?” He absently inquired now, while they were alone, with Honoria engrossed in a conversation with the Herbology’s professor near the lake (they had been talking about aquatic’s plants and their uses, right before they both decided to check them for themselves), and Aberforth away.

Ariana turned wide eyes to him, “How do you know about this?”

“Honoria told me.” at her panicked look, he added, “Not Aberforth, for now though. Otherwise, he’ll be there, and loudly asserting his view on it, I’m sure.” He told her around an agreeable smile. Aberforth disapproving of it was inevitable, really.

She seemed appease at this.“I hadn’t decided yet.” she admitted in a hush, “I want to go, but a part of me still think I’m not allowed to.” she fiddled with her hair, twisting a blond strand she had tied with a white ribbon around her fingers in a nervous manner. “What do you think of it?”

He chose his answer carefully. “I think, if you want to try it, you should.” he told her softly, “You had enough people telling you what to do Ariana. It’s time you decide what you want or don’t, for yourself.” Albus wanted to see what she could be, without his mother hiding her behind locked doors, and his brother over-protective nature shadowing her, “The real question therefore is, what do you want to do?”

Ariana regarded him for a long time. She seemed surprised, and Albus was left to wonder, when was the last time someone had let her decide something for herself. He felt suddenly, immensely remorseful. He hadn’t checked on her as much as he should have. Aberforth was right, he was an awful brother. Albus could only hope she would let him be better from now on.

“I want to go to Beauxbâtons with Vinda.” She stated, her voice wavering a bit, as if she thought he would deny her this.

Albus smiled proudly at her. “Then, you will go to Beauxbâtons.” she smiled back, tentative, “Now, we’ll just have to break the news to Aberforth.” He cheerfully said. Aberforth needed to learn to share their little sister. Albus guessed there would be a lot of sulking in the immediate futur.

“He’s not gonna like it.” She predicted in a grimace.

Albus grinned, “No, I guess he’s not.” He personally hadn’t liked being almost Obliviated last summer either, after all. Aberforth would have to cope.

“Hey. You’re really back.” He heard someone said.

Albus turned to a grinning Henry Potter, his pointy hat neatly put on the top of his head, and Felix McLaggen, who appeared to be uncomfortable inside his own graduation’s robe.

He smiled. “Yes, it seems as if I always end up here.”

Henry laughed, “Yeah, well, I hope I will find my way out. I don’t want to grow old here.” at this, they shook hands. “What are you wearing?” He questioned as his hand made a motion to his eyes.

“A little souvenir I bought from the Exposition in Paris.” Albus explained. Gellert had called it a waste of money, but Albus had liked their bright design. In the end, even Gellert had to admit that they could be useful. (Of course it had taken Albus a month of working on them, and the praise had been given rather reluctantly, but Albus took it for the clear victory it was.)

“Oh, they’re nice!” Felix said.

“Can you even see with this?” Henry asked around a smile.

Albus smiled too, his eyes twinkling in amusement behind his glasses. “So well, I believe I can see the invisible.”

Henry laughed. “You hadn’t changed. I heard you were still busying yourself with Transfiguration’s articles.”

Albus silently acquiesed. “You read them?”

“No. But McLaggen read them, right?” He nudged at the boy next to him.

“I – I did.” the boy in question blurted, “I thought they were truly well written. It was fascinating to read.”

Albus almost blushed at how heartfelt the compliment sounded. “Thank you, you’re really nice.”

Henry smiled in satisfaction. “So… ” he trailed, “You’re not presenting us?” He teased gently, montionning at Ariana, who had stayed silent so far.

“Of course. Excuse me.” he apologized quickly, “Ariana, this is Henry Potter, and Felix McLaggen,” his sister made a little bow with her head, “ Felix, Henry, this is Ariana Dumbledore, my sister.”

Felix nodded shyly at her in greeting while Henry returned her bow playfully. “I didn’t think I would ever meet you, to be honest.” Henry confided to her, “You’re all Aberforth doesn’t talk about.”

“Huh?” she tilted her head in thoughts. “You mean, I’m all he talks about, right?”

“No.” he refuted, definitive. “You’re definitely non-spoken. Almost deliberately so, dare I say. And I’m awfully curious, you see.” he leaned close to her, as if sharing a secret, “This is my only flaw.”

She blinked at him, unsure it seemed, to what make of him. Albus believed this wasn’t a rare occurrence for Henry. Still, it would be better if Henry didn’t decide to snoop too much into Ariana’s past. Albus smiled.

“Tell me, who’s playing for the Cup this year?” he interceded in the conversation smoothly. “Aberforth had given me so very little details.” He pretended, for he knew exactly who played. A little white lie had never hurt anyone, he mused.

“It’s Gryffindor against Hufflepuff.” Henry replied, his attention diverted for now. “I can’t believe Aberforth, this is crucial information!” he exclaimed, animated now, “Minerva is playing, she’s going to take over the captain position since Wood is graduating as well.” He proudly told them.

“What’s her position in the team?” Ariana asked Henry.

“Seeker. You will recognize her easily, she’s the one winning.”

“Does she still wish to become a professional player?” Albus asked him. Minerva was a perfect subject to occupy Henry with. Safe and sure. Henry’s fondness for her was obvious, always been, ever since she stumbled into the Gryffindor’s table after minutes and minutes of indecision and silence from the Sorting Hat’s part.

“You bet.” his eyes lighed up in excitement, “I’m sure she can do it. I mean, she’s so good.” He praised.

“I’m sure she will manage it as well.” Albus assured. Minerva McGonagall was a fierce and smart witch. He had little doubt about her success. “What about you, Felix? What are your projects for the future?”

Felix’s eyes widened in alarm, though why they did, Albus had no idea. He had always been a bit fidgety, Albus remembered the time he had stepped up to help some students with their Potions’ skills. Felix had been downright nervous that day, in the classroom their professor had agreed to open for their practice, though Albus had attributed this more to the delicate ingredients they had been dealing with, and to the fear of his cauldron exploding, than something else.

“I’m,” he started in a small voice, “I’m going to be journalist.”

“He had been taken at the Quibbler.” Henry supplied helpfully.

“Are you going to write articles for them, then?” Ariana wondered.

“Probably not at first, but, soon, I hope.” He told her in a tentative smile.

“Congratulation, ” Albus smiled at Felix, “You must be very proud.”

Felix nodded in quick succession. Henry sighed. “We should go. Dippet is about to start his –hopefully- short speech.”

“You’re right.” Albus acknowledged. “Let’s attend together.” He proposed.

“Amazing idea.” Henry smiled meaningfully at Felix. Albus frowned at them in confusion. “My parents are going to be late anyway, but they assured me that they would be there for the end of the match.” he informed them, “My mother is a big Quidditch supporter.” Henry confided, amused it seemed, by his parents’ excentricities.

The four of them began to make their way to the field. Honoria would certainly join them later. Albus adjusted his glasses, and watched Henry talking with Ariana as Felix asked him questions on his Transfiguration’s article.

Notes:

So, should our guys succeed in stealing the cloak? Tell me what you think of it!

Chapter 9

Notes:

Thank you for all your comments, I really appreciate it <3

Dippet’s speech was as boring as expected, Aberforth thought. He droned on and on about adulthood, responsabilities and ‘the new life opening its arms to them’, or something profound like this.
Stuck in the Quidditch’s stands with the rest of Dippet’s unfortunate public, he was busy sending daggers at Potter every time he leaned over Ariana to tell her, whatever it was that Potter was telling her. She seemed mostly bemused, which annoyed Aberforth greatly. He gave her lessons (lessons!), and showed her the right way to swat someone, and for what? Did none of his siblings learn anything from his ‘how to ditch an annoying brat’ class? Was something not clear in his teaching? Aberforth had thought the title to be explicit enough, but apparently not.
All this energy given for a good cause, and nothing to show for it. He sighed audibly. Fine, he would do it by himself, damnit.

But for now, Vinda seemed unwilling to let go of his arm, so maybe yetting Potter off his sister would have to be postponed. Aberforth felt her presence by his side keenly, her floral perfume surrounding him as surely as her hand resting on his arm.
(He was not blushing.)

On the other side, Albus was speaking animatedly with McLaggen, so at least his matchmaking might play out right, and who knew, this might be the thing that pushed Gellert out of their lives for good.
(One could dream.)

The Headmaster finished his speech (finally), and the players began to enter the field. The Hufflepuff’s team came first, the whole space becoming black and yellow. They were soon followed by the Gryffindors, and the stadium changed into red and gold as the players came. Minerva McGonagall came up in the front as the new captain. They were far more dashing than the Hufflepuff, in Aberforth’s unbiased opinion.
He heard Henry cheering loudly. Ariana was clapping her hands together in fervor, taken it seemed, by the general enthusiasm inside their stand. Albus was as immune to it as he usually was. The two of them would probably have more things to say to one other if he had expressed an interest in Quidditch.
Even Elphias had played it, while Albus had remained unimpressed with the game.

But today, Aberforth found his brother positively distracted. His eyes, hidden behind the most tasteless glasses Aberforth ever saw, (and he paired this up with a plum waistcoat with a floral’s pattern, along an equally blazing plum trouser. One word: why?) were sending furtive looks at Henry. Albus was watching the match start absently. His fingers were drumming, tapping a fast rhythm on his legs. It was as if he couldn’t wait to be out there.
Or as if he was awaited somewhere else.
Aberforth frowned.

“Why are you making this face for?” Vinda asked him, “The Hufflepuff have yet to mark any points and yet you seem already indisposed.”

He raised one eyebrow at her. “Indisposed? Seriously?”

“Would you prefer another term?” she smiled at him, amused, “Bothered, maybe?”

Aberforth huffed, “I’m not bothered. I’m… interrogative.” He settled for.

“Are you?” she tilted her head, and regarded him curious, “About what?”

“What was the ‘rest’ you mentioned in your letter?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes at her. “And what truly happened during your kidnapping?”

“Abduction.” She absently corrected.

“If you prefer.” he personally didn’t see the difference, “So?” He prompted expectant.

“The ‘rest’ was only my visit today,” she began, apparently unoffended to be interrogated. “You keep going back to it.” she noted. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” She wondered, looking a bit deceived.

Aberforth’s cheeks flushed, and he backtracked. “I… I mean, yes, I mean… ” he trailed, a bit awkwardly. How did you say to someone that you were really happy to have them there, without telling them that? Merlin, social interactions could be so hard. It was way easier with his goats. “I’m glad.” He shut himself up before he could stammer something utterly embarrassing.

Vinda smiled, pleased, at him. “I’m glad too.”

Aberforth absolutely didn’t blush at this. If some, later, claimed that he did, he would deny it. The sun was high, the air of the day was warm. There, nothing more.
He managed to relax during two seconds, before he remembered the not-gift he had bought her, now sleeping somewhere inside his trunk. He tensed and Vinda, noticing this, gave him a questioning look.

“I,” he started, “I need to go fetch something. Inside?” he babbled as she continued to watch him blankly, “I won’t be long.” He said as he get out of her grip and out of his seat. He started to leave before he could lose courage. He barely caught her eyes widening in surprise.

“Wait –” She called after him, starting to rise up too.

“I’ll be back, promise.” He assured her.

He completely missed the urgent gaze she shared with his brother or the way her lips turned into a displeased moue.
He had a not-gift to retrieve.

 

*
Gellert thought Hogwarts’ castle was a bit hazardous.
From what Albus told him, there was a forest near full of dangerous species. They held classes there, and sometimes, even detentions at night. Rumors had it, that there were werewolves lurking inside, along centaurs and unicorns. A legend talked about a malediction one of the school’s founders left behind which should activate ‘when the time came’. Its goal was to kill half-bloods. There were ghosts walking down the corridors and trying to scare off the students that had the misfortune to cross them.

And people thought Durmstang was Dark?

To add to this, they teached Divination with tea leaves, an insult to all Seers. He understood Albus discarding the whole class completely, in fact he wanted to meet the one who dared teaching it. He had a couple of chosen words for them.

And there was also a place full of magical items, probably bordering on illegal, accessible if one knew how to find the room.
He stepped inside said room through a little wardrobe, and wasn’t it bizarre to get out of it, to push the creaky wooden’s door from the inside instead of the outside?
He righted his vest as he climbed out, throwing a glance at the Vanishing Cabinet. It appeared so ordinary standing here, looking like any other furniture instead of what it truly was. Gellert wondered if the school’s Headmaster even knew the kind of thing his castle was holding inside its walls.
The Room of Requirement was full of old things, each one of them seemed to have been put here only to gather the dust. Everything seemed to be still, but the calm atmosphere only made him wonder what could be hiding under this pretense.
He spared some minutes to explore the place. Albus wouldn’t be able to leave before the match begin, and Gellert should find his way to the Gryffindor’s dormitory easily enough now that he had been told where and what to search for.

One object, in particular, caught his eyes.

He couldn’t explain why it did; perhaps, it was because unlike the rest it stood fierce and imposing. It was covered by a drape of sort, and Gellert took it off carefully, not knowing what to expect on the other side, but it only revealed a foot tall mirror. He touched the reflecting surface; it was cool under his fingers, but he could feel the magic humming from it.
He retracted his hand quickly, and as he inspected it more closely, he noticed the inscription written at the top. He had to crane his neck up to read it, and even then, it took him a minute to translate the message engraved there.

“I show not your face, but your heart's desire.” He finally recited out loud.

He looked back again at the object in curiosity now, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe this thing wasn’t even working, he mused; and maybe it needed a spell to be activated. But then he noticed the wand his reflection was holding, and how unlike to his it was. It was a couple of inch longer, Gellert had rarely, if never, seen such a long wand. The wood was different too, straighter; looking unyielding and unbending, as well as lighter. There were, here and there, little pearls of woods punctuating its length.

The more Gellert stared at it, the more he was sure; this was supposed to be the elder wand.

The other him smiled, wicked, then, before twirling the magical stick between his fingers, showing off. Gellert ignored the display and instead, stayed focused on the wand.
It seemed so close. If Gellert outstretched his arm, he could almost believe he could grab it. But he knew it was only this; an illusion made by a tempting mirror. Losing sight of what was real could be a dangerous thing for a Seer. Many had ended up mad because of this. Gellert refused to end up with dementia, like some of his ancestor, or worse, to start thinking a pink dress could go well with a green and yellow coat as his grandmother so liked to believe.

He was wondering if the mirror was showing him how he, Gellert, thought the elder wand looked like or if it was truly how it was – he bet Albus would have a theory about it - when his reflection wavered suddenly, like a ricochet dropping inside a clear water. The wand disappeared as fast as it came. He watched it fade from his reflection’s fingers in dismay. The other him held his now empty hand out, and Gellert frowned, wondering what he was even expecting; but then fingers, from outside the mirror’s frame, settled inside his reflected palm lightly, a feather touch that seemed uncertain at first, before fully closing his fingers in his reflection’s waiting hold. Albus came into view as he was almost yanked toward Gellert.
The other Gellert broke into a smile then. He looked so happy even though he probably lost the most powerful wand in wizard’s History, and -

He shook his head and made himself look away. He reminded himself that he didn’t have time for this. He was needed elsewhere.

He rapidly exited the room before he could be tempted to stay longer, and changed into his Animagus’ form as soon as he was out. It was maybe more tricky to walk like this, but it was far more discreet. He wandered into some corridors before he found the moving stairs. He let them took him next to a wall displaying a huge painting of an even bigger woman.
The Fat Lady, as Albus had called her.

“Meow.” He said loudly enough to attract her attention.

She tore her eyes from the vanity mirror she was admiring herself in. She cooed when she noticed him. “Aww. Aren’t you cute?” she made kissing noises and Gellert barely refrained a shudder, “Another familiars who lost itself. Poor thing.” she pitied him, her face making an exaggerate moue, “Go inside and find your master’s trunk fast. The house-elves are coming soon to fetch them.” She warned him as she opened the frame of her painting. He gladly trotted inside.

Inside, the whole place was covered in red and gold, and Gellert internally grimaced. These houses were truly ridiculous. He didn’t understand how Albus could have looked at this for seven years and not be sick of it. He still wore his Gryffindor’s scarf fondly, and it had been half the reason Gellert had chosen red and yellow wool for the socks he had made for him last Christmas.
This was bordering on obsessive, he decided when he saw that even the pillows of the couch were red and gold.

He rapidly passed the common room, and he followed the direction he had been given. He hopped on one stair at a time, and as he came into the seventh year boy’s dorm, he was faced with a new problem; as six trunk were disposed next to six beds.

He spotted Aberforth’s trunk easily (a picture of a baby white goat put onto it, unsurprising) and couldn’t resist scratching it with his claws. There, he thought smugly. He might have been purring by the time he finished destroying it.
He then inspected the others five. He circled around them, trying to detect the energy of a Deathly Hallow. Surely, a powerful magical object such as the cloak of invisibility should let out something. But nothing came from the first two he looked at. But as he went toward the third one, he caught a faint sent. Something old and frozen. Gellert’s cat instinct wanted to flee away from it. But, as he was more than a simple cat, he didn’t.
He casted a non-verbal Alohomora. He heard the lid of the case unlock softly, but he barely had the time to be satisfied, before he realized that his little spell had apparently activated some sort of alarms. Gellert cursed. Some people could be so paranoid, he thought. He was about to transform back and take care of those wards, when a man stormed inside the dorm. It was, unfortunately, not Albus, but Aberforth, who immediately zeroed on him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his tone a fine line between outright accusing and interrogative.

“Meow.” He lazily told him, for it was true.

Aberforth took a deep breath that betrayed his, already, growing impatience. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m asking anymore.” he tiredly massaged his temples. Gellert thought that was probably the most sensible thing Albus’s brother ever said. It would be better for everyone’s sake, if Aberforth learnt to not snoop into other’s business. “Just, you know, shoo.” He made hands gestures to go with his words, as if Gellert hadn’t got them just fine already.

He sat, stubbornly, next to Potter’s trunk and fixed him with a steady gaze.

“Really?” Aberforth snorted, “What now? Are you going take your nap here or something?” he questioned. His eyes then travelled to his own trunk, and he shouted in outrage, “Did you scratch my picture of Blanchette?!”

Gellert did the cat equivalent of rolling his eyes. Such a tiring individual. Some people actually had to steal centuries old artifact here.

“What are you doing here?” a new voice asked, startled, “Am I interrupting your conversation?”

Gellert turned his eyes toward the newcomer. The man wore a dark robe coupled with a pointed hat, like Aberforth. A new graduate, then.

“Don’t be stupid, Potter.” Aberforth grumbled moodily, likely still sore about his precious goat’s picture.

Gellert was staring at him in more interest. Black hair and big glasses. Albus had described him well. But Aberforth had never been part of their plan. He was, as usual, unnecessary invading their careful scheming.

“Well, if you’re not having a private meeting with a cat, which you ditch Rosier for –honestly – then the question remains: what are you doing here?” One of Potter’s hand was on his wand, a startling clear wood stick. On edge.

Gellert’s tail moved as he mused over his options.
He would, gladly, let Potter curse Aberforth while he took off with the cloak. But Potter was eyeing him more distrustful it seemed of a cat, than of Aberforth.
A pity.

“I didn’t ditch Vinda!” Aberforth denied, “I was searching for – for,” he trailed, “That’s not the important part! And I could ask you what you’re doing here as well!”

His defense was so weak, Gellert thought. It still amazed him that he and Albus were related. Potter rolled his eyes, clearly agreeing with him.

“Is the cat yours?” Henry Potter inquired. Aberforth visibly bristled, just as Gellert hissed at the mere suggestion. “So that’s a ‘no’ then?” He said nonchalantly, thought Gellert noticed that the grip of his hand tightened.

“This thing,” Aberforth started as he pointed at him. Gellert regarded his fingers dance next to his face and bit into one in retaliation (he was no ‘thing’). Aberforth made a pained sound and he quickly snatched his hand back. “Is a menace.” he continued between a clenched jaw as he nursed his abused finger. “And it’s absolutely not related in any way to me.”

Gellert internally smirked. Ah, if only he knew. He longed for the day he could throw their blood pact to his face (figuratively speaking). His expression would be a delight, he bet. For now though, he would be content to get rid of him. Today, if possible.

“Alright.” Potter was eyeing them wearily, “On another note, I think McLaggen is this close to confess to Albus.” He told Aberforth in an excited tone. Gellert’s ear moved at Albus name, and… Mc-who now?

“Huh. Really?” Aberforth wondered, incredulous.

“Don’t sound so shocked, I’m the best wingman.” he huffed at Aberforth disbelieving face, “Which is why I know that leaving Rosier behind like this, is a no-no.”

“I didn’t lea-” he cut himself off when he saw the flat look Potter was giving him, “You know what? Forget it. I’m just…” he trailed as he spared a look at Gellert, and without reason, sneered. “So happy about McLaggen and Albus.” he smiled broadly, a strange expression for his face, more used to scowl, “Finally, they’re going to be together. They took their time, but Merlin knows they had been getting in that direction for years. Years.” he repeated loudly. “So glad, they realized their feelings,” he insisted on the words, “For each other.”

Potter frowned in confusion at Aberforth, “Why are you so weird?”

Meanwhile, Gellert’s claws were digging painfully into the carpet covering the dorm’s ground, wishing it was Aberforth’s skin instead of this thick material.
Rationally, he knew Aberforth was only making things up to anger him. But Potter had mentioned it first, and if Aberforth had every reason to be a pain, Potter didn’t even know who he was, so he couldn’t be saying this on purpose.
This meant that there was a man out there, with Albus right now, who was trying to court him.
This was unacceptable.

“And Felix is such a nice guy too.” Aberforth continued to wax poetry on the man, and Gellert barely resisted the urge to bite his fingers again. “Pretty sure he never got involved with Dark magic.”

There was a beat of silence, during which Aberforth looked down at him with intent. Gellert glowered at him silently. He was glad that he ruined his stupid goat’s picture. That was the last he deserved for being such a nuisance.

“You’re freaking me out sometimes.” Potter told his friend.

“I’m perfectly normal, compared to some.” Aberforth defended hotly, turning his attention to Potter as he did so, and Gellert used this opportunity to act.

He transformed back, his body and vision changing along him, and Aberforth, who was apparently still traumatised from last winter, hastly covered his eyes, thus reacting exactly as Gellert had anticipated. He even spared a hand for Potter, who let out a surprised sound, obscuring both of their visions for now. Gellert smirked as he righted his sleeves. He had managed to make his clothes shift along him after months of practise under Albus’s expert eyes. (He might have pretended to fail during some extra weeks. His naked mishap often leading to… something else.)
As Aberforth was rapidly coming out of his fear of seeing too much of his form, and was on his way to drop his hands, Gellert aimed his wand at him, pointing it right between his eyes.

“Somnolus.” he intoned. Aberforth’s eyes went comically wide as the spell hit, before his whole body fell, all his weigh dropping onto the floor. Gellert watched it impassively. “Don’t go around complaining,” he warned at the sleeping and now, snoring figure of Aberforth, “You almost begged for this.” He swung his wand in the air. Now, this left only him and a shocked Potter.

“What the hell?” the man in question said, his own wand fully trained on him now, “Who are you?”

“Someone interested by a certain possession you have.” He truthfully replied as he bypassed Aberforth’s lax form. Potter took a step or two backward, even as Gellert closed on him.

“You’re after my cloak.” Potter stated as he studied him.

“Indeed.” Gellert smiled, pleased that he was spared a boring and possibly long explanation; he still needed to find Mc-whatever-was-his-name after this. “So, you know what is it, then?” His fingers were feeling the wood of his wand. He had yet to raise it at Potter.

“I know enough.” he replied, terribly vague, “I know, I’m not giving it to you.” Potter steady his grip on his wand, openly defying him now.

“Well.” Gellert drew his too. Together they bowed. “Let’s not be said I didn’t ask politely first.”

 

*
Henry didn’t have the cloak on his person.
The magic used to make someone or something invisible left a distinct mark, a sparkle. It was advanced magic after all, and those kinds of spells always stood out from the rest. A fact that Albus used to make his Spectrespecs aware of all invisible’s being, instead of only Wrackpurts.

And right now, his glasses didn’t detect any trace of it.

Of course, the Hallow could be an exception, but Albus thought this was unlikely. The magic used for the cloak must only be more powerful, but not different in the end, than another invisibility cloak.
He took them off his face, and pocketed them inside his waistcoat. It was disappointing, but not overly so, after all, Gellert must already be inside the Gryffindor’s common room.

Albus was wondering how he could exit Felix’s enthusiasm, when first, Aberforth had left, closely followed by Henry, who had nearly stormed out under the surprised eyes of Ariana. Albus had a bad feeling.
He shared another urgent look with Vinda, they needed to get out of there and now. He was halfway through making up an excuse, someone had to check and see why Henry had gone after all, when he heard a sound of impact followed by a distinctive ‘crack’. It generated a huge commotion inside the stands.

“A broom breaking?” Ariana wondered out loud as she stood along the others spectators who were all squinting their eyes against the blazing sun, trying to see what was happening in the air, way past the clouds.

“Maybe.” Albus replied, looking up as well, his leave forgotten for now. “Who was up there?” He asked as he had been too distracted to really follow the match.

“The Hufflefuff’s Seeker along –” Vinda started.

“Look!” Felix cut her off, and pointed at the sky, “They’re here!”

The Hufflefuff’s Seeker suddenly went down; he bumped into one of the stand rather violently, before he ended up rolling on the ground. He shook his head and slowly got up, unharmed it seemed, if shaken. He was closely followed by a Gryffindor’s player, who unlike him, had their broom snapped into two, and was desperately clinging into it even as they free fell.

“They’re going too fast.” Vinda remarked in a grave tone.

“The player –” Felix realized as his clear eyes widened in alarm.

Screamed. Albus recognized the voice at once.
Minerva.
He took out his wand and pointed it on her. Took a deep breath and concentrated on her and only on her.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” He intoned firmly.

At first, his spell didn’t seem to work, for she was still falling. She was getting so close to the ground. Catching her demanded more than this now.
He clenched his jaw. He didn’t have the time to cast another spell. He pushed on this one instead, his magic crackling into the air around him as he put more power besides it. He knew he had her, only when the pressure on his wand increased. His fingers curled around the dark wood. She was heavy, Merlin, and Vinda hadn’t been wrong, she had been falling rapidly. This meant that now he had to lift her and all the weight she was gaining from her fall, at once. Gravity, he cursed. His arm began to lower.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” he heard someone cast above him. He spared a glance up, unwilling to totally break his concentration in fear of dropping Minerva. Galatea Merrythought was standing, her long blue night dress cutting a stark contrast against the dull brown of the stand. She had mimicked him, by pointing her wand at Minerva.

The weight became more bearable. He focused only on his task.
I have you, he thought, his eyes glued to her. Minerva’s fall slowed gradually, until she touched the ground gently. Albus let go then, ending the spell as he ripped his wand away from her, his old professor matching him perfectly. It had been a close call, he thought. Far too close.
He took some steps backward, and tried to calm his breathing a little.

He gazed upward again, even as Merrythought was stepping down to join him. Her rich blond hair bounced as she stepped down, and when she joined him, she gave him a beaming smile. “I missed your quick mind, Albus.” She tapped her wand against her temples in a playful manner, her green eyes crinkling in mirth.

He smiled. “Thank you, professor.” He wasn’t sure he could have succeeded without her help.

“Galatea, please.” She demanded.

“Galatea, then.” He agreed in a grateful nod.

Albus looked around him. Vinda seemed to have taken this opportunity to leave. Albus contemplated following her, but -
But, his little display of magic had not gone unnoticed. Every eye that was not fastened on Minerva, were on him. Leaving was therefore, not an option anymore.
Minerva was gazing at him in shock. She was swaying even as she put herself back into her feet. But she was holding his eyes, ‘Thank you’ she mouthed at him. Albus merely smiled at her in reply, relieved.

“This was amazing!” Felix exclaimed next to him, soon joined by Ariana. It made him huff a laugh.

Minerva smiled back at him one last time before she opened her hand. There, resting inside her palm, was the snitch. She raised it up to the stupefied eyes of the crowd.
It shone in the afternoon’s light, but not as much as her.

Chapter 10

Dueling inside the narrowed space that was the Gryffindor’s dorm was not ideal. For one, Gellert had to be cautious and not bump into one of the bed (or Aberforth…). For two, Potter knew the place better.
Gellert’s spells had yet to hit his evading adversary. Potter, when he couldn’t outright counter his spells, was quick to duck behind a bed, before trying to curse him from his position next to the floor. But Gellert hadn’t been the best student at Durmstrang for nothing. He countered Potter’s attack and threw another one at him. Wandless and wordlessly this time.
Potter literally couldn’t see this one coming at him, and was, therefore, completely unprepared for it. It struck him, his body bluntly pushed into the nearest wall. He hit it in a ‘humf’. Gellert, then, disarmed him with a quick Expelliarmus.
Potter’s wand flew to him, much to his owner's consternation.

“You freaking cheated.” he accused, glaring at him from his position on the ground. “This is so not the rules of duels.” Potter said, hair disheveled as his hat had fallen during their exchange along his glasses. Both items were resting on the floor, not far away from him. Gellert wondered what was Potter waiting for. Shouldn’t he want his glasses back at least? “This is not how people at Hogwarts fight. You’re not from here, are you?”

“Not exactly.” Gellert confirmed, twirling Potter’s wand between his fingers. Potter eyed it with a pout. His gaze appeared to be clear; focused. Shouldn’t he be squinting more? He frowned a bit even as he said, “I was a Durmstrang’s student.”

Potter muttered something unflattering about ‘cheating Russians’ and ‘Dark magic’. “You didn’t hold back.” he patted the side he just hit with a grimace, before he slowly went to his feet. “And you came all the way here just for my cloak?”

“It’s not a simple invisibility cloak and you know it.” he told Potter whose unfazed expression confirmed what Gellert suspected. He knew for the Hallows. “It’s far more than this.”

Potter’s expression became perplexed, “What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing specific.” he replied casually, “I actually wish to reunite the three Hallows.”

There was a pause during which only Aberforth’s soft snores could be heard. “This was brutally honest.” Potter finally remarked in a breath.

“Obliviating you won’t be much work, I’m afraid.”

Potter seemed almost offended at this for a second, before he scolded, “Well, since you’re not holding back, I don’t see why I should.”

Gellert wanted to scoff at this. He would leave with the cloak and he didn’t see how a Griffindor’s boy could stop him from doing so, even less disarmed. But Potter’s eyes were insistent on him, and Gellert found himself stuck into place, the chestnut somehow becoming hypnotic and alluring, especially with the freckles of gold inside them.
What.

“Do you even have the two others?” Potter asked him.

“Not yet.” He admitted in a frown.

The silence went longer this time, as if Potter was considering something. He inhaled before saying, “Since we’re telling each other everything,” his voice was carrying inside the room, or perhaps not, perhaps it was only this loud to Gellert, and – (Potter hadn’t reached for his glasses, a part of his brain hissed, why hadn’t he reached for them? Did he even need them -) “I think you’re doing it all wrong.”

“How so?” Gellert questioned almost despite himself, he tilted his head to the side as if searching for what was happening there. He already felt something like this, once; this strange pull, somewhere in a pub in Paris. Albus had told him that the women there had been Vee-

“You’re doing it in reverse.” Potter explained, animated, his eyes still locked in his, “The cloak in the story was given last. ‘And then Death asked the third and youngest brother’...” he recited, “The wand has to come first, then the stone, and only in the end, the cloak.”

He hummed as he took in Potter’s words.
Albus and him had never considered this possibility.
After all, in the story, each Hallow were described to be given in accordance with the brothers’ wishes. But what if, it was actually important? Did they have to follow the story or in the contrary, did they have to not follow it? The brothers never won over Death in the end. But then, they also never put their Hallows together either, they had been too divided, he guessed, for it to work.

“You have to find the other two first. And finish with the cloak.” Potter insisted.

Gellert looked at him in disbelief, his words distracting him from his other musing. “You realize that if I come back with the elder wand, I will only beat you again.” he waited for the other boy to realize the futility of his request. As nothing came, he pressed, “It will only postpone the inevitable.”

But Potter was holding his eyes in determination, “I will take that odd.” he lowly said. “Look, you’re like me; you know that the story is true and not just some fairytale told to scare off children.” Potter’s voice was sure and firm, “Maybe the order is irrelevant, but are you ready to take the fallout if it isn’t the case? And anyway,” he waved one of his hands to encompass all of him, but Gellert barely caught the movement, too taken by - “You don’t seem to be the type to doubt himself. You’re sure you’ll manage to master the wand and find the stone, so what do you have to risk?”

“You could give the cloak to someone else,” Gellert proposed as he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. His thoughts kept overlapping with one other. He believed that he was forgetting something important, but what was it again? He tried to stay focused, tapping Potter’s wand against his leg as he did so, “Or hide it somewhere, and I would lose trace of it.”

“I don’t know how you could think I would wish to part from it.” he snorted, and somehow that redirected Gellert’s attention on him. “I mean, can you even imagine how useful a cloak of invisibility is?” Potter asked him, his eyes shining in delight, the gold in them sparkling like little coins.

Gellert; after he failed to picture how Potter could have used it, asked, “No. What do you do with it?”

Potter slowly gaped. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

He looked even more shocked, if that was possible. Gellert didn’t think his question deserved all of this. Potter ought to have been more shocked earlier, he thought. Wait. He disarmed him, right? What was he was doing here, then, talking, instead of -

“I prank people with it, obviously.” Potter blurted, “And you know, I learn stuff too.” he shrugged “You will be surprised at what people say when they think themselves alone.”

Gellert blinked. He tried to imagine the cloak, an object of power and respect, used for something so… frivolous. “You’re using a century old magical artifact to prank people.” He repeated flatly.

“Yeah.” Potter beamed at him.

“You’re mad.” He stated, it was almost a crime to let Potter had it. In fact, wasn’t he on his way to take it for himself?

“It’s fun. You ever did something just for fun?”

Gellert opened his mouth to answer, only to immediately close it. He wondered if trying his speech out in Paris could be considered ‘fun’. After all, he had a great time, even more so after he Obliviated Krall.
Potter seemed to sense his indecision. His mouth twisted, as if it was unsure of the expression it should do.

“Oh, are you sorting this matter like gentlemen?” said the disappointed voice of Vinda as she came into the dorms and caught them talking it out, “I was hoping to try this.” she showed up the frying pan she had between her grip. “Did you see Aberforth by chance? I’ve been searching for him.” she said, “I think the headless ghost lied to me.” She pursed her lips as if greatly offended by the fact.

Gellert wouldn’t call it a ‘chance’, “He’s on the floor.” He pointed at the sleeping form with his chin.

She went toward the feet of the bed Aberforth was lying near, putting down her pan on the matress as she did so. She then crouched to inspect him. “A Somnolus?” She guessed.

“Yes. And I hold back, even though he was terribly irritating.” As usual, he didn’t add.

“Merlin, are you his accomplice?” Potter asked, eyes wide on Vinda as comprehension fell on him.

“Who said we were only two?” She said in a dangerous smirk.

“Now, Vinda.” he smiled at her, “That is not something we say out loud.”

Potter shook his head, “And I’m the mad one.”

“Mad? No.” Vinda smiled widely as she fully righted herself, “You’re only the Veela one.” she elegantly got her wand out, and pointed it at Potter, “Silencio.” Potter’s mouth shut audibly, and Vinda intoned, “Petrificus Totalus.” Potter’s body became static as the light of Vinda’s wand hit him. She seemed unconcerned by it all. “Do I need to shake you off?” She then asked Gellert. She didn’t wait for his reply before she did just what she offered.

He would have been more irritated with her if this hadn’t truly helped him shaking off… whatever he had been under. “What was that?” he blinked his eyes in rapid succession. He felt a nasty headache coming, and he groaned. “What happened?” He prompted her.

“Henry Potter’s a Veela, well,” she amended, “Saying that he has a Veela’s heritage must be more correct, I suppose. He seemed to have you under his glamour just fine, however.”

Gellert clenched his jaw, “I hate Veela.” they were using unfair means. Of course, Gellert already manipulated someone, but it did it without cheating. “How did you know?”

“I met him earlier,” she said, “His golden eyes were a dead giveaway.” she told him, “There’re a lot of them in Beauxbâtons. I learnt to be attentive.” she gazed at the unmoving man in question, “Shall we Obliviate him?”

“Perhaps later. I want to see the cloak for myself, first.” He said. A Hallow, so near of him… It was worth a headache at least.

She nodded sharply. Together they went toward Potter’s trunk, and Gellert opened it carefully. Laid for their eyes was what appeared to be a mess of clothes. Vinda and him exchanged a look, before they went through Potter’s possession, unceremoniously throwing them out of their way. Then, Gellert’s hand came into contact with a terribly smooth fabric, and he slowly pulled it out.

It seemed so fluid between his hands. Gellert contemplated it, watched how the light descended on it, before it slid over the cloak, and disappeared.
The cloak of invisibility. Finally.

Gellert put his hand under it and watched it vanish from his sight in fascination. “Impressive.” He breathed in awed.

“Indeed.” Vinda tentatively touched it. “It’s much more well-conserved than I thought it would be. It doesn’t even have a scratch on it.” She remarked in a hushed voice.

“The magic probably preserved it.” He absently hummed, unwilling to put his eyes off of the cloak.

“A proof of how powerful it is.” She said in appreciation.

He shot her a small smile, before his eyes went back to the fluid clothe. The ultimate proof that the Hallows were real was between his hands. It was exhilarating.
He had gone to Paris for this. Vinda and him had got stuck inside a frame for a week, for this. Albus and him had planned the best way to get it for weeks. They went back to England, for this.
And yet…
Even as he stood there, with the cloak between his fingers, he couldn’t shake the brief picture he had witnessed earlier; of this illusion who had been playing inside the smooth surface of a mirror. This Vision, almost as clear as his could be, of him holding the elder wand.
And even if in the end, the picture had wavered, well… it changed very little. It was not the cloak, even as wonderful as it was that Gellert truly longed for.

He put it back down, with the mess they created. “We should let Potter keep it.” at Vinda wide eyed expression, he added, “I think someone who’s in debt and able to convince almost anyone, could be more useful, than a cloak of invisibility.” at least for now, he thought, “Also, now we know where it is. We’ll come back for it later.” He promised.

“Are you sure?” she asked him, “You’re not under his influence still, are you?”

“No. But I appreciate his determination. Besides, he raised an interesting point.” They would have to study the theory of the order of appariton of the Hallows in the story.

Vinda sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “I have to free him, haven’t I?”

“This would be better. You must want some time alone with Aberforth, after all.” He teased her. It was unfortunate that her tastes were so poor.

“Now, this is something we don’t say out loud.” she rose an elegant eyebrow toward Aberforth’s form as he snored louder, “Shall I tell you about the young man talking Albus’s ears off?” She teased back playfully.

Gellert had almost forgotten about him, “No. I will see to it, after.” he half grumbled between a clenched jaw. “Is it why Albus couldn’t come?” The idea alone annoyed him beyond reason.

“Well, let’s say that,” she licked her lips, “Albus is having a sudden boost of popularity.” she smiled to herself, and huffed in amusement at the face he made. Then, she pointed her wand at Potter, and in a very bored tone, intoned a Finite Incantatem. Potter stumbled as he won back his capacity to move, and his cheeks colored in anger. He opened his mouth, surely to assert his view on this rough handling, but Vinda beat him to it, “Be polite.” she warned, “We dislike rudeness.”

“Really?!” he exclaimed, “Because, casting a Silencio and then a Petrificus Totalus on me wasn’t rude, perhaps?”

“You were having my friend under your thumb. I only act out of solidarity.”

Potter made a disbelieving face at her, “Seriously?!”

“We freed you, didn’t we?” Gellert said as he took over, “And we’re even going to let you keep your cloak.”

Potter narrowed his eyes at them in suspicion. “Where’s the catch?”

“We may ask something from you, later.”

“What kind of ‘something’?” He asked, warily.

“I don’t know yet.” Gellert divulged in a smile. “But it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it? And this what was you wanted: a deal.” he reminded him, “You have one.”

"I've wanted a way out." Potter corrected with feeling. His face went through many complicated emotions. He gazed back and forth between the two of them, “I suppose I have no choice into this?”

“We could still Obliviate you and take the cloak.” Vinda supplied, sounding terribly tempted by the prospect. “Or use the fact that you have a Veela’s heritage for blackmailing you and your family. Or -”

“I get the picture.” he cut her off. “And I will pass thanks.” He refused archly.

“Disappointing.” Vinda sighed at the loss, without doubts.

Meanwhile, Gellert smiled in satisfaction. He liked when a negotiation went right.

There was a beat of silence, “I don’t even know your name.” Potter pointed suddenly. “Should I just call you ’the Russian’s cheater’?” he asked sarcastic, “It would be fitting.” He grumbled.

He smiled, a little sharply, “Gellert Grindelwald, at your service.” He offered Potter’s wand, which he won during their duel, back to his owner.

Potter took it from his outstretched hand, cautiously at first, but he put it close to his chest as soon as he fully got it back. “I feel like I’m the one who’s at your service.” He muttered.

“Everything is a matter of perspective, my friend.”

 

*
Minerva, after her bout of free falling, had been driven to the infirmary, along the Hufflepuff’s Seeker, on Dippet’s order. Meanwhile everyone else had been ‘invited’ to leave the stadium ‘peacefully’, which meant that most were now wandering inside the castle as they waited for Dippet to reappear and –finally- finish this graduation’s ceremony. So far, the Headmaster was still absent.
Albus, for his part, had unfortunately been unable to escape the stares. He wouldn’t be able to join Gellert anytime soon, and he hoped he was alright. Or that Henry was. Albus wasn’t entirely sure on who he should be more worried about. There was also Minerva to think of. He had been pacing outside the infirmary’s wings ever since they all disappeared inside, leaving for now Ariana in the care of Daniel Diggory and Felix McLaggen.

“What a mess.” Galatea sighed as she left the wing, her steps quick and precise. “Every year it’s the same.” she complained to him as soon as she came to a stop next to him. “Last time, you missed it, but it was one of our professors who had fallen asleep during Dippet’s speech. I won’t say any names, but I bet he didn’t see this happening inside his crystal ball.” She chuckled.

He smiled at her, “I’m sure he would have pay more attention if he had.”

“They’re both going to be alright, you know.” she reassured him, “McGonagall is stubbornly insisting that she is fine, and Scamander is trying to minimize everything so he could walk out.”

“I’m glad.” Albus breathed.

She smiled briefly before she sighed, “I have to admit, I’m not as quick as I used to be.” she appeared embarrassed by the admission. “I should have reacted faster than this.”

Albus shook his head in negative, “Nonsense.” Albus had honestly never thought of her as someone who was slow, “You couldn’t predict it, and,” he paused, “You did act.”

“You’re nice, but I may have become lax.” she hummed, turning pensive, “Teaching had made me less combat-ready, let’s say. And I’m afraid of starting to go in circles, even in my class. I think that I’m in need of some change.” She ended up in a smile as she put her hands on her hips.

“I always liked your classes.” he admitted truthfully. “How would you like to renew them?” He questioned her, curious of what she could possibly add. By generalizing the use of the Boggart for the seventh year perhaps?

“I’m going to be direct, because this is where I’m the best,” she started, “I would like to recruit you, as my assistant.” Albus blinked and blinked at that, speechless, “Doing a class as a duo would be more interesting for my students. It would give them another perspective than mine.”

Albus was staring at her, “I don’t know what to say.” He finally voiced after more than a beat of silence.

“Say yes.” she smiled confidently, “Or say you will think about it. I already asked Dippet, and he agreed. Now, I’m only waiting for your approval.” as Albus must have been looking more and more torn, she added, “You have the summer to think about it.” she smoothed, “Give me your answer in August. Merlin knows, I will be waiting for your letter anxiously.” She said with enthusiasm.

Albus nodded absently at her, “Thank you.” He told her, unsure what else to say, and feeling that his words couldn’t carry enough meaning into them.

Yet, she beamed at him, “You’re welcome. Oh, and, you can go see Minerva, you know.” she smiled knowingly, “We won’t be able to keep her on bed rest long anyway.” She winked at him.

“Albus, here you are!” Honoria’s voice carried inside the quiet corridor, “I’ve been searching you and your siblings ever since.” she huffed tiredly as she came toward him.

“Galatea, let me present you my Aunt, Honoria Dumbledore,” he motioned at his Aunt, “Honoria, this is Galatea Merrythought, my late Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” It was easier to say ‘late’ than possible, maybe, future colleague. By Morgana, he would need time to think about it. Was all July going to be enough?

The two women greeted each other, “I’m sorry, I’m not this short usually,” Honoria began, “But I’ve been searching for them and –”

Galatea waved the matter away, “You were worried, this is understandable, even more so given the circumstances. In fact, I have to leave you,” she said, truly apologetic, “I need to reassure everyone now.” she grimaced a bit, apparently not looking forward to this. “I will see you again, soon, I hope.” She said meaningfully at Albus.

“She seemed like a character.” Honoria remarked as she watched her walk away from them, “Please, tell me none of your siblings have managed to end up in the infirmary while I was away.” She implored; her earthy eyes big with apprehension.

“Everyone is fine.” he told her softly, “Ariana is with Felix and Daniel, two friends of Aberforth. They’re making her do a tour as we all wait for the ceremony to resume. And for Aberforth,” he hummed, “Actually, he must be with Vinda,” he guessed that she either went to search for him, or decided to join Gellert, “But I’m not sure.”

“I will take this probability.” she nodded in relief. “If none of you are in the infirmary, why are you here?”

“I was about to visit the players who fell during the match.”

“I will accompany you.” she said in a tone that left no argument, “One of them is one of your friends, isn’t?” She asked him as they began to walk.

“Yes.” the corridors of the infirmary’s wing were as silent as ever, their steps tapping on the floor the only sounds disturbing that peace. Albus imagined it had never been any different than calm and serene; except maybe, during the unfortunate time those walls had to hold Aberforth, after he, more or less, get hit by a bludger. There had been a lot of grumbling then. “The Gryffindor’s Seeker, Minerva McGonagall.”

“I heard that you caught her right on time.” at his disbelieving face, she said, “I know, I couldn’t find you, but by Merlin, did I hear of you.” she smiled amused at him, “Gossips still ran faster than anything else here. I see that it hadn’t changed in all those years.” her eyes became less alert, as if she was lost in recollection. There was a silence before she suddenly said, “I’m glad you’d never played Quidditch. This game is such a hazard.”

“You never wanted to play it?” Albus asked her, “My father often talked about his years as a Chaser most fondly.” He bet this was half of the reason Aberforth had wanted the position.

Honoria’s eyes clouded. Another silence passed between them, not uncomfortable per se, but the atmosphere was not as light as earlier either. Albus abruptly realized that the two of them had always carefully evaded the subject of his father. He wondered if he made a faux-pas by breaching it now.

“Percival,” she started, carefully, “Was such an impulsive young man.” she breathed and suddently it was like a dam had broken for she started to smile, and the words that followed had a cadence to them that Albus had never heard from her before, “He was so stubborn. You should have seen him playing Quidditch like his life depended on it. He was inconsolable each time he lost. I kept telling him, that it wasn’t the end of the world if the other team had scored more points than his. Did you know what he told me, most time than not? ‘Imagine if your favorite plant had died and come tell me it’s not important again’. What a jerk.” she shook her head as she laughed softly. Albus smiled, but then she sobered up, “I,” she ducked her head, “I miss him terribly.”

Albus casted his eyes down. From his father, he recalled his loud laugh and how he had tried once – not so subtly - to buy Albus a practice broom after the two of them had gone to Diagon Alley. Albus had watched him describe the joy of flying, almost able to feel the wind brushing his face as his father’s tale continued. His passion for it had been too obvious; it had been in the way his face had become animated, in how his blue eyes had lightened up in delight. Albus hadn’t stood a chance, carried by his story as he had been.
His father kept promising him that he would teach him, that he would catch him, that he wouldn’t fall. Percival Dumbledore had always been a very protective man. (To the point of violence, but this, had only become clear later.)
And even though his mother hadn’t been so impressed by this display, she still ended up agreeing, and Albus had ended up with a little broom. It had been almost as tall as him, and his father had painted the wood in red and –

(“He’s going to be a Gryffindor, dear. It’s better if he’s getting use to the color now.” The rich sound of his father voice had boomed even as he applied more red on the handle of his practice broomstick.

Albus had been dutifully helping him. He was proud of the fact that his father had put more paint on the floor than him. He also, inexplicably, put a lot of it into Albus’s hair. He pouted, he was going to look like Aberforth at this rate.

“I know what you’re doing.” his mother had crossed her arms over her chest, as she watched her husband and her eldest made a mess of the playroom, “I dearly wish for him to end up in Ravenclaw. We’ll see how much you like red, then.” She told his father evenly.

“Kendra! Don’t say this!”)

“I miss him too.” He admitted softly. A lot of things had been published and written about his father, but none had mentioned that he had been a good flying teacher. Catching Albus every time his equilibrium slightly wavered.
(He hadn’t had the heart to fly again after his father’s trial, but he knew that somewhere inside their attic there was a little broom resting, a most loved item now taking the dust.)

She smiled sadly at him, “I’m glad we were able to talk about him. I know it can’t never be easy…” she trailed, “But I think, he deserves to be remembered.”

“Yes, he does.”

They slowed as they were almost in at the infirmary’s door. Honoria fiddled a bit with her hands before she asked him, “You didn’t tell anything to Aberforth, did you?”

Albus looked at her, and it took him some seconds to get what she was talking about. “No, of course not.” he assured her, “It’s your big news.”

Honoria still appeared worked up. “He’s going to think that it’s either too fast or that I’m too old.” She said distressed, as she passed a hand into her styled hair.

“It’s not truly Aberforth’s reaction you’re worried about.” Albus realized as he studied her, “But everyone’s else.” he smiled softly at her, “I don’t think you should care too much about what the public’s opinion could think of it. People will always talk, and Aberforth won’t mind that much once he gets past his initial shock.”

She hummed, still a bit unconvinced, “But do you think it’s too soon?” she worriedly asked him, “I know, it looks like it is, but I’ve never been more sure, you know?” She searched his face as if she could make him understand.

Albus was probably the last person she should ask this. It was not that he didn’t understand her, it was that he identified too much. He was mulling on what to tell or not tell her, when the infirmary’s door opened silently, and Minerva and Ulysse Scamander exited the room, before they carefully closed the door back. Their steps were light and their actions furtive, even as Dippet’s voice could still be heard, on the other side. He smiled.

“I will let the two of you speak,” Honoria said, “I will see if I can find your sister at least.” She sighed audibly. She left them, her steps sure, despite Hogwart’s tricking corridors.

“Albus.” Minerva called him in surprise as she spotted him. Scamander startled as he did the same. Reassured that it was only him and not another professor, he sighed in relief and fled after joyously waving his goodbye at them both. Minerva waved back even as she rolled her eyes at him. “I want to say, this isn’t what it looks like, but...” she trailed. She was still in her Quidditch’s clothes Albus noted, but she looked good, despite the messy state of her hair, and her tired eyes. “They wouldn’t let me up. It was unnerving.” she made a moue of distaste, “We had to go before the matron decides to keep us there for the next week.”

“Understandable.”

They shared a smile, “Anyway, I, actually,” she started awkwardly, “I wanted to see you, I,” she pursed her mouth, but her gaze on him was fierce. “I’ve wanted to thank you.”

Albus ducked his head shyly. “Truly, you don’t need to. Everyone would have done the same.”

Her expression became somber. She outstretched one of her hand, and presented it, palm up to him. “Here. It’s for you.” She declared, the snitch‘s wings resting peacefully inside her hand.

Albus regarded it, before he raised his eyes to her. “I don’t understand.” He said, somewhat lost.

“This is for you. I may have won without you, but I certainly wouldn’t be in one piece. So this is for you.” she repeated, “Because you moved when no one else did.”

Albus took the fluttering object delicately. He never remarked how delicate its wings were, but then he never had one so still next to him either. “It’s an amazing gift.” he told her honestly. It seemed to be her turn to be embarrassed. She straightened her uniform and looked ready to go, but Albus added, “I hope this unfortunate event won’t change your mind about Quidditch. I would love to watch you play again.”

“I’m a Gryffindor, Albus.” she smiled, mirth dancing in her eyes, “You can bet I will play again.”

Notes:

A little head-up: we’re roughly two chapters away from the end of this whole ‘invisibility cloak adventure’. It should be completed before christmas (yay! :D). After this, I will take a little break, so I can breath a bit and work on their next story (the first plan of this fic was to do one story per Hallow, but my brain put ‘Young Grindeldore’ and ‘Adventure’ together, and went wild).
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There was a bit of everything concerning on how you guys wanted it to play out, so I hope it wasn’t disappointing.
Thank you for reading 💜

Chapter 11

Aberforth woke up to a loud ‘gong’. He started in panic, barely realizing that he was on the floor, as he heard Vinda saying: “It’s truly a wonderful thing.”

He looked upward, and found her appraising the frying pan she was holding between her hand.

“Did you just bang it against the bed’s frame in order to wake me up?” he asked his voice hoarse and disbelieving, as he tried to sort his bearing. He remembered Gellert-the-cat-menace, then Potter had come, and the last he recalled, Gellert was changing back from his feline form, and Aberforth had done what had been sensible at the time: he covered his eyes to save himself from the trauma of seeing Gellert half-naked. Again. But how did he find himself sleeping on the floor already? He scratched his head in thoughts. (Somehow, he was sure that it was Gellert’s fault. Most things were after all.) “Didn’t shaking me would have been simpler?”

“Perhaps.” she acknowledged, “But you have to admit, it had been efficient.” She told him, putting the pan on a bedside so she could help him up. He was still a bit groggy, but together they managed to sit him on the edge of the closest mattress. It was way better than the floor, Aberforth thought.

He patted his throbbing head in hopes it would help him clear his thoughts, “Where are the others? Potter and Gellert?” He asked her.

She shrugged and sat next to him, “They took off. I think Potter mentioned pranking the Hufflepuff at some point.” She seemed to be checking his head for injury with her eyes.

“Really?” he snorted and casted his eyes down, feeling weirdly unsettled under her stare. “I always knew Potter was crazy.” Vinda smiled at this, and he remembered that he was in the Gryffindor’s dorm, a place she shouldn’t have access to. “How did you enter?” Better yet, how did Gellert get in earlier?

“The woman inside the painting isn’t immune to flattery.” Vinda divulged, and he grimaced. What was the point of a password if the Fat Lady let everyone in?

“Amazing. My belongings have never felt less secure.” He grumbled moodily.

“I wouldn’t have to follow you if you hadn’t left.” Vinda told him, “Why did you get there?” She asked him, curious.

Aberforth felt his shoulders hunch, and his body became stiff with tension. (He wasn’t blushing.) “I, huh.” he took a deep breath, and glanced at her. She was gazing back, probably wondering why he was so weird. The dorm was silent now, and they were alone, so he guessed his opening was now or never. “I have something for you.” He told her. He stood and Vinda started, looking on the verge to order that he sat back. But she let him do in the end, and he went to his trunk. He opened it, and retrieved the package he had bought for her months ago. He didn’t dare looking at her, as he presented it to her.

“It’s for me?” Vinda wondered, surprise coloring her voice. He only extended it more toward her in reply, not trusting his voice right now. He felt her fingers take the package carefully, and he only dared to look at her when he felt the weight being completely lifted from his hands. She appeared almost shocked, her fingertips brushing the simple gift wrap and the green ribbon lightly. “Can I open it?” She asked him without taking her eyes off of it.

“Of course.” He answered lowly, as he began to shift on his feet. It’s yours, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the courage to voice it. So much for a Gryffindor, he thought, annoyed at himself.

She unwrapped the bow gently. She didn’t tear the paper wrapping the package either. She searched for the end of it, and followed the way it had been made to unmade it. It gave and her eyes widened as his gift was revealed.

She stared at it for so long, that Aberforth felt the urge to explain, “It’s a book.” he pointed, rather unnecessary. Merlin, she could see it was a book, “It was for your birthday, but…” he trailed. “It’s a detective’s story.” he blurted, “You told me that you liked to guess things so I -” he cut himself off and tried to get back on tracks, “There’re clues hidden inside the text, and to unlock the rest of the story, you have to correctly deduce what happened. I was told that it gets harder as the story progress.” She kept silent as she inspected the deep green and gold cover, making him fidget even more. She probably didn’t like it. Crap, maybe, she was finding it too childish. He shouldn’t have chosen it, in fact, he shouldn’t have taken anything, she was a Rosier, she was used to better stuff than a stupid book –

“Thank you.” she said, putting a stop to his increasing panicked thoughts. “It’s a very thoughtful gift.” She assured him, reaching for the green ribbon that had been circling her gift, before gently securing it inside one of her hidden pocket.

“You like it?” He asked to be sure.

She nodded, “Yes.” she put the book against her chest before she stood, “But now I’m embarrassed, for I have nothing for you.” She told him in a frown.

“You don’t have to give me anything!” he exclaimed, gesturing his hands wildly as he did so. He took a deep breath, and added at a more reasonable volume. “You came today, and it’s nice.” He finished in a awkward half shrug. His eyes were gazing at the rug on the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. It wasn’t, but he appreciated the safety of it.

Perhaps, had he been looking up instead of down, he would have seen her smile, perhaps he would have even caught her blushing faintly.
Perhaps.
But he did feel the feather kiss she dropped on his cheek, and that was already everything. He blushed violently, sure that now his face was as red as his hair, and must look ready to combust. He sure felt like he was about to.

Vinda, on the other hand, appeared perfectly composed, if somewhat smug. “Come on, you wouldn’t want to be late for your graduation.” She prompted him.

“I probably already missed it,” he said, and was glad to note that his voice was barely strangled. If one forgot his face, he could almost pass for normal. He cleared his throat before he continued, “You know because of all this sleeping-on-the-floor thing.” He made a vague motion with his hands to go with it.

She shook her head, “No, I think you woke up just in time. They’re surely only on their way to resume the whole ceremony.” She told him as they both began to walk toward the stairs leading to the Gryffindor’s common room.

“Resume?” Aberforth repeated incredulous, “It had been interrupted?”

Vinda blinked at him before she beamed, “Oh, there’s so many things you missed.” she sneaked one of her arm under his, while she put her book under the other one, “I believe that you’re in for a few surprises.”

 

*
The rumor that the ceremony was about to start again was spreading rapidly.
As Albus left the infirmary’s wing and made his way toward the tall doors of the Great Hall, he was glad to note that Honoria had found Ariana back. They were speaking with Daniel and Felix. Diggory seemed eager to share with them all the latest gossips surrounding the castle, if the way his hands moved dramatically was anything to go by.
He was wondering if it was even worth it to go to the Gryffindor’s dorms, when Felix noticed him, and all but ran to catch up with him. He came to a stop in front of him.

Albus startled in surprise before he, too, came to a halt. He stared at Felix who stared back. After several seconds of silence, he asked, “Is something the matter?”

“I,” Felix blushed. Albus looked around them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. There was a group of graduates laughing not so far away from them. A family talking. “I was wondering if,” he fidgeted, and Albus thought that this must be a habit of his. (Every time he saw Felix, the latter was always nervous.) “I would like to –!”

“Albus, here you are.” Gellert smoothly interrupted. He put an arm around his shoulders, pulling against him as he did so. Albus blinked up at him, wondering what Gellert was even doing here. “I’ve been searching for you.”

“It seems to be a theme.” He said slowly, while gazing at Gellert. He hadn't even heard him approach.

His remark was ignored, “Gellert Grindelwald,” he introduced himself. He didn’t offer his hand to Felix. If anything he seemed to make himself stood higher. If he wished to appear more intimidating, it was working, Albus mused, as Felix’s eyes opened wide in apprehension. “Albus’ very dear friend.” He continued casually.

Albus mouthed ‘very dear?’ under his breath, before he sighed. He was starting to see a pattern here. First, Krall who all but get Obliviated for his trouble (it had been unfortunate for Gellert that Albus had read the newspaper that morning). Now, Felix, who was being terrorized for… for what?

“Oh.” Felix blinked before he asked hesitantly, “Like Elphias?”

There was a beat of silence during which Gellert’s face clouded dramatically. Albus didn’t need the Sight to know that this wouldn’t end well. “Excuse us Felix,” he quickly said before the situation could get out of hands. “But, we have to leave you. I will see later.” He hastily said, and didn’t wait for a reply, before he dragged Gellert away by the arm, therefore breaking this ridiculous one- sided glaring contest.

He led him into another corridor. He only slowed down after they passed the Clock Building. He felt Gellert gently bump his shoulder against his. “Did you manage to lose yourself?” Gellert asked him with a raised eyebrow, “I thought it was me who was supposed to play tourist.”

Albus smiled a bit. They entered the last corridor leading to the Forbidden Forest. All its space was open to the outside, letting the warm’s breeze of this summer’s afternoon pass through. Except for them, the place was rather deserted, for there were only two graduates who were speaking quietly near the grass. “Things didn’t go as planned.” He admitted softly.

“Tell me about it.” he answered in a huff. “About the cloak, I don’t have it, Potter –”

“Came.” he finished. He put his hands on the wooden windowsill. He liked to see what was beyond. He had been attracted to the view ever since he discovered the place, during his first year at Hogwarts. Sure, it wasn’t as breathtaking as the one you could have on the very top of the Astronomy Tower. But here, there were the green of the fields stretching, and the first trees of the Forbidden Forest beginning, while the clouds were reflecting on the dark water of the lake… Albus had loved and loved Hogwarts for all of this too. “And he can be persuasive, can he not?” Albus asked as he turned to look at Gellert.

“You knew about it.” Gellert said evenly even as he mimicked him, by gazing through another widow.

It wasn’t exactly what Albus had been expecting. The flat tone surprised him, and made him want to defend himself. “I discovered this by chance, during my Prefect years. Henry clearly doesn’t wish for it to go out, and I didn’t want to betray a friend’s confidence.” Albus explained, “Henry wasn’t even supposed to be with you inside the dorms.” he reminded him, “It had nothing with not wanting to tell you. I just –”

“Had scruple.” Gellert finished. He leaned over the windowsill, with his hands folded together, and regarded him, “You didn’t truly want the cloak, did you?”

Albus shrugged, a bit sheepish, “Not really.” he confessed, “When we first planned it, the cloak was, I mean…” He trailed.

“It was for Ariana.” Gellert filled in the blank easily. “But now, she doesn’t need it anymore.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Albus smiled. Love magic was truly a wonder, he thought as he regarded Gellert fondly.

Gellert sighed as he broke eyes contact, “At least, we know where to find it.”

“Yes, we do.” he acquiesced. “You’re not mad, are you?” Albus couldn’t help but ask. He bit his lower lip in worry.

“No.” Gellert replied in a breath, as he pushed himself away from the windowsill. Albus did the same, if only to catch his eyes again. “But no more secrets Albus, I’m serious.” he took some steps toward him before he closed his arms around him. Albus returned Gellert’s embrace hesitantly. “And we can’t afford to have scruple nor remorse next time, Mein Schatz.” he told him in a whisper, “We absolutely need the elder wand for our revolution. For the Greater Good.”

Albus’s eyes dropped to the ground, “Alright.” he closed his eyes, and he breathed him in. He wondered if Gellert realized the lack of secrets he had for him in general. You omitted an occurrence once, and everyone thought you were a liar, he mused. “Then, I have to tell you another thing,” he confessed into the crook of Gellert’s neck, “Galatea, my Defense professor, offered me to be her assistant next year.” even saying it sounded unbelievable, “I haven’t answered her yet, of course.”

“But you want to tell her yes, I am right?” Gellert questioned after he released him enough so he could study his face.

“Perhaps.” Albus smiled. When Gellert stayed silent, he added, “There’s no rush. I don’t have to decide anything today. But it’s a very generous offer.”

“I see.” Gellert said pensive.

He looked so thoughtful that Albus felt the need to change subject. “Did you like what you saw of Hogwarts so far?”

Gellert hummed in affirmative. “You know, there were many strange things in the room you made me pass through,” he told him, “Like this huge mirror who showed illusions.” he shook his head, even as he kept his arms around him, “I can’t believe your school let these kind of magical objects without supervision.” He finished his comment with a tsk.

Albus blinked his eyes, “The Mirror of the Erised? You…” he took a breath, “What illusion did it show you?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could. Gellert didn’t seem to know the true purpose of the Mirror. Illusions, he had said, not desires. And Albus, he… well he wondered what Gellert’s deepest desire could be.

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” He cryptically answered.

Albus wanted to press the matter. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for more. But he relented. He supposed that Gellert had the right to keep some secrets close to his chest too. This didn’t change anything. (When Gellert would have to choose, between him and the Deathly Hallows, what would he do? Who would he choose? Albus already knew the answer even if he didn’t want it. And then -)
He hugged Gellert tighter against him.

“Are you trying to crush me?” Gellert asked him, amused.

Albus let go of him at once, “No.” he could feel his cheeks heat in embarrassment, and he lowered his head down. “Sorry.”

Gellert didn’t seem to have minded so much at least, which was a relief, “It’s nothing.” he assured, giving him a small smile. He rose his chin up with one of his thumb. “But, we’ll have to talk about this, one of these days.” He said earnest and apologic.

“Talking about what?”

“Not today.”

The sound of the big Clock being activated broke their conversation. It ‘ding’ and ‘dong’ loudly. “I believe they’re ready to continue.” he hummed; the sounds were a sure way to attract everyone’s attention. “Are you about to leave through the Vanishing Cabinet again?” He wondered.

“Do you really want to go to your brother’s graduation?” Gellert countered.

Albus, feeling playful, tilted his head to the side, “What is my other option?”

Gellert’s smile widened.

 

*
“This wasn’t what I had in mind.” Albus admitted as they came inside the Divination’s room, perched at the top of one of the castle’s tower. The professor had let the classroom’s door opened, which meant they didn’t even have to use a spell to enter. Gellert seemed to have taken this for a sign that justified their actions, and was now looking at each items present inside with a most critical expression.

“It’s Potter who had given me this idea.”

“Let me guess,” Albus took the key of the room into his hand, and wondered if their professor was more out of it than he had first thought, “It involved pranking someone.”

“Yes.” he confirmed, “Which reminded me of this joke of a class.” he showed him a deck of tarot cards he just found, “What is this, the good fortune?”

“Basically.”

“I’m going to take care of this first, then.” He put all cards inside his open palm, before he tapped on them with his wand by using his free hand. He incanted a Levioso, making the cards levitated in front of him. Gellert concentrated on them then, and his magic buzzed around him as twenty-one cards turned onto themselves, more and more quickly, before they settled once again in his hand.

“What did you do?” He asked curious and interested.

“I changed their illustrations by using Transfiguration.” he smirked as he put each one of them flat on the professor’s desk, “Now,” he took his wand out and pointed it at them, “I’m going to put a spell on some of them which should activate only when they are used.”

Albus came closer so he could look down at the cards, “What kind of spell?”

Gellert took one card out, with moving green chicken drawn at the center, “This one, I think I will put a Raining Charm on it. So when it is picked, it will pour into the room.” He said with unconcealed glee.

Albus smiled, “This is rather imaginative.” then, he remembered the snitch Minerva gave him, and of its fragile wings, “But, I think I can do better.” He beamed. Gellert stopped his spelling to gaze at him. Albus put the key on the desk along the rest and after a wild twirl of his wand; his Charm hit its target. The old looking key grew golden wings; they flapped briefly against the desk, as if awaking. It made an odd metallic sound. After that, he used a Doubling Charm on it, several times, and he watched in delight as the now multiple keys started to fly off.
They tentatively flew around before they regrouped themselves near the ceiling. One of them even chirped, soon joined by another.

“Of course, you would make them sing.” Gellert said with his head upward as he gazed at them. His smile suddenly grew, “Liebling.”

“What?”

“You should change the decoration of the room, don’t you think?” he proposed, his tone cajoling, “The whole place is so sad.” He emphasized.

Albus looked around. It was true that the wood table and the desk were austere. There was a definite lack of color that gave off a rather gloomy vibe. And he knew from experience, that the chairs weren’t gentle on one’s back (especially when you fell asleep on them). He nodded determined, as he drew his wand, “You’re right. I will do it.”

 

*
This was how, half an hour later, the Divination’s classroom found its floor covered in various rugs; Albus had seen some truly beautiful works when he had been in Egypt and had tried to recreate them from memory. He also added a velvet tablecloth on the round table, turned those awful chairs into little pouf and only let the professor’s desk as it was. After all, Albus had to endure hours of his never ending class.

Meanwhile Gellert seemed to be satisfied with his work on the deck of tarot. He put them back in place. Then, he put his arms on his hips as he looked down at the crystal ball displayed on one of the shelf. He seemed to consider something.

Albus’ eyes twinkled, “I’ve heard that you use it to see what the future holds.” he explained most seriously. Gellert rolled his eyes. He smiled, “Did you ever use one?”

“Yes, but it’s been a long time.” he admitted, “It’s mostly an effect Seers use to impress those who don’t possess a Vision. In short, this is just for show. At least, this is how my grandmother uses it.” he explained, “She showed me how. You wanna see if I still know how to play a con?” He proposed, mischievous, as he took the ball and sat on one of Albus’s fluffy pouf.

“Sure.” He agreed, amused. He came to sit in front of Gellert, the little round table, with its crimson tablecloth between them.

Gellert put the ball on the center of it, before he seemed to recall something, “Wait, I don’t look the part,” he Conjured a bright blue cloak that he hastily tied around his neck so it wouldn’t fall, and a big witch hat that covered half of his face, “There, I think I look mad enough.”

Albus chuckled, “Wait,” He searched inside his pocket and got his Spectrespecs out. He gave them to Gellert who put them on his eyes without second thoughts.

“Now, do I look demented?”

Albus laughed at the picture he was making, and Gellert seemed to be satisfied with this answer. He opened his arms wide, the cloak he was wearing, giving a dramatic flair to his acting, “Now, Albus, with too many names, Dumbledore,” his voice lowly intoned, “Tell me, why you came here today?”

“I was dragged there,” he said, pretending to be upset by the fact, “The door was open, but I’m afraid to have lost my way.” He patted his cheeks as if he was trying to compose himself.

“Everyone who shows before me are where they are supposed to be.” he recited it like a riddle, “I will tell you all about your professional future,” he told him as he nodded to himself, the hat falling more and more into his eyes. Albus bet that only the Spectrespecs prevented it from obscuring his view completely. The blue and pink glasses were turning and turning. “Since, I know from a very sure source that your romantic’s one is already secured.”

Albus let out a shocked gasp, “How can you know?” he feigned astonishment, “Did you see this inside your crystal ball?”

Gellert snorted, before he went back into his character, “Oh, spirits of the water, fire, earth, and wind,” he called, “Disclose to me the future of this man.” his hands and arms were doing wide movements. The crystal ball began to levitate, circled by his arms like a strange hug. It even started to let out a blue hue, and Albus happily clapped at the trick. “I See…” he trailed, before he gazed down at the ball. There was a few second of silence before he said, “Trees. With snow.”

“Are you foreseeing winter?” He teased him.

“The leaves are frozen out before they can touch the ground.” Gellert continued as if he hadn’t talked, his voice sounding far away.

“So a cold winter?” He prompted. He waited for him to either drop the act or continue it, but during what felt like minutes, nothing happened. Gellert stayed still, his position remained unchanged, and Albus’ smile began to dim. Not being able to see Gellert’s eyes was unnerving, he discovered. Also, despite the bright sun outside, he was feeling far from warm.

“Are you afraid?” He abruptly asked in a tone so hollow that it chilled him. Which was ridiculous.

Still, he couldn’t help but leaned back, away from the table, “What?”

But Gellert shook his head once before he took his glasses off, “I totally got you.” He told him in huge smile, as he dropped the crystal ball back into the table.

Albus let out a huff, before he reached over the table to pinch him, “You’re terrible.” He accused him even as he smiled in relief.

“I’m an amazing actor, you mean.” He preened as he got rid of his hat.

“Amazing and terrible, then.” Albus conceded. He grabbed the simple bow Gellert had made with his Conjured cloak, to make him lean forward. Albus crossed the rest of the distance to kiss him.

It made him forget that for a wild minute, he almost believed in Divination.

Notes:

Gellert: *asks Albus to decorate the place, knowing that no one in their right mind would like it*
The Divination’s professor when he sees the state of his classroom: *heart eyes*
Albus: 😏
Gellert: …

Chapter 12

Gellert got out of the Vanishing Cabinet for the second time today.

He noted pleased, that the owner of this gateway at Borgin and Burkes, was as pointedly looking away from it as he had before. A lot of thing could be said about Knockturn Alley, but here everyone respected a certain discretion, in exchange for the right price of course. He slipped a galleon on the counter, just like he had done on his first trip, before silently taking the door.
He quickly walked into the streets; the district wasn’t a place he wished to linger into. There were people trying their hands at charity or at thieving, it depended on which was the most interesting for them at the time of the day; deals were made in hushed whispers into every dark corners, and the few shops present here were mostly selling Dark artifacts or potions bordering on illegal. He saw a bottle of Love potion, proudly displayed behind one of the shop’s window, that he was sure had been forbidden a few years ago. He grimaced as he passed in front of it, to him there were only a few things worse than this. Gellert loathed the very idea of being controlled; let it be his body, or his feelings.

He reached Diagon Alley, and made his way to the Apparition point; his Tante would be mad if he arrived late to the surprise party she had organized for Aberforth’s graduation.

Of course he could have gone to Godric’s Hollow with Albus, but it would have meant another explanation to Honoria, and to bear Aberforth. Moreover, he needed a little time alone to think about what happened in the Divination’s classroom of Hogwarts.

The incantation he had said was supposed to be fake for Faust’s sake. It wasn’t meant to make him See anything.

Yet, against all odds, it had worked.

It was as if he had been there, with his feet deep into the thick snow instead of being inside the classroom, with his too big hat falling on his nose. He had been able to see the puff of air in front of him, coming at each respiration, making the whole Vision more vivid.
He had looked up then, from his boots disappearing into the white, to the tall trees with their pale leaves. A heavy breath from the wind and one of them had fallen, twirling onto itself, like a ballerina. It had been attacked by the bite of the frost right away, and when it had finally reached the ground next to him, it had been already frozen.
Sounds of voices reached him, and Gellert had somehow lowered his head to the ground again. There were footsteps drawn, creating a path into the immaculate snow. He had blindly followed it, closing on the voices as he did so and –

He shook his head, coming back to the animated streets of Diagon Alley.
At least, Albus hadn’t believed it to be true. Gellert guessed that Albus’s old prejudices against Divination had worked in his favor. Gellert wasn’t sure what he had said exactly while he had been under. It was difficult to recall his own words, while it was easy to remember what he had Seen.

Gellert spotted the Apparition point, and fastened his pace.

Albus had no reasons to go there anyway, he rationalized. After all, he was half ready to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts’ assistant. In fact, he thought as he walked, it would be an amazing idea for him to take this position. Let Albus play the assistant for a year, his mind whispered, while he was in Hogwarts, he couldn’t be anywhere else. He would be as safe and as far away from there as he could. It was almost too perfect, he mused.

He Apparated, thinking that convincing Albus to take the position wouldn’t be a hardship.

 

*
They finally reached Godric’s Hollow, after another (long) speech from Dippet and several interminable minutes of goodbyes. Diggory had been too emotional, Potter had been suspiciously pensive, and McLaggen had almost teared up when, at first, they hadn’t found Albus. His brother had reappeared later, right before they left. Aberforth had narrowed his eyes at him, but it hadn’t given him any clues on where he had been.

Typical.

It was Madam Bagshot who greeted their group when they finally arrived to the Dumbledore’s house.
She seemed to have been waiting for their return, and had prepared them a true feast. She had transformed their little kitchen table into a huge one and had installed it into their garden. She clapped happily when she saw them, and this was when Aberforth noticed the flying teapot following her around, and Fawkes already perched on one of the chairs surrounding the heavily decorated table. She had Conjured a red and gold tablecloth, along delicate glassware. She had cut some fresh flowers that she had put into bouquets here and there. Aberforth blinked at it all, wondering if all of this was truly for him.

“Bathilda, you shouldn’t have!” Honoria astonished as she came to her and together, they began to chatter enthusiastically.

His brother’s fiery bird went to its master as soon as it noticed him, and began to chirp an impromptu melody. Aberforth rolled his eyes at its antics, only to see a little house-elf carrying a huge tray of food. She was a small thing, wearing a little golden dress and curiously enough a red bow, tied around her head. He made a face at it, there was only one person capable of such bad taste.

“Where does this elf come from?” He demanded turning his head toward Albus.

“Oh, it’s Greety.” Albus simply answered him. He searched through his pockets before he got out a box of chocolate frog. He gave some to Fawkes, who greedily devoured them, much to Aberforth’s dismay. As his face stayed blank, Albus frowned at him. “I told you about her in my letters.”

“You did?” He scratched his chin in thoughts. It was possible. After all, Aberforth mostly read Albus’s letters in the hope of seeing written there: ‘I dumped Gellert.’ Since it was never the case (sadly), he had the tendency to forget about them entirely.
Denial was a powerful deity.

“Her pastries are really good.” Vinda informed him neutrally.

“Okay?” He said hesitantly.

“She’s my house-elf.” Gellert said, casually drinking something in a cup, and already sitted comfortably inside one of the chair, with one of his leg crossed over the other. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Aberforth turned his head back and forth, searching from where he could have come from, in order to block his entry next time. “Close your mouth, it makes you look even denser than usual.” He snorted, before going back to his drinking.

“So nice to see you too.” He drawled as he glared at him. Why couldn’t Albus date someone like McLaggen? Nice, and inoffensive? Probably because Albus would manipulate them into doing whatever he wanted, he thought in a hum.

“Is this coffee?” Vinda perked up in interest.

“Yes.” Gellert confirmed in a smile.

She took place next to him on the table, and he even served her. She comfortably drank with him. It was annoying, somehow. Gellert was an arse. Why did everyone seem to favor him? Aberforth spotted a fork and his fingers itched to close around it. One of them brushed it in yearning, but Albus seemed to have guessed his less than favorable intention (Legilimency, Aberforth sighed) and he Accio'ed them to him. Fawkes, installed on his brother’s shoulder, was now narrowing his creepy eyes at him.

Albus sat then, slowly and deliberately on Gellert’s left side. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, when he said, “Please, take a sit.”

It was hardly an invitation.

Aberfoth sighed longingly at the forks neatly put next to his brother and far out of his reach on the tablecloth. He sat down, facing Vinda, with Ariana next to him, as she congratulated him some more. His sister seemed to be vibrating with a sort of nervous energy. Her hands were tugging at the hem of her dress, a pale peach fabric with white dots, even more than she usually did. Her gloved fingers travelled to her knees to the chamomile brooch she put at her collar in rapid succession; and he made a moue. Did she have to wear Gellert’s gift?

Vinda slipped a knife toward him, “It’s better for stabbing someone.” She stated lowly.

He stared at her for a beat, wondering how she could even know, before deciding that ignorance was bliss.

“Hum, I,” Ariana started, catching his attention. She dropped her eyes to her lap, and laced her fingers together. The next second, she looked past him, clearly seeking confirmation, and he momentary followed her line of sight, and barely caught her looking at Albus before she said, “I want to go to Beauxbâtons next year. In September, I mean.” she took breath and said more firmly this time, “I’m going to Beauxbâtons in September.”

“What.” Aberforth said, blinking at her, “You can’t -”

“Amazing.” Vinda cut him off, and he turned his head at her. “I can’t wait to have you there with me. We’ll have fun, you will see.” She promised in a smile as she took another sip of her coffee.

“But, she –”

“Beauxbâtons is far less restrictive than Hogwarts.” Albus explained to him, “She can.” He told him in a sweet smile.

“I have a feeling you made sure she would.” He said between a clenched jaw.

“It was her choice in the end.” His brother assured him.

“And of course, you hadn’t influenced her in any ways.” Aberforth’s expression probably was as disbelieving as his words. He knew Albus after all.

“I am here.” Ariana interceded, “This is exactly why I want to go.” she told him, “I have a voice too, and I want to be heard.” she said firmly. “This is my decision Abe. I really want to go.” she pleaded him with her big baby blue and Aberforth felt the worst of his anger vanish, “Can you be happy for me?”

“Of course, I’m happy for you.” he assured her, “It’s just,” he paused, “I can’t stop being worried. You’re my little sister, and I just can’t turn it off.” He tried to explain to her.

“Oh Abe.” she smiled, and her eyes became a bit watery. Shit, why was she crying? “I love you too.” She whispered before she hugged him. Being seated didn’t stop her as she tried to squeeze the life out of him.

It was nice.

“You’re so cute.” Vinda commented.

Aberforth, who had completely forgotten about their audience, blushed. “I’m -! I’m not!” He spluttered.

“Your tastes are so mess up.” Gellert said to Vinda.

“I know.” she sighed dramatically. “He’s going to be Auror too. It’s becoming embarrassing.” She told him.

“Auror?” Gellert lifted one eyebrow, before boring his eyes into him. “You’re not going to last a month.”

He dislodged himself from Ariana in order to scold at Gellert.

“Is this a prediction?” Vinda asked him, hopeful.

“No, intuition.” He smirked, the arse.

“I can so do it.” he said firmly. “In fact, who here, didn’t even finish his schooling?”

Albus sighed, exasperated at them, but Gellert’s face became somber, “I’m way more powerful and intelligent than you.” He stated.

“Yet, incapable of being graduated.” He mocked.

Gellert’s eyes flashed, “I can beat you to anything, whenever I want.”

“Can you?” Aberforth challenged.

“Aberforth,” Albus said a reprimand in itself, “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s alright.” Gellert’s clenched hands said otherwise, but suddenly his face light up and he smirked. Aberforth distrusted it at once. “Let’s do a little competition.” he offered, “You think you’re better than me? Well, let’s test this theory.”

Albus frowned, “Gellert –”

“I will even choose an impartial judge.” Gellert cut Albus easily. He leaned over the table and toward him. Aberforth automatically leaned backward, “Let’s both try for the Aurors. The first to fail at one of their entry tests, lose.”

“Fine.” he hotly agreed, anything to wipe the smirk off Gellert’s pretentious face. “You’re on!”

A pause.

“You didn’t have to challenge my brother if all you wanted was to be Auror.” Albus noted in a tired sigh.

“You’re doing something together, that’s… nice.” Ariana settled for, her voice unsure.

“I guess, you could steal some intel concerning the Bristish Ministry while you’re in there.” Vinda conceded before taking another sip of her coffee.

Aberforth made a face at her, while Gellert nodded as if it was obvious.

“By the way,” Abe started before he could dwell on the consequences of this bet for his country. How much damage could Gellert possibly do when put inside a place of power? Abe could already envisage sensitive information being leaked into the press and political scandals, “I already know about our Aunt and Vinda’s father.” He said, looking pointedly at all of them. If it wasn’t for Vinda, Abe wouldn’t know anything of importance.

“You do?” Honoria wondered incredulous. Aberforth startled in his seat, he hadn’t heard her came near. He gazed up at her in surprise.

Their Aunt exchanged a look with Albus, who in answer shook his head in negative. What was with everyone doing this lately? He mused, suspicious. And how much information could Albus hide?
He felt a nasty headache coming. He rubbed his temple slowly, feeling vaguely resigned.

“He doesn’t look like he does.” Bathilda commented as she sat. She smiled at him, and if he had never seen the similarities between her nephew and her before, he certainly spotted them now.

“What should I know?” He wondered, almost idly, dreading the answer. His eyes slid to Gellert, far too content to Aberforth’s liking.

“You see,” Honoria started. She paused for a while as if searching for her words before she sat too, falsely casual. She smoothed her dress, slowly, as if to give her more time to think. “When two people truly like each other, they decide to – I mean sometimes they decide to, some never, and it’s alright too. But you see –”

“She’s getting married.” Vinda bluntly announced.

“Yes, this.” Honoria nodded, grateful at being interrupted it seemed.

“What?!” He exclaimed.

“Married.” Gellert repeated evenly, as if bored. “Are you deaf too?”

He ignored this. “With who?” He asked as his confusion reached a new level.

“With Armand of course.” Honoria told him matter-of-fact. At his incredulous look she explained, “Armand Rosier.” she precised, “Vinda’s father.” after a beat of silence she added, “I thought you already knew?” Her eyes travelled to the others occupant of the table.

He gaped. Closed his mouth. Looked at Vinda for confirmation. She lifted one of her shoulder. “My father is a romantic.” Was all she said on the subject.

“But…” he trailed, completely lost, “Why? When? How?”

“The why is easy I think,” Albus smiled amused, as he petted Fawkes, “They love each other.”

“The when is yet to be decided.” Gellert offered off-handy.

“We want a long engagement. And we’re still torn between an autumn or winter wedding.” Honoria supplied as she positively beamed.

“Both has their charms.” Bathilda hummed in approbation.

“For the how, do you want to know how my father proposed?” Vinda asked him.

“You don’t want to know how Mister Rosier proposed, believe me.” Ariana told him as she wrinkled her nose. “Too sappy.” She muttered.

“Maybe he wants to be traumatized.” Gellert grinned as if the thought alone was tasty.

Several minutes of silence followed. Somewhere in their house, the clocks ticked and ticked.

“When did all of this happened?!” he finally exploded, his hands gesturing wildly to encompass them all, “And what’s next?” he wondered, horrified at all the possibilities, “Are you going to tell me you’re married too?” he asked Albus, but it was Gellert he was looking at. His smile became too wide to be safe, so he moved on, fast, “What about your parrot?” he gripped into this mundane subject with all his might. Said bird ruffled its feathers, offended it seemed. “Is it a cow in reality?” His laugh sounded desperate even to his ear. By Morgana, couldn’t one hope for normality anymore?

“Of course not.” Albus said, and holy wood, to which one of his question was he answering? He wondered a bit hysterically. Surely, he wasn’t married with Gellert. Of course, he wasn’t. Denial, denial, he desperately called to the higher force. “Fawkes is a phoenix.”

Aberfoth made a sound that he was sure, wasn’t human. His brother didn’t say no to the other question. But it was impossible. He couldn’t end up related to Gellert. Surely, no universe would allow this to happen.
Right?
Right.

“You mean, your weird bird is a phoenix?” He asked for confirmation instead.

“Yes.” His brother cheerfully replied.

“Is this why you’re giving it chocolate frog?”

Albus tilted his head to the side. “I don’t see the relevance.”

“Because it’s immortal – never mind.” He dropped the matter as Albus regarded him, with a blank look.

“Let’s toast to your graduation Aberforth,” Bathilda said, quickly changing subject, “And to you both, Honoria and Ariana. To new beginnings!”

“To new beginnings!” They cheered along her before toasting.

“Yeah, I guess it can hardly get worse.” He muttered before finishing his drink in one go.

His Aunt was getting married to a Rosier. He might or might not be related, through marriage, (he shuddered) to Gellert (except this couldn’t be. Denial, denial, denia-). His little sister was going to study in France. A parrot suddenly turned into a phoenix. And the most important, he was going to kick Gellert’s ass out of the Auror’s program and win, damnit.
But, honestly.
When did his careful and uneventful life become so chaotic?
He totally blamed Gellert Grindelwald for stomping all over it.

“Oh, do you always snore?” Vinda asked, sounding uninterested, “I heard that it’s a terrible habit.”

Aberforth sighed, “I do not snore.” He denied half heartily.

She smiled, sly and amused, though by what he couldn’t guess. The light was illuminating her eyes, and he swore that they sparkled then, like two gems.
He amended only one thing: his life might be choatic now, but it had Vinda into it.

He smiled back at her.

Notes:

So this is the end of our invisibility cloak story. I wish you all a merry Christmas🌲 along a happy new year 😄
Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of this one or to drop ideas/wishes for the next one.

See you soon ^^

Chapter 13: The Doxy's Effect

Notes:

Hello everyone! I hope the new year is treating you well ^^
So, I’m not yet ready to post the next story, but my ‘bridge’ of sort is finished, and it makes for a long chapter? Consider this an apology for the wait ;) (also, the alternative title of this one is: ‘Gellert is the Auror’s recruit from Hell’. You have been warned lol.)

1900, September, Monday, 3rd, The British Ministry of Magic

“Why are you here?” Potter had come over as soon as he had seen him, “Someone else to rob?” he inquired, his voice drawling with unconcealed sarcasm. “And here I was thinking that what we had was special.”

“Don’t worry; you have a very special place in my mind.” Gellert replied agreeably. He spotted Aberforth with the others Auror’s recruits, and he couldn’t resist throwing a smirk at him. The latter made a face in return. “I’m actually hesitating.” he admitted as he folded his hands on his back. Potter was looking back at him cautiously. “Shall I go into the Department of Mysteries first and see what they hide there, or just rummage through the Head Auror’s desk?” He wondered evenly.

Potter stared at him for a beat. His eyes blinked slowly behind his huge glasses. Gellert waited; if what he had caught from him so far, and if the stories Albus’s told him were true, then he wouldn’t have to wait long for a reply. Sure enough, he answered, “The Department of Mysteries.” he said, “This is where they keep all the interesting stuff.”

Gellert hummed, even as he fought down a very satisfied smile. “And are you? Interested?”

Potter pursed his lips as if this could contain the clear delight his face was showing, “If I say yes,” he started carefully, “Would you consider my debt paid?”

“It depends.” he told him, “Would you rather do multiple little things for me or only one big?” Gellert countered genuinely interrogative.

“If breaking into the Department of Mysteries is little for you, I don’t think I want to know what’s big.” Potter replied. “I realize, by the way, that you’re only manipulating me because you want to use my invisibility cloak.” he frowned as if annoyed, “I resent the hell out of that.”

Gellert shrugged, unconcerned. “I can live with this.”

 

*
“So, you’re here today because you think you’re cut to be Auror. Well,” the man paused dramatically. He was small, and in his forties with the beginning of a stubble on his jaw. He was pacing back and forth in front of them, like a general inspecting his troops. If this was supposed to be intimidating, it wasn’t working. Gellert didn’t even remember his name; this was how unimpressed he was. “Let’s say that not all of you will succeed. I’m Jonah Sobbosh,” ah, yes that was it. “And I’m going to be your instructor. I have to warn you; I’m not nice and if you want to be coddled, go back to your mother. Are we clear?” He asked them, voice hard.

Since this man had clearly never met his mother (she would destroy him with only a few cutting words, he was sure), Gellert didn’t dignify this with an answer. Instead he grinned at Aberforth who rolled his eyes in aggravation at him.
The game was on.

 

*
“Alright first: casting. We’ll evaluate how fast you cast and how creative you are with your spells. Harming spells are off-limit.” He warned them.

Too bad, Gellert thought. Still there were a variety of curses he could think of for Aberforth. Gods knew, he had waited a year for this opportunity to arise.

 

*
“Dark curses are off-limit too!” Sobbosh shouted to the practice room at large, “Merlin, is there still someone unharmed?” He asked in dismay as only pained groans answered him.

“I’m fine.” Gellert said, while he played with his wand between his fingers. Sobbosh sent a nervous look at it.

“Why,” their instructor started. He gulped before he continued, “Why did you change him into a goat?” He asked, his finger pointing at the angry animal at his feet.

“You said there were points for creativity.” Gellert coolly reminded him. He eyed the grotesque orange haired goat trying to chew his boots with an indulgent smile. Finally, Aberforth had come back into his natural state. A whole world made of hay and goat-friends was opening up for him. He should thank him. For one, he looked better like this.

“Fine too!” Potter - he truly knew how to evade a spell - happily raised his hand. Gellert bet he used his cloak at some point. His expression was manic.

“I know you’re fine.” Sobbosh snapped at him, “You’re the one who finished most of them with your slipping floor spell.”

“This was good, yes?” Potter asked him, eagerly.

“What’s next?” Gellert asked him, bored already.

Sobbosh stared at the two of them like they were crazy.

 

*
“Alright, now that you’re all, huh, back to yourself, we’ll try an interrogation.” Sobbosh said, already sounding far more hesitant than this morning. “So I need volunteers for our first suspect –”

“I’ll do it.” Aberforth firmly asserted. Gellert thought it was a pity that their instructor had not let nature ran its course. If he hadn’t finished his spell, Aberforth would probably have been very far away by then, and Gellert could have told Albus, without an ounce of lies, than his brother was gone and happy somewhere near a farm.

“Me too.” Gellert ignored the nasty glare Aberforth shot him. He mused that he could still change him back into a goat later.

He heard a collective ‘huh’ from the others recruits who, smartly, chose not to come with them. No one wanted to be stuck between him – he had personally cursed most of them this morning – and Aberforth, who everyone had already discovered to be a moody human being.

“I’m in!” Potter cheerfully decided to join them. Gellert lifted an eyebrow at him. Perhaps Potter was suicidal. He was lucky the elder wand was his first love and not the cloak.

Sobbosh stared at them three for a second before resuming, “So, this man,” he pointed to the fifty years old man anxiously rubbing his hands together inside the Auror’s interrogation room. “Is suspected to have participated to a traffic of Sleeping Draught. He was arrested in Knockturn Alley, this morning.” he explained, “We need him to tell us who his accomplices are. So far, he’s not talking.” he told them, “You all have fifteen minutes to change that. I will be with you, inside the room, in case it goes nasty. But I will let you conduct the interview. We’ll debrief after. And it starts,” he checked his watch, “Now.” He made ushering movement at the three of them.

“He doesn’t look like he wants to talk.” Potter noted as he looked at their suspect through the glass.

Sobbosh ignored him and instead went into the room, closely followed by the rest of them.

“What does this mean?” their suspect asked as his eyes took on the four men coming inside, “Am I a group project now?” He laughed nervously.

“Looks like.” Gellert told him as he sat. At his surprised look, he leaned casually into his chair and fixed him, unblinking. The man quickly evaded his stare. He smirked.

Aberforth let out a long sigh as he sat too. “Just talk and we’ll be out of your hair.”

The man shook his head in negative, stubborn on his silent vow. He wasn’t going to confess anything like this, Gellert realized. Since the polite way seemed to have failed, it was time to try a more direct one.

“We could use the Cruciatus curse on him.” Gellert proposed mildly. He watched the effect it had on him raptly. Sure enough, the suspect startled, and his eyes widened in fear. He clearly hadn’t been expecting this. Good, he thought.

Sobbosh widely slashed the air with his hands. “We do not use Unforgivables!” He exclaimed.

He almost sighed. He had never said he would truly cast it, he had only suggested it. Gellert was counting on the shock’s effect his words had on their suspect, believing that the threat of it would be more than enough to turn him talkative. He turned to look at their instructor. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” He declared, because, in the end, he certainly wasn’t.

“Wild.” Potter breathed near him. He had chosen to stay standing, half leaning against the wall between the exit and the man.

Aberforth leant on the table, toward their suspect. “Did you hear this? I have to put up with this kind of dramatic nonsense all the damn time. You, on the other hand, can escape it by talking.” at his prolonged silence, he hit the table with one his hand. Hard. The table shook. “Talk!”

“I think he’s mute with fear now.” Potter remarked.

“Let do those who knows.” Gellert told Aberforth, his tongue clicking in annoyance, “You’re destroying my progress.”

“Your progress?” Aberforth repeated, aghast, “Are you kidding me?”

“I do not have the will to entertain you.” He evenly replied as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why did it have to be you?” Aberforth suddenly complained, “Why couldn’t it be McLaggen?” He lamented. He looked at their suspect du jour, as if taking him for witness.

Gellert frowned in displeasure, “Him, again.”

“Yes, him. He’s nice and has such a huge crush on –” he flattered as he seemed to remember their audience, “My sister.” He hastily finished.

Gellert felt his whole mood darkened. “Did he now?”

“Wait, is this a family thing?” Sobbosh asked them from behind, “Personal matters have no place here, gentlemen.”

“This explains so much.” Potter said as his eyes travelled between the two.

“Oooh, are you jealous again?” Aberforth challenged him.

“Hardly.” he quickly denied, “I have nothing to fear from this man.”

“Please.” Aberforth insisted, “You’re so possessive. Pretty sure it’s not healthy.”

“I –” the man started, his lower lip wobbling, “I will admit all my crimes, just, please, let me ou-.” The suspect pleaded.

“Hush,” Potter cut him off, “I’m listening.” He shushed him with a distrait movement of his hand.

“You know,” Gellert said, trying to rein his temper, “Ariana has taken the habit to write to me regularly.” he nonchalantly slipped, watching Aberforth’s face cloud, “Now, which one of us is possessive?” He asked in an overly sweet tone.

Aberforth glowered. “The hell is she writing you abou-”

“If you don’t end this,” he roughly interrupted, dropping the act completely, “You’re the one who’s not going to be healthy.” Gellert warned him.

“Seriously though,” Potter took over, “I can’t believe you let us push McLaggen, knowing… your sister already got someone.” he reprimanded Aberforth, “That’s not nice.” He said in a scowl.

“I just wanted my sibling to be with someone sane.” Aberforth sighed in exasperation, “I tried my best to make them match, I don’t know where I failed -”

“Please, I will -”

Gellert laughed, “You failed at the very start, because you’re too stupid and mindless to be anything else but a failure.” He said, putting the emphasis on the last word.

“-talk. I could write everything down if this could help you?”

Aberforth violently pushed his chair out and stood up. He rose his wand in front of Gellert’s face, “Repeat this.” He challenged between a clenched jaw.

“I’m not afraid of a farmer,” he rose from his seat too as he spoke, his wand into his hand and ready to be used. “Who loves his goats just a bit too much –”

“This was something I truly hadn’t needed to know. Merlin, the images –” Henry covered his glasses with his hands and let out a traumatized groan.

“Shut up Potter!” Aberforth shouted, his face as red as his hair, “They are just gross rumors,” he defended, before accusing him again, “Bet you had a hand in them –”

“From what I’ve heard,” Gellert cut him off without a care, “You have no need for a hand.”

“Holy shit.”

“Please, I will give you everything!”

 

*
“Oi, Sobbosh!” one of his colleague, William Safer, a young man who made Auror two years ago, called him through the corridors. He mostly worked alongside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, treating files and handing them to the Aurors. His desk was as messy as usual, covered with pile of papers. Jonah had never seen it neat. But ever since Torquil Travers had been given the Head Auror’s badge, the poor furniture seemed ready to crumble under the weight it had to bear. Safer too, if he was honest, was beginning to look washed out. Jonah swore he used to be less pale than this. He actually teamed with him once in the field, and he admitted that his good spirit had gotten to him. “Shouldn’t you be with your new recruits?” He asked in a smile.

Jonah sighed, feeling very old suddenly. “I was. I,” he started, “I assigned a little exercise to some of them, while the others continue the tests.” he was hesitant to say more, “They’re downstairs, in the cells.” He barely managed to get this out. He was, frankly, a bit ashamed, but what else was he supposed to do?

Safer looked at him in shock, “You leave them with the prisoners now?” he wondered aghast, “Isn’t it a bit too much for a first day?”

“They’re not with the prisoners, they’re the prisoners.” as Safer’s face became more and more alarmed, he continued, “Two of them started fighting inside the interrogation room, and the third one was only diverting the most harmful spells at the furniture.” he recalled the look on Potter’s face. The kid had watched one of the chairs turned into an animated object full of fur with too much glee. Jonah had put him on time-out with the two others quickly after that. He didn’t want to know what the spell was supposed to do on humans. “They needed to cool off.”

Safer gazed at him, quizzically. “Are you going to keep them into the program, then?”

“Yes.” he sighed again, this time in resignation, “They’re all too good at casting to be put aside. But I’m supposed to give them a little mission to continue their evaluation, and I don’t know what to choose.” Nothing was harmless enough, and the risks for collateral damages were too big.

“I think I can find you something.” Safer proposed as he ruffled through his papers. “There’s this pub in Hogsmead.” he got a file out of his alarming high pile of parchment. Jonah watched it, in fear that the lot would fall down. It didn’t; a small miracle. “We got several witnesses saying that it might not be conform to the latest restrictions.” he told him, “Some said something about shoes, but I’m honestly not sure it’s relevant.” he smiled, sheepish, and offered him the file. “Why not sent them here? It’s probably nothing and some fresh air might do them good.”

Jonah took the file Safer was handing him with dread. He was in a dire need of holidays; he thought longingly, somewhere where no one would ask him to deal with tempered wizards. “I guess.” He said, sounding unconvinced even to his own ears.

 

*
“It’s your entire fault.” Aberforth accused sourly.

The three of them were confined inside one of the gloomy cells of the Ministry. Two guards were gazing at them every now and then. At least it was spacious enough that Gellert didn’t have to be stuck too close to Aberforth. A mercy.

“How so?” Gellert asked him idly. He was leaning against one the wall of their prison, and looking up at their only window. It was too high to truly see what was outside, but he could hear the busy sounds of the streets upward and feel the pale sun warming his face. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who started it all.” he was pretty sure, anyway. “If we’re both fired because of this, don’t expect to have won our little competition.” Gellert could shoulder an hour behind bars, but he couldn’t imagine admitting to a breathing soul that Aberforth had beaten him at anything. His pride would never allow this offense.

Aberforth massaged his temples as if this could change the situation they were in. Gellert doubted it could open the heavy door they had been locked behind.

“I can’t believe they put me with you! It’s so unfair.” Potter complained. “I’m innocent.” He opened his eyes big under his even bigger glasses as if to prove his harmless nature to them.

Aberforth stared at him for a beat, “You’re the sole reason I’m here in the first place.” he dramatically threw his hands in the air, “I should have never agree to this! What, in Merlin name, was I thinking?”

Gellert regarded Potter curiously, wondering if he had used his most persuasive abilities on him. Gellert knew from experience that he was good at making people do what he wished. Someone who was as dim as Aberforth was probably an easy target. But Potter only shrugged one of his shoulders in answer to his silent question.
They heard the sound of keys and they all turned toward it. It was Sobbosh who was coming to them. He turned the key into the lock with the look of a man marching to his doom.

“I have a task for you three.” he sounded tired, “But before, I hope you all learnt from this little experience?” He studied them sternly, while he juggled between opening their door and holding a file under one of his arm.

“Yes.” Gellert assured gravely. The Ministry’s cells got major flaws. For one, the high window. Gellert believed that with enough concentration, he could find a way to direct his magic at it. For two, the guards. Here, so close to the prisoners, and oh so bored. A little push, some well-spoken words, and Gellert bet he could make them open the door for him. Even put them behind it, perhaps, and wouldn’t that be amusing?

“Sure.” Aberforth said even as he rolled his eyes. Even though he was playing it lightly, he seemed to be itching to get out. For once, Gellert couldn’t fault him for this.

Sobbosh finally gazed at Potter. The latter stared back at him, “I still maintain that I didn’t do anything.”

Their instructor frowned, but moved on, “Alright, everything you need to know about your assignment for tomorrow is in there.” he gave the file to them with great reluctance. “Good luck,” he winced, “I guess.”

 

*
“How was your first day?” Albus asked him right as he stepped away from the fireplace of Nurmengard. He didn’t wait for an answer before he welcomed him with a soft kiss.

“Uneventful.” he replied, before stealing another kiss. “How was yours?” He inquired.

Albus’ expression lighted up, “Galatea and I used the Boggart on the six years today. Some Riddikulus were truly creative, I saw –”

Gellert listened to his tale attentively. Albus laughed as he recalled the silliest things he had witnessed, and Gellert smiled. He had made the right decision. For now, Albus was perfect in Hogwarts. And this didn’t mean that they couldn’t search for the Hallows during their spare time. Gellert was probably a week away from winning his competition against Aberforth, which would give him plenty of free time (he intended to quit from the Aurors just as soon as it was done, he had no intention to work for the Ministry, he was not that bored).

Yes, here and now, he could delude himself: everything was going along well.

 

*
The trouble was at night, when Gellert fell into a slumber so deep that even Albus’ laughter couldn’t reach him. He had Visions then. He dreamt.

His feet were deep into the thick snow. He could see the puff of air in front of him, coming at each respiration.
He looked up, from his boots disappearing into the white, to the tall trees with their pale leaves. A heavy breath from the wind and one of them fell, turning onto itself, like a ballerina. It was attacked by the bite of the frost right away, and when it finally reached the ground next to him, it was already frozen.
Sounds of voices reached him. Two of them, argued somewhere into the woods. He lowered his head to the ground again. There were footsteps drawn, creating a path into the immaculate snow. He blindly followed it, closing on the voices as he did so and –

He woke up, his eyes opening in sudden alarm and his heart beating wildly into his chest. He sat on the mattress and risked a glance to the other side of the bed. Albus, next to him, was still breathing evenly. Gellert didn’t wake him up, nor did he wake him up the last times it had happened either. Albus would be a comfort, but Albus would want explanations, and Gellert would rather keep this to himself. So he laid back and tried to calm his breathing.
Albus was perfect in Hogwarts, he reminded himself. The wards were heavy and the cold was harmless there.

He still had a hard time chasing the images from his eyes.

 

*
September, Tuesday, 4th

“Look, it’s here.” Potter pointed at the shop, “It’s called,” he trailed as he leafed through the papers they had been given, “The Golden’s Boot.” He finally said.

“I would have never guessed.” Aberforth moodily muttered. He didn’t seem to be a morning person, but then it was difficult to guess, given that this bad disposition followed him all days and nights.

Gellert supposed that the name of the pub was rather obvious. One couldn’t come near it without spotting the huge sign on the front showing up a single yellow boot glittering like a coin. From the animated Hogsmead’s street he was in, the pub looked pretty harmless. It was nicely kept, its windows were clean, and the few consumers he could see from there, were peacefully sat on little wood chairs. It didn’t exactly screamed ‘illegal’, at least not like the shops in Knockturn Alley did.
The doorbell even chimed as they entered, and Gellert began to seriously doubt that this kind of pub could be hiding anything controversial.

Still he went to the counter where, weirdly enough a minuscule leprechaun was cleaning a glass. He was old looking with a long white beard that almost reached his feet, and wearing a vibrant green coat.
This caught his attention.
It was more an elf’s work than a leprechaun. They were untruthful creature as far as Gellert knew, ready to sell their brother if this could give them a form a gain. They had the tendency to lie and, coupled with their sour mood and the fact that their magic could confuse even the most skilled wizards, they were often only considered harmless if put far away. They were also possessive of what they considered theirs, and tended to not be seen outside their lands.
He sat on the high chair and considered the bottles neatly lined behind the counter closely.

He felt Potter taking the seat next to him. “I’ve never seen of pub run by leprechaun before.” he started to converse gently with the busy bartender. “What’s your name? I’m Henry.” He happily presented himself.

The bartender hesitated before he replied, in a gruff voice, “Nicethee.”

Silence.

Gellert stopped his visual inspection to blink at the creature. The leprechaun’s expression had been set into a permanent scowl ever since they had stepped in, and from the look of his face, this was not a rare occurrence. Yet, someone had deemed it reasonable to call him Nicethee.
He and Potter exchanged a look. Potter made a valiant attempt at not outright laughing. He only let out a soft chuckle that he turned into a cough, while Gellert hid most of his amusement behind his palm.

“Are you from Ireland?” Potter wondered. Speaking seemed to help him to keep his laugh from bursting free, “I have some family in Galway.” He slipped.

The petite creature snorted inside his beard, “Galway is not what it used to be.” was all he offered on the subject; “Are you drinking something?” He swept his narrowed eyes at them.

“Why not.” Aberforth sighed as he sat too, “Give us three beers, please.” he ordered, before he said to Gellert, “You’re paying, by the way.”

Gellert raised an eyebrow at him, “And why, pray tell, shall I pay?”

Aberforth regarded him as if it was evident, “Which one of us lives in a castle?” He countered.

“You live in a castle?” Potter asked him. “Wait,” he said, stuck by another idea it seemed, “Does Albus live with you? Since, you’re…” He finished his sentence by putting his two index together, in a parody of a kiss.

Gellert rolled his eyes at him, while Aberforth made a sound of utter pain, “Please, never do that again.” He pleaded at his friend.

The leprechaun served them, their glasses clicking against the dark wood of the counter. “My castle is an inheritance.” Gellert explained as his fingers closed around his drink. He could feel the cold of the beer through the thick glass. It made him uneasy, not the chill in itself but more of what it reminded him these days. Too many nights lay awake after dreaming of snow and screams. But he didn’t release his hold, not allowing himself to show a form of weakness in public. “It doesn’t mean that I’m rich.” He said before tasting the amber liquid. He swallowed quickly before putting the glass down. He frowned at it. Looked at the beer more carefully.

“At least, you inherited something.” Aberforth mumbled inside his glass.

“I didn’t imagine being Aurors would be like this,” Potter said as he was nursing his drink between his hands, “I mean, it’s ten in the morning, and I’m at the pub.” he giggled, “If my mother learnt of it, I’m dead!”

“Don’t sound so thrilled by the prospect.” Aberforth chided him in a tired sigh.

“Your beer,” Gellert started, making the bartender’s pointy ears turned toward him. “Are you making them yourselves?”

Nicethee considered him, “Yes.” He said in a tone that strongly suggested that he drop this line of reasoning.

Gellert didn’t. “And I’m sure that you use all the protecting Charms necessary.” he said in a most agreeable smile, “Nobody wants to have leprechaun’s dust put into their drinks, after all.”

At this, a look of panic crossed the creature’s face, and Aberforth quickly put his glass down. It made a loud sound as it hit the counter.

“Oh.” Potter slowly waved the liquid trapped into his glass.

Nicethee tried to escape. Gellert had to give him this, despite his short legs, he was rather quick. But Gellert had his wand already between his fingers. He threw an Incarcerous at him.
After that, he silently made his way toward the private section of the pub. Hidden behind a heavy door and a ‘do not enter’ sign, he found a group of leprechauns there. They were caught red handed (or should he say, green handed? There was a worrying amount of it present there), mixing liter of beer along magical’s dust into an impressive cauldron.

Later, it was tested that the mixed beers had twice the dose of alcohol than it should be. In short, people got drunk faster, and during this state of great confusion, the leprechauns were freed to rob wizards and witches easily. (In turned out that it was their clients’ shoes they were after and not their gold. Gellert didn’t even try to comprehend this.)
The pub was closed soon after their instructor arrived in Hogsmead village. The culprits of the day were driven into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where they would be deal with.

“How did you know?” Potter asked him as the afternoon ended.

“I recognized the beer.” he replied, leaving his very drunk exploits from last summer out. Potter had no need to know about his singing. He felt victorious though, as he had been sure that he couldn’t have been defeated by simple Irish’s beers. “I had my suspicions on it.” He finished proudly, righting his vest as he did so.

“We can’t even trust alcohol.” Aberforth sounded truly desperate, “The world is turning into a dark place.”

 

*
“Oh,” Gellert smiled after Albus had greeted him, “I was right.” He said as if it was an afterthought instead of the ‘I told you so’ he so wanted to throw at him.

“About what exactly?” Albus tilted his head to one side.

Gellert smiled smugly, showing off the pack of beers he subtly seized earlier. “I was right about the beer. It was, indeed, an Irish’s conspiracy.” he smirked wider when he saw the unbelieving stare his lover was giving him. “I told you, I would find my proof.” he reminded him. He lifted the pack, so they were at Albus’s eyes level. “Now, you shall be ashamed for even doubting me and –” Gellert trailed as Albus, whose expression had been frowny, turned into a sweet smile, “What?”

“You are such a good Auror.” He told him sincerely.

It was Gellert’s turn to scowl, “There’s no need to be insulting.”

“But, it is true.”

“Is it?” Gellert replied, with a hint of challenge into his voice.

Well, if it was, it wouldn’t last long, he decided.

 

*
September, Wednesday, 5th

“It’s distressing how easy it is to roam inside the Department of Mysteries.” Potter pointed out.

Gellert softly agreed under the cloak they shared. They had been left on their own because of some incident happening this morning inside the Atrium asking for the help of their instructor. From what he heard several Doxy had managed to escape their guards’ vigilance. Some Departments had been closed in order to retrieve them.

As far as Gellert was concerned, it meant that it was time to investigate the level nine of the Ministry of Magic.

Gellert was a little ashamed to say that he had needed Greety’s help to pop them in. They had passed the entrance room thanks to her (and he had to stuff himself with biscuits for her to agree). After that, Gellert had ignored the Space Chamber, and the Death ones, declaring their titles unappealing. He had deemed the Hall of Prophecies a bit too redundant for him - he was already a Seer after all - he didn’t need something to tell him what the future was made of. No, he was far more interested in the Time chamber.

“Turn left,” Gellert instructed, “I want to see what they keep inside those boxes.” He said as he pointed the neat boxed lined near them. The whole room was illuminated by a diamond shaped light, a strange thing that he wasn’t sure he liked.

They carefully moved together under the invisibility cloak. Once Gellert made sure that they were no one in the vicinity, he got his head out of the cloak. He truly liked it more and more, a shame he had let Potter keep it.

He touched one of the boxes with the tip of his wand, testing it. Since nothing harmful seemed to come from it, he decided to gently push the lid open. He, then, peered down. There were five little objects, each neatly disposed into their own drawers.

“So, what is this?” Potter hushed in unconcealed curiosity as he got his head out of his cloak too.

Gellert took out one of them. It was a necklace with a hourglass pendant. There were three rings circling it. They seemed to be able to turn.

“I’ve got no idea.” Gellert admitted, “Some sort of watch?” He tried to guess as he fiddled with the circles, making them swirl. He saw an inscription written on the side of one of them: ‘I mark the hours, every one,’ it began. He looked to see if the others had something engraved inside too. Surely enough, the second one said: ‘Nor I have yet outrun the Sun. My use and –’

“There should be an informative’s paper for this kind of thing.” Potter complained in a huff. “Wait,” he put the illuminated tip of his wand against the wooden box. “It’s called ‘time-turners’.”

‘-value, unto you,’ Gellert hummed and replied absently. “Maybe it gives time once it has been activated.”

“What would be the use? A Tempus would be just as quick.”

“I…” He trailed as his eyes were focused on the last circle. ‘Are gauged by what you have to do.’

The hourglass twirled once, twice, and the world moved faster and faster. Everything became vague blurry figures that came and went. The light flickered in and out just as fast.
Well. Scheiße.

 

*
When the world stopped spinning madly around him, Gellert found himself still standing in the middle of the Department of Mysteries, with no Potter or invisibility cloak. He casted a rapid Disillusionment Charm on him, less someone decided to come and look into his direction.
The Ministry had enough confidence into their security system that they had considered than anyone who was already inside was meant to be, and so, they hadn’t put anti-Disapparition Charms. It was to his advantage, and so he vanished, before he took the direction of the lift.

Once alone in the little space, he tried to think it over.

He looked down at the object in the middle of his palm in consideration. Potter had said that it was called a time-turner. He fiddled with it, more careful now. He continued to muse on it, as the lift went through many directions at a fast pace. It finally stopped at the Atrium, and Gellert exited it. He stopped at the top of the stairs, where his eyes were drawn to the huge clock with the big hand turning there.
It declared to be the beginning of the morning, when a moment ago, it had been the afternoon.

So, the time-turner either made him lost time, or won some, Gellert deduced.

As he walked down the stairs and inspected the device, he absently noticed the large box being carried by several wizards downstairs. It seemed jumpy, in the sense that whatever was inside appeared to be moving.
But as his attention was not completely on his surrounding, he didn’t move out of the way, and was therefore very annoyed when he felt someone bump into him. He lifted his eyes from the golden jewel just in time to see the man who had elbowed him tripping on his robes with a yelp. His fall and scream broke the concentration of the three wizards who were lifting said jumpy box with the help of a Levioso. They turned their heads toward the falling man, and in doing so, stopped abruptly their walk. Making another wizard, who was carrying a pile of parchment; elbow a witch who was passing, in his haste to not walk into them. The witch made a ‘ow’ sound, caught between surprise and indignation, right when someone entered the Atrium, letting a bust of wind follow him. All the probably sensible information the man was carrying fled from his arms, the witch used her magic to direct the papers away from her, and they went right into the three guards’ faces who lost what was left of their concentrations. The box fell onto the ground in a loud ‘thud’, and opened. Gellert watched several Doxy jumped away from it. Shocked screams followed this.

The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was going to have a field day with this, he mused unimpressed.

Then, he grinned.

So this must be what happened this morning, he thought as the Doxy fled into every directions much to everyone’s panic. So, the time-turner made him went back in time. A quick look at the clock and he calculated that he had four hours before he had to go back where he had started, inside the Department of Mysteries with Potter.

For now, though… well. There were others Departments he had yet to visit.

 

*
Gellert honestly had the time of his life.
It was amazing what could been done in four hours when everyone thought you were already elsewhere (which, technically, he was).
He took a deeper look at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement while everyone was busy with the fugitives Doxy. No one raised an eyebrow at him, so either his Disillusionment Charm was even better than he recalled it to be, either people were more easily distracted than he had first thought.

The only downside to his little trip in time was that he once again needed Greety’s help to enter the Department of Mysteries, and therefore, had to subject himself to more biscuits. He truly needed to find a way around her emotional blackmail, and the sooner, the better.

Anyway, since he still had one hour before his time was up, he decided to try his luck at opening the Ever-Locked-Room. He didn’t succeed, but the Brain room honestly sounded awful. He stole a look at the keyhole of the huge door closing the room, trying to identify the shapes he could make out. But in the end, he had no ideas of what he was staring at. It was very strange and intriguing; perhaps he would investigate it another time.

For now though, he quickly made his way back into the Time room.
Potter was here with his cloak, and Gellert saw himself fiddle with the hourglass pendant, before he blinked out of existence. Potter took a step backward and let out an exclamation of surprise. Gellert stepped, right into his back, and poked him. Potter almost jumped out of his skin, to which Gellert smirked. He turned and looked at him, his eyes wide with panic, before they settled into confusion as he recognized him.

“What the hell.” he shook his head and stared where Gellert had been, a second prior for him, to where he was now. “How did you do that?”

“Well,” he pocketed the time-turner into his vest. “It’s a long story.”

 

*
“Do you want to get wasted on leprechaun’s alcohol?” Gellert had wondered that evening, as he remembered the pack he had so swiftly taken. He figured that it would be a waste to not make use of it.

Albus looked at him like he was mad for even suggesting this. It didn’t last long however. “Why not. It’s been a long time since you serenaded to me.” He told him in an amused smile.

“I will not sing.” Gellert vowed darkly.

 

*
“Did you –hip- curse my brother yet?” Albus asked him very, very late that night. He was sprawled on the couch, but was starting to slide from it and onto the floor. An inevitable and slow fall, truly.

“Nein.” he took another sip of his beer. “I be-behaved.” Then he chuckled because he just stole a magical device today. Behaving was a matter of perspective.

“That’s niiiice.” Albus drawled before giggling. “Hip.” his body rolled off the couch and he fell to the floor. Gellert didn’t have the energy to go check on him. He was comfortably sat inside his armchair, and intended to stay here. “Merlin, the room is spinning. Gellert, why is the room spinning?” He asked him.

“It’s because of the Iri-ish.” He laughed uncontrollably at this, his thoughts turning to little leprechauns with oversized beards. Gods, but their alcohol was something. Gellert’s inebriated brain congratulated himself for this fantastic idea.

“Oh yes, I remem –hip- ber.” Albus laughed along him. He made a vaillant attempt at standing before he swayed and Gellert barely caught his wrist before he could crash down again. It only made Albus giggled more, and he lazily rested his head on the top of Gellert’s legs, as if this was where he had intended to go all along, and not where he had ended up to. “Say, you won’t believe the thing Galate-hip- a said.” He finished by burying his head in the fabric of Gellert’s trouser. Honestly if he wasn’t so wasted right now, he would find the sight of Albus kneeling at his feet, and so near, arousing. As it was, he only wondered if Albus was going to find the floor again. He hummed a melody that he deemed appropriate given the suspense. Would fall, wouldn’t fall.

“Do, do, do tell me.” He sing-sang.

“She want me to, hip, go, to the…” he trailed and furrowed his forehead in confusion, “The Three thing!” he suddenly exclaimed. “They are ta-alking about it.” he then whispered like a secret, “It’s in discussion, but hush.” He put a finger in front of his lip. Or somewhere close to.

Gellert made the appropriate ‘oooh’ noises even though he had no idea what Albus was even saying anymore. “She wants that?”

“Yeah!” Albus happily said. “I wanna.” he popped the last words like one would do with a bubble gum. “I gonna. Perhaps. Buuut.” he trailed extravagantly, “If you’re not there, that’s not funny, I want you to be the-hip.”

“I so can b-be there.” Gellert affirmed.

“Can you?” Albus challenged in a yawn.

“I am the boss of my life.” He asserted firmly, believing that his words could become true just by saying them.

Albus laughed in delight, before passing out. Gellert followed him soon after.

 

*
September, Thursday, 8th

The day was long, and Gellert’s hangover was persistent.
This morning, Gellert had discovered that Albus didn’t do hangover like everyone else; so while he had been cursing about the lights and wishing for a potion to make his headache vanish, Albus had been perfectly fine. He had given him said potion, before he decided to glow happily and smugly inside their kitchen. He even ate breakfast, when Gellert had been repulsed by the smell alone.
The whole thing had been terribly unfair. Even more so, after Albus had gently reminded him that he had been the one who had wanted to drink in the first place.

Later, he made his way to the Ministry, feeling vindictive and vaguely justified to be critical about everything. He thought that he told Aberforth to screw, but even he could tell that his heart wasn’t on it. (His heart felt too ill for that.)
He supposed that one couldn’t be at their top every day. (He would make sure to properly tell Aberforth to get lost tomorrow.)

 

*
September, Friday, 7th

When he got out of the fireplace and into Nurmengard that night, the first thing that tipped him off was the relative silence.
Usually, Albus was somewhere near, waiting for him to come home, even though when Gellert had pointed this out to him, he had denied it. It often resulted in Greety being near – she couldn’t let any of them be without something to drink or eat for long - and she tended to follow Albus around the most, because he was weak on promises of tea and sweets, and she was quick to exploit it.

Now though, the castle appeared to be silent. There were no flying teapot around, no Albus’ mess laying on the table and falling on the rug of the living, and no house-elf trying to kill him, slowly, with sugar.

It was strange.

He took the stairs and poked his head into the study only to find it empty. He frowned and made his way to the potion room Albus had created, wondering if he had gotten lost in whatever new project he had.
As a rule, Gellert never set a foot into it. It wasn’t that Albus had forbidden him to. It was that after Paris, Gellert had been ready to burn all his ancestors’ portraits - he was sick of listening to them bickering – but mostly, he had been stuck into a painting for a week, and therefore, never wanted to gaze at another one.
So it wasn’t that he couldn’t enter the little potion room. It was that Albus - who had been in a far more charitable mood than him - had taken off every painting the castle possessed, and put them there. He said that he didn’t mind to have a company when he worked. Gellert, who knew his ancestors well enough to wish he didn’t, had told him that he was going to regret it.
So, it was with great reluctance that he opened the potion room’s door.

The chatter inside stopped long enough for his great-great-grandmother to say: “Ah, look, it’s our little delinquent.” She drawled even she studied him with attention.

He eyed her. Linabella Grindelwald had been painted in her thirties appearance, an explicit request from her. One could accuse her to be vain, but it was true that she had been pretty, with her hair delicately waving down on her shoulders, and her luminous eyes. Still, he also knew for a fact that she had murdered her husband because she had deemed him unworthy, so he truly got no lessons to take from her (except perhaps, how she had managed to not go into prison for her crime).

He smiled at her, all teeth, “Careful,” he told her, “A fire can start so quickly great-great-grandmother.”

She bristled, and his great-grandfather exclaimed, “See! This kind of temper is all from your side of family!” To his great-grandmother.

Several shouts replied to this statement, and Gellert rolled his eyes at them all. His ancestors had clearly not improved since the last time he had the misfortune to see them and Albus was not even there.

“If I recall correctly, you tried to kill your daughter in law!” His great-grandmother’s voice rang through the room.

“He didn’t even manage it. My son had always been such disappointment.” Linabella said, unflinching and unforgiving.

“Mother! How could you!”

“And you! You poisoned the gardener! Everybody knows!” Now this was his great-great-aunt accusing his great-uncle.

“What did you use already? I always forgot.” His great-uncle’s wife, Vanya, wondered.

“Oh nothing fancy. A couple of yew’s seed inside his cup, and he was good. I mean...” His great-uncle trailed awkwardly.

“He deserved it. I recall what he did to my petunia.” His great-great-great-grandfather suddenly piped up.

“You think it was bad?” his daughter replied, “He destroyed my apple tree!”

“It’s so hard to find competent staff.” Linabella stated. Gellert recalled his mother saying the exact same thing. She was a little too much like her for him to be confortable, despite not even being her distant relatives. It troubled him.

“True.” another ancestor of his agreed with an empathic nod, “I used dragon’s scale for my maid.”

“Huh.” one of the painting wondered out loud, “Was it not because she had been sleeping with your brother?”

“Oh poor thing! This must have cost you so much!” Another one lamented.

“She was truly overpriced.”

Gellert sighed and tried to rein his temper. The Silencio spell was on the tip of his tongue. “Does somebody know where Albus is?” Or are you all useless, he didn’t add.

It was Linabella who answered him, “He’s in your room. He’s doing his suitcase.”

Gellert turned sharply toward her, “Why is he doing his suitcase?” They had no travels planned. Albus had no reasons to be doing that.

She smirked, a bit cruel now that she knew something he clearly didn’t. “I haven’t asked him.” She lied with that practiced ease that made Gellert want to tear them all down.

He narrowed his eyes at Linabella one last time in warning, before he closed the door and left them to their old arguments. He went to their chamber, since according to her (and she was probably the last trustful ancestor he had, which was saying a lot) Albus was there. He reasoned that she must have said this just to be petty, and that it was – surely – not even true.

But as he came closer to their room, he made out the sound of Greety trying to cajole someone to eat, along the steady voice of Albus, who was becoming weaker in his refusal as she insisted.
This still didn’t mean that he was doing his suitcase (screw his great-great-grandmother, Gellert thought unkindly). But, he stopped in the doorway of their shared bedroom, and he hovered there like an idiot because Albus was, in fact, doing his suitcase. (Gellert confirmed his statement: screw his great- great-grandmother.)
Albus was standing near their bed. Gellert saw his profile looking down critically at the open suitcase he put on their mattress as if he was debating what to add inside. His fingers tapped a rhythm on his jaw. Fawkes was perched near the windows, and looked to be dozing. Greety was imploring Albus to eat just one more biscuit. Her eyes were big on him, and he clearly was trying his best to ignore them by focusing on his task.

“What are you doing?” Gellert blurted, feeling his voice rose inexplicably in the middle of the sentence.

Both Greety and Albus turned toward him in surprise. “Oh. I hadn’t heard you arrive.” Albus gave him an apologetic smile.

“Greety hadn’t prepared diner!” his house-elf exclaimed in dismay, “Greety will do it now!” She said with determination before she popped out of the room and to the kitchens apparently.

He frowned deeply, ignoring Greety’s antics. “Why are you doing a suitcase? Where are you going?” He fired rapidly. He swore that if Albus said he was leaving him and touring with Elphias, Gellert would personally kill the guy. His ancestors would even give him tips.

If Albus was taken aback by his tone, he recovered quickly. “You remember when you suggested drinking and I told you about ‘the Three Thing’ that I wasn’t supposed to tell you about?”

“Yes and no.” Gellert answered because they had both been pretty wasted that night. He was bound to have missed a thing or two.

Albus smiled, “Well. You won’t believe what they decided on.”

“Who decided what?” He pressed, just this side of suspicious.

“There was an incident, Wednesday.” he said gently, “A diplomatic one, between the British’s Ministry of Magic and some high profile, from a pureblood family, in Greece.” he explained, “Apparently, very sensible files had been leaked out. Something do to with Doxy?” he patted his jaw as if to recall, “At least, that what the rumors said.” He half shrugged.

Gellert began to have a truly bad feeling. He sat on their mattress. “What did it have anything to do with you doing a suitcase?” He asked as he pointed at the case resting next to him.

“The incident created a bit of an international turmoil.” he replied, “Several countries began to fight, verbally, over who was right and wrong, and started to take sides.” he paused as if considering something, “People easily get passionate about someone’s else life.” He hummed.

“People like gossip you mean.”

He agreed in a nod, “After a lot of shouting matches, several governments decided that the matter needed to be contained before it ended up in a more violent outcome.” he told him, “So,” he breathed, “They settled to organize a Triwizard Tournament. They seem to think that the three biggest schools of witchcraft and wizardry will be able to show an example of ‘cohesion and fraternity’,” he quoted, looking on the verge of rolling his eyes, “Even though no ones like the others.” He concluded in sigh as if all of this was terribly tiring.

He stared at Albus for a beat, before letting out an astonished, “Really?”

Albus lifted one shoulder, “It appears to be about the only thing everyone could agree on.” his fingers tapped soundlessly on his upper leg once before he continued, “Somehow, Galatea proposed me to go with Dippet. And well, since, unlike the others, I am not in fact a needed teacher, they,” he paused, “They thought it was a good idea.”

“Wait.” Gellert tried to follow this diplomatic mess along Albus’ explanation, “Where did they choose to hold this Tournament exactly?”

Albus hesitated. Gellert could see him debating over it, wondering if it was worst to say it or to stay silent. “At the Durmstrang Institute.” He finally admitted.

He stood up. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to hear (alright, this was better that if Albus was running away with Elphias). “Who, in their right minds, would choose Durmstrang for a place of peace and fraternity?” He wondered out loud, hearing his own accent becoming thicker at each word. He scoffed in annoyance at this obvious tell of agitation and thought quickly.

This wouldn’t do at all. Albus shouldn’t go there, couldn’t go there, Gellert reminded himself, because, because –
Because every nights his feet were deep into the thick snow. Because there were footsteps drawn onto the ground, creating a path. Because he blindly followed it, and closed on the voices as he did so, two of them, male, argued and –
Because Gellert knew where this Vision was taking place. And it was a bit too close to Durmstrang for his taste. But Gellert couldn’t tell Albus that now, could he? He recalled what happened last time, when he shared his Vision of Ariana’s Obscurus with Albus. And, honestly, he didn’t think this conversation would go any better.

“Is this alright?” Albus wondered, sounding uncertain as he witnessed his reaction.

“Yes, of course.” Gellert was quick to say. He went to drop a kiss on his cheek in apology, “Sorry, I was only surprised.”

Albus beamed at him, “It’s fine.”

No, it was not. But he kept this to himself.

 

*
Hours later, Gellert tossed and turned inside their bed.
After sleep evaded him for the fourth hours, he decided to get up. He wrapped himself inside a dressing grown, and silently took the stairs to the study. There, he began to pace, back and forth, forth and back.

Time travel was ridiculous, he thought. Since when did using a little time device inside the British’s Ministry - and unintentionally letting some Doxy get out - created a whole diplomatic fight with another country?

From what he had gathered from Albus, it had been a matter on who had – maybe - slept with whom and for what ‘price’. The high profile in Greece, a diplomat, was denying everything, but Gellert thought that it had been done with a side of outrage that screamed the whole truth about this supposed liaison. The British member of the Ministry concerned by it, was more preoccupied with trying to salvage his reputation for now, but had been ready to accuse Greece of spying.
After that, Prussia had taken England’s side in this strange diplomatic scandal. Russia had been quick to take the opposite side of England and therefore supporting Greece’s story. France would rather support Russia over Prussia any day a week and if they got to snort toward England’s direction in the same move, then it all became downright irresistible.

Politics, honestly.

Still, a Triwizard Tournament? How some schoolboys and girls fighting against one other was supposed to appease anyone?
Through competition apparently.
The authorities were surely hoping to reunite most disagreeing countries over this, and perhaps, even made them forget about it completely as they turned their entire focus on the game. But, did they have to do this in Durmstrang in all places? Gellert let out a frustrated huff.

He continued to pace.

Since Albus was to go, Gellert had two options. Either he let him go alone, hoping that this would change his Vision, or he found a way to follow.

Gellert paced some more.

He promised to not let them be separated. And the idea of Albus, alone in the middle of all those distrustful Durmstrang’s students, was unbearable. Albus could defend himself if it came to it, of course he could, but Durmstrang was Dark. People there learned to use manipulation and deception, along vicious curses. Gellert knew it better than anyone; he had excelled at it all.

Decision made, he went to dress himself up before taking the floo.

 

*
Gellert’s knocks grew insistent against the door. It finally opened, to a disheveled and un-amused Potter.

“Oh no.” was what he said when his eyes adjusted to the glaring light coming from lamppost of his street, “I don’t care if you want my cloak now and want to duel me for it. It will have to wait for the bloody sun to come up, some do sleep at night.” He firmly told him, and looked about to close the door on his face, so Gellert pushed it open and let himself inside.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He astonished him in frown as he stepped into Potter’s little flat. Honestly, there could be plenty of reasons for him to visit in the middle of the night no? The fact that he couldn’t come up with a single ones right now, didn’t mean he was wrong.

Potter let out an exhausted and exasperated whine. He followed him into his living, and he all but dropped all his weigh into his couch. “What now?” He wondered, sounding exhausted.

Gellert rolled his eyes at his antics. “I need you to forge a letter for me.”

He eyed him. “What make you think I can forge a letter?”

“Are you telling me you don’t have one of those forging quill?” Gellert countered, his tone just as disbelieving as his face.

Potter conceded the point with a pout. “For whom would it be?”

Gellert smiled. “For Travers. I want him to believe that the Russian’s Bureau of International Magical Cooperation wrote to him.” They were the perfect candidate for this, for their chief - an old wizard whom no one was even bothering to remember the age - had the tendency to forget what he had done or not. A letter of this nature from him, would be seen as yet another mishap from the Bureau, and would therefore, be overlooked.

Potter raised his eyebrows. “And what will they say?” He further questioned.

“They’re asking if Travers could take care of the security during the Triwizard Tournament.” he explained, “All in the name of international peace and diplomacy, of course.”

“Of course.” He drawled.

“Add something about Travers’ resolution of the ‘Portraits’ Case’ in Paris,” he instructed as the same time as he thought it, “And how this shows that he’s the best for the job or something.” He waved one of his hands in the air, no caring much about the details.

Potter seemed to consider him for a long time. “You want to go to the Triwizard Tournament they are hosting in Durmstrang.” he finally said. As Gellert lifted one eyebrow in surprise, “The news broke out not long after you went home.” he slouched further into his couch. He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if I can stomach more Russians.” He mused out loud while he looked at the dragon’s plushy resting next to him.

“Austrian.” Gellert corrected.

He made a ‘whatever’ sound. He breathed and passed a hand into his hair, messing it even more. “You realize Travers will never take recruits with him, right?”

“We’re the best recruits they have,” Gellert stated, because honestly they were (and yes, it physically hurt him to include Aberforth), “And,” he smirked meaningfully, “After a little push from your part to remind Travers of that…” he trailed, letting Potter fill into the blanks, “I’m sure he will take us along.”

Potter put his head into his hands and sighed again. “Veela’s powers are not the Imperius.” he mumbled into his palms. “I cannot force someone to do something.”

“But you can strongly push them into a direction, am I right?” This was what Gellert had guessed from the sole time he had been under this.

“To an extent.” he said, “And only if it was already something that was on their minds.” he dropped his hands into his lap, “I can’t make them do something that they’re truly against.” He insisted.

Gellert hummed briefly before saying, “I don’t think you will need to push him a lot.” he assured him, “He seems very sure and full of himself ever since he got his Head Auror’s title. I believe that if you flatter his ego, perhaps by saying that he could be a shining example for us all, he would agree without much effort from your part.”

He regarded him flatly. “Why don’t you do it then?”

“It’s better if we put all luck to our side.”

Potter shook his head and whispered ‘unbelievable’ to his plushy. “If I say yes,” he started carefully, “Would you consider my debt paid?”

This again.
He frowned. The use of Time magic seemed to have caused far more ripples than Gellert could have imagined. It made his opinion on it lower drastically. It was repetitive and mostly useless. What was the point of going back in time if, when you changed something, you ended up with even more troubles than the ones you had started with?

“It depends.” he told him for the second time, “Would you rather do multiple little things for me or only one big?” Gellert wondered evenly, feeling like he was stuck in a rehearsed dialogue.

“If this is little for you, I don’t think I want to know what’s big.” He replied, just like the last time.

Gellert waited, but Potter stared back at him nonplused and stayed put on his couch. Gellert’s eyes slid to the plushy resting on the couch and he added, “There’re surely going to have dragons.” he slipped casually, “The Durmstrang’s Headmaster is from Romania and he likes to show-off. Dragons are often used for this kind of event.”

Potter huffed, “Fine!” he threw his hands in the air and stood up; “I’m doing it now! Give me some parchment, you mad man, and I will fetch my quill.”

 

*
September, Monday, 10th

“Er… sir.” Henry awkwardly said as he found himself in front Torquil Travers’s imposing desk. His secretary, a far too nice and trusting woman had let him in. Henry felt a tiny bit guilty by using her good nature this way, but at the same time: dragons. So here he was.

Head Auror Travers vaguely hummed. The man hadn’t even lifted his head from the newspaper he was reading when Henry had entered. “What do you want, Dorothy?”

Henry frowned at him. Dorothy was the way too nice lady who worked as his secretary. She was in her twenties, her hair was made of lovely curls and her skin was chocolate. Honestly, his lack of floral dress should have been enough for Travers to deduce that he was not, in fact, her.

“You received a letter.” he continued, not correcting him. Poor Dorothy though. “I’ve been told it’s quite urgent, sir.”

Travers waved his hand either to dismiss him or to tell him to put his mail on the desk, Henry didn’t know. But the man still hadn’t look at him, and this wouldn’t do. He sighed as he took his glasses off his nose and pocketed it into his hand. (Gellert had idly wondered that night if he even needed glasses. Henry hadn’t answered him. The truth was complicated: he didn’t need them to see, but he needed them to keep most of his Veela’s heritage in check.
Instead he had asked Gellert which Charm he used on his hair to make them look so fluffy. As expected, he only received silence. Before the night ended, they had agreed to be on first name basis; Henry was getting sick of hearing ‘Potter’ everywhere, and Gellert owned him for waking him up in the middle of the night. He guessed that made them even.)

“Sir, I said,” Henry began to put some of his magic behind his words, “That you received a letter.” Travers folded the newspaper down and blinked at him. Henry smiled, this was better. He continued, “It’s from the Russian’s Bureau of International Magical Cooperation, sir. They’re offering that you take care of the security during the Triwizards Tournament they are staging in their country. I suggest,” he infused with power, “That you accept.” Travers was nodding even before he finished. So, the Head Auror was one of those very receptive people. Interesting, he thought. “You will want Aurors to come with you of course.” he pointed, “But not too much. There’s the security of England to think first and foremost, is there not?”

“Yes, of course.” He replied. Travers expression was dazed. He barely blinked now.

“Why not take the recruits with you?” he proposed innocently, and continued before Travers could truly linger on it, “They are very competent and so in need of a capable example, such as yourself.” He praised easily.

Travers began to preen. It was annoying that Gellert was so right. The man was truly weak for flatteries.

“Read this letter.” Henry instructed as his bored his eyes into his, “And by the way,” he paused briefly, “You shall compliment Dorothy on her lovely dress.” he quickly said before putting his glasses back on, “Good afternoon, sir.” He saluted, before he saw himself out. He thanked and smiled at Dorothy on his way, who replied mutely by stretching her rosy lips into a happy smile. See: far too nice.

(“Did it work?” Gellert asked him later.

“Please.” Henry replied in a roll of his eyes.

Two days later, Travers told them the ‘big news’ and Gellert got his answer.)

Notes:

About the leprechauns, there’s a theory that their names come from the Irish’s words: ‘Leath brogan’ which means boot maker. Which was why I thought it could be amusing if they had a not-so-secret love affair with shoes.
Thank you for reading! :D

Chapter 14: The Triwizard Tournament

Before

“Do not cause troubles there, Gellert.” His mother fixed him with what he liked to call: The Look.

“I won’t, Mother.” He dutifully replied as he nodded very seriously.

In truth, his attention was already miles away. The magical Austrian’s station in Vienna was full of children waiting for the flying Durmstrang’s train that would take them to the Institute. Gellert was almost fidgeting from where he was standing; his legs wanted to run over the place, his feet wanted to tap against the paved ground. But his mother wouldn’t appreciate this kind of behavior - it was unseemly - and anyway, his eyes were mostly stuck to every piece of skies he could spot, awaiting for the train to appear. He wanted to Summon it to him, to make it came faster, so he could be there faster, be the best student they had ever seen faster, and in the end, be done with school faster too, so he could concentrate his magic and efforts on others things. (Like the Deathly Hallows, but his mother didn’t like when he talked about it.)
Yet, despite his restraint, Brigitta Grindelwald noticed his impatience. While she was not a Seer like grandmother was, his mother still noticed most things. She narrowed her dark eyes at him, as if she thought she could make him still under her stare. He was eleven, not seven, so he blinked as innocently as he could at her in reply. (He was very proud of this, most adult he had seen interact with his mother seemed unable to hold their grounds.)

“If you study well,” she started in a soothing tone, as she absently adjusted her already perfectly fitted black coat. It showed up her figure, and made people on the train station turn to look at her. Gellert had never seen someone passing her by without staring at her first. Grandmother said that she had inherited her beauty from her, but then she said that he should try to color up his clothes, because they were depressing. (Grandmother had then reminded him that even the Victorians agreed that the mourning clothes shouldn’t last more than a year. He wrinkled his nose in remembrance. Black was stylish. Gellert shouldn’t be surprised she couldn’t See that.) “We’ll go to Nurmengard for the summer.”

Gellert perked up. His mother must be desperate if she was trying her hand at bribery. Moreover, she hated the place with a passion yet to be matched. Her true love had always been Vienna. “All summer?” He tried to push his luck as well as testing her limits.

“No.” she said, her voice resolute. Gellert pouted a bit, she was not at the end of her ropes yet. It was disappointing, but then he heard a ‘woof’ sound, and a rush of excitation came from the awaiting children at the station. He looked up and let out a breath when he saw the train coming toward them. It was painted in brilliant red, and it seemed to cut through the air. It landed gracefully on the rails, letting puff of white smokes as it did so, and Gellert was ready to run toward it then, pretense be damned, but her mother took hold of his jacket’s collar before he could. She leant down and placed a furtive kiss on his cheek. “Be good.” She stared into his mismatched eyes intensely.

“And will you?” Gellert wondered, unwilling to ask for a hug even if he wanted one.

She offered him a smile, the one that Gellert had labeled: The Smile. As usual, it made more than one people nearby took a step or two away from them. He huffed, he had yet to master The Smile correctly, his tries often coming of as cute instead of intimidating (he blamed it all on his age). The fact that she could use it at her leisure, while he struggled at it, was unfair.

“When am I not, dear?”

 

*
1900, September, Monday, 17th

Their ship floated over the clouds, the sailings boat were blown by the heavy winds.
The wooden boat hull navigated into the sky easily. Albus deemed that this was a smoother mean of transport than a regular ship. And the view they had from the deck was marvelous. Hidden under an invisibility Charm, they could fly lower and see the cities below, or the sun reflecting on waters and turning it golden, as well as each countryside they passed by.
Albus loved it so much that he decided to spend most of their travel leaning against the railings so he didn’t miss a thing.

“Don’t get too far off the railings.” Gellert instructed, “The boat won’t stop even if you fall.”

Albus almost rolled his eyes. Gellert was himself leaning against them, though instead of looking out at the scenery, he was looking in. Albus was pretty sure he was sulking. Their approach to Durmstrang certainly didn’t seem to bring him any joy. Also, he had yet to find a way out from wearing the Auror’s uniform he had been given. A deep red wine robe, paired with grey trousers. Albus had to endure lectures on how, exactly, bad the clothing was. He shook his head in amusement. Perhaps Gellert only needed to be distracted. “Ah, but I have an Auror next to me.” he said good-naturally, “I’m sure he will save me if it comes to that.”

Gellert huffed before his eyes travelled past the railings. “Would he even be able to? It is high.” He remarked in a dispassionate voice.

“You mean to say; he won’t even try?” Albus teased in a smile.

“With that attitude, I’m not sure.”

Albus let out a chuckle, but as Gellert remained stiff, he sobered. “You shouldn’t have come.” he admitted softly. Albus wanted him there, but, “It clearly makes you unhappy.”

Gellert turned his head to look at him briefly, before he resumed his visual inspection of the deck of their boat. Albus didn’t know what he was gazing at so fiercely; the Hogwarts’ students were more or less doing the same as him; their excited chatters caught between the sound of the wind and of the long wings that was keeping their boat in the air. At least those who didn’t find out they were ‘seasick’ were enjoying their trip. The last time Albus had checked on Horace Slughorn, one of the Slytherin Prefect, he was huddled in a corner inside, feeling sorry for himself and swearing that he was never setting a foot into a ‘cursed boat’ for the rest of his life.

“Travers has somehow decided to include the recruits.” Gellert said as he half shrugged. The wind chose to brush his blond curls then, and Albus thought that it was ridiculous sometimes, how handsome he could be. He wondered how others people could pass him by and go on to their ways without wanting to linger more. It was a mystery. “And, I’m not unhappy.” He added as if it was a silly notion that couldn’t apply to him.

He hummed, deciding to drop this for now. He wanted to cheer Gellert up after all. “How peculiar of Travers.” he said instead, allowing himself to stare at Gellert’s profile for a while longer, “I wonder what went through his head.” He told him in a smile.

Gellert gave him a long look, before he sighed, “Henry spilled the beans, then.” he sulked some more, and crossed his arms over his chest. “This is somewhat disappointing.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow. “Actually he didn’t. But please, do continue, I find this all fascinating.”

Of course, it was now that Gellert decided he was enjoying himself. He leaned on the railings next to him, and smiled playfully, “A magician never tells his secrets, Liebling.”

Albus regarded him, unimpressed. “You’re not truly going to hide behind a Muggle saying, are you?”

“I am.” He confirmed as he continued to smile at him.

And other times, he thought, Gellert was simply ridiculous. He hid his own answering smile. It wouldn’t do to encourage him.

 

*
It still took them the entire afternoon before they finally reached their destination.

The first sight of the Durmstrang Institute began to appear as the sun was coming down. Most Hogwarts’ student pressed themselves against the windows of their ship, eager to see what the famous Russian’s school looked like.
Albus was unashamed to say that he did the same. He saw the high towers of the castle first, sharp and fine like a needle picking at the sky. Then, he noticed the rest: the dark grey stones the school had been made of, the colorful tiles they had chosen to cover the roof with, the round windows. The Institute had been built into the rock of a mountain. It was abrupt and cutting looking, but there was a lake or perhaps a river, at the feet of it; with waters so calm, that it was soothing the rest of this rough scenery. Higher still, above the mountain, was a flourish forest, with pines dominating all of them.
Albus could hardly wait to discover the place properly.

Their ship sailed softly as it slid onto the lake. The flap of its wings stopped and the boat’s exit door slowly opened, revealing a stoned alley going right to the castle.
Next to him, he saw Minerva right her uniform. She was not the only one doing so; after all, they were all here to make a good impression. They also needed to assert their position right away in order to not be eclipsed by the two others schools. Which was not going to be an easy task, Albus mused.

“Ready?” He asked her.

Minerva nodded once, her face set into a determined expression. “Yes.”

He considered her for a while, ignoring the busy people around them. “You’re going to try to participate to the Tournament, am I right?”

She stared at him, the surprise evident on her face. “How do you know?”

He paused before he smiled, “I didn’t, actually.”

She gave him a flat look in reply, and Gellert laughed, as he was shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. He threw an arm around Albus’s shoulders, “Stop being smart Albus,” he told him lowly as if in confidence, “You’re going to lose all your friends.” He laughed again, apparently in a far better mood than earlier. Albus bet it was because he had yet to guess correctly on how Gellert had managed to make Travers took the recruits with him. He had fired crazier and crazier hypothesis at him during their way there, which had amused Gellert to no end. (In truth, Albus had a rather clear idea on how Gellert had managed it, but this was not truly the question; the matter being that it had transformed Gellert’s gloomy thoughts into something happier.)

Minerva let out a long sigh. “You’re insufferable.” she said without heat. Then she regarded Gellert and felt the need to add, “Both of you.”

 

*
It turned out that they were the first to arrive, which made Dippet absurdly happy to have beaten Beauxbâtons to it. Albus mused that if they lost the games, the Headmaster would still have this to console himself with. Of course, his joy was short lived, for they spotted the dark blue carriage driven by a beautiful equipage land soon after they departed from their boat. Dippet regarded it with what he would almost call a pout. Clearly, he had hoped for their arrivals to have been delayed.

“Let’s greet them.” Dippet told him in a defeated tone.

Albus absently nodded in agreement, and made to follow him. But before, he shot a furtive glance backward, searching for Gellert. When he found him, the latter rolled his eyes in reply, mentioning Aberforth and Travers in the same exasperated expression. Albus sent him a sunny smile in answer, which he hoped translated his: ‘you’re the one who wanted to come, deal with this’ well enough.

This done, he focused on the Beauxbâtons’s carriage. A Pegasus was tapping his hoof impatiently, as if he wanted to fly off again. Albus wondered if he should risk his hand at petting them. The white of their hair looked so pure, almost like one of a unicorn. It was tempting.
The carriage in itself was bigger that he expected, with the symbol of the school sculpted and painted into the doors; two wands, forming an X, with stars on each side of them. They opened abruptly, as a woman elegantly got out. She appeared to be in her fifties, with hair as white as her Pegasus, that she had coiffed with style and care. She wore an imposing black witch hat, and had chosen a blooming red lipstick that both clashed with the pale complexion of her skin. The next thing he noticed about her was the poufy furs she had on the collar of her coat and the high heels she was wearing. They clicked against the ground as she set one of her foot down, as if she was asserting something.

“Armando,” she greeted the Hogwarts’ Headmaster, extending her hand and wiggling her fingers toward him in a silent gesture that Dippet thankfully understood. He took her hand, and helped her out of her carriage, and Albus watched her impossibly long coat unfold as she straightened. Dippet kissed the top of her hand. She put her free gloved one to her cheek, in a flirtatious manner. “You charmer.” she accused him, but it was obvious that she was pleased; “You do not present us?” She smiled widely at Albus, showing up her perfect teeth. He felt vaguely threatened.

“Daphne, this is Albus Dumbledore,” Dippet mentioned to him to come closer, but Albus was fine where he was. He respectfully nodded his greeting, “Albus is accompanying me. He is our Defense Against the Dark Art’s assistant this year.” Dippet praised, and Albus would be lying if he said that he wasn’t used to this. “Albus, this is Mademoiselle Daphne, Beauxbâtons’ Headmaster.”

Mademoiselle Daphne’s crystal eyes landed over him, “Weren’t you the one who wrote this article in Transfiguration Today?” She pondered.

“I was.” He confirmed in a small smile.

“It was a fascinating paper, I have to admit.” she said, “It’s a good thing for my school that you cannot participate.” she enunciated her words carefully, and made a point to direct most of them at Dippet. “But not for yours, of course.” She smiled, a bit wicked.

Dippet’s expression became pinched as if he was just realizing it. Albus raised his eyes at him, wondering what else he had been expecting. Albus was not one of his students anymore.
Meanwhile, the Beauxbâtons’ students had begun to do as their Headmaster, and had gone out of their heavy carriage. He noticed Vinda, along the sea of blue uniforms that was slowly gathering there. She grinned when she spotted him. Close to her was Ariana, who looked simply ecstatic to be here. She beamed at him as soon as she stopped gaping at the Durmstrang’s castle enough to see him. He suppressed a smile.

“Shall we go, my dear Armando?” Mademoiselle Daphne asked playfully, “I have a grand entrance prepared.” she told them proudly, “And do you?”

“Of course.” Dippet huffed in reply.

“I can’t wait to witness it, then.” She smirked, knowingly.

Albus kept silent, but he, too, couldn’t wait to see it. For he was sure that they had no ‘grand entrance’ prepared. But improvisation did wonders, he heard.
Or, disasters.

 

*
Albus did his best to not cringe as his school entered the diner hall where all the Durmstrang’s students and their professors were awaiting for them.

Beauxbâtons had gone first, and yes, their entrance was something. Mademoiselle Daphne had stride into the place like she owned it - and more than that deserved it - while her pupils made little dance steps and Conjured blue butterflies from the tips of their wands. Dippet had taken one look at it and made a resigned face. They didn’t have the time to make something this well-choreographed and they both knew it.
But they did come with something. (Alright mostly Albus, but it was the thought that counted.)
So, they had settled on something simple but flashy enough to be remembered: Dippet would lead the younger students they had taken with them in a sort of synchronized march, while the older ones would Conjure the fourth symbols of Hogwarts: a lion, a raven, a badger and a snake. Albus would close the march, and add whatever came to his mind then. Dippet hadn’t been very specific; mostly he had been anxious, which hadn’t helped to sooth the nerves of their group.
So, it was with great apprehension that they made their ways into the diner hall. The hall’s ceiling was high, and lighted with a myriad of floating candles. They highlighted the figures painted in bright colors on the walls, the old armors with their heavy and sharp weapons, and the sculpted gargoyles put on display in the corners, who were tracking them with empty stoned eyes.

The Durmstrang’s boys hushed when they finally came in. They switched their stares from the Beauxbâtons’ girls to them, and from their seated place, their eyes looked both big and critical. Albus couldn’t say that having everyone judge you from afar was an agreeable experience, but he did his best to help the seventh and sixth year with their Charms. He was casting a spell at the ceiling so they could see the night sky reflected here, when he heard Horace comment lowly on how he should have taken a vial of Felix Felicis before coming here. Unfortunately, Albus empathized with the feeling.

The only bright side was that, apart from Travers, the rest of the Aurors were nowhere to be seen, so Albus got to live this potential humiliation without his brother or Gellert as a witness.
In the end, it was over in a couple of minutes and a little less bad than predicted. Still, there was no way he was doing this again. Not without hours of practice at least.

Their group along the Beauxbâtons’ one were then neatly dispersed between the tables composing the hall. They were several of them, smaller than in the Great Hall in Hogwarts, but more important in numbers. Durmstrang, unlike them, didn’t divide its students into inter-houses, instead choosing to cultivate an image of absolute cohesion. The Durmstrang’s boys seemed to be classified given their age though. Albus was asked to follow Dippet at the professors’ table. He sent a supportive look at Minerva before he left her. She still appeared a little put out by it all.
The professors’ table was put on a higher level than the rest, a bit like in Hogwarts. He saw Dippet and Mademoiselle Daphne took place next to the Durmstrang’s Headmaster, Dmitri Danacov. They greeted each other, rather coolly if he was honest. But Danacov seemed like a severe man – his strong jaw and his long raven hair tied on his back gave him a strict air - with short manner. His age, however, escaped Albus; he had that kind of timeless quality to his face that made it hard to correctly guess his years. His somber eyes caught his briefly, and he had to admit that his gaze was chilling. He didn’t seem like the sort one wanted to cross.
Albus was asked to seat next to who must be the only other young man on this table. He was around his age, with sandy hair and black robes. He sat down, grateful as he believed that the worst was behind them, but the man fixed him with purpose and Albus remembered his manners.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he offered one of his hand for the other to shake, “I’m Albus Dumbledore.” he smiled at him in an encouraging manner, “And you are?”

The man smiled back, “Charmed.” He assured him as he delicately took his hand to kiss to top of it. He held his eyes meaningfully the whole time.

Albus felt a blush slowly coming to his cheeks, “Right.” He took his hand back, and wondered where to go from there.

“I’m Pieter Lovanoff.” he offered finally as he regarded Albus’ discomfort with amusement, “It was a great show you did there.”

Albus considered him, “Now, I know you’re lying.” he said, his fingers tapping against his glass as soon as the house-elf served him, “For it was average at best.” He admitted as he took a sip of water.

“Well, I enjoyed it.” Lovanoff assured him, before he leant toward him, angling his body in a seductive manner. “I especially liked your Charms. Or shall I say your charm?” he chuckled, “Honestly, both pleased me.”

“You’re…” Albus trailed, somewhat at loss of words. He leant into his seat until he softly hit the back of his chair, in order to put some distance between them. He took another sip of his drink before he decided to quickly change subject. “What is your specialty here? I mean, what do you teach Mister Lovanoff?” He asked.

“Oh, I do not teach.” at his perplexed look he continued, “I work for the MIB; the Magical’s Investigation Bureau. My chief is on the other side of the table.” he pointed into the other direction, and Albus followed his finger to a plush woman whose ears were being talked off by Travers. She appeared to be bored to tears, “We’re here to make sure that everything went well, you see. Not only during the games, but also, in between the different countries.” he explained, “My chief was unhappy to see that your school came with Aurors.” he told him, and Albus bet she must be even more ‘unhappy’ now, stuck with Travers next to her. “But, I do not mind.” he grinned up at him, “Why lose our time on petty arguments when we could do something else?”

The way he said ‘something else’ left little doubts about what he was thinking. “You’re awfully forward.” Albus told him, because he guessed that it was better to address this now, while they had a relative privacy, than later, when Ariana or someone else could tease him endlessly about it. “And kind of pretentious, if I’m honest.” He admitted in a voice, that he hoped, showed just how unimpressed he was.

“I was spoiled when I was a child,” his flirtatious grin didn’t waver, “And I think you should call me Pieter.”

Albus ignored his request. “It’s not a trait one generally promotes.”

“Ah but you see, because I was spoilt, I know how to spoil in return.”

“What make you think I want to be spoilt?” He left the ‘by you’ unspoken.

“I think you want many things.” Lovanoff said as he stared into his eyes. Albus checked his Occlumency shield, and was comforted to find that it was firmly in place. He hesitated for a second before he stared into his eyes instead of evading them, allowing his mind to brush into his. He was met with an impressive wall, without any breach into it, which surprised him. He couldn’t help but frown briefly. Generally only others Legilimens got this kind of shields around their minds. And Albus didn’t think he was one. So, this begged the question on why did he feel the need to have such strong shield in the first place.

“Too much curiosity is also a flaw.” Albus noted as he made a point to focus on the served meals, so Lovanoff couldn’t suspect his little dive into his mind; aware of how hypocrite he was being.

Lovanoff looked on the verge to say something else, but then, the Durmstrang’s Headmaster stood up, and a hush immediately fell on the room. “We’re honored to all be gathered here today. It’s a great joy for us to host our friends.” his voice boomed. He nodded slowly at both Dippet and Mademoiselle Daphne as he said this, “But I won’t bore you with long speeches.” he told them, “I’m officially opening the Triwizard Tournament.” he got his wand out and several things happened at once; the hall draped itself with blushing red tapestries and a goblet appeared next to him. It was huge, round and put high on a pedestal of sort. Entirely made of gold, it was very eyes catching, especially with the soft blue flames emanating from it. The whole hall let out an excited noise at its view. Danacov continued, unperturbed by it all, “The rules are simples: anyone who wishes to enter the Tournament can put their names into the goblet.” he showed it up, showed it off and Albus noticed for the first time the drawn circle traced onto the floor, surrounding it. He supposed that it was here to make sure that there were no cheatings. “But beware: if you are chosen you will have no choice but to go. So think about it carefully before doing so.” he warned them. “We’ll announce the champions in two days. You have until then if you want to participate.”

 

*
Albus was truly happy when he reached the quarters he had been given inside their ship. The travel and the evening had been exhausting; Albus decided as he closed the door behind him and let himself leant into it. He spent some minutes there, just breathing, with his eyes closed and he mused, distantly, that he could doze just like this. But an insistent noise began to grit against his door. It made him open his eyes again, and he curiously pushed his door to peer into the gloomy corridor that led into his room. Gazing right and left and seeing nothing, he somehow thought of staring down, right into mismatched eyes.

“You are such a cat.” he accused with what was left of his energy. Gellert mewled, asserting his view on this statement. Albus simply let him in. He then locked his door with a quick Charm, before he gathered Gellert into his arms so he could pet him a bit. His golden fur was so soft, it was unfair. He heard him starting to purr, “Such a cat.” He whispered softly, shaking his head as he did.

He made his way to his bed, which was waiting patiently for him, with Gellert into his arms. He put Gellert delicately on the mattress, and the latter took it for a permission to change back. “Was the opening ceremony any good?” he questioned as soon as he was fully human again. He made a show of adjusting his vest. “Or was it just boring?”

Albus smiled, “A little bit of both.” he admitted; remembering that Dippet had unfortunately found an excuse to make a speech, much to everyone's chagrin. “Where were you?”

“We had to check the perimeter. It was mostly useless.” He confessed in a shrug.

He stared at him for a bit. “You couldn’t help but go see your carving, could you?”

“Yes, and let me tell you that it is as perfect as the day I made it.” Gellert beamed proudly, “I can go in and out of the castle as I wish.”

“This is something you could do anyway.” Albus sighed before he let himself fall on the mattress next to Gellert, “Do you know a Lovanoff?” he asked, “He is working along the MIB, but he was a Durmstrang’s student before.” or so he told him, “You might have met him.”

Gellert laid next to him and hummed, “Yes, he was in the same year as I was. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s part of the Magical’s Bureau of Investigation, his father has a high position inside.” he explained, looking at the canopy of their bed as he did so, “Why all this interest?” He demanded, sounding on the verge of suspicious.

“I met him earlier and I was wondering.” Albus paused before he added, “He seemed… closed somehow.”

Gellert’s body next to him, suddenly shook with laugher. “Closed? Lovanoff?” he chuckled, “Mein Schatz, he is probably the last closed person I know. If anything, one could accuse him of being too open.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s considered as not being restrained enough in his love life. Some say that he is a libertine.” Gellert told him, “It was quite the scandal, but Pieter never cared much, at least he didn’t when I knew him.”

Albus hummed as he deemed this possible as he recalled the effortless way he had flirted with him all night. “But,” he insisted, stuck on the heavy wall he faced. “Is mind is so…” he trailed searching for the right word, “Fortified.”

Gellert turned to squint at him, “What were you doing in his head?”

“Nothing.” He quickly said.

“He made a pass at you.” Gellert guessed.

“Did he never make a pass at you?” Albus countered, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

“He tried, but without success. I have some standard.” Gellert declared in a snort, “I will tell him off.” He rapidly added in a tone that promised more a hex throw in the face of someone than a civil conversation.

“No, don’t.” Albus forbade him. “I already told him no, and,” he reached for Gellert’s face before he dropped a kiss on his lips, “I’m tired of speaking of him.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Gellert said as he narrowed his eyes at him, “You can’t just distract me in order to make me forget.”

“I can’t?” he repeated in a most innocent tone, before he kissed him again. “Then I guess I shall stop, since this is clearly not working.” He sighed exuberantly before he made to stand up.

Gellert pushed him back into the mattress by grabbing his forearm. He put most of his weight on him as if to keep him still. “I think that you shouldn’t give up so fast.” he told him, his face close to him now, “Who knows, perhaps it will end up working.” He grinned down at him.

Albus' eyes twinkled as he smiled back. “Perhaps.”

Notes:

I will do my best to post as regularly as possible ^^
On another note, I cleaned this whole fic a bit (part 1 and this one), so hopefully the most glaring mistakes are gone. Thank you for sticking with me despite them 💜

Chapter 15

Before

The train interior was a lot like its exterior – stylized with a blushing and shining red - and Gellert decided that the best place to sit would be into the last wagon; so he quickly took a place there and dropped his heavy bags into the plush seats next to him. He didn’t really want company anyway, didn’t really see the point of it if he was honest. The others children had seemed emotional and loud so far, and Gellert hated having to deal with tears.
Of course just as he thought of it, someone entered his wagon and sat into one of the seat in front of him. Gellert frowned at him in displeasure.

“Sorry.” he said as he noted his less than favorable expression, “The others ones are more or less taken.” the boy explained in a shrug. He studied him for a while, his gaze becoming interrogative, before he asked, “Did something happen to your eye?” He pointed at one of his own.

Gellert felt himself becoming more and more annoyed by the seconds. “No.” He curtly replied, before looking through the train’s window, clearly dismissing the other. Who unfortunately didn’t take the hint.

“Ah sorry.” he said again. A pause before he continued. “Are you the Grindelwald’s heir?” he wondered, as if Gellert wanted to have a conversation with him. Gellert could see his own reflection on the window trying very hard to keep his eyes from rolling above. “You’re the only one I don't recognize so far.”

Gellert turned a disbelieving gaze at him, “There is no way you can recognize everyone here.” He stated, because it was true. There were far too many kids from neighbor countries going into Durmstrang and therefore taking this train, for this boy to know them all. Moreover, he looked as much of a first year as he was. He just couldn't already know that many people.

“My parents made me learnt all names and faces of all big European's pureblood family.” at his grimace he nodded, “Yes; it was as boring as it sounds. But they absolutely want for me to make ‘connections’ with the right people.” He sounded regretful of the fact.

Gellert huffed; this sounded like what his mother said too, “They all want the same thing.”

“I know right? They’re so obsessive with this.” then he looked thoughtful, “Your family is more discreet than most though. I’ve already met most during Balls and parties. But not yours.”

“We don’t all feel the need to promote ourselves.” He replied, mimicking the flat and unimpressed tone his mother so often use. He thought that it fitted the situation well.

He hummed briefly, before he continued, “I’ve heard what happened to your father… it had been very shocking.” he sounded truly upset. “You must hate the Muggel.” He concluded.

Gellert blinked at the term, more used to hear the English's Muggle, than the German's. He didn’t answer right away. He thought that the boy was awfully forward and curious, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. But he also thought that the boy must know a lot of thing about everybody’s family and Gellert had enough sense to realize that information was another form of power. And Gellert never ignored power for long. “I do not hate them.” he told him, “If anything, I pity them.” he affirmed, “The carriage accident my father was into, is a daily occurrence for them.”

Of course, his father could have got himself out of it easily. He should have. A flick of his wand, a little Disapparition and he would have been saved. But there had been Muggles everywhere into the streets that day, and he had hesitated just long enough to be run over. His mother had never forgiven him for dying in such a mundane way. Gellert had never forgiven their government. It had been their entire fault, their stupid laws making them vulnerable just to preserve the general population of the truth. Wizards were superior, there was, in his mind, no denying it. And no Statute of Secrecy could change this.
Their law was, therefore, doomed from the start.

“You’re far more tolerant than most then.” The boy noted, before he smiled “We shall be friends.” he said, “I’m Pieter Lovanoff.” He finally presented himself, extending his hand to him

“Gellert Grindelwald.” he eyed the offered hand, but didn’t take it right away. He sighed, resigned and aggravated, when he finally did. “And we’ll be friends only if I decide it.” He added firmly as they shook hands. Lovanoff wasn’t trying to crash his hand into his. Gellert had to give him this; it was a point in his favor.

“Of course.” Lovanoff nodded as if it had been obvious.

Shön, he thought satisfied.

 

*
1900, September, Tuesday, 18th

“People are ridiculous.” Aberforth loudly commented.

He was slouched against a wall next to them and was looking critically at the goblet, standing in the middle of the room in a proud manner. He told Ariana that Travers had assigned them here to ‘make sure everything went well’.
Of course, Abe had been complaining about it ever since; to this supposed ‘mission’, to the fools who were coming and going to the goblet with their little papers clutched into their hands. In short, he was moody about the whole thing.
Meanwhile, Henry had been fast to take full advantage of his stay here to open up a whole gambling game of sort. Galleons were circulating into his hands, as people enjoyed betting on the craziest things. Ariana was half certain that this was bordering on illegal, but for once she decided to do as everybody else and turn a blind eye to it. Even Gellert wasn’t doing anything to put a stop into it; he was in contrary trying to negotiate with him a percentage against localizations of ‘places to make the best pranks’, insisting on the fact that he knew the inside the Institute like his own pocket. Ariana could tell that Henry was tempted to take up his offer.

All in all, there was little surveillance happening. She hoped that it wasn’t truly needed, because if so, they were going to get in trouble.

Just in case, she took upon herself to closely watch the goblet every now and then. So she lifted her head from her book – Tales of the Snowy Kingdoms – to gaze at the goblet. From where she was sitting on the stairs, it seemed to be lazily shining under the afternoon’s sun as several students were gathering around it and cheering for every person who dared to put their name into its blue fire. The cheering suddenly grew louder. Even Vinda next to her, who had been ignoring everything as most of her attention had been on her story, a pretty book with a green and gold cover, tore her eyes away from it.

“Who is this?” Vinda asked, as she pointed at the Durmstrang’s boy that was acclaimed by his peers.

Gellert’s lips made an unhappy line, “Igor Karkaroff.” he informed them; “I hope he’s not chosen.” He quickly added.

“Is he not good?” Ariana wondered as she studied him. He seemed tall, and he was standing proudly; but he had a mean smile that made her want to recoil.

“It depends on what you mean by ‘good’.” Gellert replied as he watched the scene with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not a friend of yours, then?” Aberforth snorted at his own sarcasm, “How surprising.”

“Uh-oh.” Henry said before he took his betting business several feet away from them.

Gellert glared at Aberforth for good measure, before he smiled sweetly at him and with a wave of magic that Ari felt more than saw, he made Aberforth fell on his bottom and onto the floor. Gellert laughed at the stupefied face her brother was doing, making Abe’s expression quickly turn hot with anger.
Uh-oh in fact, Ariana had the time to think before Aberforth tried to curse Gellert. Vinda promptly decided that this was more fascinating than her book, and closed it in order to fully witness this ridiculous duel. Ariana sighed tiredly - it was the third time in two hours - and gathered her many manuscripts (she had planned to study a little bit of Astronomy and Runes today, but her fairytales book had engrossed her too much) before she joined Henry so she could continue to read in peace. The crowds of students, who must be persuaded by now that the young British Aurors were staging a show just for them every thirty minutes, were starting to show interest into the duel as well.

“Do they never get tired?” Henry asked her, pausing into his own made-up affair as Aberforth tried to throw a Stinging hex at Gellert, in a daring, yet ineffective, move.

Ariana feared that they would always have energy to fuel their rivalry. “I do not know.” She told him instead, choosing to hold into some form of hope that they would stop one day. At least, Albus was not here to witness it, being busy enough with the Durmstrang’s DADA and Transfiguration professors. She was adjusting the weight of her books into her arms, when someone collided abruptly with her. She stumbled on her feet a bit in order to get her equilibrium back, but she was hopeless to save her books from spilling into the floor.

“Hey, are you alright?” Henry asked, stopping to count his gain of the day to come closer to her. He looked as if he had been ready to catch her.

It was a nice gesture, so she smiled to reassure him. “Yes, thank you.” She was already half way to crouch into the ground to gather her heavy manuscripts back when she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t Henry.

“I’m sorry; I was in a hurry and hadn’t seen you.” the man who stumbled into her, apologized. He was rather medium in height, with sandy hair, and wearing a deep dark uniform, which was unlike anything she had seen so far. He was also young, with a clear face, and his expression seemed truly contrite. “The last I could do, is to give you your books back.” He said.

Surely, she thought, he didn’t mean to crouch down as she was about to do. She expected him to levitate them back to her, which was why she watched dumbfounded as he did in fact bent his knees to get them. She was still staring at him when he tended them back to her. She hoped that she didn’t come off as rude, but she couldn’t help it. It was suspicious, a little voice in her head whispered. It sounded a lot like Aberforth.

“You really hadn’t seen her?” Henry inquired, in a very disbelieving tone. “Her blue uniform isn’t eye-catching enough?”

“I was lost in thoughts.” the stranger smiled peacefully at him, “Why would I do this on purpose?” He countered with a quirk of his brow.

Henry apparently didn’t think this deigned a reply. Meanwhile, she took her books numbly, and as she was grateful for the gesture, she told him. “Thank you. Are you a student here as well?” She wondered, staring his strange black robe dubiously.

He grinned at her briefly, as he settled all the weight of her books back into her arms. She felt something sting at one of her finger then, almost making her retract her hand. “Sorry. My gloves are a little rough.” he said sheepishly, showing up one of his hands carefully hidden inside a pair of leather gloves. “I’m not a student, to answer your question, though I used to be one. I’m part of the MIB.” he told her, “I was sent to check how our British comrades were doing.” his eyes slid to Henry, who huffed. “I see that you have this all under control.”

“Obviously.” Henry confirmed. Near them, Aberforth tripped on one of Gellert’s spells and the crowd cheered. “We totally got this.” he nodded with aplomb. “I noticed you yesterday too, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Pieter Lovanoff.” he presented himself with a small amused smile, “And you are?” He asked the two of them.

“Ariana Dumbledore. Henry Potter.” Henry all but pointed at them both in quick succession, “The two over there are Ariana’s brother, Aberforth, and Gellert Grindelwald.” he did the same finger-pointers thing at them, “You may know the latter.” He lazily said.

“I do, in fact.” he didn’t offer more on the subject. “Well, since everything is well; I will let you to it. I’m mostly here to check on the goblet anyway. My chief's orders.” He shrugged.

With this he left them. Henry put his hands on his hips as he watched him go toward the goblet. He sighed before he got back to his galleons.

“You think he did this on purpose?” She wondered in a worried tone. She pursed her lips and made a moue, trying to find what she could have done to deserve this.

Henry raised his eyes to her. They were strange, sometimes appearing as golden as the coins he was playing with. It must be a show of lights made with his glasses. “Yeah.” he told her as if it was evident. She must have made a very telling face for he continued, “I mean, I’m half sure he was just making a pick-up move at you, but you know, I can be wrong and –”

“A pick-up move?” She repeated blankly.

“Yes.” Henry continued absently, as he turned his attention back to his galleons. “I mean, you’re beautiful and there’s no way he hadn’t seen you, so…” he trailed as he shrugged, his fingers counting the coins one per one. Ariana blushed furiously, feeling her whole face becoming terribly warm. At her prolonged silence, Henry blinked up at her, and as if only noticing what he had just said, he flushed too. “I mean, I think he thinks of you as ‘beautiful’, not that you are not of course, but it’s not what I – I will shut up now.” He concluded as he seemed to force his mouth shut.

She fidgeted from one foot to another. “Thank you.” She all but whispered. Her face was still a fire engine. It was alarming.

Henry passed a hand into his raven hair, messing them even more. “So…” he awkwardly began, “What’s your book about?” he seemed to latch into, “You seemed truly taken by it earlier.”

“Oh.” she beamed, “It’s a collection of fairytales Vinda gave me.” she explained, showing him the illustrated cover. It moved as it showed a woman in a pale blue robes pointing her wand at the sky and making silver snowflakes fell around her. “The one I was reading is about a very beautiful witch who lived into the woods. She took care of the plants and wild animals there; but as she was very lonely inside her secluded house she decided to go to the nearest village in order to try to befriend the population there. But it didn’t work.” she revealed, feeling disappointed, “The witch was too powerful and the people were too afraid of her to want to be her friend. As they got meaner with her, she got angrier. In the end, she cursed their lands to be as cold as their hearts had been with her.”

“What happened after?” Henry questioned in interest. “Did they get better? Did she find a friend?”

“Their hearts stayed cold, just like their lands, and they got transformed into frozen statues.” she pursed her lips, “It is left uncertain if the witch finds a friend in the end.” Ariana admitted. It had been the part that had saddened her the most.

“Well, that’s depressing.” Henry noted.

“Vinda told me that they were entertaining though, and she was not exactly wrong.” she smiled, “Maybe the others have a better ending?”

“I sure hope.” Henry smiled back. After a beat of silence, he said, “Say, what are the odds for Olympe Maxime to be chosen as your champion, you think?” he asked her, “Is it high or, like, very low?”

She hummed as she thought of her reply, completely forgetting the poor witch who just wanted a friend for now.

 

*
September, Wednesday, 19th

“I really hope that my name will be picked.” Olympe said in an excited hush as they all waited anxiously for the ceremony to begin.

“I’m sure it would.” another Beauxbâtons’ student, Juliette Harcourt, assured her. She was as most of them, sitting where they had been on their first day here. She was playing with a little ball, making it roll on the surface of the table. “I wouldn’t understand it if you are not.” She concluded quite seriously.

To be truthful, Ariana wouldn’t comprehend either if it wasn’t the case. Olympe was smart, and from what she heard, she mastered most spells. Also she was a giant, so she was several heads taller than anyone else, and if it wasn’t an advantage in a competition where the goal was to be superior, then she didn’t what was. (Plus, Ariana had concluded with Henry yesterday that her odds to be picked were high. She wanted to be right.)

Vinda hummed in agreement. “True.” she said absently. Ariana could tell that she was trying to catch Abe’s eyes through the big hall. The Aurors were on the other side of the room, and Aberforth looked for all purpose to be snipping at Gellert. They truly never got tired of it. “You’re our best candidate.”

Olympe sniffed, and her eyes rolled. “Only because you hadn’t bothered to put your name in.” she told her, “You would have been perfect too.”

Vinda smiled. “Yes, but then I couldn’t be betting on your chance of success and this would be a loss.”

“Mostly, you want to follow your Auror.” Juliette slipped, rather bravely for Ariana learnt that very few people dared to tease Vinda. She made a show of brushing her long pink hair (ever since Ariana had learnt that she was a Metamorphmagus, she tried to guess which color her hair were going to be each day), before she got back to fiddling with her ball. “He’s rather cute, I will give you this.”

Ariana made a grimace, cute or not it was her brother they were talking about, and this was awkward.

Vinda merely grinned at Juliette. “I know,” she told her before her smile suddenly turned more dangerous, “You can look, but I found him first.”

Juliette let out a huff before she asserted. “He’s not that cute.” her and Olympe started to make the ball come back and forth between them. “I’m bored.” She then stated.

Olympe sighed, “It’s exhausting to wait, but the Headmaster shall be speaking any minutes now.”

As if he heard her, the Durmstrang’s Headmaster appeared and went up on the center of the hall, next to the resting goblet. Mademoiselle Daphne and Dippet were following him closely. Ariana could see that Albus was once again with the professors. What surprised her was the man who slid next to him; it was the same one that had made her books fall just yesterday. What was his name already? She pursed her lips as she tried to recall. Lovanoff, right? What was he doing here?

“We thank you for your patience,” Dippet began, “I’m sure we are all excited to discover the chosen names, and –”

“And we’ll start right now.” Danacov cut him off, rather rudely. He ignored the hurt look Dippet sent him. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Daphne seemed very pleased by his intervention. “The first name, please.” he demanded as he tended his hand and arm toward the blue flames emanating from the goblet. The fire shuddered, before it threw a paper into the air. Danacov grabbed it easily. He quickly unfolded it, and read in his booming voice: “Igor Karkaroff.” he called. The boy they had spotted yesterday’s afternoon stood up, and the Durmstrang’s boys applauded him as he made his way to his Headmaster. Gellert wasn’t going to be thrilled by this, she thought. Danacov continued as soon as Karkaroff stopped next to him. He repeated the process, and the flames let out another name. “Minerva McGonagall.” there was a loud cheering from the Hogwarts’ students as the sixth year Gryffindor’s girl stood. Like Karkaroff, she positioned herself next to her Headmaster. Ariana saw Dippet softly congratulate her. “And now, the last one, the Beauxbâtons’ champion.” he once again extended his hand toward the goblet. The blue flames took more time to choose a paper this time. The piece of parchment that got out was pink, a strange choice, and it turned onto itself a bit, like a ballerina before it settled into Danacov’s awaiting fingers. He unfolded it. “Ariana Dumbledore.” He finally called.

Ariana swore that her whole table went still. Ariana, herself, didn’t dare to move, and barely dared to breath. She… surely, it was a mistake? She must have heard it wrong, for it was not possible for her name to be there. She slowly raised her gaze to Albus, whose eyes were wide with shock. Dippet and Mademoiselle didn’t look any better. Only Danacov, who had no idea what he had just announced, appeared fine if bemused by the lack of enthusiasm and by the reaction of his counterparts.

Uh-oh, her mind whispered.

 

*
The office they all but invaded was round and big, with creamy walls and painted window glass. There were several chairs around a huge desk made with crimson wood. Ariana took into the room as Mademoiselle led her there, but she observed it distantly, her mind glued on what had just transpired, on her name being called, of the panic she had felt when most Beaubâtons’ students had looked at her in silent accusation.
What did you do? They seemed to have screamed at her.

She was half aware of a discussion happening around her. The tone was clipped and short. Voices were starting to rise and gain in volume. The Durmstrang’s Headmaster appeared to be angry; he was walking around the room in a quick stride. Ariana was relieved to note that Mademoiselle, at least, didn’t look mad. She had taken a chair and proceeded to install herself on it in that teasing manner of hers. Her white hair seemed to be glowing under the magical lights of the office. She didn’t seem to have lost an ounce of her control and appeared to be almost peaceful.

“Ari,” Albus calmly said, his voice breaking through the frog her mind had been stuck in, “Did you put your name in the goblet?”

Ariana barely had the time to open her mouth before Henry, who had trailed after Travers and Aberforth, hastily replied: “I didn’t do it.”

They all turned to blink at him.

“It’s not me, I swear.” he quickly defended, “I mean, sure I –” Minerva elbowed him and he abruptly closed his mouth. Igor Karkaroff – Durmstrang’s champion - was looking at him as if he was mental. He patted his side, before sending a hurt look at Minerva.

“He said Ari, not Harry.” She hissed at him.

“Ooh.” he let out as realization drawn on him. “You’re not talking about me. Sorry, go on, huh, ignore me?” Henry offered sheepishly.

Dippet sighed loudly.

“I didn’t.” Ariana said in a little voice as everyone’s eyes settled on her. It was like having a heavy weight falling on her. It was oppressing. “I have no interest to participate.” she was already ecstatic to be able to be here. It was more than enough; it was everything, so why would she want to candidate in a magical competition, where she had herself no magic? It would be stupid. “I-” She started weakly, as she fiddled her hands together in a nervous dance.

“For attention, some will do anything.” Head Auror Travers replied sternly.

“You will know all about it.” She heard Abe muttered next to her, low enough that no one truly paid him notice. She thought it was better that way, the last she wanted was for him to be in trouble with his boss.

“If you had done your job we wouldn’t be here.” The chief of the MIB snipped back at the Head Auror. She crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. Travers scolded back at her.

Despite the growing animosity happening between the two, Travers’ commentary made Headmaster Danacov gaze down at her. He had an awful judgmental and cold look. Ariana wished she could disappear into thin air.

She took a step back, but she felt Albus’ hand rest on her shoulder, keeping her in place. “She said she hadn’t.” her brother defiantly reminded Travers, “And didn’t you praise all the protective spells you put on the goblet?” he then asked, no challenged, Danacov who bristled. Being called out, by a young man at that, probably didn’t please him at all. “It seems to me that they're not as infallibles as you pretended; especially if you believe that someone with no magic can break through them.”

Fully insulted now, the Durmstrang’s Headmaster glowered at the two of them. She didn’t know how Albus could stay so calm when faced to this. She personally found this man terrifying. It might have a lot to do with the fact that Vinda told her rumors about him being a vampire. To be truthful, she did find him a bit too pale.

It was Mademoiselle Daphne who put an end into this. “Honestly,” she said, her accent clicking on her tongue. She had one leg over the other, revealing a bit of her skin, as her dress folded over itself in stylish waves. “One would think that I would be the most offended in the predicament we found ourselves. For it is my school,” she stressed, shooting a meaningful look at Danacov, “Whose finding itself without a champion.”

“The person who is chosen by the goblet is linked by a magical contract.” Dippet gently reminded the room, “Technically, you have your champion, Daphne.”

“Because the goblet says so?” she huffed in a derisive manner, “Armando, this girl has no magic.” Ariana protectively hunched her shoulders, “Sending her there would be suicide.” she argued fiercely, “You cannot seriously be considering this.”

“We cannot break a magical contract, and you know this.” Danacov barely stopped the angry pacing he had resumed to snap at her.

Mademoiselle’s crystal eyes narrowed, “You could at least try.” She snapped back.

“Perhaps, there is another solution.” Dippet interceded.

“Such as?” Danacov barked in annoyance.

The Hogwarts’ Headmaster ignored this aggressive reply. Ariana wished she could manage to do this with the same ease. As it was, she wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

“A magical contract can be honored by a blood relative in time of need.” Albus stated as he seemed to realize where Dippet was going before them. He looked at him for confirmation. The latter nodded.

Meanwhile, Danacov seemed ready to explode. His whole face became a concerning red, and Ariana feared for his outburst. For her part, Mademoiselle turned pensive. “Are you offering to take her place, then?” She wondered, directing her question at Albus. Ariana thought that she seemed to be awfully interested by the prospect.

Albus opened his mouth only to close it again. Ariana watched him hesitate. She lowered her eyes to the floor. She could understand. He hadn’t wanted it. She was, once again, pushing his hand. She was as always unable to stay out of trouble, as well as having to rely on her older brothers to get her out of it. He took a breath and seemed to ready himself but Aberforth beat him to it. “I am.” he asserted firmly. He shot a dark look at Albus, before he continued. “I will take her place.”

A hush fell inside the office.

“Is it a joke?” Danacov dangerously wondered. His eyes took a glow that was promising nothing good.

“Dmitri, please, let us converse calmly –” Dippet started.

“I would like to see yourself stay calm if one was ruining the Tournament you were hosting.” he cut him off. “The reputations of our schools are on the line.”

“Why not.” Mademoiselle said in a small shrug. Her eyes ranked over Aberforth in consideration.

“Are you out of your mind?” Danacov turned sharply toward her. “He is an Auror.”

“And?” Travers drawled in annoyance, meanwhile the chief of the MIB, shook her head in exasperation.

“Trainee, I am right?” she asked Aberforth who nodded, “Alright, I take him.”

Danacov made a sound of pure frustration. “You cannot ‘take him’. This is not a sale!” he exclaimed, “His magical knowledge is higher than a student,” he pointed, “This is cheating!” He shouted.

“Well,” Dippet tried to mediate, “It would also be unfair to send someone with no magic to speak of.”

“Afraid you will lose to me, Dmitri dear?” Mademoiselle’s lips turned into a seductive grin, “Don’t worry, being second is fantastic,” she paused as she made a show of inspecting her painted nails, “I’ve heard.” She finished by sending him a telling look.

He mumbled something that sounded terribly rude, even in Russian. “Fine.” he conceded, “Have it your way.” He angrily marched out, his long coat, made of fur, was flying at each of his steps.

“So dramatic.” Mademoiselle noted even as she checked her perfect lipstick into the vanity mirror she produced.

Dippet sighed again.

Notes:

I found out that Muggel was the German's translation of Muggle, and couldn't not include it ^^ I think it makes more sense this way.
Hope you enjoyed this little Ariana time 🌼

Chapter 16

“You hesitated.” Aberforth started as he rounded on his brother just as soon as he could. They were all more or less fleeing Danacov’s office; no one after all wanted to be there in the first place. “I can’t believe you hesitated.” He repeated, his voice starting to gain volume.

“It’s complicated.” Albus enunciated each word lowly; so that their scattering audience wouldn’t hear him.

Aberforth honestly didn’t care about being heard. “How the hell is that complicated?” he seethed, loudly, “She’s our sister and you keep –” Albus actually had the audacity to take him by the elbow before he ushered him into a more secluded space. He let him walk him to an alcove of sort, but he ripped himself out of his grip just as soon as they were there. “What’s your excuse this time?”

His brother’s eyes flashed, a warning that he ignored as he continued to glare at him. Albus got his wand out and casted a quick Charm around them so their conversation wouldn’t be listened to. Abe didn’t get why his brother was so paranoid.

“A magical contract ties someone’s magic until it is honored.” He started, and Aberforth almost threw his arms into the air, because Merlin and all his knights help him if Albus began to lecture him.

“Yes!” Abe cut him off, “I know that. What I do not know is why you get so skittish every time your family needs you!” he attacked as well as accused. He was so pissed. Albus took the blow remarkably well. He stayed stoic and apart from the way his jaw clenched, he looked fine. It only fuelled Abe’s anger. “Don’t you have anything to say in your defense?” He finally asked in a challenging tone.

Albus hesitated, for the second time today. But he seemed to reach another conclusion as he held Aberforth’s gaze firmly. “My magic is already tied elsewhere.”

From all the things Abe could have imagined, this was not it. “I beg your pardon?” he questioned incredulous, “What do you mean by that?!” He demanded more than asked.

“I am already engaged in another, ah, contract.” His brother settled on, his eyes looking around as if searching for an exit.

Too bad for him there were none accessible right now, he thought in a snort. Meanwhile, the whole thing didn’t make any sense to him. Aberforth narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. “What kind of contract?”

“It’s irrelevant.” and Abe almost scoffed at this, because really? “I wasn’t sure how my first contract would react with this one, which is why I,” he trailed, bit his lower lip, “I only wasn’t sure.” he repeated. “It had nothing to do with Ariana.” He softly said.

It better, he thought, before he decided that he had enough of this. “The hell you did with your magic?!” Aberforth pressed the issue as it was his turn to grab Albus’s forearm. He went right into his personal space in order to make him spill his secrets. He had never worked when they were younger, but ever since, Aberforth had gained in weight and had put on some muscles, while Albus had remained more fragile looking. Despite this, his brother leveled him with an unimpressed look. Aberforth guessed that he had been far too exposed to Gellert’s bad influence, which was why he remained unmoved (because Abe certainly made for a respectful, and when he wanted, threatening figure). Thoughts of Gellert gave him a very bad feeling; “It had nothing to do with Gellert, right?” he continued before Albus could argue, “Because if he forced you into something –”

“Aberforth.” Albus’s voice cut sharply. He truly had a way to make his name sound like a reprimand. “I’m not defenseless, and Gellert hasn’t force my hand into anything.” he assured him. “Now, if I were you, I would worry more about myself, for you had just entered a dangerous competition with very little knowledge of what await for you.”

Aberforth let go of his arm to cross his over his chest. “I’ve heard about the Triwizard Tournament before.” He muttered.

“Then you know that you have to be careful now. You’re representing Beauxbâtons, which means that for the others two schools, you are to be eliminated.” Albus gravely told him, “You cannot trust anyone.”

“Don’t you think you’re over-reacting a bit?” Abe wondered, “It’s only a game.”

His brother gave him a disbelieving look, “You cannot be serious.” at his shrug, Albus let out an exasperated breath, “Aberforth, you’ve heard the stories about the various champions trying to win the cup, right?” he waited for him to nod before he continued, “Then, you know that the winners may win glory, but you have to remember that it has a price. Whatever tasks they will decide on, it won’t be easy.”

“I know that.” Aberforth defended. “But it still a school’s competition.” he stressed because Albus made it sound like it was a street fist-fight, “They’re not seriously going to endanger their own students, right?”

“Merlin.” Albus said as he stared at him like he was stupidly naïve, which pretty much answered him.

“Sorry to interrupt you, boys,” the Beauxbâtons’ Headmaster told them, not sounding very remorseful at all. Aberforth hadn’t heard her come so near, which given how high her heels was, was a feat. “But you have to come with me.” she instructed to Aberforth, “I will introduce you to my students, and as my champion I can’t have you spend too much time with the other side, now can I?” Her full red lips smiled widely at them, but somehow, Abe found it very hollow.

Albus and him exchanged a look, before his brother excused himself politely, leaving him trailing, a bit reluctantly, after Mademoiselle Daphne.
But then Ariana timidly appeared at his side, putting her steps at his pace, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting her. He offered his hand for her to take, because if he was honest, she looked a bit miserable. She perked up at his gesture though, which was a win. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Daphne was making them pass through many complicated corridors, her dress moving in time with her steps, and Abe hoped that she knew where she was going, because he certainly didn’t. She finally stopped in front of a huge door.

“Normally, we stay inside our carriage – it’s safer like this, and it’s big enough for us all.” she explained as she unlocked the door with her wand, “But, as the weather here is less than favorable, we accepted Durmstrang’s offer of hospitality.” she lowly intoned something in French and the door clicked open. She put her hand on the flat wood, ready to push it wide. But she stopped her movement to look at him. “We will give you the incantation so you can enter on your own as well. Be mindful of your surrounding when you say it.” She instructed before she opened the heavy door.

They entered the room. A gentle fire was warming the atmosphere of this spacious common room of sort made of soft blue tapestries and comfy couch. Yet, Aberforth felt like he had just stepped into Ravenclaw uninvited and unwanted.
It was awkward, from the way everyone stopped mid-rant (they all seemed pretty passionate about their speeches) to stare at them; to the fact that he was the only guy here. He tried not to grimace too much. He wasn’t sure if it hid any of his unease.

“Dears, after an intense discussion,” Mademoiselle Daphne started, winning all of her students’ attention at once. “It had been decided that our school’s champion couldn’t be one of us.” she then proceeded to push Aberforth forward and - as he dug his feet into the ground - he learnt the disagreeable knowledge that she was far stronger than she first appeared to be. He became stiff under all those pair of eyes falling on him. He chose to focus on Vinda, whose expression was caught between surprise and complete incomprehension. She stared back at him as if he could tell her how this whole mess happened and somehow, the fact that he was not alone in this made him feel better. “Welcome our chosen champion, Aberforth Dumbledore.”

The enthusiasm her declaration received was defying in its silence. It lingered for some interminable seconds. Aberforth swore that no one and nothing dared to move; even the lighted fire seemed to hold its breath. Most girls were just blinking at him, too shocked it seemed to react.

This was until a very (very) tall one stood up and let out a strangled: “Quoi?!”

It broke the silence’s spell that had fallen onto the room; and the conversations came back with a vengeance. It was a chaos of shouts and voices overlapping, accompanied here and there by pointed fingers in the direction of Ariana.
All in French.
Ari hunched her shoulders as if she could make herself smaller in order to be forgotten. Aberforth glared at the few who dared to do this and took a threatening stance next to his sister. That made them glare at him instead.

He heard Mademoiselle Daphne sigh, before she casted a Silencio and all sounds in the room died. The girls didn’t look very ecstatic about it. “Dears, please.” she demanded flatly; “I am not pleased with the situation either.” she admitted, her full lips turning down in discontentment. Abe gazed at her. So far out of the three Headmasters, she had seemed rather unbothered by it all. But he was beginning to have the bitter suspicion that he was not whom she had hoped to get out from this ordeal. After all, didn’t she ask Albus first and foremost as soon as a switch was made possible? “But we have to do with what we have. Monsieur Dumbledore here is an Auror’s trainee and he graciously proposed himself.” Abe almost snorted at the word ‘graciously’. He hadn’t done this out of the goodness of his heart, or even to help their school; he had never given much thought about Beaxbâtons. He only did it for Ariana. But it was probably unwise to say it, given that most girls surrounding him were full of passive-aggressive feelings. Aberforth wasn’t a coward; he had been a Gryffindor for Merlin’ sake, but he was outnumbered here and they really looked pissed. Also, the absurdly tall one might intimidate him, just a little bit. “So I expect you to be on your best behavior with him.” Mademoiselle Daphne concluded as she lifted her spell.

They were a chorus of ‘yes’, more or less gritted, and Aberfoth began to seriously wonder if he didn’t bit more than he could chew.
Maybe Albus’ warnings weren’t so exaggerated.

 

*
Gellert let the others deal with the diplomatic mess.

Instead, he had started to inspect the protecting circle drawn around the goblet of fire. From the look of it; it didn’t seem to have been forced nor breached. He crossed it easily; the magic was becoming dormant now that it had accomplished its purpose. He eyed it a second more before his gaze took in the goblet standing there.

He approached it slowly and casted a Specialis Revelio, as he pointed his wand at the smooth golden surface. The spell was perfect in this case; as he was researching both eventual hexes and Charm. But as it came back negative, he began to be intrigued. He tried to glance inside the object and - given the blue flames which were still emanating from it - it was not simple. It was buzzing with energy still, and he inspected it a tad longer. He hummed when it seemed that the object was devoid of any curses.
He took some steps back, and crossed his arms over his chest, considering this. If the goblet wasn’t at fault, then what could be? He wondered. His eyes travelled around the hall before they spotted the three pieces of parchments that had been chosen, before being just as quickly left to their own. They were resting, forgotten already, on the big table where the professors usually ate.
He went there and took the little papers into his hands, staring at them carefully.

Igor Karkaroff’s one was simple. He had written his name on a rectangular paper. Nothing stood out, but then, nothing ever did with Igor, Gellert recalled. He had always been a master at deception.

Minerva McGonagall’s one was neat, her writing elegant. Her paper had been folded thoughtfully.

Ariana’s paper was pink. Once unfolded, her name appeared as clear as a day, scribed in this controlled cursive she liked to use. Yet Gellert frowned, as he noted a strain at the bottom of one of her ‘a’. It appeared almost dark against the rosy parchment. He was about to put it under the light, when a voice interrupted him.

“Well, the rumors were true.” Igor scoffed, “I didn’t believe it at first, but here you are.”

“Miss me, much?” Gellert didn’t raise his eyes from Ariana’s paper to greet him. Sure enough, Gellert heard Igor tap one of his feet against the floor – once - in annoyance. He always had been far too predictable, he thought as he secured the papers into his vest. He watched Igor track his movement, and he smiled dangerously at him. Igor wasn’t stupid enough to go after them if he knew that Gellert had them into his possession. But he, himself, wasn’t taking any chances; especially since Igor’s arrival seemed a little too well-timed. “Well,” Gellert looked him over; he was taller than he remembered. His long raven hair had been tied and coiffed back and he had the beginning of a beard on his jaw. “Seems like Durmstrang is treating you well.” Another thing he hadn’t missed was the school’s uniform: a red military looking vest with a high collar, along dark pants with a stripe of red on each side. Gellert had nothing against it, at least at first, but after five years of wearing the same thing every day, he had had begun to wish for something else.

Igor regarded him cautiously, “Better than it treated you, I suppose.” He said, meaningfully and with this side of mean that he had always managed to do, oh so well.

His remark didn’t sting as much as it used too; but the fact that he had been expelled remained a failure that was hard to shallow. Gellert’s answering smile was sharp. “Ah, yes. Meanwhile, you were never brave enough to shoulder any downfall. And those who do not fall cannot rise.” he told him casually, “Always following, never leading.” he shook his head even he continued to smile, “Unable to stand out.”

Igor glowered. “I see you’re still the same.” he noted, before he raised his chin up, “May I remind you that I was chosen to be Durmstrang’s champion? I am the leader of this school now.”

Gellert let out an amused chuckle. “Hardly, you’re only going to be a pawn for the Headmaster to play with.” Gods, but Igor was audacious. “Honestly, Igor.” He tsk’d him.

Igor’s glowering face turned thunderous, and Gellert watched him with a form of amusement. If one knew where to push, Igor was easy to rile up. He looked ready to curse him, and honestly, Gellert would like to see him try.

“Igor,” Durmstrang’s Headmaster voice boomed into the deserted hall, “This is enough.” he ordered. Igor relented by taking two steps back from him. Gellert slowly mouthed: ‘pawn’ to him, just to be provocative. Igor clenched his wand. “Igor.” Danacov repeated more firmly, “Leave us, please.” He glared at him, but in the end he did as he was told to.

“You’re here for less than a week, and already there’s chaos everywhere.” Danacov noted, “I dare to hope that you have nothing to do with this.” He mentioned the goblet with his chin.

“I’m afraid not.” Gellert replied evenly, “I’ve only been here for a few days, as you pointed. I have yet to be able to stage something of that order.” Within a day or two, maybe he could have. A shame someone beat him to it. Though he would not have done it quite like this. For one, he would never have involved Ariana into it.

Danacov almost let out a reluctant smile that looked more like a rictus on his face. “I see.” he said, “Then I’m sure you will sort this matter out.”

Gellert considered him. The last time he had seen the man, he was telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to come home. He had done it without pity or second guessing; seated on his chair, and his tone had been as cold as the ice outside. Gellert had been standing, rigid behind his desk, impatiently waiting for his own downfall, as a well-known anger was rising up inside him.
And now the Headmaster was almost asking for his help. Part of him wanted to scoff. Another one, a huge one, wanted nothing more than to see him struggle and be publically humiliated; for it was a humiliation, not even being able to control something as simple as a goblet inside his own school.
But Ariana might be in trouble and Gellert cared for her so...

“I may.” He said, thinking that he owned Danacov nothing.

 

*
September, Friday, 21th

“Why am I here?” Minerva asked as soon as she stepped into their secret meeting.

“We need as much brains as possible in order to balance out Aberforth’s abyssal state of stupidity.” Gellert stated from where he was standing. He wondered if he should Conjure a board so they could all follow this discussion. (Aberforth, after all, was a slow creature. He must need help. And images.)

“I beg your pardon?!” The man in question shouted in outrage.

Albus tiredly massaged his temples. Gellert knew that he hadn’t slept all that well last night. Too much worries and guilt as he was persuaded to have failed his sister. Honestly, Gellert was pretty sure that Ariana wasn’t holding any grudges for him; but he had yet to convince Albus of this. Gellert believed that Albus had acted rightly. After all they both had no ideas whatsoever how their blood pact could have reacted if coupled with another magical contract. It had been a cautious move more than anything else. But still, Albus ruminated over it. “Please, sit down. We don’t have time for this.” He pleaded with his brother.

Aberforth fumed silently but Vinda all but grabbed his clothes and tugged at it with enough force that it was either sitting back or tearing his shirt. He sat back.
Good choice.

Henry raised his hand. Gellert mentioned at him, “Yes?”

“Do we have a name or are we just calling it the ‘incognito rendez-vous in the catacombs’?” he asked, “I think our group need a name.” He then asserted.

“What about ‘shut up and listen’?” Aberforth proposed sourly.

“I will think of something.” Henry settled, folding his hands into his lap peacefully, and ignoring Aberforth’s remark completely.

Minerva sighed. “Are you sure you need me there?” She questioned Albus dubiously.

“Absolutely.” He regarded her with this earnest expression of his.

It worked on her. She stayed with them and Gellert nodded in satisfaction. “Right,” he took over, “We are gathered here to discover who put Ariana name into the goblet.” He went straight to the matter at hand, fixing his audience as he did so. He thought that it was going to be a great training for his future rallies.

At her mention, everyone turned to gaze at her.
Ariana was standing hunched in the corner of the ‘catacombs’ as Henry called it. In truth they were into the foundation of the Institute. There were barely three or four tombs here, not enough in Gellert’s mind to call it a catacomb. But the place had the advantage of being discreet and no one generally dared to enter. Too much fear and superstitions surrounded the dead laid around them, preventing most from coming. In fact, even some member of their little group had been hesitant to approach the tombs and had chosen to stay standing, while others had sat themselves on the odds rocks let at their feet without much second thought.
Meanwhile, Ariana was in a middle ground of sort; she looked like she was torn between leaving and coming closer to them. Her indecision let her stuck alone in a corner, hesitant and unsure. Albus gazed at her. As she remained still, he went to collect her and made her sit between Vinda and himself. Ariana looked gracefully at him. Albus delicately took her hand into his in answer, and offered her a small smile. Gellert knew that this was as much as an apology for what happened yesterday than a way to sooth her anxiety.

“You want suspects.” Vinda resumed, after she made sure that Ariana was well settled next to her. “It’s becoming interesting.” Her eyes shone in delight and a wide smile began to grace her lips.

Aberforth shot her a long look, before he seemed to consider something. “What about the Beauxbâtons Headmaster?” he proposed. “Mademoiselle.”

Vinda raised an eyebrow at him, “And why she would do this?” She interrogated before Gellert could.

“To get Albus.” He replied, sending a telling look at his brother.

“What do you mean by this?” Gellert asked in a frown, not liking where this reasoning was going.

“I just don’t think I’m not the one she really wanted.” Aberforth said, cryptically staring at his brother.

“But you are a good alternative.” Vinda pointed in a moue. Gellert shook his head at her. Her taste was messing with her sense of reality, he mused because Aberforth was no match for Albus. Clearly.

“You’re reaching.” Albus told him.

Aberforth shrugged his shoulders, “You can’t know for sure.”

“In this case all Headmasters should be suspected as well.” Albus concluded as he let out a breath.

“You want to add Dippet to your list?” Minerva wondered incredulous. She huffed. “The only nefarious thing he has ever done is to make everyone doze around him; and I know some insomniacs who would be happy for that.” She let out a small smile at her remark.

“And Danacov is embarrassed by this.” Gellert reminded them. He put his hands in his back and began to slowly pace. “I doubt he’s the one who staged this.” He would have never asked for his help if he had. Danacov would rather die of thirst before asking for someone else to give him water. He was not a man who liked to be in debt.

“Alright,” Henry started, “I think we shall ask ourselves; who here could gain something out it?” he wondered. “I mean, we need a ‘why’ to find out a ‘who’.” he reasoned. “So why put Ariana’s name in the goblet?”

Vinda nodded in approbation, “You’re right, this is a basic in every investigation.”

“Igor Karkaroff.” both Minerva and him said at the same time. She leveled him a look. He continued, “It’s a way for him to get rid of the competition.”

Minerva hummed in agreement, “Ariana has no power. He would consider her less of a threat for his victory than a witch.”

“Even if he’s wrong.” Gellert quickly added, because Ariana was making an unhappy face and he thought that she deserved more than being labeled as ‘weak’ just because someone had deemed her to be.

“What about Lovanoff?” Albus suddenly asked.

“Liebling, not again.” Gellert sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“And why not?” Albus insisted in tone that suggested he was going to be stubborn about it. Gellert knew it well enough.

“It doesn’t make him guilty just because his mind didn’t open for you.” Gellert countered, “Some wizards have good Occlumency shields.”

Albus shook his head in negative. “Rarely that good.”

“I have good shields.” Gellert defended.

There was a hesitant pause before the other admitted, “Not really?” Albus’s expression became sheepish.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he voiced, a bit offended. “You find my Occlumency shields lacking?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. All the professors he had, had always praised his shields.

Albus almost rolled his eyes, before he crossed his legs together. “They’re just a bit too scholar; don’t make me say something that I didn’t.” He quickly added.

“We’re straining from the point.” Vinda intervened; trying it seemed, to put everyone back on track.

“Lovanoff came to inspect the goblet a day before the ceremony.” Ariana seemed to recall. She shot a look at Henry who appeared to be interrogative.

“He could have done something to it.” He agreed, pensive.

“It would be incredibly hard to alter the goblet’s magic right in front of everyone.” Gellert thought out loud, “It would ask for a magical skill that he simply doesn’t possess.”

Vinda hummed. “We shall investigate on them all and find proofs to be sure.” she explained quite seriously. “It is, also, what good detectives usually do.”

“I shouldn’t have offered you that story.” Aberforth muttered under his breath. He passed a hand through his forehead as if sensing troubles.

“I suggest that Ariana and I see what we can find on Mademoiselle.” Vinda proposed, “Albus shall do the same with Lovanoff; we have to admit that his position make him more likely to have information. Gellert and Henry shall take care of Igor and of the Durmstrang Headmaster while we are at it; since Karkaroff could have been doing it under his order.”

“And what should we do?” Aberforth asked, pointing at him and Minerva.

“Miss McGonagall will defend her school’s colors of course.” she said as if it was indeed obvious. “And you,” she gave Aberforth a sharp smile that was promising nothing good. Aberforth eyed it suspiciously. He was so doomed, Gellert mused distantly. Well, some things went terribly right sometimes, he thought in a smirk. “Shall win the Tournament.”

Aberforth gulped, as he should.
After this declaration, they all began to take their leave for the night. Henry was talking with Aberforth about how he ruined most bets, and did he think that his chances to win were high? Aberforth snorted but didn’t answer him. Vinda said yes. Minerva disagreed. Their conversation progressively lost volume as they went up and into the corridors upstairs. Ariana stayed a little behind with Albus, the two of them talking quietly before she took her exit as well; waving them both goodbyes.

Albus was still waving at her when Gellert called him. “Liebling,” Albus dropped his hand and shifted his focus to him, “Could you not investigate on Pieter right away?”

“Why are you defending him so much?”

“Why are you so quick to accuse him?” Gellert countered. He didn’t understand why Albus was so stuck on Pieter. He was not that interesting. And he had no reason to try to sabotage the games too; what would he win out of it? Nothing. Moreover, after the chaos of yesterday all Aurors and MIB members got a tense reprimand from their respective chiefs. This Tournament made to reunite everyone was, for now, doing a fine job at dividing each group. It was a serious matter, and yet, Albus insisted with Pieter. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I just don’t think he’s involved.”

Albus briefly narrowed his eyes. “Do you own him something? You’re usually far more suspicious.” He remarked.

“I don’t own him anything per se, but…” He trailed, looking around at the tombstones that had been smoothed by time. The names had been erased, leaving everyone guessing who could have been buried under them.

“But you feel like you do.” Albus finished for him. His voice sounded surprised.

Gellert clenched and unclenched his hands once before he said, “When I got expelled, he defended me.” he started, “He tried to go against Danacov’s wishes and now that you’ve met him; you know that the Headmaster is not someone you want to displease.” he explained neutrally, feigning a form of nonchalance. (He couldn’t forget; Danacov behind his desk and him, waiting impatiently for his own downfall). “He failed of course, but he tried.” This was more than most had done.

There was a beat of silence between them, before Albus’ shoulders slumped as he breathed. “Fine. I guess that just because he’s annoying me; it doesn’t mean that he’s guilty.” He seemed disappointed.

“You should know better than anyone. Think of your brother.” Gellert slipped meaningfully.

“It’s just…” Albus continued, “He seems like such a caricature of who you said he was. It’s like he’s trying too hard…” He mused out loud, his fingers tapping against his lips.

“Forget it.” he told him, “Look, I’ve retrieved our first clue.” He searched into his vest’s pocket for it. He got Ariana’s paper out and Albus came closer to look at it.

“Why did you not show it earlier?”

“Last night you were too busy worrying.” he reminded him, “And I didn’t want to rise Ariana’s hopes up if it turns out to be nothing but –”

“Did you steal it?” Albus interrupted. He raised his eyes from the rosy parchment to catch his.

“I’ve retrieved it.” he repeated. Honestly, if no one wanted it, it could hardly be labeled as ‘stealing’. “That’s not the important part.” sometimes Albus could be stuck on such details. “See the strain at the end of the ‘a’.” He pointed a finger at it and Albus gazed at it raptly.

He frowned at its view. “What is this?” He wondered, edging closer to see it better. He traced it with the tip of his finger.

“I think it’s blood.” Gellert had turned the problem into his head, and if most wouldn’t have the magical’s capacity to go against the goblet own intricate magic, other means could. “I believe that someone use blood magic in order to make the goblet chose her name.”

“Blood magic?” Albus repeated. He shook his head in negative. “Gellert, it would be incredibly hard. And all of this just for Ariana’s name to go out? It makes no sense.” He pointed.

“I know.” he acquiesced. If any wizards could use blood magic; not everyone could control it. It was rather versatile, a wild and old form of power. Most thought it was barbaric; but if one knew how to use it correctly then he or she could achieve most things. “It’s also not very well-known. If we can prove that it is – in fact – blood and that it was used for a ritual; then our list of suspect will lower very quickly.”

Albus hummed. He gently took the paper from his hands. He studied it carefully. “There’s a potion for that.” he said, turning the paper in his hands. “But we’ll have to destroy our clue to get our answer.” He warned him.

“Could be worth it.” Gellert then leaned closer to him, “Shall I show you where the potion class is?” He asked in a seductive smile. He was not against trying new thing in potion’s room at all. He was even feeling very up for it. Gellert was a scientist; he was all for experimenting.

Albus smiled back. “I don’t think this will be necessary. I know someone.” He announced, entirely missing his proposition.

Must have been too subtle, he thought as he deflated. “Do you?” he flatly interrogated, “Someone I know?”

Albus’ smile didn’t dim. He truly didn’t get it at all, Gellert realized in a sigh. Sometimes catching his interest was so hard. “No. But don’t worry, Horace would be happy to do this for me.” then he tapped one of his fingers against his jaw, “Perhaps I will take Minerva with me, in case he hesitates.”

Gellert mused that this was better if he didn’t know more than that. He had a feeling it would annoy him otherwise. Still, “Why can’t we just do it ourselves?” He demanded in a frown.

“His skills are sure and he generally has the rarest ingredient with him.” he happily explained, “It will be easier, and he won’t say a thing.” he assured him seriously. As Gellert frowned harder, he tilted his head to the side, “What?”

“Just checking if my potion skills meet your standard, since my Occlumency’s is so average.” he drawled, “Is there something else? Another thing I do that leave you unsatisfied?”

“You take criticism so badly.” Albus almost rolled his eyes at him even as he secured Ariana’s paper into his own pocket.

Gellert raised an eyebrow. “Last time I said something about one of your Charm; you ignored me for a day.” He recalled.

“I didn’t ignore you.” he refuted. “I was only taken somewhere else.” he paused. “Also, my Charm was perfect.”

“As my Occlumency’ shield is.”

There was a tense silence.

“I suppose.” Albus finally conceded the point in an almost pout.

Gellert grinned, “It makes me so happy when we agree.” he told him. He took hold of one of his hands to drop a kiss on the top. Albus huffed, and tried to tickle him as soon as he released his palm. Gellert dodged him in a laugh before he trapped him into his arms. Albus playfully squirm into them, chuckling. “The night is still young.” Gellert noted, as he leaned to whisper in his ear. He dropped another quick kiss on his neck before lowly wondering, “Whatever shall we do?”

Albus blushed. It was fainter than it used to be, but its prolonged existence pleased him. There, Gellert thought, as his eyes lighted up in victory. “I think you shall show me this potion class of yours.” Albus told him with the most innocent tone, “Just in case.” He finished with a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Gellert kissed him just for that.

Notes:

Gellert please behave 😅

Don't hesitate to drop a comment ^^ thank you for reading! 💜

Chapter 17

Notes:

Abe versus girls!

September, Sunday, 23rd

“I think you shall do it yourself.” Minerva said, her voice marching along the cadence of her steps. “Involving Slughorn is not necessary.”

“He will have all the ingredients we need.” Albus told her. They were inside the Hogwarts’ boat and were currently making their way toward Horace Slughorn’s room. The ship was relatively quiet at this hour; most students must be inside the Institute. “It would take us far more time to gather them by ourselves.”

She considered this. “Did you check inside the Durmstrang’s potion room?” she wondered, “They may have what you seek in there.”

Albus tried very hard not to blush. “We checked it.” He rapidly assured her.

From the way she was suddenly eyeing him, he could tell that his cheeks were flushing. He blamed his pale complexion. “I don’t see how I could be useful to you,” Minerva continued. “In case you’ve forgotten; I’m not the company Slytherins are after.”

“You have to remember that Horace has a weakness for celebrity.” he told her in a smile as they reached his door. Albus recalled having been on the receiving end of many excessive flatteries and unwanted invitations. Horace was the living expression of ‘ambitious’, though even the Slytherins seemed to find his attitude grating. He knocked on his door once. “Now that you are the Hogwarts’ champion, he’s going to be delighted to have you.” She was, after all, a potential new trophy he could brag about.

Clearly Minerva hadn’t considered this if her grimace was anything to go by. She barely had the time to smooth her expression before the door swung open.

Horace beamed at them as soon as he noticed them. “Miss McGonagall,” he greeted her with unconcealed enthusiasm, “Albus. What can I do for you?”

Minerva’s face became pinched, sensing Horace’s tries to win her up right away. It was true that he was not very discreet about it, but Albus believed that it was actually one of his qualities. There were no games with him because it was always obvious what he was after.

“We need your help,” Albus smiled softly; “It’s for a potion.”

At the word, Horace’s whole expression lighted up. “Come in, come in.” he ushered them inside. They entered and he carefully closed his door behind them. “Now tell me, what kind of potion you need?” he asked them before he babbled quickly, “It cannot be something simple or you would have done it yourself. You’re both more than capable in potions.” He praised in a nod. Albus mused that by this point, compliments must have become an automatism for him.

Minerva let out a long breath. She gazed at Albus, silently imploring him to be quick.

“You’re right, of course.” he gently agreed with him. “But the potion we had in mind is… complex.” Albus settled for, “Both in its ingredients and in its creation.”

“Now, you have me intrigued.” Horace arched one eyebrow in curiosity. “What is this?” Minerva and him exchanged a furtive look before he got their clue out his pocket. The rosy parchment was starting to get rumpled; unsurprising given how much it had already changed hands. Horace stared at it, intrigued, before realization drawn on him. “It’s the famous paper.” His voice became hushed and full of wonder.

“Yes.” Albus acquiesced. “This is why we’ll need a complete discretion from your part.” He waited for him to raise his eyes to them so he could see how serious they were.

“Of course.” he readily assured. But since Minerva was still dubiously staring at him, he added; “I won’t tell a soul, I swear.” He promised.

Satisfied, Albus continued, “Can you tell us if it was used for a ritual? There’s also this strain we’ll like to analyze.” He showed it to him as he spoke.

Horace hummed thoughtfully, his hands barely daring to touch the paper. “Complex potion; truly complex.” he whispered, “I will have to mix several things together…” he began to mutter what sounded like a list of ingredients, when suddenly he seemed to figure something out. “Ah! But it will destroy the parchment.” He sounded torn between wanting to do it and wanting to preserve Ariana’s paper for posterity.

Another trophy, Albus thought in sigh. “We feared so. But a potion like this…” he deliberately trailed, knowing that Horace was hooked up on their idea already and just needed a final push. “Wouldn’t it be something very exciting to do?”

Horace’s face answered it all.

 

*
Aberforth crouched behind his new found hide.

In his tentative to make himself disappear behind a couch; he only risked one glance to check the perimeter. It seemed to be clear. He took a deep breath; he would have only one chance at this, he knew. So he tightly clenched his wand, before he made his way toward the exit; a simple door which was for now the best thing in his world. He was advancing carefully toward it and since he had not dared to fully stand up; he was left to flee with his knees still half-bend.
He stopped in the middle of the way - his fatal error - as he spotted blond hair and a well-known headband. Ariana had her back turned to him and seemed to be peacefully reading on the opposite couch; unaware of his in-progress escape.
He made his way toward his sister, she deserved to get out of here too, and was about to make his presence known when she swiftly turned to him. With a wand pointed at him.

“Incarcerous.” she-who-was-not -Ariana intoned. Ropes circled around him, and he yelped as they trapped him like some vicious snakes. He lost his equilibrium and his wand as he tried to get out of their ways. He ended up rolling on the floor, cursing as the ropes were still very much around him. Meanwhile, the Beauxbatons’ girl elegantly stood from the couch. She accio’ed his wand to her and the stick lazily settled into her open palm. “It was clever of you to try to escape our headquarters through the back door.” she remarked, “But predictable. You ought to do better for the games.” She stated. Her blond hair was starting to waver and transform into a pale pink.

Aberforth, from where he was frantically trying to get rid of those awful cords, glared up at her. “Why are you wearing Ariana’s headband?” He harshly questioned, looking up at the accessory in betrayal.

“I’ve asked her permission for it, do not worry.” she barely blinked down at him, unperturbed by his glowering. “Your sister is very kind.” She added.

Aberforth swore loudly in reply; as the ropes still refused to move. In fact, the more he seemed to try to free himself from it, the tighter it seemed to become. “You freaking staged it.” He sourly accused her.

“Yes.” she bypassed each of his insults with ease. “You shouldn’t have fled; we’re only trying to make you more presentable so the others would accept you.” she pointed. “But I’m glad I’ve caught you so quickly. I’m not a natural blond, you see. It is a hard one for me to hold.” She explained gravelly.

“Because you’re a natural pink?” he asked full of sarcasms. She suddenly smirked, the first expressive thing she had done so far. He didn’t like it at all. “Don’t call them.” He warned.

“I’ve found him!” She called loudly enough that he bet all Beauxbâtons’ girls heard her.

“You’re a demon.” He grumbled, twisting inside her enchanted cords.

A pause. “Demons do not exist.” she evenly informed him, “You learnt the most bizarre things in your school.” She said in a wrinkle of her nose.

He didn’t even deign this with a reply. Soon enough footsteps were coming to their direction and Aberforth sighed in defeat into his ropes.

 

*
“What did I ever do to deserve this?” Aberforth complained, trying to bat the Beauxbâtons’ girl away. He didn’t know ‘the demon’s’ name; right now she was just someone he needed as far away from his person as possible.

“You must have done something awful indeed.” She flatly replied. She dodged his hands with envious ease. It barely stopped her, and Aberforth’ sulk intensified.

“What are you even doing with my hair?!” He then exclaimed, before he made to stand up and move out of her reach, but she tugged painfully at his scalp; preventing his escape. He glared at her, she smiled serenely.

“One has to suffer to be pretty.” she calmly recited, “You hair was a mess. Do you ever use a comb?”

“What do you think?” He hissed.

“I think not much.” She answered truthfully, once again missing his sarcasm by miles. She continued to brush each strand dutifully and Aberforth was starting to fear that she was going to put cute things on them next. Hers were long and she had lovely ribbons tying them together after all. Also, they were grey or pale blue like her uniform, or pink. Their colors kept changing and were currently starting to give him a headache.

“Do not mock him too much, we want him to stay.” Vinda absently said.

The too tall girl who was absolutely not giving Aberforth any complex (nope) and her were standing with their arms either on their hips or crossed and were inspecting their friend’s work closely.

“He’s not a lost cause, but he needed it.” The girl who had his hair between her knowing hands remarked in a dispassionate tone. At this point, Aberforth was sure that she was braiding them. He could only hope that she didn’t add a fluffy thing into them.

“He does look better.” the giant one, Olympe Maxime, noted as she gazed down at him. Aberforth recoiled in his seat and bumped into the other one as he did so, making her long hair change briefly into a color as red as him. She scolded at him, he scolded back. “Merci Juliette.” Olympe thanked.

Juliette, aka the girl he wanted to hex, smiled sharply, “It is my pleasure.” She tugged his hair some more. He narrowed his eyes at her in menace.

Vinda was studying him with enough consideration that it made him want to fidget nervously into his seat. “What shall we do about his jaw?” she wondered, more to herself than to anyone in particular he thought, “Shall we let his five o’clock shadow or shave it?”

“I think he would be more handsome shaved.” Olympe started, “But, we can’t deny that it gives him character.” She gently tapped a finger against her lips as she considered the matter.

“Let’s shave it.” Juliette placidly asserted.

Aberforth sent her a dark look.

“We also have to find him an outfit.” Vinda continued unperturbed.

“Oui.” Olympe nodded; her expression serious. Aberforth was starting to believe that it wasn’t the tasks that were going to kill him; but them. Slowly and painfully, under piles of blue ribbons. “We could Transfigure a uniform for him; or we could make one from scratch.”

“I don’t need a uniform.” he tried to stop them, because the whole thing was beginning to sound like his idea of hell. “It’s really not needed at all.” He pleaded them with his eyes.

He must have not looked pitiful enough because Vinda proposed; “Let’s ask Jean-Gustavo to make something for him.”

All three girls turned to stare at him with a collective hum and he swore that he was sweating in his seat.

 

*
“Have some mercy.” He pleaded them.

Aberforth had followed the three girls more out of obligation than anything else. He also had let himself be guided outside, where the Beauxbâtons’ carriage was parked. Then they insisted for him to go inside with them - against all his objections he might add - and this was how he was finding himself standing in the middle of a cozy interior made of fluffy pillows, while a mouse (a mouse!) was inspecting him critically.

“I think a pretty cyan would go well with his complexion.” Olympe started. From her seated position, she almost appeared to be of the same height as them. The cushions swallowing her must play a big role into it, he mused. She crossed her legs together, and Conjured a cup of tea as Vinda approached her. (At one point, Vinda had somehow found a teapot; turning this strange afternoon into an improvised tea party. The ones Aberforth had never wanted to be part of.)

“But turquoise can be so entrancing.” Vinda pointed, looking like she was miles away, her head probably full of colors. Aberforth briefly feared for the breakable thing made of porcelain that was between her hands; but despite her musing, she served Olympe’s cup perfectly. Not a drop got away. Aberforth was kind of impressed.

“What about indigo?” Juliette wondered before she tranquilly sipped into her already fuming cup.

“Now you are just making up colors to make me nervous.” He said to the general indifference of the occupant of this carriage, all too busy brainstorming on him. He had to stay upright, with his arms open so his measurement could be taken. He was starting to get tired of it.

Vinda’s eyes zeroed on him and she seemed to come to a conclusion. She put the teapot down on a little table that marked the corner of the carriage’s interior. “A nice sky blue would be good, I believe.” She decided.

The little mouse nodded in agreement, and holy wood, did Aberforth already mentioned that his dressing life was apparently in the (little) hands of a mouse? It was minuscule, pale grey with big round ears and all; wearing a little cape and hat that might or might not be stylish. Who cared, he thought in dismay, because it was a mouse.

He must truly have looked terrified, for Vinda told him, “Do not worry, Jean-Gustavo is a very famous couturier. He’s from a long line of designers.” She confided in a smile.

“Given a mouse’s lifetime, I’m not sure it means all that much.” He replied under his breath, while he eyed said mouse. It moved around him with a little meter in its hands. Then it went and seemed to speak about it with the others mice. They must be its assistants, he supposed. But where did they come from and more importantly: what the hell happened to his life?

“Some people would kill to be dressed by him.” Juliette said as she fixed him with a steady look.

“I can understand.” he told her very seriously. The mouse, Jean-Gustavo continued to take his measurement, while making little sounds. It was making Abe badly want to shake it off of him. “I would kill to not be dressed by him.” He pointed with feeling.

Vinda lighted up, “Really? Who?”

He started to make a face at her, before he changed his mind. He pointed at Juliette. “Her.”

The girl in question raised an eyebrow at this, looking distinctly unperturbed. “We cannot kill Juliette” Vinda sighed as if it was greatly costing her, “She’s a friend.” she told him sadly, “But did you think about what you wanted to do with your concurrent? Poison, I believe, could be a good choice.” She suggested, before she tasted her tea. She smiled, pleased by her drink.

He recoiled a bit, eyeing for a second the carriage’s door with envy, “No?” he replied uncertain. Vinda’s smile suddenly widened with possibilities. “No.” He repeated more firmly, because honestly the last thing they needed was a tentative of poisoning.

“So disappointing.” Vinda sighed again, putting her hand against her cheek in a delicate and dramatic manner.

He frowned at her. “I’m pretty sure it’s against all rules.” He felt the need to point.

“The Tournament’s rules are very obscure to begin with.” Juliette said. She was watching Jean-Gustavo work with a form of quiet admiration. Aberforth had to give it this: it was a fast mouse. “Pas vu, pas pris, as the saying goes.”

“What is this supposed to mean?” He questioned because he was not fluent in French, thank you so much.

“It means that if you’re not caught, then no one can prove that you had done a thing.” Juliette explained in a bored tone.

“Oh!” Olympe interrupted. She abruptly put her cup down, appearing to be distressed. “We still haven’t decided anything for his beard.”

They once more studied him and Aberforth, in a feat of panic for his beard (that he took so much care to make it grow), quickly fled, dodging mice as he did.

 

*
“Are you hiding?” Minerva asked him from the adjacent table. She almost had to glance under it to do so.

“No.” he denied weakly, “I obviously love to go under tables.” he gritted. “And for Merlin’ sake, lower your voice.” Aberforth instructed her in a hushed tone.

She sniffed before she straightened inside her seat and refocused her attention on her book.
He worriedly looked around the library and was happy to note that no Beauxbâtons’s girls seemed to be in the vicinity. Ever since he had escaped the confine of the carriage he hadn’t quite dared to look back; choosing to dive under one of the nearest tables of the Durmstrang’s library instead.
Their library was spacious, with a high ceiling and tall dark wooden shelves. There were stairs inside it - roundly things with a lot of steps - made to access to the manuscripts put into the higher places. There were books everywhere of course, an ocean of papers and covers alphabetically disposed. Every now and then, Aberforth saw some of them flying around, from the librarian’s desk to what he supposed were their respected shelves. The librarian, a petite woman with glasses that were eating her face whole, had barely blinked earlier when she had spotted him sliding under the table like his life depended on it. A weird woman, he mused, wondering what it would take to truly startle her.

“Why the library?” Minerva asked, sounding intrigued.

It was true that the library was not his place of choice usually, but he thought that today asked for unusual means. He probably was going to be here for some time, he thought in a resigned sigh. He sat more comfortably; cross-legged now on the floor. “They won’t think to search here. No one ever trusted me when I said I read.” for once he was really counting on this. “You won’t believe the things I went through.” he began to tell her in a whisper. “They were playing dress-up with me. And they threatened my beard!” He hushed in indignation.

She spared him a look before she made to ignore him. “You want to know something truly appalling?” she asked in kind, slowly turning a page of her thick manuscript; “Even when winter comes and we’ll all freeze in there, I will still have to wear a skirt.”

“You shall complain about it to Dippet.” he readily told her. He was feeling really vindictive right now. “Or make him wear a skirt too, so he will understand.” Minerva smiled at this, even as her eyes didn’t leave the page she was pretending to read. “I’m trying very hard not to imagine what I’m going to wear for the first task.” He admitted.

“It can’t be that bad, and no one will focus much on what you’re wearing.” she tried to reassure him before she paused. “I feel the need to inform you: all Hogwarts think you’re a traitor, and Durmstrang do not seem to hold a lot of sympathy for you either.”

“Fantastic.” he muttered with feeling. “And all Beauxbâtons hate me because…” he trailed, “Because I exist.” he stressed the word because it was unfair. Aberforth hadn’t done anything yet; he was only trying to salvage a lousy situation. “Except for the few ones I’m currently running away from.” He amended.

“It sounds complicated.” Minerva noted.

“Tell me about it.” he said under his breath. His opinion on the Tournament was starting to turn sour. “I’m wondering,” he started, “Why did you choose to enter it? I mean, I would have never done it if it wasn’t for Ari,” he wasn’t suicidal, he thought in a snort. “But you decided to. Why?”

For some seconds there was only silence. She carefully put her book down before she replied; “You remember how I came to be in the Quidditch’s team?” she didn’t wait for his answer before she continued; “It was because Henry insisted so much. He’s so stubborn, this idiot.” she fondly huffed, “But I know; if it wasn’t for him, I would have never been taken. No one wanted to, because I wasn’t a pureblood,” she breathed before she added, “And I wasn’t a ‘real’ Gryffindor.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.” He told her because most had later recognized that she was smarter than them and could also curse them just fine if pushed.

“I do.” she countered, tracing some of the words written in her heavy book with the tip of her finger, “Because there won’t be a Henry defending me every time.” she said, “I will show them that I can do just fine on my own.”

Aberforth looked up at her. From his lower position, he could still see her determined expression. “You’re going to kick my ass that what you’re saying.”

She smiled amused. “I will certainly do my best to.”

“What are you doing there?” Gellert asked as soon as he appeared. He put a heavy and dusty old looking book on Minerva’s table, “I know you’re not used to library but there’re chairs. You don’t actually have to sit on the ground.” He absently commented before he started to quickly leaf through the pages, upsetting the dust gathered on it as he did. He hadn’t bothered to sit down first.

Hypocrite, Aberforth moodily thought. “Pretend I do not exist and I will do the same.” He muttered graciously, reminding himself that starting an argument with him wasn’t worth it at the moment. It could alert the girls that he was hiding here.

Gellert tore his eyes from the page he was reading long enough to stare down at him. “As if that’s not what I always do.” He stated before dismissing him in favor of his book.

Aberforth scowled at him, “Prick.” He whispered under his breath.

Minerva glanced at Gellert’s manuscript in interest. “Found what you were searching?”

“Yes.”

“Nerd.” Aberforth said right before he spotted Albus talking with the unshakable librarian. “What is he doing?”

“I can’t tell you,” Gellert slowly said as if it was a confidence, “You’re not here, remember?” He smirked.

“If only.” He glowered at him, even though it had little effect.

Aberforth watched from afar as his brother smiled politely at the librarian. She smiled back in kind before she showed him something. Aberforth narrowed his eyes to see better, but he was too far and his angle was all wrong from the floor. He barely made out a book of sort. She pointed at something on it and their conversation seemed to go on for a little while, before Albus took his leave and came to join Gellert and Minerva.

His brother tilted his head and frowned when he noticed him. “What are you doing here?”

Aberforth opened his mouth to answer but Gellert beat him to it. “Don’t waste your time on nothing, Liebling.” he said around a smile, “He does not exist right now.” he grinned slowly, “Something we ought to savor.” He pointed, as he turned a page.

Albus raised an eyebrow at that before he seemed to decide that it was better not to question it too much. “Something of interest?” He inquired as he leaned his head down to see Gellert’s opened book. Their heads almost touched with how close they were standing. It was ridiculous. Aberforth rolled his eyes.

“Yes.” Gellert’s eyes lighted up in delight. It was creepy, Abe decided in a grimace. “As I remembered, there’re many rituals descripted.” he eagerly explained to his brother. “Look,” he pointed at the yellow page, “This one barely asks for a thing; only a drop of blood from the chosen victim.”

“Victim?” Aberforth repeated in a worried tone. He went outside his hide, putting his elbows on the nearest chair because he hadn’t fled poisonous discussions for this. “What the hell are you reading?” He demanded.

“A manuscript written around 1526 by an anonymous author, on the many use of blood magic.” Albus detailed him; his mind already far away from them.

“Blood magic?” Aberforth distrustfully looked at the seemly innocent book. “It’s Dark.” He reminded them.

“Interesting.” Albus breathed without minding him. It was as if Aberforth was truly not here sometimes. He sighed. What a day. “But the blood has to be given freely.” He continued.

“There has to be a catch.” Gellert turned the page.

“You truly think that it’s blood on the paper.” Minerva noted. He didn’t know how she could guess – even less follow – what they were about. Aberforth had given up trying a long time ago.

“It would make sense.” Gellert told her. He flipped another page.

“But aren’t you going to wait for Slughorn’s results first?” Minerva wondered, curious.

“His potion is going to take ages to be done.” Gellert complained in huff.

“Only a few weeks.” Albus corrected him in a hum.

“We could have done it better.” Gellert stubbornly insisted.

“The librarian let me see her records,” Albus told him instead of dwelling on who was best at potion. He was looking at Gellert instead of the new displayed page, which – and Abe was half sure of it - must be full on how to kill your enemy in a bloodbath. It was imperative that Vinda never read it, he thought with urgency. “You won’t believe who had consulted this book.” Albus smiled, “And just a week before we all came to be here.”

“It’s free to be consulted?” Aberforth’s voice was incredulous. “By everyone?”

“So right when the Tournament had been decided.” Gellert realized.

“Who was it?” Minerva asked as they all ignored him; proving that Aberforth had officially become part of the furniture.

His brother’s eyes twinkled. “A certain Igor Karkaroff.”

Notes:

Jean-Gustavo is a mix of Gus from Cinderella (this fairy tale takes place in France… and the mice are the ones who made Cinderella’s first ball dress in the Disney’s version) and Jean-Paul Gaultier (also a French designer).
I regret nothing lol.

Chapter 18

Before

The Vision took shape slowly, gradually turning fumes and smokes into a brand new world.

“Tell me, what do you See?” His grandmother asked him just as soon, her voice sounding like a low hum.

Gellert glanced at her. He could make out her usual golden necklace; a little shining sun hanging low against the buttons of her dress. Gellert was half-certain that she got her hands on it one day and just decided to keep it. It would be like her, he thought.
Her figure appeared clearly to him despite the grey misty atmosphere this Vision was offering them. She had managed to project herself flawlessly into it; to the details of her high collared buttoned dress to the plush curly strand she always let free from her loose bun. Even here, her mismatched gleaming eyes managed to stand out.
Gellert, on the other hand, had struggled a little more at this delicate art of projection. He had required him a lot of concentration to get it right. The first time they had tried this had been a disaster; but ever since, his grandmother had made him practice and he was now leaning toward perfection. She had told him that he was a fast learner, a praise he had heard more than once, but it still managed to make him proud.
At fourteen, Gellert was on his way to greatness, and it was good to be recognized for what he was: a prodigy.

He looked toward what was surrounding them. “I See a narrow road. There is a fine layer of snow.” he described, displacing some of the white powder with the tip of his boot. “It seemed fresh like it has just fallen. Everything seems to be still.” too still even. He was unsure if he liked this suspended instant where even breathing seemed out of place. “There’s the beginning of a roof over there.” he continued, pointing at the pointy chimney he could see perking. “It seemed to be a village of sort.” he concluded in a frown. Nothing ever happened in those kinds of places, everybody knew this. Yet the Vision had taken them here. He put his hands on his hips, trying to spot what could be interesting and hoping that it didn’t turn out to be a loss of time. He finally spotted something as he glanced at his feet. “There’re petals on the ground.” He said with a note of surprise in his voice. They were emanating a faint light – they must be Charmed to do so – and managed to be eye-catching despite being as white as the snow they had been dispatched on. He crouched to delicately touch one of them. It was terribly soft and fragile under his fingers.

“Hum.” she let out more smoke from her cigarette, giving the world around them more clarity. “Tell me more. Do they create a path?” She inquired between puffs.

“Yes.” He replied, watching little buds of lights appearing one by one and forming a trail.

“Very well. Follow it.” She instructed.

He straightened and did as she told him to; feeling her presence by his side keenly. Her shoes made crunching sounds against the frozen ground and the border of her long dress kept touching it. It was sure to be getting wet. Yet she didn’t seem to notice any of it, far too absorbed by what was laying around them. Meanwhile, Gellert couldn’t help but notice it; not when every little sound was resonating inside his skull like a fanfare on a parade day.
It was starting to get on his nerves. He wished that he wasn’t as hyperaware as he was during a Vision; it would certainly be easier to focus.
Still, they followed the petals quietly, and he barely resisted the impulsive urge to gather each one of them into his hands. It took some effort but he let them on the ground. It was stupid of him to want to collect them; they were not real after all.
(Nothing here was.)
He stopped when they reached a medium iron gate that was slowly but surely rusting on its feet.

“What is this?” She questioned when she saw him pause.

He peered inside what was guarded by the fence. “The entry of a graveyard.” He said, spotting sad looking tombs and broken stones.

“What about the petals? Do they get inside?” She pressed.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“We continue then.”

They went in, with Gellert eyeing each tomb before bypassing it. He made his way to where the petals were guiding him. His grandmother, just two steps behind him, did the same. She let out more smokes from her cigarette.
He stopped abruptly as the petals suddenly disappeared, letting the two of them alone in the dark. He hesitated then, but his eyes fell on a stone resting against the cold ground and he felt his feet moving there on their own accord. He bended over it; and as a delicate layer of snow was covering its inscription, he extended his hand to push it away; messing the frozen water. The snow was cold and biting against his skin; it was as if it didn’t wish to be disturbed. He continued nether less.
He narrowed his eyes a bit in order to read what was engraved there.

“Well?” His grandmother pressed.

“It’s a tomb.” he thought that it was rather obvious, but a Vision could be full of nonsense. “It’s written something about a brother.” The inscription was not clear and seemed unable to stabilize itself.

“What else?” She prompted, curious.

“There is no name, only two initials.” he told her just as he was reading it, “‘A.D.’”

“A.D.?” she repeated, her voice becoming intrigued. “This is what you See?” She questioned again.

“Yes.” he pushed more snow out of the way, “And…” he trailed as his hand came into contact with another carving. He watched it silently and could feel a smile coming to his face as he realized what it was. “There’s the Deathly Hallow’s symbol.” He hushed, reverently tracing the triangle, the circle and the line cutting it in two. He lingered on the line.

“Not again.” Grandmother pleaded in a sigh.

“It’s here.” He didn’t dare to tear his eyes away from the tomb to scowl at her. He was too afraid that the symbol would turn back into smoke if he did.

“Is this all? The Vision is going to end soon.” She informed him.

“Yes, it’s all,” he began, “Wait.” he said as a new source of light appeared. An entrancing white rose was lying at the bottom of the stone. Gellert could swear that it had not been here a second ago. He picked it up this time and twirled it between his fingers. “A rose.” he took it to his nose. It smelled of lemons, ink and papers. Peculiar, he thought. And a bit addictive, he added to himself, as he hummed it some more. “She must have lost herself.” He whispered as he caressed the petals. They were just as soft as the ones that had been put on the ground.

Grandmother let out a sharp laugh. “As if.” She said with mirth. He turned sharply toward her at this, but the Vision was starting to dissolve. It was being ripped, harshly, like a piece of paper and Gellert’s grip on the rose suddenly closed around nothing. He felt a disorienting sensation of vertigo, before he was falling, he was falling…

Until he wasn’t anymore.

He opened his eyes sharply. The two of them were still seated around the round table his grandmother used to play ‘moving table’ with the Muggles.
He looked around and nothing seemed to have changed while they had been Seeing. His grandmother’s place was just as it had always been; with her Ouija tablet secured neatly near the crystal ball that she liked to dramatically display on a high shelf. There were little charms hanging above his head softly creating a symphony with each other; and golden suns painted on the scarlet drape that she used to build the inside of her made-up pavilion. They lighted up the room warmly.

Sat in front of him, his grandmother seemed to refocus herself into reality faster than him. She dislodged their hands from the tight grip they had been stuck into. It had been easier for the ritual; she had told him earlier when she had asked him to put his hands in hers. She hadn’t been wrong. “Well, this was interesting, I would say.” Esther Bagshot began, putting her cigarette down after some more greedy puff. “What did you think of it?”

“It was interesting.” he eagerly agreed as he recalled the Deathly Hallow’s symbol he Saw there. If he concentrated, he could still feel the cold of the snow against his fingers, along the hard lines traced onto the stone. He looked at his hands still resting on the surface of the table, and slowly put them on the armrest of his seat, an imposing chair that his grandmother favored for the dramatic effect it had on her Muggles’ clients. “But frustrating.” He admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“There was the Deathly Hallow’s symbol,” he repeated, “Next to a name.” he began to muse out loud, “I think it means that this person – whoever they are – must have information about the Hallows.” he explained to her; “But they are either dying or dead already.” his lips turned down; “It’s frustrating. I can’t interrogate them if they’re dead.” He finished in a confused frown.

She gave him a playful smile as she eyed her Ouija tablet, before asking, “How does the tomb look to you?”

“New. Freshly made.” he thought of the undecided inscription on it; something about ‘a brother’. It could apply to the person resting under, he mused, as well as the Three Brothers’ tale. It was difficult to guess for who it was truly there for. “The stone was undamaged.” Unlike the rest, he might add.

“I think that we both Saw two very different things.” she said in a wide smile. His confusion seemed to bring her many joys, he thought as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Do not roll your eyes at me.” She reprimanded in a huff.

This was when her niffler, a petite brown creature named Carmen, came back from her ‘promenade’ with her pocket full of stolen coins. She jumped, heavily, on the round table and went straight to his grandmother, shamelessly asking for pets. It was such a needy thing. He wrinkled his nose at it.

“The tomb I saw was very old unlike yours.” Esther began even as she gave into Carmen’s demand and caressed her. Once in a while she was also slipping a coin out of her niffler’s pocket. The table was soon going to turn into a jewelry shop, Gellert thought in a sigh. “The name I Saw written on it was also vastly different.”

“Really?” he demanded in unconcealed curiosity, putting aside her eccentricities for a while. “What was written?”

“Ignotus Peverell.”

“That it!” he exclaimed, almost jumping into his seat in excitement. “It’s one of the three brothers!” the possessor of the cloak of invisibility, Gellert’s mind supplied helpfully. “It is definitely about the Hallows!” He told her in a wild smile.

“Yet, you didn’t See it.” she reminded him as she arched one of her eyebrow. “Your Vision is so clear my honey; unlike me who is shown everything in images and symbols, you See the truth as it is.” she praised him, “If you learn to control your gift, you will go far.” Esther concluded in a satisfied nod.

“Farer that the carnival you are in, I sure hope.” He muttered. He truly didn’t wish to end up selling fake predictions to Muggles and wizards alike under a surname. Even if the one his grandmother had chosen; ‘Sonnenlicht’ was pretty. Esther might enjoy this kind of life – divided between travels and selling cryptic advices – but for Gellert, this would be like admitting that he had failed his entire existence.

“I heard that.” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m part of a respectable and famous troop, not a carnival.” she haughtily corrected him, “And respect your elders.” She sternly ordered. Her tentative of authority was short lived; as she unexpectedly beamed after she noticed the shining necklace her creature had managed to put its pawn on. She made little happy sounds as she inspected it.

“I’m trying.” He flatly admitted as he regarded her.

“Anyway,” she was starting to sound distracted by all the treasures Carmen was laying before her. It was, unfortunately, typical. “I also didn’t See the petals nor the rose. Those, along the initials, were for your eyes only.”

“For me?” He repeated lowly.

“You have to remember that the Vision was yours and not mine. I was only guiding you through it.” she told him just as she did before they had started the ritual. She took a lovely ring with a huge blood diamond out of her niffler’s pocket and put it on one of her finger. She admired it with a smug expression. “They must be of some importance for you later.” She absently hummed.

He almost rolled his eyes again at her attitude, before thinking quickly. “I’m persuaded this A.D. person has answers on the Hallows.” he stubbornly said. Why would the Deathly Hallow’s symbol would be there if they hadn’t after all? He crossed his arms over his chest. There must be something linking them to the Hallows. Ignotus Peverell, his grandmother had said. He could search from there, he mused, while trying to recall if he knew anyone by those initials to begin with. “I have to make sure that I meet them before they die.” he realized, determined to not let clues about the Hallows pass him by. “Or maybe, I have to prevent their death?” He abruptly wondered in a frown. It could be harder than finding them, he thought. For one, he had no idea when and how they were supposed to die. His frown became more pronounced.

For once this got his grandmother’s attention better than a galleon would do. “No.” she told him, resolutely, “Do not try to force Fate. You will meet them when you are supposed to.” she instructed; “And never, never try to cheat Death, my honey.” she said in absolute seriousness, “It never works out.”

“How can you be so sure?” He inquired.

She waved the matter away. “You may save someone for a day, but if Death has decided to take them; It will.” she explained, “They will die a week later, or a month after; years maybe if they are lucky. But they will end up dying just the same.” she told him gravelly. “It is inevitable, and no one had ever bargained with Death and won.” she raised her chin, “It would be known if it was the case.”

“But I need answers.” Gellert insisted.

“Your answers may reside inside their tomb.” she casually replied. At this, Gellert imagined grave digging, a mess of disgusting bones and fine clothes ruined with mud. He must have made a very distressed face, for she continued, “Or you will meet them inside a graveyard.” she smiled, “Do not worry, my honey.” she soothed, “In the end we all die, but only a little.” She laughed at that, seemly finding all of this – and herself – terribly amusing.

Gellert huffed at her. He would find this A.D. he decided determined now. And he would make them spill all the things they knew about the Hallows.
It was just a matter of time before they met, after all.

 

*
1900, September, Monday, 24th

Gellert startled awake and opened his eyes sharply.
Above him, he began to distinguish the canopy of the bed. He tried to blink himself awake; effectively chasing the last vestige of his Vision as he did so. He must have fallen asleep at some point this evening; and it must have been hours ago for the candlelight illuminating the room were almost completely consumed; letting the darkness of the night slowly envelop them.
He blinked again as he saw a familiar face staring at him with concern written all over his feature.

“Was?” He sleepily asked; his limbs and face were still groggy despite his heavy breathing and his wild heartbeat.

“You seemed very distressed.” Albus started. He had pushed himself on his elbows and was looking down at him with an intensity that shouldn’t be here given the late hour. His hair was falling on his naked shoulder, appearing almost crimson in the poor lights. The contrast made his skin look just a bit too pale, a bit too eerie for Gellert’s comfort. It made him question if he had truly woken up. But Albus’ eyes clouded with worry, and so he decided that this must be real after all. “I tried to wake you up, but you just wouldn’t.” he frowned at this, clearly perturbed, “Did you have another Vision?” He wondered uneasily.

Gellert thought quickly. He thought of thick snow and tall trees with their pale leaves. (A heavy breath from the wind and one of them fell, turning onto itself, like a ballerina. Was it a leaf or was it a rosy piece of parchment? It was both and neither, and it got attacked by the bite of the frost right away.)
He thought of… (Voices, two of them, arguing somewhere into the woods, of footsteps drawn, creating a path into the immaculate snow) what happened last time when he shared his Vision of Ariana’s Obscurus with Albus.
His last Vision had yet to come true, he reminded himself. And when it would, he would be there to stop it.
It was just a matter of time.

“No.” he lied smoothly. “Just a nightmare.” he reassured, “I’m fine now.” He offered him a small smile.

Albus looked dubious at first, but he tentatively smiled back at him after a while. Gellert opened his arms for him in invitation and Albus installed himself into them, snuggling close to him in a tentative to offer comfort. The gesture warmed him. He stared at the canopy and made a point to calm his breathing as he could tell that Albus was not so easily convinced by his act of nonchalance.
At some point, later that night or earlier that morning, he couldn’t tell for sure; he felt him fall asleep into his arms. He soon followed him into slumber.
(He still had a hard time chasing the images from his eyes.)

Notes:

Sonnenlicht means sunlight in German.
Just a FYI, in case I lost some of you: Gellert’s grandmother (Esther Bagshot) is the mother of both Bathilda Bagshot (Gellert’s aunt in this fic) and Gellert’s mom (Brigitta who later marries a Grindelwald).
Hope you’re not feeling showered under OC ^^’’ this was also the longest flashback but be reassured, we'll fully get back to the present soon since next chap should be the first task yeah!

Chapter 19

Notes:

The first task!

October, Monday, 8th

Ariana ignored the growing crowd that was assembling itself toward the huge arena where the first task was going to be held; and instead marched toward the tall entry doors of the Institute.
This got her some curious look; she was clearly on the wrong path for the games and since most had only bothered to come to Durmstrang for this, it was natural for them to be surprised to see her seemly ignoring it. At least, she guessed that it was why some of them were watching her. She personally wished to forget that her name had ever been picked to begin with, and secretly hoped that everyone would do the same and dismiss her – again - completely. Sometimes, she truly wished that she could become invisible; like this she wouldn’t have to feel the weight of a stranger stare and judgment.
She did her best to ignore it though, and with quick steps she continued her way. She passed under the imposing doors; feeling followed by the eyes of the stone gargoyles perched high above. She found them quite frightening with their expressionless gaze. Moreover, they managed to move just enough to catch her off-guard. They weren’t very welcoming and she thought that it must be by design.

Once inside, she glanced around the mostly deserted corridors. Only some students still lingered here, and she could hear the sound of her heel resonate as they tapped against the floor. She had never seen the place so empty before; to her it had always seemed full of people everywhere. But it was strangely calm now, with most busy outside, and it was like she was discovering it all over again. She let her steps wander a bit and she found herself taking a peek into the hall where they all dined. It appeared immense now that it was devoid of life and she couldn’t decide if she liked it better that way or not.
She tried to keep herself on track and made her way toward the library. Henry had confided her that Gellert would be around there and if he truly intended to do what Henry had said; then he must not be far.
She was turning her head right and left as she approached it, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings in search of him. She smiled, relieved, when she finally spotted him. Slouched against a corridor’s wall; he was observing the late students leaving the castle in haste with a form of quiet impatience. She quickly went to him, but he mustn’t have seen her because he startled when she finally stopped in front of him. He looked quizzically at her and she readied herself.

She bore her eyes to his and bluntly announced; “I want to come with you.”

He blinked at her – twice - before his expression became annoyed. “I won’t ever tell Henry anything else.” he lowly vowed. “I bet he told you only because I borrowed his cloak.” Gellert mused as a form of suspicion settled on his face, “So petty.” He idly remarked.

“It’s because I insisted.” she readily defended. It was true that she didn’t have to press him too much to get answers but it was better not to point this out now. “And…” she trailed, not knowing how to continue exactly. She probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as she had been when she learnt of Gellert’s plan to go into the Durmstrang Headmaster’s office to search for proof, she mused; though what proof he could find in there she wasn’t sure. Yet it had left completely shocked. Sure he had the cover of the Tournament; which was admittedly doing a fine job at taking a lot of attention off of him, but if he got caught, he would be in troubles - lots of it - and it would be her fault. Her lips thinned. “I just want to help you.” She truly didn’t want Gellert to be in troubles because of her. “Can I?” she softly questioned, before rapidly adding, “Oh, I won’t be in your way, I swear! I will be very discreet too.” She promised.

“I thought you would want to witness your brother’s… exploit.” Gellert remarked. The way he paused before saying the word ‘exploit’ left little doubts on what were his thoughts on it.

Ariana lowered her eyes briefly as she hesitated. “There’re still two others tasks,” she timidly pointed, “And I want to come with you.” she said again. “Ah, and Vinda promised me that she won’t miss a thing, and Albus is watching it too, so Abe won’t be alone.” She was more reassuring herself here than Gellert, she knew.

“Ariana, there’s a literal crowd outside,” he reminded her, “I don’t think it’s possible for him to feel lonely.” Gellert pointed rather reasonably.

“Yes, you’re right.” She fiddled with her Beauxbâtons’ uniform a bit.

He looked at her, hands on his hips and evaluated her for a long time. His gaze was unmoving on her before he sighed. “Alright, you can come.” he agreed and she began to beam at him. “But,” he quickly continued, “You’ll do exactly as I say.” He instructed.

She nodded rapidly. “Okay.”

Satisfied with this, he started to smile. He inspected their surrounding and he seemed happy to discover that they were alone; the lost students must have scattered out faster than she thought in order to not miss the beginning of the first task. “Would you like to see a funny trick?”

“A trick?” She repeated, curious.

He took out a strange and fluid clothe from one of his long coat’s inside pocket. His hand holding it out for her eyes seemed almost transparent for an instant. She frowned at it in confusion. “It’s time for us to disappear.” He told her, grinning in mischief.

 

*
“It’s not too late to poison them.” Vinda hopefully pointed.

She was perched on one of the table that had been forgotten there, for no others reasons it seemed other than to become her high seat. She had crossed one of her leg over the other and was surveying the tent with a mix of detachment and serenity.
Aberforth envied that tranquility a lot. His stomach was a knot of nerves, and his palms felt sweaty under his heavy Quidditch’s gloves. He was trying hard to remain calm but all they could hear from there was the acclamations and exclamations coming from the other side of the tent he had been told to stay into. He inched to push the drape aside; it was like a curtain obscuring a window’s view and Abe really wanted to know what the view was about.
It didn’t help that the only instruction the three designed champions had been given on the first task had been so cryptic. Some: ‘it would be obvious when you got there’ along an emphatic pat on his shoulder. (And honestly who did that?)

Also Aberforth’s luck was proving herself to be… lacking. He had picked the last straw and had to watch the two others champions went first while he waited and waited here. He had looked at Minerva go with a form of envy; he didn’t want to be there but he would rather just be done with it so he could think of something else.
But he lost at one hazardous game already, so he waited for his turn in growing impatience.
At some point, somewhere after Karkaroff had left him, Vinda had turned up. He wasn’t sure how (and he didn’t want to know) she had managed to make her way into the tent without being noticed. It was reserved for the champions, he had been told and basically forbidden for everyone else; but of course such trivial things hadn’t stopped her for doing whatever she had wanted to do.

“Minerva had already finished the task, and Karkaroff is currently doing it.” he reminded her. “It’s a little too late for poisoning anyone.” Unless it was him she had in mind, of course.

He kept fidgeting even as he talked. He picked at his uniform restlessly, messing and rearranging it, again and again.
He was nervous, he realized. Nervous because from all the sounds coming to their ears, the Tournament had managed to attract a lot of people, and soon all their eyes would be fastened on his every move. He didn’t even know what was going to be expected of him. It was grating.

Moreover, despite all his grumbling and his (loud) protestations, Aberforth had ended up with the promised blue sky uniform.

It was sort of stylish; he had to admit, with tight trousers and a well-cut robe over it. He could move easily with it – a definite plus – but it was also disgustingly pretty. The devil was in the details as they said and for once he was inclined to agree. Some… mouse had felt the need to put embroidery on his high collar. Another must have thought that the robe in itself wasn’t fitting him enough, and had added a belt to the ensemble. They had tied it up around his waist with such efficiency that he didn’t even have the time to complain about it. They also gave him some protections on top of that - reinforced stuff for his knees and elbows – while Juliette, aka that Girl, was once again attacking his hair.
When they saw that he was starting to lose patience with them all (mice, Olympe Maxime, that Girl he might murder later, and all Beauxbâtons in general) they had produced a broomstick and Abe had swallowed most of his protests. (He had gripped it rather readily and possessively if he was honest, but in his defense, it was a very nice broom.)
He should have known that the broom-offering had been a glaring attempt at bribery, but it was only later - when Olympe had Conjured a foot-mirror for him - that he had realized the full extent of it. His eyes had ranked up and down to the overly nice uniform that wasn’t even ruined with the big Quidditch’s gloves he had insisted to wear, to his braided hair, shining innocently and soft looking. The only consolation had been that he had managed to save his precious bear. But still. His reflection’s expression had still rapidly become betrayed.

Vinda smiled, “There is still two others tasks.” at his flat look, she sighed. “So many missed opportunities.” but as he fidgeted again and continued to shift uneasily onto himself, Vinda hopped down from her table-thrown. She came over and she gently batted his hands away from his uniform. She readjusted his crooked collar. Aberforth froze completely at this and barely dared to breath; she was suddenly very close. “It’s going to be alright.” she told him, her gaze who had been studying intensely his robe bore into his eyes at once. “You will be alright.”

Abe blinked at her. He wondered abruptly if under her cool exterior she was… if she might be… a little worried for him. If she was afraid that he might get hurt or something. She had been very set about his uniform true, but she also hadn’t let him fled out of the Beauxbâtons’ carriage until they had strapped all the protections on it.
But Vinda wasn’t someone who was afraid of anything right?
He tried to picture it and found the concept terribly unfitting on her.

“Why does it sound like a threat?” He questioned instead, choosing to not linger on it. He took a deliberate step away from her. She was so close and Aberforth didn’t want to enter the Tournament with a flushing face. (He had some dignity left.)

She regarded him blankly for a beat. She opened her mouth but she didn’t have the time to add anything before Henry popped his head inside.

“Aberforth, it’s your turn!” he exclaimed. Then he noticed Vinda and pointed at her. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Are you going to tell on me?” She sounded delighted by the prospect.

Henry looked beyond insulted by the mere suggestion. “No! Who do you take me for?”

“Merlin.” Aberforth sighed tiredly. “I can’t believe they put you on security watch.”

“Well,” Henry drawled, “Travers said he has important thing to do. The MIB also had important things to do.” he shrugged helplessly, “So this left me and…” he trailed hesitantly, before he shrugged once more. “Gellert.”

Aberforth grimaced, “Awesome.” He muttered because Gellert would rather see him crash and burn that help him.

“Hey, there’re no worries to have.” Henry soothed, “Nobody’s dead yet and everyone still walking too.” He proudly announced with a huge smile.

Abe made a face at him. “This is nowhere near enough!” He said, scandalized.

Henry rolled his eyes at him as if Aberforth’s demands were terribly unreasonable. Then he grabbed his forearm roughly and all but began to push him outside the tent. “Your turn!” he cheerfully repeated, “Minerva and Karkaroff managed to succeed, but no pressure,” he confided lowly, “There’re only a few bet on you.” He told him.

Aberforth barely had the time to cast one last look at Vinda before he was yetted away.

 

*
They put up a whole arena in only a couple of days. Aberforth honestly did not know either to be impressed or intimidated when he finally entered it.
It had been carefully made with wood with a huge number of strands; and as feared there were a lot of people in there. Abe began to grimace but then his eyes landed on Olympe Maxime, recognizable even in the middle of this circus. She held his stare and then proceeded to - meaningfully and very slowly - smile. He tried to smooth his expression and not let out the huff of exasperation he so wanted to make. Yet, he was sure than instead of looking aggravated, he just appeared resigned to his fate. In a way it was truer.

“And now the Beauxbâtons’ champion: Aberforth Dumboldore.” The commentator, a young man who seemed to be juggling with a lot of notes and papers said, his voice booming loudly through the huge silver micro he was using.

Aberforth scolded. “Dumbledore.” he corrected automatically, knowing that the chances for him to be heard were nonexistent. But seriously, they didn’t even know his name? “I feel so wanted, lately.” He drawled, feeling the sarcasm sat heavily on his tongue.

“… like the others two champions he will have to catch one of the famous silver eggs of the Occamy…” The commentator continued.

“The Occamy?” Abe repeated. He ripped his attention away from the spectators and eyed his surroundings. There was a huge bowl made of glass displayed in the middle of the arena. Now that he truly focused on it, he could make out the vague form of an animal. It was intertwined onto itself and its shape was taking up the entire bowl. Its scales were blue or green depending on the light. “Don’t tell me,” he said to no one in particular, “The eggs are at the bottom of the bowl.”

“…given that the eggs had been disposed at the bottom, he will have to defeat the Occamy to get his hands on one of its legendary eggs!” The commentator exclaimed through his micro in an excited tone.

“I said; don’t tell me.” He astonished.

Aberforth studied the sleeping animal. It seemed terribly tranquil curled around itself like this. It was a shame that Abe had to wake it up. He frowned, trying to think quickly (knowing how lousy this Tournament had been so far, he was sure that they were the type to count each minutes).

If he went right away at it, the Occamy was sure to react violently. However, if the hours Abe had spent into his own made-up farm had learnt him anything, it was that animals were always out for food. They never turned it down, he mused. It was some sort of sacred rule and Abe had never witnessed one who had dared to breach it.
Decided, he raised his wand and focused on Conjuring a suitable bug. The bigger the better, he thought; making its size just a slight too fat to be real. It wasn’t like the Occamy was going to complain about it or spot the difference. As long as it looked tasty and caught its interest, he supposed that it was okay.
Once satisfied with his creation, he directed his bug with the help of his wand. It flew clumsily at first, like a not very well-controlled puppet, before it both gained assurance. It went right over the Occamy’s nose and stopped there, teasing the tip of it with his fast fluttering wings.
The feathered snake raised its head slowly at this impromptu nuisance, blinking its eyes in a sleepy manner, before they seemed to note the (hopefully yummy) bug. They took clarity then, but it still took Aberforth by surprise when it woke up at once and tried to make a dive for it. He directed the bug wildly and made it flee as far away from the bowl as he could. The Occamy immediately unfurled and took chase after it, leaving its spot clear and showing up five gleaming silver eggs to the greedy eyes of the crowd.

He wouldn’t have much time, Aberforth knew, so he Accio’ed his new broom to him and clapped his hands around it as soon as it came to him. He rode it and let it took some height. He felt the wind brush his braided hair and wasted some precious seconds to appreciate the feeling.
He looked down and regarded the bottom of the bowl without enthusiasm but he still made his broomstick go inside. He eyed those glass walls as he dived into it; they made him felt trapped, a bit like he was stuck inside a transparent box. In a way, it was almost true. He sure as hell didn’t like it.
But he pushed his feeling on the matter aside, and reasoned that the faster he was done here, the faster he would be out. With this in mind, he accelerated his descend and it was with a form of relief that he departed from his broom to touch the slippery glass ground. He kept a tight grip on the handle of it though, just in case. He glanced around him and his eyes lingered on the silver eggs shining under the pale autumn light with indecision.
Was there one he should pick over the other? He wondered as he scratched his head. He mused on it a bit, before he promptly decided that an egg was an egg. He crouched down, probably dusting his precious clothes, and chose the one that was the nearest. He took it as delicately as possible, his Quidditch’s gloves brushing over its mirror-like surface.

“There.” he whispered to it. “It wasn’t so hard in the end.” He said as he inspected it.

He could see his face reflected into the smooth curves of the egg; a good thing he realized later, for without it he might not have seen the –definitely pissed – head of the Occamy ready to launch and destroy this unwanted intruder.
Abe jumped out of its way, landing on his side, as the creature was ready to bite his head off for invading its nest. The egg was precariously held close against his chest, but he had lost the grip on his broom in his haste, making him curse lowly as the Occamy’s eyes found him again.

He was under no delusions that he would be lucky twice at this game of ‘let try to eat Aberforth’ so he drew his wand and pointed it at the Occamy; “Confundo!” he incanted to give him some time. He didn’t wait to see if the pink light of the spell had connected with the intended target before he quickly pointed it at the thick glass imprisoning him inside, “Bombarda!”

He watched a parcel of the glass shatter with satisfaction. Aberforth slid, thankful, into the hole his Exploding Charm had created. It was far messier than he thought it would be; the sharp tip of the glass dug and ripped at his – apparently - overpriced mouse designer’s uniform mercilessly.

This wasn’t the only flaw of his plan, and here Aberforth could almost hear his brother’s voice lecturing him in this tone of his that he took when he thought that the rest of the world was particularly slow on the intake (therefore an excessive indulgent and soft tone that Aberforth bet was accompanied by an internal sigh).
Glass could be very fragile, Albus’ voice piped into his head. If the structure was to be damaged, it could endanger the whole thing.
Aberforth didn’t have much time to ponder on this weird logic; he heard worrying cracking sounds behind him and he winced.

The whole bowl broke and shattered into a loud and deafening sound.

On instinct he jumped and fell onto the ground of the arena, almost eating the sand as he did. He covered his face from the wild cutting shards flying into every direction. He felt some of them cut through the layer of his uniform and dig into the skin of his forearms. He grimaced in pain through gritted teeth.

Alright, so this had not been his most well-executed plan, he conceded.

He hesitantly lowered his arms once he was sure that the worst was over. But with the sudden disappearance of this restrictive nest, the Occamy was now able to take the size it wished to. And by Morgana, did it wished to.

After all, he imagined Albus lecturing him, Occamies were also notoriously known for their size-shifting. (Even in his head; his own imaginary Albus somehow popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth after this declaration, peaceful now than he had delivered his words of wisdom.)

He let out a (completely dignified) yelp when he felt the ground start to slip under him as the Occamy’s form changed and became bigger and bigger; carrying along it all thing present in its wake.
In his periphery, Abe saw his broom being swept away. He made a desperate grab for it, extending his arm and hand to their limit so he could be able to touch the wood with the tip of his fingers. Finally they closed around the handle and Aberforth would surely have let out a cry of victory if the Occamy’s body hadn’t been bumping into him with insistence. He secured his broomstick with a shaky hand. His breath was loud and fast; he was beginning to fear that he was going to be crushed under the heavy weight of the Occamy if he didn’t fly away from there.
But just as this possibility entered his mind, he suffered a mean hit from the feathered creature, making his already poor control over the situation spiral even more.

He lost his grip on the egg that was into his arm. He watched in dismay as it fell away and disappeared somewhere under him.

Honestly, Aberforth would have scream in frustration then, but even he knew that his priority was to get out of there. So he jumped on his broom again, landing clumsily on it. No one was going to believe that he used to be Chaser, he thought in pain. He adjusted himself on his broom and took a healthy distance from the troubles that laying onto the ground. He groaned as his arms began to sting and inch from the cut he suffered; before risking a glance below.
The arena was a mess. The Occamy had taken entire possession of it, he remarked in a grimace, making the place nearly unrecognizable. Its scales were almost brushing against the barrier that still dared to contain it. Some spectators looked shocked by this turn of event, and Aberforth would sympathize if he wasn’t so indifferent by their lack of comfort right now. He had others pressing matters; like the fact that the eggs were nowhere to be seen. They were probably way (way) under the creature, he thought.

Aberforth began to slowly massage his temple. He could feel his annoyance rose steadily with each passing seconds.

“Screw this game.” Abe began to mumble under his breath. He gripped his broom a little too tightly and it hurt. It only fuelled his irritation more. “Screw the Russians,” he continued, “Screw the French and their mouses. Screw snakes of all sort.” He said with feeling after sending a dark look at the Occamy. He took a deep breath and tried to rein his temper, because he was pretty sure that he could go on like this for some time.

“The Beauxbâtons’ champion seems to be incanting something. We’ll see if it would be more effective than his first - rather weak - tentative.” The commentator loudly stated.

“Screw commentators.” he added sourly to his direction. Abe would like to see him try. ‘Weak tentative’, he mulled over moodily. They wanted to see something flashy? He would give them something flashy. “Alright,” He said, unclenching his jaw.

He took some more calming breaths. He needed to be focused and he wouldn’t succeed this spell if all he could think of was of the best way to struggle the commentator into silence.
He closed his eyes, blocking everyone else and every sound out. Think of something good, he instructed himself. Think of something happy.

Think about… your happiest memory.

(Their house and garden were big, he thought he remembered that much. But in truth he wasn’t certain of it, it had been such a long time and Aberforth had been very young then. It was before they moved into Godric’s Hollow. Just… before.
The sun that day had been warm and gentle; at least it always was into his souvenir. Aberforth recalled playing into the garden most of the afternoon. He mostly couldn’t tell what he had been playing at; just that he had fun, and that he wasn’t alone (holding Albus’ hand, searching for the prettiest things they could find to gift Ariana with). At some point his father had picked him up, he didn’t know why he did it but suddenly his feet couldn’t reach the grass anymore and his whole world-view shifted. In this almost faded memory his father booming laugh was only a whisper coming from above. Aberforth got swirled into the air then, carefully still, the hands holding him didn’t lessen and he let out a delighted sound.
He was flying!
He was put down after some turns, his little feet touching the grass again but not for long, because his mother took him right away into her arms. She laughed at something someone said. It was a joke maybe. His father’s hand came and messed his hair.
He was… completely at peace then.)

He opened his eyes.

“Expecto Patronum.” He called in an almost soft voice.

The silver misty light took shape and his Patronus appeared; a beautiful white goat. It ran around the air without a care. He heard many people gasp and promptly decided to ignore them all.
His Patronus trotted a bit around him before it went toward the Occamy who noticed it at once.

Aberforth lowered his broom so he was once more close to the Occamy. “Look it’s a silver thing,” he said under his breath, “Just like your eggs.” he continued lowly so only the snake could hear him. “You want to catch it, right?”

Apparently it was a yes for it went right for it.
But this time Aberforth was prepared. He Conjured a big box as his Patronus came back toward him. It vaguely resembled one of those hat boxes he once saw when he went to shop with his Aunt into Diagon Alley. It was not as fancy as those had been, but there was an air to it and Aberforth thought that he must make quite a picture; with his battered clothe, flying in the air and holding a hat-looking box like it was a strange trophy.
The Occamy, at least, didn’t have a care for appearances. It raised its whole impressive size and prepared itself to launch at him, his Patronus leading it right to him. He rapidly covered most of his top body with his box. He saw the silver mist of his goat go through it before he felt it go through him, just as the snake dived. Aberforth almost screwed his eyes shut. He really hoped that it would work.

The Occamy’s head began to go into the box without hesitation and he mentally cheered. He just miscalculated one tiny detail: the force in which the Occamy had come at him.

He felt himself being lifted into the air and out of his broomstick as the Occamy’s body progressively disappeared into the box. He screamed as he was thrown out and he grunted when his back made contact with the earth again, making the sand fly around him and turn the air around into dust as he rolled into it. This time though he had a death grip on the object that was between his hands, so he didn’t lose it.
The first thing he did when the world stopped to turn upside down was to clasp the lid close. He held his breath several second after it, but when it seemed that the creature was finally secured inside and wasn’t planning to escape anytime soon, he made to stand up. He did it awkwardly, too afraid to put his Occamy’s trap onto the ground in fear of having to do it all over again. He was still a bit disoriented from his fall and his whole body ached here and there so he swayed a little before he managed to find back a form of equilibrium.
He let out a relieved and tired sigh when he was certain that he wasn’t going to end up on the ground for a repeat performance.

His eyes scanned the sand anxiously.
He saw a silver egg waiting for him there, and he let out a small smile.

“And the Beauxbâtons’ champion succeeds!” The commentator yelled with enthusiasm.

Notes:

Writing action is hard... hence the delay 😅. I really wanted to show Abe's grumpy badassery here, hope I kinda succeed ^^.
Thank you for reading! 💜

Chapter 20

They moved swiftly inside the tricky corridors of the Institute; with Gellert holding most of the transparent cloak over their heads. They didn’t meet much people, but Ariana thought that it was still more prudent to keep themselves on the safe side of things. At least, if Danacov realized that someone had broken into his office, no witnesses could draw a connection with them. She sincerely hoped that the Durmstrang’s Headmaster never discovered it though. The man was intimidating and perhaps, even a vampire (this, she knew, might be all gossip; something that she was not used to indulge into but for once Ariana found that it was fitting. He appeared to be, after all, cold, dangerous and threatening. It was the exact terms that her books on Magicals Creatures used to describe them. It could not be a coincidence.).
Gellert slowed down only when they reached Danacov’s door, and Ariana made a point to follow his example. He tapped against it experimentally with his wand, before he huffed.

“Can you open it?” She lowly asked him after he seemed to hesitate in front of it.

“Yes.” he answered readily as if it was not a question at all. His eyes were staring at the door like it was a mere obstacle daring to stop him. “It’s just a little more complex than a simple Alohomora.” he explained to her, “Danacov is very paranoid.” He stated evenly, just before he started a series of fluid and quick movements with his wand. Ariana had no idea what he was doing – he wasn’t intoning anything - but when Gellert finished this complicated dance and ended it with a swirl of his arm, the door clicked open and he smirked, satisfied.

She raised her eyes and looked at him in wonder. It was easy to forget sometimes that Gellert was a very powerful wizard. When Ariana saw him, it was always with the company of one of her brothers; therefore Gellert was either antagonizing Aberforth (or vice-versa) or forgetting that personal space ever existed with Albus, a bit like the first time he had been presented to her.
She remembered it clearly. It had been a sunny morning and she had mostly stumbled upon him on accident. She had come downstairs for breakfast, far earlier than she usually did, taking the stairs down at a fast pace – she had been hungry – but she had almost tripped over herself when instead of one of her brothers, she had found Gellert, a stranger then, inside their kitchen. It had been a weird stand-off at first: her frozen next to the door with her eyes bugging out and him; with his perfect clothes and his messed blond curls lifting a cup to his lips, an action stopped mid-air as she had come into the room. He had stared at her with his wand into his other hand, not threatening her or anything; but she recalled that she had felt warned all the same. As if one wrong move from her part and she would be turn into dust. Then Albus had swept inside, carrying on what she supposed to be their conversation as if he had never left. He had been engrossed enough in his speech that he only marked a pause when he noticed that Gellert had been looking at something. He had followed his line of sight then, only to find her standing there. It had taken her big brother less than a minute before he recovered from his surprise. He plastered a smile, and she thought that she saw him right his collar but she couldn’t be sure as she got distracted by the presentations he did for both of them. Then, as neither she nor Gellert said a thing; she was too busy trying to recall how one was supposed to behave in society to – ironically – behave in society; Albus invited her to sit down. She did so, feeling Gellert’s gaze on her the entire time. She had felt very scrutinized then, assessed even. But Albus served her a cup of tea and gave her a pancake before he filled the silence and just like that Gellert resumed his movement and participated into the conversation again.
Meanwhile, Ariana had dug into her pancake and had watched them. At some point, Aberforth had come in too and this strange morning had quickly turned into a glaring match.

Now, ever since she got to meet him it somehow more or less followed this established pattern. She very rarely got to see him show off his magical skills. Gellert for his part didn’t seem to think that what he had just done was even worth talking about; he entered the office and she was left to follow him inside.
They took the cloak off; Gellert quietly folded it between his hands before he swiftly pocketed it.

“What are we searching for exactly?” She asked him in a hushed tone after she carefully closed the door after her. It clicked shut softly.

She looked around the Headmaster’s office, grimacing a little as she recalled the last time she had been there, with every fingers pointed at her and the barely veiled accusations hanging in the air. It had not been an agreeable experience, and she felt uncomfortable again just thinking about it. Her eyes ranked over the parchments left on Danacov’s desk, but she felt rather unwilling to touch or disturb anything. Gellert clearly didn’t have the same trouble; he started to poke around as soon as he could, un-ceremonially rummaging through each possession he could find before putting them back into a semblance of order again.

He lifted his eyes from his inspection to smile at her, “I want to say ‘something suspicious’ but knowing him, everything could be.” he briefly examined the cover of a book. He put it back into its shelf. “I guess something that stand-out.” he hummed. “Or something related to blood magic.” He nodded to himself as if he seemed to settle on it.

She turned her attention to the other side of the room and read the title of several manuscripts with her head titled to the side. She was still not ready to touch anything there. “You don’t sound vey convinced.” She couldn’t help but point out. Gellert seemed unnaturally hesitant she thought; despite rummaging through every item the office could offer them with gusto.

From the corner of her eyes she saw him pause, his hand who was reaching for an old looking parchment stopped for a second before he resumed his movement. “I don’t think Danacov was the one who put your name into the goblet.” he admitted. “I don’t think he knows more than us on the subject to be truthful.” He said as he put the parchment down again, apparently deeming it unworthy of his attention.

“How can you know for sure though?” She wondered in a hum. She gazed at the books’ covers she was scanning, but they didn’t have any answers for her.

Gellert let out a huff, and she turned to watch him. “I cannot, I guess.” he sighed. He smiled at her briefly before asking; “Do you know which emotion is the most difficult to fake?”

She shook her head. “No.” She told him readily. She mused that it was a rather strange question, but then, she was also really bad at lying. Perhaps, had she been better at it, she would have considered this matter too.

He smiled as if he expected her reply. “Surprise.” he told her. “It’s a hardship to sell. But, when your name got out of the goblet…” Gellert trailed, twirling his wand in the air. “Danacov looks truly bewildered.” he said as his wand came to a stop between his fingers. “And I don’t think it was an act.”

She frowned at him. “Why coming here then?” She questioned, looking around the intimidating office in confusion. Even if Gellert was naturally curious, she was sure that he had no wish to be here either. Hadn’t Danacov expelled him after all? She suddenly wondered if it had happened here, in this room. She couldn’t imagine that it had been pleasant.

He sighed, moving a volume aside. “Because Igor Karkaroff is our first suspect and he is many things but he is not a leader.” he explained, “He’s a follower. He likes to please and he generally does it for a high form a reward,” he said, “But he will not take the risk to put himself in the first line.” he fiddled with the pages of the manuscript laid in front of him. She wondered if he really had the time to read between the lines, given how fast he was leafing through them. “I don’t think Danacov is involved, but if he isn’t then it’s rather problematic.” he confided. “There’re very few persons Igor will risk his neck for. Danacov is the easiest because Igor fears him and respects him in equal measure.”

She regarded him; not really concentrated on anything as if his mind was already far away. She thinned her lips as she thought about what he just told her. “Then, who else could he respect or fear enough to follow?” She voiced after several minutes.

Gellert opened his mouth to answer her just as they heard a sound. She caught her breath. The noise resembled those of steps. She felt herself froze completely as it came closer and more distinctly. Someone was walking down the corridor and coming toward their direction. At once Gellert grabbed her arm and roughly yanked her to his side. He fished the cloak out of his pocket and hid them under. He put a finger over his mouth to signal her to be quiet. She nodded softly; she was barely daring to breathe as it was, so talking was out of question for her.

The steps tapped against the floor on the other side before they suddenly became silent.

The silence lingered, both from them and from the person outside. It made Gellert’s hands twitched somehow. He began to go toward the door but she hastily took his arm to stop him. She shook her head in negative; but Gellert pointed at the keyhole with one of his fingers. She reluctantly agreed. They made their way there as quietly as they could, but Ariana swore that anyone could hear her rapid heartbeat or her quick intake of air. Gellert and her crouched near the door. The keyhole was huge enough that if they pressed close, they could both see through it. After a silent consideration and some pointed look at each other, they did. She ignored the way Gellert’s curls threatened to tickle her cheeks as she shut one of her eyes and narrowed the other.
At first, she barely made sense of what she was looking at. She just caught the movement of a fabric fleeting next to her line of sight, something fast and gone in a blink. But after her vision settled, she almost let out a sound of surprise; she could feel her mouth opened despite herself, but Gellert put a hand on her lips before any sounds could escape.
The person on the other side of the door seemed to be doing the same thing as they did some minutes prior; meaning that whoever they were; they were trying to enter the office too. From her point of view, Ariana could make out their wand, a sharp stick with dark carvings swirling into the wood.

Ariana felt a huge wave of panic fell on her. What were they supposed to do now? Should they… open the door? Hide? But where? They surely couldn’t stay under the cloak forever; someone was bound to notice them at some point.

She saw, from the corner of her eyes, Gellert slowly raising his own wand toward the door. He lips mouthed something and Ariana startled as they heard a loud crash coming from the corridor.
If it was Gellert’s diversion then it worked; the person left, probably too afraid at getting caught. Though the way they continued their route wasn’t rushed like she would have done if their situation had been reversed; the cadence of their steps felt tranquil as if they hadn’t tried to break into the office of the Durmstrang's Headmaster. They were so… unhurried.

She let out a breath and put one of her hands on her heart to calm its wild beating.
Gellert, next to her, appeared to be deep in thought. He seemed both perplexed and troubled.

She recalled the robes she caught a glimpse of. They were rather hard to forget and harder not to notice, she thought. Ariana bet that he recognized them too. They were only a handful of people here who wore those dark uniforms after all.

 

*
They left the office without much trouble after that. But Gellert’s steps were rapid and purposeful, leaving Ariana to hurry after him. He was going outside, probably intending to take back his assigned place; as Auror he must have been expected to do something she thought, and somehow she doubted that it had been what they had been doing.

“Did you see the robes this person was wearing?” she asked in quick breaths. Gellert’s stride was fast, she mused. “It’s the uniform of the MIB.” she answered before he could. “It could be –”

“Let me guess,” he cut her off. He looked ready to snap at her for a minute before he seemed to calm himself down. She regarded him closely; with his eyes alert and his clenched hands, he seemed rather stressed out. “It could be Pieter Lovanoff.” He finally finished for her.

“Yes.” She confirmed. He came near the goblet the day before the ceremony, she wanted to say again. Also, she had a strange feeling about him, but she could recognize that it could not be considered a valid accusation.

Gellert shot her a rapid glance as if he was waiting for more arguments from her part. As she only stared back at him quietly but continued to trail after him, he shook his head. “What’s with you and Albus, I wonder. You’re both obsessed with him.” he complained flatly. He marked a pause. “It was not his wand.” He told her in a hush as if he was not sure either or not to continue.

“What?”

“The wand we saw was not his.” he said more firmly. The hold on his wood stick tightened. “This,” he started in a breath, “Is problematic.” He commented more to himself than to her she thought.

“Did...” she trailed; feeling her words stumbling on her tongue because Gellert didn’t look like he wanted to talk at all right now. Gathering courage, she forged on; “Did you recognize the wand?”

He didn’t answer her, but then she didn’t really expect him to.

 

*
Aberforth hissed. “That hurts.” He remarked evenly as he tried to get his arm back. The matron, who was ignoring his pointed glare, kept poking at his injuries with her wand as if he hadn’t spoken (she might also be healing him, but to him it felt more as if she was making sure that he wasn’t faking it.)

Once satisfied with her examination the matron – an old woman who must be in her sixties – sighed, long and suffering as he fidgeted. He had been told – firmly - to sit still on the infirmary’s bed, but even if he had agreed at the time, it didn’t mean that he wanted to spend the night here. She shook her head at his impatience to bold out there and muttered something under her breath before addressing him, “I’m almost finished.” she fixed him in place with the most no-nonsense look he had ever seen. “You will drink this potion – entirely – before you leave.” With this, she tended him a vial full of some green liquid. He took it skeptically. He sniffed the thing and promptly made a disgusted grimace. But as she was still standing and staring at him without blinking, he made a show of sipping it. As he didn’t hurl the vial at her head after the first taste – it was that awful – the matron seemed to consider her work done and left him to it.

Meanwhile Abe wanted to gag. If he hadn’t felt ill before, he was sure that he was going to be now. It was just his luck that the thing was as bad as it smelled.
It took him a ridiculous amount of time to even empty the middle of the vial. He regarded what was left to drink with an agonized look. He decided to give himself a reprieve, he had deserved it, and so he put it down onto the table that was near his bed. He sighed and grabbed his hard-won egg instead. He dusted it off; there were some particles of sands still stuck on it. He then turned it between his hands; letting himself inspect it more carefully now that he had the time for it. At least, the silver surface didn’t seem to have caught a scratch during the task. It was still shining at him.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this now?” He whispered to it. As the seconds passed and the egg stayed mute, he frowned and put it down into his lap.

“You’re supposed to open it.” A melodic voice answered him.

Abe almost startled into his bed. He looked up sharply to find Mademoiselle Daphne standing near his bed. She was dressed as sharply as ever, and not for the first time, Abe wondered how she could be as silent as she was when she was wearing such high heels. It was beyond him. He focused on her words instead; “Open it?” He repeated.

She gave him one of her empty smile. “Yes. There’s a clue hidden inside. Something to do about the second task.” at his incredulous stare, she let out a crystalline laugh. “It isn’t a real Occamy’s egg, I’m afraid; only a very well-made forgery.” she explained. “You will have to thank Armando Dippet for his Charms’ talent.” She made a vague hand gesture, as if she personally couldn’t be bothered to do the same.

“I’m not sure I’m following.” He slowly admitted.

She seemed honestly amused by his confusion. “In order to achieve equality, it had been decided that each Headmaster would – what is the word? - create a task, so to speak. The content of the one you just passed had been chosen and made by Hogwarts.” she said, “You were rather entertaining to watch.” she added like an afterthought. Aberforth bristled a bit at her comment, but she continued before he could add something. “The second task is my work.” she said, patting her cheek delicately with her gloved hand. She fluttered her eyelashes in a playful manner. “I have to admit that I’m terribly proud of it.” She confessed in a giggle.

Aberforth considered her. He only just passed the first one as she said, and he was not very eager to do the second. Moreover, if this – being tossed around by a giant Occamy – was the idea and work of Dippet; a rather harmless wizard who worst fault was to bore people to tears with his speeches, then he didn’t want to think of what Mademoiselle Daphne had managed to come up with.

Despite what Vinda or Albus believed, Aberforth was sure that she had only wanted to put her hands on his older brother. He clearly only was the second choice, and thus he didn’t think that she would truly be upset if something was to happen to him.
He really didn’t trust her that far. In fact, he didn’t trust her at all.

At his prolonged silence, she hummed. “You were better than I thought.” She told him, passing a finger on her full lips as if to check her lipstick. Abe didn’t scold at her, but it was a near thing. “A Patronus is a high level spell. To achieve it is a proof of power.” her silver eyes inspected him for a beat. “You, Dumbledore, seem to be a powerful wizard’s family. How strange then, that your sister has no magic.”

He felt himself tense. With the way she was eyeing him, he bet that she had noticed it. He forced himself to stay calm. “It happens sometimes.” He said as evenly as he could.

She smiled. It was rather sharp on the edges. “Of course, you’re right.” she turned, making her dress doing a flourish twirl, as she made to leave. “Well, then I’m sure you’ll continue to impress us. Oh,” she added as if she just remembered it, “And I hope that you do find quickly how to open your egg. We cannot let the others schools best us.” With this, her heels clicked and she left him.

Aberforth watched her depart, thinking that her parting words sounded a lot like a warning.

 

*
October, Wednesday, 10th

“What if we just drop it?” Aberforth asked.

“Drop it.” Juliette repeated without any question mark whatsoever.

“Yeah.” he ignored the look she was giving him and forged on, “We take it to the highest tower here and we…” he trailed, making vague hand gestures that to him meant ‘let gravity did its work’. Juliette’s flat look intensified, Olympe sighed, Vinda was not leaping to back him up and even Ari was staring at him with a sheepish expression. Aberforth huffed at them all. Weren’t girls supposed to be refined or something? He thought. Instead, they were just plain rude, the lot of them! “Do you have a better idea?” He grumbled at them.

It was not like they had been staring at a reluctant egg for the past hour. Oh, yes it was, he mused in a derisive snort. They even formed a little circle around it, as if they were going to start a ritual to force it open. They were wizards, who knew he thought, maybe it was possible.
It was still a very ridiculous situation to be stuck in.

“Perhaps we could try something less… extreme.” Olympe suggested as she looked down at the egg.

“You've played the flute to it.” He reminded her with his most unimpressed voice. It had been appalling; Aberforth certainly hadn’t enjoyed this improvised concert. He believed that it had been far more drastic than his idea could ever be. He knew he wasn’t the only thinking so when he saw how Ariana cringed faintly next to him at the memory.

“We could spy on the others schools to see if they have managed to open it already.” Vinda hummed as if considering, “And if so, how.”

He frowned at her. “No cheating.”

“Everybody’s cheating.” Juliette countered without blinking.

“Maybe…” Ariana started hesitantly before he could retort to this, “We could ask it if it want to open?”

Abe closed his eyes and began to rub his temples slowly. So this is what happened when all opening Charms failed you and you started to become desperate, he thought. “I’m not talking to an egg.” He pointed - the obvious – tiredly.

Minutes passed and passed.

“We could smash it.” Juliette dropped after a while. He noticed that her gaze on the egg at became more annoyed the more it resisted them.

“Could we?” Ariana asked; voice unsure.

“Not another Bombarda please.” Olympe pleaded. She gave him a judgmental side-look.

“Is it about how I handled the task?” He asked in a snap, feeling testy.

“Don’t you know that glass shatter?” She retorted, her patience tested too it seemed.

“At this point,” Vinda interrupted before it could turn into a full argument “We might as well drop it from the highest tower.” She remarked in a delicate snort.

 

*
Five days later, they did.
It didn’t break at all. If anything, it almost bounced against the ground. That thing, Aberforth decided, was outrageous.

“It must be cursed.” He moodily stated, seeing no others alternatives.

Ariana raised her blue eyes to him. “I think it was enchanted?”

“Same thing.” He muttered as he crossed his arms.

“It’s certainly tiring.” Juliette agreed with him with a grimace.

“We could try with another instrument.” Olympe proposed, “Piano perhaps?”

Aberforth face palmed.

 

*
For the most part of the month; they threw as many spell on it as they could think of. They also tried two – very - dubious rituals.
Meanwhile Olympe decided to play piano to it, and harp, and drums and every other instrument she could get her hands onto.
Aberforth almost didn’t hold it against the egg when it decided to not open.

But in the end even Olympe gave up; finally sparing their poor ears as she relented. “We may have to reconsider the merit of spying.”

They all nodded very quickly.

Notes:

How to not open an egg – a tutorial by Aberforth lol
Thank you for reading! :D

Chapter 21

November, Thursday, 8th

“Well,” Pieter Lovanoff started as he raised his eyes up to him, “Hello.”

Gellert sat, slowly and deliberately, into the seat facing him. The Institute’s dining hall was not crowded yet, it was far too early for it, a fact that Gellert knew well. It was sometimes better to wake up early and have a quiet breakfast than to linger in bed and have to suffer through a meal full of half-awaken teenagers in the possession of dubious eating habits. Even as a teenager himself, Gellert had little patience for that; it was unfortunate for them that the older he got, the less tolerant he became. He certainly didn’t see why he would have to witness it now, therefore he usually made a point to take his breakfast in the kitchens or if Albus was agreeable to it, inside one of their rooms.
But today he had questions that required his presence here.
Horace Slughorn, Albus’ incompetent friend, had somehow managed to finish his potion; a feat when one thought that he took him a month or so to accomplish it. Despite Slughorn’s lack of efficiency, the results had been clear; someone did use blood magic to make sure that Ariana’s name would be chosen.
It was not a shocking news - Gellert had been suspecting it for quite some time now - and in a way it was simpler; only a few would be willing to use it in the first place.
This was why he was here. While Pieter would not use this kind of magic himself, he would for sure know of someone who would be willing to.

Gellert’s mind had been creating a very precise idea of ‘someone’ ever since he saw that wand.

It had been easy to find out that Pieter would be in the dining hall at this hour. It wasn’t like he was actively trying to hide it, Gellert rationally knew this; but he was also working on a fractured sleep schedule and feeling like something had been closing onto them ever since they got here. The point was: he might be a bit paranoid. The idea that everyone was hiding things from him didn’t sound as implausible as it should be; it had even started to make sense. He didn’t get what was happening – why’s and how’s - because the people around him were lying.
It was perfectly reasonable. It was sound logic.
He truly needed a full night of sleep, he mused, uninterrupted by a Vision. Alas, it didn’t seem like this was going to happen anytime soon, so Gellert would have to endure for the time being.

“Is he here?” He asked Pieter point-blank. He studied his reaction closely as he questioned him, afraid to miss even the smallest tell.

But Pieter only blinked at him before huffing – in an uncharacteristic show of temper. “You’re unbelievable.” he told him, “You have been all but ignoring me, yet now you demand answers out of me.” He made a hurt face before going back to his breakfast.

He made to grab his drink but Gellert took it before he could reach for it. He put it out of the way. The glass clicked against the table loudly as Gellert harshly disposed it. “Is he here?” He pressed, giving him a smile full of teeth. He really didn’t like to repeat himself but Pieter needed to understand that Gellert’s question was far more important that any juice could ever be.

He eyed his drink for a second before focusing on him. “Am I supposed to guess who is ‘he’ too?” he smoothed his annoyed expression quickly, replacing it with a more placid one. “I know a lot of ‘he’.” he declared, letting a small smile gracing his lips. He took his fork and dug delicately into his food while staring at him. “I have no idea who you are talking about.”

Gellert felt his temper bubbling under the surface. Of course Pieter had to decide to be stubborn now. His hand clenched around his wand, but he resisted the urge to hex him on principle alone and instead rose calmly from his seat. “Lying is a grave sin my friend.” He told him as a warning to not test his patience further.

Pieter let out a little sound that could almost pass for a laugh. He retrieved his juice. “You look rather tired.” he remarked seemly busied with his drink. He made the liquid move from right to left within the confine of his glass with a focus that would be more apt if he was creating a tempest into the ocean and not playing with his juice like a kid. “Are you not sleeping well?” He asked with a sort of distracted innocence.

Gellert didn’t dignify this with an answer and instead chose to leave him. His long coat flew around him at each step he took, dramatically as Albus would say but Gellert liked it this way.
He felt Pieter’s stare on him the whole time, following him out.

 

*
The rest of the day was long.

Travers was a pain to be around and Gellert’s salary wasn’t high enough to compensate for this. He had to remind himself that killing him wouldn’t be worth it; while silently hoping that someone would do it already and thus save everyone else the trouble. The chief of the Magical’s Investigation Bureau appeared to be a likely candidate for this task - the way she glowered at Travers was rather telling - alas, she also had restraint and chose to be aggressively civil with him instead.
Unfortunate.

At the end of the day, he crossed path with Minerva on his way to Albus’ room and even though he had been into his Animagus’ form she had still leveled him a look when she had noticed where he was heading. She had let him continue his route while he pretended to be the most unsuspicious cat ever; yet she hadn’t quite trusted his act for some reasons. Perhaps, his cat’s form had looked far too knowing to be a simple familiar. It didn’t matter, he thought as he transformed back into himself and closed Albus’ door firmly shut behind him; he doubted that she would rattle him out.
Inside the room was dark; there were only a couple of candles lighting up the little space. It wasn’t enough to have a clear view of the room, but he managed to make out a huge pile of… something on the bed and he frowned as he approached it.

He let out a brief smile when he realized what it was. “What is this?” Gellert asked loudly, mostly for the theatric, “A puddle of something left to be identified or a human?” He poked at the shapeless form in wonder, his finger only feeling the softness of the covers.

A sound – something close to a groan - was heard from under the pile of blankets. “Don’t make fun of me.” Albus’s head popped-up. Gellert hid his growing smile behind a palm but Albus must have seen it all the same for he downright pouted. “I’m freezing out.”

Gellert lifted one eyebrow at him. “I don’t see how this is even possible considering all the covers you have on you.”

“Yet, I am.” Albus assured him. He looked at him, noted that he was only wearing a light coat over his robes, and gave him a betrayed glare, “I’m turning blue!” He complained before disappearing under the covers again.

Gellert rolled his eyes heavenward. So winters in Russia were known to be cold, but it wasn’t that bad. He personally had worst; his third years here had been particularly bad, one of the most freezing winters he had known. Compared to this one, the others could only be called mild. But of course Albus couldn’t know this - he hadn’t experienced it, he thought in a fond huff.
So he took off his boots and hung his coat before he slipped under the covers where Albus had refuged himself. He began to peel off some layer in order to find him. Gellert finally caught sight of him after the fifth covers he lifted.

“If you steal the covers, I am going to die.” Albus warned him very seriously, his voice, while a bit muffled by one last drape, held resigned note. “You do not want to turn into your Animagus’ form by chance?” He asked him suddenly, getting out from his warm refuge in order to blink at him in a pleading manner.

Gellert, who had been wondering how he was even breathing under it all, frowned. “No.” he said, definitive. He snuggled closer and gathered Albus into his arms before putting most of the covers back over him, “I can’t do this if I’m a cat.” He pointed just in case this had escaped him.

Albus hummed before promptly hiding his face into the crook of his neck, as if the cold couldn’t reach him here. “A cat radiates so much heat; it would almost be worth it.” He muffled against his skin.

“Don’t push it.”

For a while neither of them said a thing. They only stayed here, intertwined with each other. Gellert was even starting to doze off when Albus said, “You never told me who it was.” he whispered. “The student who got you expelled. You never said his name.”

Gellert paused, taken aback by Albus’ trail of thoughts. “What’s the point of telling you a name that wouldn’t mean anything to you?” he finally countered. He tried to blink his eyes awake. “He’s not here, if that’s your concern.” He said with finality, ignoring the pike of doubt that had started to creep inside him ever since Ariana and him had visited Danacov’s office.

He’s not here, he repeated to himself. Really? His mind hushed. How can you be so sure?

“That’s good.” Albus breathed, “I mean, I would rather you do not have to face him.”

“Why the question?” he asked him, curious now. “I may have not talked much about it, but you have never asked either.”

“I don’t know…” he trailed, sounding hesitant. “You seem a bit stress-out lately. It made me wonder, I guess.”

“I’m fine.” Gellert assured, rather harshly. He felt Albus still into his arms at the tone. He took a deep breath and tried to smooth his replies. It wasn’t Albus’ fault, he reminded himself. “Are you, by chance, worried for me?” he asked playfully, “I wouldn’t curse him even if I were to meet him.” at least, not much, he thought. “I have far more self-control than this.” Albus made a doubtful sound at this declaration. Gellert graciously ignored it, if only because he could feel him relax again into his hold. “And I almost have to thank him. If I hadn’t been expelled I would have never met you.”

Or at least not like this. Would they have met all the same? He wondered. He wasn’t so sure. Once freed of his obligations toward his family, Albus would have surely travelled with Elphias or perhaps he would have gone to the Flamels. Meanwhile Gellert would… he honestly had no idea where he would be. Would he… have stayed in Vienna with his mother? He didn’t think so, he wanted the Hallows too much for that, but at the same time he didn’t know where this would have left him.
Albus hummed again, Gellert felt the vibrations of his breath travel on him.
It was a rather heavy matter to think at night, Gellert decided as his eyes began to close despite himself.

Against him, Albus seemed happy to quietly enjoy his body’s heat. The silence lulled Gellert slowly into sleep; so by the time Albus said something else, he was far more dozing than alert. He barely caught the words and by morning they would probably be forgotten. He was too exhausted to stay awake long enough to make sense of them anyway, but he knew, deep-down that it sounded like something Albus would say; like something Albus would think and that was enough.

 

*
November, Friday, 9th

Albus was starting to lose patience.
He could feel it being slowly unraveled, one careful sewed string by another one.

Firstly, there were very few things more boring than to have to listen to people trying to outsmart themselves. This was the trouble with those kinds of events, he thought. Sure, they reunited wizards from various countries and technically it was all good; but the truth was that they all personally thought that they were the best and didn’t take the possibility that they couldn’t be well. Of course, everyone was careful to put on their nicest expression when they were assembled together but Albus knew that at soon as their backs were turned, the critique began.
They were competing against each other; they were not here to make friends and every side-look or snipping remark was here to make sure that they didn’t forget it.

Albus’ polite smile was beginning to feel forced on his face these days.

Also recently even his brother was adding his own to the pile. Aberforth seemed to think that Albus was unaware of his clumsy attempts at following him or eavesdropping on his or Minerva’s conversations. Ariana at least knew when she got caught. Vinda was by far the best at whatever games they were playing. It would amuse him if the circumstance was different; as it wasn’t he was very close to feel vexed.

Did they believe him stupid?

The worst of all was Gellert who seemed to be under the impression that Albus was completely blind, deaf and so on.
He tried to be patient when he noticed that something was eating at him; thinking that whatever it was, he would come to him when he felt ready.
He didn’t.
It left Albus torn; should he push it? It was clear that whatever it was, Gellert wasn’t too keen on talking about it. But Albus had waited and waited, and he had seen the sleep starting to evade Gellert more and more, and his temper becoming just a bit too short in response. He decided that he couldn’t just continue to turn a blind eye to it in hope that Gellert would solve the trouble by himself or come speaking to him.

Perhaps Albus was a little done. He supposed that it happened to everyone once in a while.

This was why when he had caught a faint tread of thought from Gellert last night, Albus hadn’t shut it immediately like he usually would. He had tried to argue within himself that he was only doing this to help Gellert; and anyway, if he didn’t wish to be listened to, he should work harder on his Occlumency’ shields. Albus had told him that they were not as perfect as he thought them to be after all.
It sounded terribly petty even in his mind, but Albus had been very patient for arguable results.

When they had been discussing who expelled him, Albus had caught a feeling of dread and doubt coming from Gellert. Something unsure and small but there and while he hadn’t pursued it then – he couldn’t have, not like this with Gellert sleeping – it didn’t mean that he was going to drop it either.

So he waited until morning.

He helped Gellert to tie his Auror’ robes, something that he had begun to do during their stay here, making sure to nod absently at his complains (there were a lot of them and they tended to be repetitive). As Albus finished his task by lacing Gellert’s belt carefully around his waist, he felt a sort of nostalgia coming to him; suddenly dearly missing the peaceful atmosphere they had in Nurmengard. Greety’s nagging at them, his chaotic potion’s room full of arguing portraits… He let out a breath, letting this homesickness pass. It would be easier to acclimate here, he mused, if he didn’t have to remind himself that his eyes shouldn’t linger on Gellert too long, that he couldn’t take his hand, or that he couldn’t stand too close. Albus had forgotten those cautious steps as he lived with Gellert and was now trying, unwillingly, to relearn them all.
He shook his head a bit, clearing his own mind before he focused on Gellert once more, turning his whole attention onto those fleeing thoughts of his. There were many, far more than what he was used to let escape, but despite all his objections, Gellert’s was tired and it must be affecting the efficacy of his shields as well.
Gellert had a fascinating way of thinking; capable of focusing on more than one thing at once. It was a marvel for Albus to read.

‘… But I did see his wand …’ Gellert's mind whispered urgently.

“I mean, look at them Liebling, they are atrocious.” Gellert ranted as he pointed as his Auror’s robes in disgust; “Who would have thought that your brother would take so long to get fired?” He sighed as if it was only another proof that Aberforth was a nuisance to all wizard kind. Albus didn’t really take it to heart. Gellert had also said something similar about how his brother had failed to get seriously maimed during the first task, managing to sound like it had been a great failing of his.

'Dolohov is nothing but trouble.' Gellert's thought hushed in a fast swirl. 'Could he truly be here …? Makes no sense, he’s …’

Albus hummed a reply. He titled his head to the side as if to hear better.

But Gellert took his hands in his; making all thoughts scattered and became silent. For a second, Albus was sure that he had been caught out, but then Gellert said; “I have to go, I’m sorry.” he told him, “Travers will lose it if I’m late.” he said in a tsk’d. “He’s so boring.”

With this, Gellert leaned down to drop a kiss on his cheek, leaving Albus feeling sheepishly guilty. But he went on without suspecting anything and Albus got a name; so this had not been in vain.

He tapped his wand against his jaw. Dolohov huh? Well, it looked like Albus had some work to do.

 

*
November, Saturday, 10th

Datcha Valley was a homey little town.

Though it was considered to be the nearest wizard’s village from the Institute, it was still difficult to access; one had to either use his or her broom or another means of transportation if they wished to see it. Walking down, on foot, to Durmstrang from there was near impossible; between the mountains and the slow drop of temperature of these past days, it would be quite an adventure to manage it; and would surely require hours of travels.
Thankfully, it wasn’t Albus’ case. When he had heard from various Durmstrang’s students that it was a favored place for them to go for the week-end, it hadn’t taken him much effort to convince Dippet to let them go too. Hogwarts’ own pupils were curious and excited to discover it; and Albus was fine to supervise them and tag along for now.

The weather was even nice today; the pale sun was shining above their heads, breathing life into the pastel colors painted onto every home’s façade. Every building seemed to have been made with wood, with fine carving sculpted into them, making loops and flowers appear for their eyes. Albus wondered if the smell of pines he could detect came from those homes or from the forest surrounding them. Each houses had a flourish garden full of flush fruit trees shadowing the vegetables that lay onto the ground. They were only waiting it seemed to be picked up. All of this, he thought, must certainly be protected by many Charms to survive the temperature.
There were several shops, making a circle at the center of the village, each of them just as decorated as the rest.
Albus watched the Hogwarts’ seventh and sixth years took into this all in wonder, right before their enthusiasm won over their amazement and they began to roam around. Under their feet the paved ground - covered by a fine layer of frost - cracked faintly, reminding everyone that winter was on its way.

Albus, for his part, scanned the streets thoughtfully, searching for one person in particular. He spotted a flurry of red uniforms in between a broom and a tea shop, with Igor Karkaroff at the center of all attention and smiled before he peacefully made his way toward them. The group of Durmstrang’ students who were chatting up loudly abruptly shut up when they noticed him. Albus’ felt his smile widen a bit at their teenagers' antics.

“Mister Karkaroff.” Albus greeted agreeably, “May I have a little of your time?”

Karkaroff’s classmates turned their heads toward him in surprise. They looked between the two of them in interest, but a group of giggling Beauxbâtons’ girls passed the streets then and they quickly forgot about it all, leaving to call after them in earnest. The Yule Ball was drawing near and it was starting to show, Albus mused as he raised one eyebrow at them. The chase for a good date had certainly been gaining in ferocity during the past few weeks.

For his part, Karkaroff didn’t seem very bothered by his friends’ escape; instead he was busy looking at him, his eyes round in incomprehension. “Whatever for?” He asked, rather rudely.

“I’ve heard that you’re well-versed in tea.” he smoothly supplied, absently showing up the tea shop behind Karkaroff with a movement of his chin. Its window displayed an impressive variety of black tea flavor. “I wish to buy some for my Aunt, but I’m afraid that I don’t know which one to choose. They all look so good.”

Karkoroff’s expression went to several emotions before settling into a blank disbelief. He blinked once. “Are you… serious?”

Albus smiled brightly. “Yes.” he said, thinking no. But it was true that he needed Karkaroff, if only because he might be the only Durmstrang’ students willing to answer his questions. Albus was reluctant to ask Pieter Lovanoff anything at all to be truthful, which left him only Karkaroff, even if his help would – certainly not be – for free. Since Karkaroff stayed rooted on his spot, he voiced this; “I will do my best to repay your time of course.” He assured him.

The Durmstrang’s champion narrowed his eyes briefly before nodding. “Lead the way.”

 

*
In the end, the two of them sat down around an assortment of tea cup. Albus had asked to taste several flavor and the shopkeeper had been more than happy to deliver them to their table, little cup after little cup. Unfortunately, the third one he tried had been as tasty as the others, and he wondered if he was truly going to have to ask Karkaroff for his input. For now his guest was gazing at each cup as if he was being insulted, which had made his expression settled – somewhere between the second cup and the third – between a form of annoyance and a disgruntled resignation.

With a contented sigh Albus put his fourth cup down; this one got a slightly bitter aroma than the other three, and decided to go the point. “I believe that you can help me.”

“Help you,” he repeated evenly, “With your tea?” Karkaroff wondered. He stared at him with a puzzled expression.

“Not exactly.” he laughed. “There is something that I wish to know.” he admitted. He stared briefly at his awaiting fifth cup, and wondered if they had a sweet specialty he could try with it. “In exchange, I could be,” he paused as he tried to stay focused back on the matter at hand (sadly, not a sweet); “Agreeable and tip you on the best way to open your Occamy’s egg.” Karkaroff widened his eyes in interest at this while Albus merely smiled. “You must know that Minerva McGonagall and I have already found a way to retrieve the clue that was inside.” he stated as he surmised that it was a well-known fact by now. Rumors ran fast after all. “I’ve heard that you hadn’t managed it yet; but perhaps I am wrong?” From the immediate scowl appearing on the Durmstrang’s champion face he doubted it; but Albus thought that he could humor Karkaroff a bit more.

Karkaroff seemed to debate silently within himself for a while before he questioned, “What do you want to know exactly?”

“Who is Dolohov?” he asked, full of curiosity. He noted that Kararoff startled at the name, but chose to continue. “And what is his link with Gellert Grindelwald?”

The second question seemed to help Karkaroff to gather his wits. “Thought you and Grindelwald were close friends.” he said the word ‘friend’ as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Can he tell you himself?”

If asking Gellert had got Albus anywhere, he certainly wouldn’t be there, he thought. “I am asking you.” he sighed ruefully as Karkaroff stayed quiet. “Of course, if you do not need my advice to open your clue,” he began to stand, “I can leave –”

“Fine.” Karkaroff snapped, knowing that he was played but, as Albus predicted he wanted the clue too much to pass it up. He calmly sat back. “I will only tell you the basis.” Karkaroff warned him. “I’m not stupid enough to risk more.” he huffed in indignation as if Albus was making him do reckless things. “The Dolohov are a powerful and influential pureblood wizard family here in Russia. They’re well-known and...” he trailed as he seemed to hesitate. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “It is said that one of their ancestor was a necromancer. Their names had been associated with Dark magic for a long time now. I’ve also been told that they have many rare books on blood magic.” he informed him. “They’re considered expert of sort.”

Albus tapped his fingers against the table. Karkaroff shot him a pointed look as he did, apparently bothered by the sounds. He stopped if only to make the other more cooperative. “And because of this reputation; nobody dares to cross them.” He guessed.

Karkaroff nodded before he continued carefully. “The one you’re asking for is Alexei Dolohov; their current heir.” he told him, his gaze eyeing the shop briefly before resuming. “Like all Dolohov before him; he came to study in Durmstrang. There, he met your friend – Grindelwald.” his mouth curled down as if disliking the name. He reached for one of Albus’ fuming cup and took a sip of it, once more sweeping his eyes around the room as he did; “For a while, they were as thick as thieves. But something happened – I don’t know what – but they have a fall-out.” he said. “I’m really surprised you didn’t already know this to be honest.” he admitted before he leaned onto the table and hushed; “Dolohov was the one who reported Grindelwald’s experimentations to the Headmaster.” at this, Albus couldn’t quite suppress his shocked expression making Karkaroff shook his head; “Who else?” he demanded as he straightened into his seat. “Grindelwald is an arrogant pain but he’s too good at what he does.” he said in clear disgust. “Nobody else would have dared.”

Albus drummed the tip of his fingers against the table, ignoring Karkaroff completely this time. It helped him to think and Karkaroff’s explanation deserved that he lingered on it. Expert on blood magic, he mused, was an interesting thing to know given what they had learnt about Ariana’s paper. But still, “Why would a student expel another one?” He wondered out-loud.

“They must have a nasty fight.” Karkaroff deduced. “Dolohov hold grudges very well and I told you that his family was influential.” he reminded him. “Believe me; he made sure that he got expelled.” he finished his cup of tea in two more gulp. After he was done, he put the cup down on the table with delicateness. “Listen,” he told him, “I don’t know why you’re asking and frankly I don’t care as long as it profits me,” he said with honesty, “But one advice: stay away from the Dolohov and don’t probe into their things.” he warned. “They don’t like it.”

 

*
“So,” Albus started as he quietly sat in front of Aberforth. Abe startled into his seat before he stared at his brother, feeling as if he had been caught doing a crime and not merely reading a book.

“So?” he questioned with apprehension. He put the book face down onto the library’s table; trying to fake some nonchalance as he did. He doubted that his brother was even buying it, but Aberforth had always been uncomfortable when seen studying, so that was it. “How did you even know I was here?” He wondered abruptly.

“Vinda.” he replied. “Did you already ask her out for the Yule Ball by the way?” Albus mused. He tilted his head to a side as if the question had just occurred to him.

Aberforth spluttered. He felt his cheeks heat a bit and he silently cursed his complexion for betraying him like this.

“That’s a no then?” Albus deduced with ease. “You shouldn’t wait too long. You’ll be opening the Ball after all.” he reminded him. “Moreover, the competition seems rather ferocious from what I’ve seen.” He remarked.

“Don’t remind me.” he gritted moodily. Aberforth had witnessed more flirting techniques than he ever cared to, some so bad he couldn’t even begin to describe them. One very daring Gryffindor had managed to win Olympe’s favor after two very flashy tries. Juliette however had taken a mean pleasure to discard most of her aspirants, until she found the perfect partner in a Slytherin. They, without surprise, spoke the same language. As for Vinda, Aberforth didn’t think anyone had asked her yet, or at least she hadn’t said yes to anyone. He believed that he would have known if this had been the case. “Everyone’s crazy about it.” he complained. He had to intimidate far too many guys, he thought, all of them believing that they deserved a chance with his little sister. Thank Merlin he was taller than most and had mastered the art to glare when he was nine. Ariana for her part hadn’t seemed to have noticed the – ugh – inclination some of these guys had for her. She seemed rather obvious to it all and it was better this way. “What about you?” he countered, doubting that Albus could show up with Gellert; “With whom are you going?”

Albus smiled and without answering, switched subject. “Are you done following me around?” he asked him absently as he eyes were now glancing at the book shelves. Aberforth wouldn’t put it past him to be trying to read the titles cover even as he was speaking with him. “It reminds me of when we were kids; you used to follow me everywhere then too.” Albus recalled, sounding wistful and almost fond; but then of course he would, because this (totally not accurate) behavior that his brother described kept giving him leverage to mortify Aberforth on a daily basis.

(Abe had so many regrets.)

His face colored drastically this time. “I did not!” He refuted loudly.

Albus continued mercilessly, not bothered by his denial one bit. “It was very cute then,” he dared to comment, “But aren’t you too old for this now?” Aberforth made a face at the word ‘cute’, mortally offended. He began to open his mouth, surely to shout something that would get the two of them fired from the library forever, but Albus must have sensed it because he quickly continued. He raised one of his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I will give you a tip for your egg.” Aberforth’s mouth closed abruptly. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the matter?” Albus asked, clueless it seemed as to why Aberforth was giving him such a look now. “Do you enjoy your stalking so much that you wish to continue it?”

“This is way too easy.” he noted slowly. He studied his brother, waiting for the true reason behind this scheme to pop up and show on his face. It didn’t, so he pressed; “There’s a catch, right?”

“No.” Albus calmly assured him.

Aberforth’s eyes narrowed further. “Since when do you offer information willingly?” he wondered, incredulously. “And for free?” He added, sounding even more dubious.

“You make me sound terrible.” Albus complained without heat. He tapped a finger against his jaw; “Perhaps I only want to help my brother.” He hummed happily as if he liked the ring of it.

Aberforth regarded him, unimpressed. “Do you now?” He slowly questioned.

“Well, you certainly make me regret it already,” he admitted, “But yes.”

“Really.” He said very flatly.

Abe could tell that his brother very nearly rolled his eyes at this. “You are always so suspicious.” Albus said in a tired sigh. “You want it or not?”

Aberforth’s mind abruptly recalled all the failed things they had tried for opening this cursed egg and his whole body shuddered when he thought of Olympe and of the fact that she might find a new instrument soon.
If Aberforth had to witness another one of her concert, his ears might never recover from it. With his health – and sanity - in mind he nodded reluctantly, “Yes, alright.” he admitted between clenched teeth, still thinking that this offer was later going to bit him on his face somehow, “I want it.”

Albus smiled smugly in answer and Abe scowled harder. His brother leaned down on the table and toward him, quietly asking him to do the same. It made them looked like two accomplices conspiring, which Aberforth thought was fitting; “Then listen closely.”

 

*
“If you want to open your egg,” Albus had whispered to both Karkaroff and Aberforth, “Then you must sing your best song to it.” he instructed in a secretive smile. “Armando Dippet is very fond of Opera.” He finished with his eyes twinkling.

Notes:

I’m super sorry about the delay. Thank you very much for your patience! I hope you enjoyed this chap ^^

Minute culture! A ‘datcha’ in Russian is what could be considered as a summer house. I got inspired by this idea, and by the name, to create a little Valley ;)

Chapter 22

November, Sunday, 11th

“And he told you,” Olympe started, sounding shocked. “Just like that?” She made a face, making her expression look very disbelieving.

“Yeah, I know.” Aberforth agreed with an aggravated sigh, “I’m still surprised too.”

“It’s not that surprising that Albus would want to help you.” Ariana argued, feeling her lips pursed in annoyance. She puffed her cheeks out a little to show that she was not happy with all this skepticism directed at Albus.

“Whatever.” Her brother grumbled, apparently unwilling to go into an argument for it. He waved his hand at the matter distractedly.

“The reason doesn’t matter.” Vinda delicately agreed as she stepped closer to their trouble at hand: the egg. “What’s important is that we’ve got a tip we ought to try.”

“I’m not singing.” Abe stated plainly.

“I could –” Olympe started.

“No!” They all shouted taken by a sudden panic. The sounds of their cries rang loudly into the room they had gathered into. They had chosen Olympe’s if only because she owned the most spacious ones - someone that tall earned some privilege Ariana supposed - and because it was more peaceful here than on the communal floor where others Beauxbâtons’ students could pass by and linger on. Aberforth had clearly expressed earlier that if this tentative was doomed to be another failure, it better stayed between them. Thus, this pseudo privacy.

“I mean,” Ariana trailed after the silence lingered just a bit too long, turning this pause into the conversation into an awkward thing. Her eyes gazed at Olympe’s face, showing the first signs of hurt, before they travelled back to the rest of their group, silently begging them for assistance.

“Why bother when we have a Charm for it?” Vinda quickly took over before Ari could cave and they all ended-up with another concert, a cappella this time.

“Do you know the spell for this?” Juliette turned to ask Aberforth. Her tone was very blank. Ariana had no idea how she managed to keep her voice even most of the time.

“Sure.” her brother shrugged, “Who do you take me for?” Aberforth then asked, narrowing his eyes at her on principle alone it seemed.

“Yourself.” The girl replied, very matter of fact. Today, Juliette hair was light brown, probably the most normal color Ariana had ever seen her with. It was almost strange on her, she mused.

“You’re so well-paired with a Slytherin.” He stated in a snort.

“Thank you.” She gravelly told.

Abe frowned at her in displeasure. “It was not a compliment.”

“Focus.” Vinda ordered him as she snapped her fingers in front of his face. It made him blink rapidly. His expression did a funny thing that made him looked dazed and Ariana hid a smile behind her palm. “The egg.” She reminded him.

Aberforth sighed – again – before he drew his wand and pointed toward the dormant egg. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on his task and soon enough the room was filled with a soft song.
Albus might have suggested Opera to him but she had doubted that Aberforth knew a lot about them. To be truthful, neither did she. She only recently learnt that their tunes apparently got lyrics; Ariana had always thought that it was a series of high-pitched sounds she just couldn’t understand.
So instead of Opera, her brother seemed to have chosen a children lullaby. He had hummed this one a lot before, Ariana recalled as she placed the music inside her memory. She remembered hearing his hushed hum when she had been agitated enough that her dark clouds of magic - swirling around her and threatening to shallow them whole - had needed to be calmed down. She sent him a questioning look and he gave her a sheepish shrug in return; as if to say that it was truly the only song he knew by heart.

The notes lingered in the air and the silver surface of their egg shuddered once. They all took a quick and cautious step back; less the thing decided to take its revenge for all the bad music it had been subjected to and exploded into their faces in retaliation.
But it didn’t. It emitted a loud ‘click’ that reminded her of the sound of a key unlocking a door, before it unfolded like a blooming flower under their eyes.
They all peered down at it, their curiosity finally winning over the caution. Inside the heart of it, Ariana saw that there was a glowing sphere, coming alive it seemed by the smooth singing still playing around them.

“Listen carefully.” The glowing sphere started, with a melodic voice.

Ariana’s eyes went wide with stupor, wondering for a wild second if the egg was going to start singing now too.

“Merlin,” Aberforth breathed, lips curling down in shocked disgust. His shoulder bumped into her, shaking her brief reverie. He seemed to barely resist the urge to take another step away, “That thing speaks now.” He wrinkled his nose.

The egg continued, mindless of his remarks. “What you’ve lost abruptly,” it said; “Is a gain for someone else. Choose your shiniest coin carefully,” it instructed, “For you won’t have a second chance.”

Once its message had finally been delivered, the egg sealed itself once more; leaving Ariana with the feeling that someone just promptly closed their front door to their face.

“Seriously?” Aberforth demanded, outraged. “All of this,” he raised his arms to encompass the whole room in them; “And for that!” He pointed at the egg in accusation.

“How is this supposed to help.” Juliette stated more than asked.

“I guess, it means…” Olympe trailed, visibly torn on how to finish her sentence. She righted her already perfectly put beret on her head before she continued, “That you ought to take your wallet for the next game?” She ventured hesitantly.

Ariana frowned as she once again glance down at the egg in question. “It sounds like someone is going to rob you something.” She mused out loud.

Aberforth huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I would like to see them try.” He dared.

“It‘s about an exchange.” Vinda deduced as she tapped one delicate finger against her chin, “One thing, against another.” She resumed simply.

Ariana nodded, this sounded about right. The egg had said something about payment so; “So a coin,” She began.

“But against what?” Olympe asked, voicing what they were all wondering.

“As long as it’s not another egg.” Abe muttered darkly, clearly done with it all.

 

*
It took quite a while for Aberforth to track down his brother. The Hogwarts’ boat was closed for him, so he had to catch him when he was within the walls of the Institute. But between Aberforth’s own schedule – dodging Olympe (just in case she wanted to do another dress-up with him), staying clear from Juliette (on principle), scaring away Ariana’s potential dates (for reasons) – and Albus’ – whatever his schedule might contain – it wasn’t that easy to corner him.

Honestly, these days even complaining demanded such an effort, he thought in a frustrated huff.

But finally Abe got a window, and found him outside by chance when he was passing through. Albus was alone, standing near the lake that lay at the feet of the Institute. Abe hadn’t truly lingered there before but he had to admit that this shore of sort was nice, peaceful even; and if one could forget the chill in the air, it could even be called relaxing. He made his way there, joining his brother in quick strides. As he approached, he noticed the figure who had half of its body hidden into the water. It was making sounds at Albus who was responding in kind.
Merpeople, he thought. Marvelous.

“Hey.” he called, interrupting their conversation. “Can we talk?” He asked his brother.

Albus nodded before saying goodbye (he guessed at least) to his new friend who disappeared into the waters in a loud splash. He watched the wrinkles forming on the clear surface of the lake for a while before he turned his head to him. “What do you want to talk about?” He wondered in a hum.

“About how not useful that clue was.” Abe began. “Honestly, can they be vaguer?” He demanded.

Albus let out a little huff. He was smiling. “It’s part of the games, I suppose. Though, it’s not that vague.”

He frowned, “You understood what it meant?” He demanded.

Albus smiled wider. “Perhaps.” he replied. “I’ve got an inkling.” He shrugged lightly as if it was truly too superficial to be talked about.

“And you’re not telling.” Aberforth surmised, unsurprised at this point.

“You said that I – and I quote – ‘do not offer information willingly and for free’. I’m only following your reasoning.”

Aberforth made a face. “Don’t start with me.” he warned him off. “You wouldn’t have told me anyway.” He grumbled lowly as he crossed his arms over his chest. (He was not pouting.)

Albus sighed, putting both of his hands into his coat’s pockets. “Just take a golden coin and do your best.” he instructed. He was rocking on his feet a bit, like a pendulum slowly making his way from right to left. “I’m sure you will be alright.” he smiled in a reassuring manner before it turned into a teasing grin. “By the way, what about Vinda?”

Abe eyed this change of conversation distrustfully. “What about Vinda?”

“Well, did you ask her out?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Abe parroted.

“The ball is coming closer.” He, unnecessary, reminded him

“You’re speaking with someone who had to threaten a lot of guys off our sister, so believe me I know that.”

Albus gave him a judgmental look at that. “You should let Ariana handle this. What if she wanted to go with one of the ‘guys’ you scared away?”

“They were not good enough for her.” He stubbornly insisted.

Albus sighed again, tiredly this time. “And Vinda?”

“What Vinda?” He snapped.

Albus didn’t even dignify him with a reply. Aberforth still heard the exasperation loud and clear though.

 

*
November, Tuesday, 20th

“The Durmstrang Institute is happy to inform you that the Yule Ball will be held on December, Saturday 22nd and will start around 9 PM. To add to the festivities, it had been decided that it will be masked, so make sure to add a mask to your outfit! Charmed masks are allowed; the more eccentric, the better!”

“Masked ball?” Aberforth grimaced and glared at the unwanted Howler. He wondered if it would raise too many questions if he put it on fire; though with his luck, probably. Still, was it truly too much to ask to not be bothered by an advertising of sort when one was eating? “Do they really have to yell it?” He wondered moodily.

Of course, his complaint was drowned by the excited chatter that erupted from his table, all girls around him animatedly talking together and thus creating an incontrollable brouhaha. It rivaled – barely - the exclamations coming from the others tables and Aberforth slowly chewed what was in his fork in a courageous effort at ignorance.

“So romantic!” Someone exclaimed.

“By Jeanne; what am I going to wear?”

“I think I’m going to Charm mine to look like…”

“… green doesn’t go with pink. In what worlds did you see that?”

“Do you think it will go with my dress?”

“Is white too classy or…?”

“I shall make mine to be…”

“Oh, I wanna be there already!”

He rolled his eyes heavenward, wondering what kind of heinous crime he did in another life to deserve this; before he once more dug into his food, determined to turn a blind eye on it as long as humanly possible.

Unsurprisingly, it both worked and it didn’t.
(Such was his life. He sighed.)

 

*
November, Friday, 23rd

“Still?” Minerva asked him drily. She didn’t even perk under the library table this time, apparently sensing that he was hiding under without even having to check.

“No comment.” Aberforth grumbled, almost tearing up the page of the book he was reading in his haste. He sent a glare at the book in silent accusation. (He was not willing to take responsibility for anything right now.)

“Let me guess,” she continued, ignoring his somber mood, “You have girls chasing after you with clothes and scissors?”

“Not only that,” he began hotly, slamming his book shut as if to prove a point. “But I have a professor pestering me about ‘the art of waltzing’ now too!” he did air quote; less she thought that this was his own words, “It’s so ridiculous.” he said in a puff, “I don’t even remember the guy’s name, I just scattered as soon as I could.”

At this she looked down, her classy bun making an appearance. She scowled at him. “The art of waltzing is very important.” she chided him, “It’s about teaching you the right posture along the grace that goes with dancing.” at his unrepentant look she added, “Unless you want to look stupid in front of everyone of course.” She finished with an audible sniff as she rearranged herself properly inside her sit.

Aberforth rolled his eyes so hard, it made him see stars.

 

*
And so he went to the class about ‘the art of waltzing’.
(The less said about it, the better.)

 

*
November, Thursday, 29th

“Aberforth, Aberforth!” Olympe loudly called him.

She accosted him quickly, her beret still firmly in place despite her rapid jog. She caught one of his arms without prompting, leaving him no choice but to follow after her. He looked up (up) at her in interrogation. He had just exited the waltzing class, and had been secretly hoping for a break.

“What is this?” he demanded as she continued to lead them wherever she wanted to. He couldn’t help but fear for a trap of sort. This feeling accented when he recognized the path she was taking him to. “You’re not taking me to the Beauxbâtons’ carriage, are you?” Aberforth had been so good at fleeing the scene whenever the girls started to talk about clothes. “I don’t need anything for the Yule Ball.” He asserted, though his voice wavered a bit in fear of mice and cutie bows.

“Oh no, it’s not about that.” she started to wave the matter away but then her hand stilled as she seemed to realize something. “I just wished to find us a quiet place, but I can’t believe that I hadn’t thought of this!” she exclaimed, upset. “I must have been more far more taken than I’ve believed.” she hummed, thoughtful; “Usually, I never forgot this kind of things.”

Abe grimaced. The last he wanted was to give her ideas. “What is this then?”

She beamed proudly. “I’ve found something about our clue.”

Abe did a double take. “Really?”

“Yes.” she confirmed. “But not here.” She said, her gaze sweeping around the populated corridors.

He nodded as she strode determinedly between people; her imposing size demanding that they parted from her way quickly. Aberforth had never reached their dorms this fast during the rush hours.
She incanted their password under her breath and dragged him into the common room without much ceremony. She took care to firmly lock the door behind them before she brightened again.

“Look.” She got out her purse and rummaged into it until she apparently found what she was searching for. She got out a shiny coin and showed it to him, triumphal.

Aberforth blinked at it for some time. The coin shone back at him, unbothered by the attention. They could stay like this for a while, he thought. “Okay.” He finally let out.

She huffed in disappointment as he apparently failed to guess what she was not telling him. “It’s a five cent.” she explained with a generous air. “It’s actually the galleon that holds the less value and yet,” her smile turned smug. “It is also the shiniest one.”

“Is it?” He reached for the little galleon in her hand. She gently gave him to him for a closer inspection.

“Yes.” she crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not well-known but all galleons are not made of gold. They are - more often than not - a mix of different metal. Some have bronze in them.” she told him. “The only exception is the littlest coin. The five cent is made all with gold.” she pointed as the piece. “Therefore, it is the shiniest coin.”

“‘Choose your shiniest coin carefully.’” Aberforth recited, pensive as he was turning this petite golden thing in his hands. “It makes sense.” he had to admit that her reasoning was more than sound. “How do you even know all of this?” He wondered.

“My mother works in a bank.” she said sheepishly. “We might still don’t know what the second task is about,” she continued, “But at least we know what coin you have to take with you.”

“We do.” he pocketed it securely into his vest, “Thank you.” He said, awkwardly. He knew that she had been helping him since the beginning but he also knew that she had wanted to be the Beauxbâtons’ champion before this whole fiasco began. It might not be easy for her to see him basically living what she had dreamed to do.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” she assured him. “Now, about your outfit for the ball –”

He sighed. There was a price to pay for everything, he thought.

 

*
December, Saturday, 22nd

It was barely a quarter before nine o’clock when Aberforth exited the safety of the Beaubâtons’ rooms.
He made his way where the party was to be staged with a mix of apprehension and nerves, but thankfully the Yule Ball was not in full swing yet – the room and the corridors were yet to be crowded though it was getting there - and the whole ballroom was still surrounded with an air of anticipation.
The huge space that had been chosen to hold this event was just below the diner hall. A part of it must have been carved inside the mountains the school was leaning against; for on one side there were wide arcades showing up frozen waters so blue and clear that it was nearly blinding. It lighted up the place well, through there was more floating candles than Aberforth could count if this proved to not be enough. It still gave an atmosphere of sort to the room, a blue hue ricocheting on every wall and which asked to be noticed.
The rest had been decorated outrageously; there was much for the eyes to see, almost too much even. All of these gold in the décor, and bronze in the object were making his head spin; it was quite unbelievable all the metal they had managed to gathered in one setting.

The fact that he had to open this ball was also another head-spinning matter that made his palm sweat a bit. He feared to trip on the edge of his robe the most; a long and soft indigo thing that was far too pretty and delicate for him, or in short: another creation of Jean-Gustavo that he had to endure. He felt like he had to watch out each of his steps, and in a way it was a relief to have the excuse to stare at his feet; it was better than to acknowledge all the eyes that glanced or lingered on him.
He was to open the ball with the others champions, he reminded himself. It was perfectly normal for others to stare, he reasoned. They must just be waiting for the party to begin; he had nothing to do with his stupid outfit or with how nervous he was.

Still, it took a lot of his willpower not to fidget on place. The mask he had to wear for the occasion hid a part of his face, and even though he had complained about the dramatic nature of it before, he was now stupidly grateful for it. Olympe had found the whole concept of a masked ball almost poetic, and had gushed about it while he had remained skeptic. Apparently, for the French at least, it was truly something out of a novel dream, for every Beauxbâtons’ girls had dutifully taken into the task to Charm their masks.
As he still didn’t care for it, Juliette had taken pity on him - or more realistically - had been worried enough for her school’s image that she had made a mask for him. She had handed it to him earlier with her usual stoicism. Its color was in perfect accord with his robe and it was rather simple in its style which pleased him just fine. Hers, in contrast, had been far more detailed, with peacock’s feathers at its top borders and all. She then had opened a fancy fan that had appeared out of thin air into one of her hands with a sharp movement; before waving it at him, thus covering the lower part of her face with it as she dismissed him.
This was how she had taken her leave, with her heels clacking and her dress flying after her.
She was truly made to be a Slytherin, he thought more sure as ever as he recalled it. No wonders she was going along one so well.

A hand tapping on one of his shoulders brought him back to the present. He turned to see who it was, only to feel his breath stuck into his throat.
It was Vinda, which was not a reason enough to forgo oxygen completely, but she was really beautiful; and this surely deserved forgetting to take a breath or two.

Her dress was in such deep blue, it was as if it was trying to rival the night sky. It fell on her delicately, and if he believed his robes to be soft, her dress seemed ready to challenge this fact; it reached past her feet as if it was caressing the ground. There were even little dots of light here and there, travelling onto the fabric like forgotten stars. On top of it, she seemed to be wearing a corset of sort for Merlin’s sake, with black woven along the blue, a final touch that he believed to be so terribly Vinda.

She was stunning, and right now he was sure that no words had been invented yet to make her justice.
He was also sure that he was gaping at her like a fish. An idiot fish. He audibly closed his mouth shut.

Vinda flashed him a smile as unperturbed as ever and he gulped nervously.

He wished he could say that he had been the one to ask her out but it hadn’t been the case. She had all but demanded him to be her date, in a tone that had left no others options than to agree. Not that he had wanted to say no, but he wished that he had managed to form the words then, just like he wished that now he could tell her what she ought to know; that she was far too beautiful for him to be coherent.
(That she was far too beautiful for him.)
But maybe he didn’t really need them, he thought as Vinda took his hand and guided him toward the dance floor. Maybe it was enough if only one of them knew what they were doing.
They went to the center of the room where the others champions were waiting with their dates. He snorted when he saw who was accompanying Minerva – of course she would choose Albus to be her date, those two were hopeless books lovers – but as usual his brother interpreted his attitude as somewhat encouraging and beamed at him in return; which made him rolled his eyes helplessly.
Soon enough Vinda requested his attention again by snapping her fingers at him and as he focused on her, he simply hoped that this was not going to become a habit.

The music started and it was simple to put his hand on her waist while the other squeezed her hand. Their first steps were fluid and he mused that while he was the one driving here, most of the time it was Vinda who was waiting for him to catch up with her.
He smiled down at her; someday he would have the right words for her. She would just have to wait a little bit more for them.

 

*
“What are you doing here?” Henry inquired; his voice and entire being popping from seemly nowhere. Ariana could swore that she had been alone just a moment prior; she had looked. Yet, Henry was now gazing down at her with a quizzical expression. “Did you lose yourself?” he wondered with a ready smile, “It’s easy to find the ball; it’s where everyone is heading.” He explained as he pointed to where most of the chatter and music where coming from.

Ariana slid her eyes toward it, more because she was following his movement than because she truly wondered where the ballroom was. She very well knew where it was; in fact she heard and heard about it for a whole month in every language imaginable. In French – the Beauxbâtons’ girls had discussed the event at large in every common area she happened to linger into – in English; Aberforth had some few chosen words for it – in Russian; she listened to some flashy Durmstrang’s boys declare their ‘intentions’ to her comrades – and even in Latin. So in all honesty, she knew far more than she ever wished to about this ball.
Now, the fact that she was sitting on one of the cold steps of a giant staircase had little to do with not knowing where she was supposed to go. No, she was huddled here for another reason entirely. But, and she pursed her lips, she couldn’t possibly say this aloud right? This would sound completely pathetic and it was one thing to know that it was, and another to admit it. So she hesitated, her fingers brushing over her folded knees nervously.

She rearranged her clothe - she had gone with a long pastel grey dress because Vinda had assured her that she could ‘pull it off’ - smoothing it again; she didn’t want it to wrinkle. Then she told herself that she was being silly and that it was nothing really. “I came here because it’s more peaceful.” She tried; her voice coming out uneasy. Why was this so hard to lie? She mused in a pout.

As expected, he didn’t buy it. “It’s a party; it’s supposed to be loud.” Henry’s eyes turned far too knowing. “Why are you really hiding there? Does your date ditch you?” He sounded incredulous.

“No, no.” she quickly assured. “I, hum.” she paused, crossing and uncrossing her fingers in a nervous manner. She let out of breath; there was no way out of it. “I don’t have a date.” She confessed in a whisper.

A giggling group passed them by just as she said this, and in this instant, she truly wished that she could disappear. Down, and way past the marble floor if possible. Perhaps, she could find her way to the catacombs again.

“What?” Henry asked, angling his body closer to hers. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you with the noise.” He apologized.

She let out a regretful sigh and hid her face into her hands; she didn’t want to see this. “I don’t have a date.” She repeated, just an octave above, unwilling to go any louder than this. It was humiliating enough, she thought.

“Really?” She heard his surprise; it seemed honest and real and somehow the fact that he was truly taken aback by it was a nice feeling. It was way better than if he thought it was a given.

She nodded, still hidden away by her palms. She hoped that her embarrassment was less visible like this.

“But…” he trailed. “Ah, I see.” he snorted, “Your brother.”

“You see what?” she asked; “And which one?” She mumbled between her hands.

“The one with overprotective tendencies.” Henry surmised in a hum. “I bet he had something to do with your lack of dates.” she could hear his smile in his words. “Alright, first thing first: stop hiding; it’s weird.” he was guiding her hands away from her face before he even finished his sentence. She blinked up at him. “Second: who said ones needed a date to enjoy themselves?” he asked her, “I have no one either and look;” he put one of his hand on his hip, while the other blew his fringe away from his forehead with the tip of his wand. The stick was startling white against the dark raven of his hair. “I’m having a wonderful time.” he declared. “I’ve already spiked most of the professors’ drinks with elf wine and the night is still young.” He proudly announced his exploit.

“It’s not right to spike people’s drink.” She scolded him.

“What is right and what is wrong?” he recited, “Who truly knows?”

“There’re some things that are actually pretty much universally recognized as wrong and right.” She pointed.

“Now you are just trying to make me feel as miserable as you.” he told her as he feigned hurt. He perked up soon again. “Listen, we could discuss the merit of doing right versus wrong, or,” and he stressed the word; “You could come with me and we’ll have fun.”

“Fun doing what?” She asked, eyeing him uncertainly.

He grinned at the interest he could surely hear in her voice. “Whatever you want.” he shrugged. “We could sneak into the Hogwarts’ boat, stroll outside or dance with all the others if you wish.”

She bowed down her head, her eyes taking into the shiny floor. She felt self-conscious suddenly. “You don’t have to force yourself. I mean,” she paused trying to phrase it well. “You don’t have to accompany me out of pity. I would rather you do not.”

“It’s not out of pity.” he assured her softly. He sat next to her, the two of them now sharing the same cold marble step on the stair. It was a bit funny, it was a bit ridiculous. He let out a breath. “Do you remember the ball that you attended last year? At the Landows?” He prompted.

She blinked at him, taken aback by his non-sequitur inquiry. “Yes.” she breathed in surprise, “Were you there too?” She asked him in kind. She didn’t recall seeing him, but then, there had been a lot of people present that day.

“Yes, and before you say; I know you hadn't noticed me.” he smiled. “No one did. I was…” he tilted his head. “I was trying out a gift my grandfather gave me. My birthday is near the new year.” He confided.

“What was it?” she wondered. “The gift you’ve tried?”

“Something magical.” he confessed to her as if it was some sort of grand secret. “Now tell me: what would you do if no one could see you?”

She tilted her head. “You’re talking about invisibility.” she brushed her cheek with one of her hands in thoughts. “So you know the ‘trick’ too?” she tested the words out, recalling how Gellert had called it. “Gellert showed me this last time already.” She told him.

Henry looked physically hurt. “He totally took it from me, don’t trust anything else!” he exclaimed. “Honestly, he’s ruining my effect.” he mumbled, “Russian cheater.” He cursed.

“Wait.” she raised one of her hands as an idea crossed her mind, “You said you were at the Landow and that you spiked the professors’ drinks just now. Were you the one who put alcohol in every drinks too last year?” She demanded. Most people had ended-up with a severe hangover and very little memory of their night.

Henry groaned. “Seriously, how could you think of this when I’m offering you a night of fun?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It was you, wasn’t it.”

He slumped against the march. “Yes, yes.” He admitted. His defeated behavior didn’t last a minute before his eyes lighted up again in mischief. “You really do not want me to do ‘wrong’ stuffs, right?”

“Right.” She drawled slowly, sensing a trap.

Sure enough, he grinned. “But I do not know right from wrong, so if you want to be sure that nothing happen; I suppose that you have no others choices than to come with me.” he surmised. Somehow he managed to sound perfectly logical. “For the well-being of everyone, of course. I don’t want you to think that I want you to enjoy this party.” He quickly amended as he beamed at her.

She felt her resolve to hide into the darkest corner of the castle wavered more and more as he continued to stare at her. His eyes were really golden. They were very entrancing and – he tore his look away and broke eye-contact with her abruptly. She blinked, her eyelids fluttering rapidly. She felt a bit disoriented suddenly. What were they talking about already? Ah right, morals and Henry’s lack of it.
It was a gentle offer he was making for her, she thought, phrasing it to make her feel needed instead of turning it as if she was some sort of obligation he had to take care of.
It was a nice change. She smiled, keeping it small, she didn’t want him to feel too satisfied with himself (he still spiked people’s drinks for fun).

“Okay.” he swirled his head toward her, surprise written all over his features. She wondered why. She was, after all, moping on a stair; it couldn’t be so shocking that she wanted an out. “Lead the way.”

Notes:

Me: I am not going to write another ball.
Also me: But. Masked ball 🙄.
Haha, I hope you do not find it too repetitive. What can I say, I love balls *sigh dreamily*

Next chap will have Grindeldore written all over it ;). Thank you for reading :D

Chapter 23

Notes:

There’s lot of ref to the Vision Gellert had in chapter 18, so you may need to re-read it before reading this one (I know, it’s been a long time!)

“Are you having fun?” Minerva asked him playfully when she noticed his smile.

“Absolutely.” He replied around a grin. Watching Aberforth tripping all over his feelings was a memory he would surely cherish for a long time. Even from there, he looked terribly dumbstruck in front of Vinda.

Yet no one but him seemed to notice his brother’s emotional embarrassment; the people around them seemed far too engrossed into their own dance to care about anything else. Chatters and laughter managed to reach them every now and then, adding foreign notes into the tunes played inside the ballroom. But the violins – with their high pitch – took charge of drowning the sounds again, while the dancers continued to waltz, unperturbed.

Minerva huffed as a smile curled on her painted lips. “Do you have another date planned after this?” She teased him.

He let out a laugh at her mischievous question. “Perhaps.” He admitted in a smile.

Gellert and him did have something planned. They had agreed to meet after, and Albus had high hopes for tonight. It had been a while since they both had a time for themselves without worrying about something else. The last weeks had been so full of things; Gellert clearly had something weighing on his mind and Albus had chased after others things as well.

Her good humor at him last for a while; but as they turned together and as her eyes went briefly past his shoulder, her expression suddenly became pitched. “He is eyeing us.” she whispered. Albus frowned slightly before making them twirl. “The man from the MIB.” she said. “Lovanoff.” She then clarified.

Albus made her twirl again, effectively exchanging position with her. Her long dress swooped along, the soft and luminous yellow of it brushing against his velvet attire. There was a golden pattern swirling and twisting onto his dark red coat and pants, a fantasy that had caught his interest and which served as a reminder for her lovely grown. He had then added a complicated tie that hidden the white shirt he had under. He had tried his best for this to be as sunny as her dress, and was rather satisfied with the result. They made a good pair, he thought pleased with himself.
But, as they swayed, he noted that Minerva was right. Pieter Lovanoff was effectively - if discreetly – glancing at them. His stare evaded his as soon as he saw that he had caught their attention; but it was a little too late for that.
Lovanoff then made his way out of the ballroom, and Albus felt the beginning of a frown appearing on his face.

“What are you thinking of?” Minerva demanded, looking at him closely. “You’re making an expression that I’m not sure I like.” She confessed.

“Something is brewing.” he replied to her, his suspicions on Lovanoff going off the chart. “I don’t trust him at all.” He told her truthfully.

“Just ignore him.” she advised. He twirled her once more, following the notes of the music playing only absently. “We’ll still have time later to deal with him if he’s really bad news.”

Albus only hummed in answer.

 

*
Albus later left Minerva as they had agreed on – she knew that he had a date planned and he knew that she didn’t wish to spend too much of her time on the dance floor.
But instead of going toward his and Gellert’s point of rendez-vous, Albus lingered. He passed many giggling groups and the imposing marble stairs, slowly making his way inside another corridor, thinking that he was inevitably going to be late at their date and cursing his curious nature. But even with Gellert waiting for him somewhere near, there were some things that he just couldn’t ignore and unfortunately Lovanoff was currently one of them.
So he looked around carefully as he went, searching for the recognizable black robes of the members of the Magical’s Investigation Bureau.
He finally spotted them at the far end of a balcony. He let out a long breath to steady himself before coming to stop near him. Pieter Lovanoff seemed to be in a contemplative mood as he was staring outside with his elbows set on the sculpted railing. Yet despite his pensive demeanor, Lovanoff didn’t startle at his sudden presence. It only made Albus warier of him.
Outside, the snow hid the stony alley that led to the castle like a frozen white cover and the moon illuminated it lazily. Tonight, there was a stillness into the air like the calm before a storm.

“I saw you looking at us earlier.” Albus said in lieu of greeting, deciding to be direct for once. “Were you, by chance, searching for me?” He wondered in a smile.

“One could say that.” Lovanoff replied evenly. He righted his posture and pushed himself straighter with the help of his elbows before he looked at him. “You’re someone intelligent, that’s why I’m sure you will understand,” he started, gazing at him in consideration. “You need to stop digging around; it will only bring you troubles.”

Albus didn’t ask him how he knew that he had been asking around, he didn’t need to. Igor Karkaroff was a somewhat weak point as long as one could appeal to his greedy side. Albus knew this and he wasn’t surprised that he was not the only one to exploit it. He let out a little huff, the cold chilling his breath and turning it into little white puff. “Are troubles not already here?” He demanded with some amusement.

Lovanoff smiled back at him, not unkindly but not pleasantly either. There was an edge there that couldn’t be called friendly. “Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” He said in a half-shrug.

“It’s funny that you’re bringing up warnings.” Albus peacefully told him. “I also wanted to bring those to your attention.”

“Really?” he asked in feigned surprise. “Tell me then.”

“I have to admit that I find fascinating the differences between the you that Gellert recalled and the you from now.”

“People change.” Lovanoff told him.

“You’re right, they do change.” he paused before diving in again. “Gellert may be clouded by your shared past, but I am not.” he told him, going straight to the point. “I’m quite a specialist in Transfiguration.” he said, thinking that it was a well-known fact here. “I mastered the discipline if I dare say so Mister Lovanoff.” he eyed him steadily. “Illusions never fooled me for long.”

“Don’t they?” Lovanoff retorted. “What are you accusing me of exactly?” He questioned as his eyes narrowed on him.

“I believe that you either know or are behind the fact that my sister’s name appeared from the cup of fire.” Albus said remembering Ariana’s lost face and huge eyes when her name had been shouted. It bothered him to think that someone could harm her so casually.

Lovanoff let out a surprised laugh at his accusations, taken aback either by his directness or his audacity. “This is truly fascinating,” he told him after he regained composure. “But if it was me; why would I do this?”

Albus wasn’t sure of his motives, but he wasn’t about to admit it to him. He could venture a guess or two after all. “Don’t you have something to settle with Gellert? You obviously hold a grudge of sort against him.” he said. Lovanoff froze momentary at that – just a second or two – but Albus was watching too closely to miss it. He felt a smug smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Got you, he thought. “Now the real question is: why would you use my sister for your revenge against Gellert?” he wondered out loud. “This – I can admit – I have yet to understand.”

Lovanoff shook his head as he chuckled without humor. “What a lovely talk we had, Albus.” he said as he started to take his leave. “When you got it, don’t hesitate to tell me.” he said in a smile. “I’m all ears when it comes to your suggestions.”

 

*
“Where were you?” Gellert said as soon as Albus finally appeared. Gellert had been waiting for him for the last past hour. He had begun to think that he had lost himself on his way to the catacomb. He even searched around to see if he was there.

“I was taking a breath outside.” Albus said, and now that he was coming closer Gellert could spot his cheeks reddened by the cold. Albus stopped only when he was within arm reach and Gellert offered him his hand on habits. Albus looked at it but failed to take it. “Gellert.” He said.

“What?” He wondered.

“There some things I need to tell you.”

 

*
“So basically you have been snooping around all along, ignoring others warnings to do so, and not informing me at all.” Gellert listed as he paced the old catacomb. The ghosts still lurking around there mustn’t have so much distraction since the foundation of the Institute, he thought as he fumed.

“I am informing you.” Albus countered calmly. This projection of too-put-together-to-be-bothered only annoyed Gellert even more.

“Because you’re in an impasse.” he said in a snap. The nerve of Albus sometimes! “I can’t believe you’ve gone and asked Igor Karkaroff for help of all people!” He exclaimed in outrage and began to pace faster.

Albus let out a long breath as if Gellert was the one who was unreasonable. “I would have asked you, but you were so against anyone even suspecting Lovanoff to begin with –”

“How is it that we are always going back to him?” Gellert harshly cut as he came to an abrupt stop.

Albus’ lips thinned. “How is it that you cannot see how suspicious he is?” he countered. “Tell me, do you still think he is not part of this after all I told you? Can you still defend him?”

Gellert interrupted him again. “I never had any bad blood with Lovanoff.” he told him truthfully, “So your whole argument –”

It was Albus’ turn to cut him off. “What about Alexei Dolohov?”

Gellert made a face, not a nice one he suspected. “It’s Igor who told you that name, right?” he was going to make Igor regret it, but that was for later. “Even if I had a bad history with him,” and Gods knew they did, “Why target your sister?”

“Lovanoff barely try to deny any of my accusations.” Albus hummed, sounding contemplative. Then his eyes snap up to him. “What exactly is your ‘history’ with Dolohov?” He asked in a tone that meant that he wouldn’t accept anything else but the most complete and detailed answer possible.

Gellert let out a defeated sigh. This was not how he had pictured their night to go. “I will show you.” he capitulated. “But not here.”

 

*
They agreed to go into Gellert’s unused Auror’s bedroom – there was many going and passing inside the Gryffindor’s boat and they needed to concentrate without noisy interruptions. So far he had only come here to change, quick and furtive in the mornings or in the evenings. He never stayed the night, preferring to share Albus’ quarter. Now, he settled himself on one side of the bed, letting himself lay on the mattress and testing how firm it was for the first time.
Albus on the other side did the same, and Gellert turned on his side and to him so that they could face each other – this was ironically more like Gellert had envisioned their night going – except that his wishful thinking hadn’t involved Legilimency.
Gellert lowered his shields, one by one, trying to let himself relax: this was just him and Albus and it wasn’t even the first time he opened his mind for him.

Albus looked at him with a question in his eyes and Gellert nodded at him. “I’m ready.” He said, taking Albus’ hands and putting them around his head and into his hair to prove his point. Then he faced Albus’ clear blue stare dead on.

He barely felt Albus’ magic flowing around and into him.
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(His memories of how it started were less hazy than he thought. It was disconcerting.)
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“Who is this?”
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(Such an innocent question but the Gellert in fifth year was an unpredictable and voluble being – his professors had silently (and for some not so silently) lamented that fact, wondering if he was going to be a future magical genius or the next crazy and illumined wizard of their times.)
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“Who is this?” Gellert lazily asked Pieter.

He pointed at one of the boys at the table next to theirs. He seemed to be quite something, if Gellert took in the way all the others students were carefully behaving around him.
Gellert had been watching him for five minutes and his peers barely ate in his presence, too busy shooting side-glance toward the boy when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. It was quite distracting to see and quite refreshing, given that he was surrounded by the poorest table manners imaginable. Most of the boys his year seemed to have forgotten that they needed to close their mouths when they chew.
His mother would have had a stroke were she here. Their mothers would for sure faint at all those lacks of decency. He wrinkled his nose, silently judging them – that was what one had to endure when being part of an all-boys school, he guessed with a long sigh.
Gellert returned his focus to study of the boy’s profile; disinterested in the way his raven hair were curling slightly on his neck or on how milky his skin was, but bored enough to scrutinize it for the time being.

“Who is who?” Pieter’s head rose from his heavy book. He followed Gellert’s line of sight. “Oh, him.” he said in a dispassionate voice. “It’s Alexei Dolohov. One year above us, everyone says that he’s skilled but it could only be wishful thinking.” He quickly resumed, clearly eager to go back to his studies.

“What do you mean?” Gellert pressed in a lazy hum.

“Well, you know.” Gellert sent him a telling look and it was Pieter’s turn to sigh. Gellert’s lack of knowledge on the pure-blood surrounding them seemed to always baffle him. It was tiring him even, he once said, finding it bothersome. For his part, Gellert saw no need to learn strangers’ genealogical trees for naught. He had others interest and Pieter to fill in the blank if he truly needed it. “The Dolohov are very famous. Very influential.” he explained. “Rumor has it that one of their ancestors was a necromancer. Probably fake but who knows.” he shrugged; “It stuck to their names all the same.”

“A necromancer.” Gellert hummed, thoughtfully.

He played with his wand, slowly rolling with it between his fingers as he pondered on it. A necromancer was… something interesting, he decided. It was, by definition, someone close to Death, he mused in a smile. It was also, someone who could know a lot of thing about it.
And wasn’t Gellert after some of Death’s possession itself? It was all very intriguing, he thought. Feeling his mood perking up, he stood from his chair.

“What did you say his name was?” He asked again as he righted his uniform just so. Gellert had good looks and saw no reasons to not use it to his advantage.

“Alexei Dolohov.” Pieter repeated, while staring up at Gellert warily. “You’re not going to go talk to him are you?”

He didn’t reply, his attention caught elsewhere.
Alexei Dolohov, his mind hushed in quiet wonder.
A.D.
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(Gellert still recalled this peculiar Vision; the one with the tomb and the Deathly Hallows symbol engraved onto it, followed by these initials: A.D. If he concentrated, he could still feel the cold of the snow against his fingers, along the hard lines traced onto the stone.)
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Gellert grinned, thinking that with this kind of background and those initials, it could only mean one thing: this Alexei Dolohov must have information about the Deathly Hallows. And didn’t he promise himself that he would find this A.D. person and make them spill all the things they knew? It had truly just been a matter of time before he met them.
He began to make his way to Dolohov’s table.

“Hey!” Pieter exclaimed at him in dismay, “I’m serious about the Dolohov!” he said in a hurry, “They’re not to be messed with.” He warned.

“Who said I wanted to mess with him?” He retorted in a winning smile before leaving him.

He had no interest to be on his wrong side, if anything he wanted to be on his right one, so Dolohov could tell him whatever he could need.
No, Gellert didn’t want to mess with Dolohov. He wanted to use him, which was quite different, he was sure.

He made his way smoothly to his table. The closer he came to it, the more the people seated around Dolohov hushed. He ignored it too, choosing instead to close the gap between them. Dolohov had also clearly noticed him approaching but seemed more curious than anything else. To be truthful, Gellert had a reputation too in the Institute, and he wondered if the other boy had ever heard of it.

He leant down until he was at Dolohov’s eyes level, offering his hand for him to shake. He smiled invitingly, “Gellert Grindelwald,” he presented himself with confidence; “I’ve heard only good things about you and I admit that I was intrigued.”

“Grindelwald, huh?” Dolohov said. He raised his eyes to him and Gellert couldn’t shake the feeling that they were several shades of blue too deep. He took his hand in his and they shook. “Well, I hope you’re not too deceived.”

“Believe me, I’m not.” he assured him. He smiled wider, “And call me Gellert, please.”
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(It was – clearly – not the end)
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After that they started to seek each other out. Alexei Dolohov was smart – not like Gellert was of course but then no one was – and he was proving himself useful by landing him forbidden books from his famous family library.
The ones on blood magic especially fascinated Gellert, there were so many possibilities there, so much to explore… But because the Ministry of Magic had deemed it illegal, most manuscripts that had been written on the subject had either been destroyed or confiscated.
The Ministry was so foolish.
When Gellert was not reading those, he was looking at new publications in wizards’ magazine. Today, the latest issue of ‘Transfiguration Today’ had him entranced. He kept on reading it in between classes and in the corridors much to everyone exasperation – Gellert did expect people to clear a path for him whether he was reading or not. It created a few incidents so far, with people bumping into him carelessly before they babbled a fast apology when faced to his glare.
Those minor things were not enough to make him stop doing it however.

This made Alexei eyed him curiously when he saw him during lunch. “You seem truly taken by that article.” he noted carefully. “I thought you were only interested by the fairytale of the Deathly Hallows.”

“The Deathly Hallows is not a fairytale.” He corrected absently.

“Ah, yes.” Alexei said. He never rolled his eyes but Gellert could hear the disbelief all the same. “And this is why you’re going to find them.”

“Of course.” he looked up at him, abandoning his journal for a brief instant. “Why so skeptical? Aren’t you going to help me find them?” Gellert wondered in a playful smirk. There could be only one master of Death, but Gellert had to appeal to Alexei’s interest – and most importantly his ego – which was how he had ended up with this flimsy promise. Now, Alexei better said yes and be agreeable about it, he thought, for Gellert had only started talking to him for this after all.

“Sure, but one of us must be reasonable.” he told him. “We can’t all forget everything each time something catch our eyes.” He said politely glancing at the paper he got in his hands.

Gellert let Alexei’s opinion flew him by and, instead, decided that he needed no more encouragement to ramble about it. “The way the author views Transfiguration and uses it is really interesting.” he explained to him eagerly. “I wouldn’t have thought of it. I always thought Transfiguration was a practical tool; I’ve never considered using it in duels.” He admitted, thoughtful.

“Who wrote it?” Alexei wondered.

Gellert’s eyes travelled to the bottom of the page he had been devouring and wrinkling beyond repair in the process. “A.D.” He enunciated and frowned immediately. The name picked at something in his mind but what, he wasn’t sure. Wait –

Alexei leaned a bit into his personal space, breaking his musing as he did. He seemed to be scanning the article quickly. “They write like an old scholar.” he told him. “I used to have a tutor that was just the same.” he huffed. “Like him, they must be living like a recluse, in a house in the middle of nowhere.” He said, waving the matter away.

Vexed silence was Gellert’s only answer to this but he allowed the critique; if only because his Vision made him believe that Alexei could drive him straight to the Hallows. For them, he could do everything. He could be patient.
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(Right until he was not anymore.)
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He wasn’t sure what made him finally snap up at Alexei. His general attitude, his words, Gods even his voice had ended to grate at his nerve.
But he thought that it must be his comments, dropped absently here and there to remind everyone that he was better than the rest – as if he was better than Gellert to begin with.
Honestly, it must have been a mix of all of this.
It ended in a screaming match between them and Gellert – having more than enough – had finally told him his piece of mind.

“What, so you think you’re great?” Gellert had taunted. “Powerful?” he continued in a vicious smile. “Well, you’re not. And when I get the Hallows, you will be so far behind me I wouldn’t even be able to see you.”

“You!” Alexei exclaimed at his impudence. He started to raise his wand, a sharp stick with dark carvings swirling into the wood – it had been a minor miracle than none of them had tried to curse the other until now. Gellert pointed his at him too in retaliation. “You said that we’ll get the Hallows together!”

“I lied, obviously.” Gellert laughed, feeling cruel and justified to be. “You’re so stupid.” he stated. “There’s only one master of Death.” he reminded him. “And it won’t be you.” He said it with a grave finality, like the way his grandmother announced her faked predictions to her trusting Muggles.

He expected the curses to start flying then, but to his surprise, Alexei only seethed. “You will pay for this Grindelwald.” he promised him darkly. “Don’t think I will let you get away with fooling me.”

“And what are you going to do?” Gellert taunted, twirling his wand between his fingers in a silent threat. “Even now, I am better than you, and you know it.” He said thinking that for all his words he still wasn’t going after him. At his place, Gellert would have crushed anyone daring to talk to him like this. But Alexei wasn’t. He smirked.

“I’m going to destroy you.” Dolohov continued mindless of how unimpressed or uncaring Gellert was of him now. “And I won’t stop until your demise is complete.” He declared before leaving, the coat of his uniform flying after him as he angrily marched out.

“Dramatic fool.” Gellert tsk’ed him with a curl of his lips before he left too.
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(Of course, he knew that it was Alexei who reported his little experimentations to the Headmaster. No one else would have had the nerves. He almost respected that.)
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“You’ve got yourself expelled.” Gellert’s mother had stated slowly, her tone icy.
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(If he had thought that his meeting with the Durmstrang’s Headmaster had been tense, he didn’t know how this one could be called.)
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“You’ve got yourself expelled.” Gellert’s mother had stated slowly, her tone icy. She was standing straight and tall in front of the foyer and while she was merely spelling what had happened, she still managed to sound terribly angry. She didn’t wait for his side of the story or for the plausible excuse he could find for her. Instead, she moved fluidly into their huge living, her long dress sweeping behind her as she started to pace. She often did this when she was trying to resolve a problem quickly. He tended to often be the problem, if he was honest. The grandfather’s clock standing in the entry hall let out a sound, indicating that it was twelve o’clock. Then the silence continued to stretch. Outside some birds were flying, one of them even dared to chirp, but it didn’t manage to disturb the quiet spell the room was under. “I could find you a post in the Ministry.” she suddenly announced. “Our family has connections; the fact that you didn’t finish school wouldn’t be a trouble then.”

Gellert – who so far had been sitting in silence, waiting for the storm to pass – finally spoke up. “I don’t want to work for the Ministry.” He told her with a light scowl.

“Do you have the choice?” she snapped, her pacing coming to a stop. “What else do you want to do?” She asked him, exasperated at his very existence it seemed.

“I want to find the Hallows.”
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(To say that she didn’t like his reply would be an understatement. She sent him to his grandmother. His grandmother sent him to his aunt. Such was his family.)
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Retreating into his grandmother’s flat, only to be thrown into his Tante’s care had made him moody. When he used the portkey his grandmother had given him, what greeted him in England had been the busy streets of Diagon Alley and its suffocating summer’s heat. Then he had Apparated into Godric’s Hollow; regretting all his life choices as he set foot into this – and Gellert almost shuddered – farmer’s land.
Weirdly enough it had been the sight of the graveyard that had him perking up.
A medium iron gate marked its entry. Into the late afternoon, the black iron seemed to be trying to absorb the weakening sunshine. Encircled by a pointy and threatening fence (and truly what was the use of it? Were they afraid of someone breaking in or that someone would break out?) were sad looking tombs and proud stones built in honor of some regretted people – as if a good-looking marble could make up for the loss.
It was at first both out of curiosity and to delay his visit to his Tante that he went inside. He noted that one of the iron’s gates was pushed open and it only fuelled him further into going. Gellert eyed each tomb before bypassing it, disinterested in the names written onto them. Then his eyes fell on a stone laid onto the ground – his stare attracted by it without knowing why. He felt his feet moving, and he came closer – as if transported – ‘till he bended over it.
It came to him then like one recalled a half-forgotten dream, this Vision he had of a graveyard, the snow that had been everywhere in it when the sun was still warming his back in reality, the white petal of roses. A.D. and the beginning of an idea which only brought him troubles in the name of Alexei Dolohov.
And which also brought him here, he thought.
He was almost hesitant when he extended his hand to push away the vegetation that had gathered on the tomb.
But the name that greeted him was worth everything: his expulsion from Durmstrang, the cold fury of his mother and the loss of his inherence.

A bright smile came to his face. “Ignotus Peverell.” he whispered reverently, “I’ve been searching for you for a long time.” He told the unmoving stone.

Movement in his periphery had him realize that he wasn’t as alone as he believed. He turned his head in time to catch a figure going out with their loose auburn’s hair shining like ambers into the sun. Gellert sure felt burnt by the first sight of them.
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(Gellert was careful to end his sharing there; least his latest Vision of snow and scream slip by without his notice and show Albus exactly what Gellert hadn’t wanted him to see.)
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Gellert opened his eyes slowly, letting the memories fade away and trying to reorient himself into the present. The Triwizard Tournament, Ariana’s name being picked up, infuriating Igor Karkaroff, annoying Pieter Lovanoff, and Albus trying to make sense of all of this by poking his nose into everyone’s business. Their night of fun ruined but the two of them laid into the bed of his Auror’s room.

In front of him Albus was blinking his eyes too, looking disoriented for a moment. He pushed himself up with his elbows before he focused on him. “You told him the two of you would find the Hallows together.” Was the first thing he said. He sounded rather accusing.

“I lied to him.” he corrected as he straightened up too. His head was spinning a little but apart from that he felt alright. “As you saw.”

Albus’ next question was almost fired given how fast it came out. “Were you lying to me too?”

“No.” then he amended. “A little at first, perhaps.” he said guiltily. He casted his eyes down, looking at the cover of the bed. He picked at it with his fingers. “I just met you and you were someone that could keep up with me – finally – and I have to admit that it thrilled me.” he recalled the rush he felt each time Albus and him discussed their magical theories. It had been amazing, and also a very new feeling. “Also you were eager to help me with the search of the Hallows and I…” he paused before forcing himself to just say it. “… saw an opportunity.”

“To use me.” Albus completed, his lips thinning.

“Yes.” Albus’ eyes flashed at that and Gellert wondered if he was seconds away from being hexed. “But then I spent all my days with you and I just –” he trailed. “I just liked you, Liebling.” he resumed. “I liked your mind and your magic first but I liked you for you soon after.”

“That’s reassuring.” Albus drawled. He took a deep breath before he continued, “And did this ‘liking’ happen before or after our blood pact?” He inquired, staring at him in a suspicious manner.

“Before.” he replied. “Who do you take me for?” He asked softly as he came close enough to Albus to tug at his elaborate coat.

Albus folded his hands into his lap. He was still sitting on the bed – he was still in the room – and that meant that somehow Gellert hadn’t screwed up everything. “You were truly ready to use him though.” He simply said as he sent him a furtive look.

Gellert didn’t deny it. “He was a mean to reach the Hallows faster for me.” he explained quietly. “And nothing else. I’ve had no feelings for him.”

The silence settled between them, not necessary tense but not peaceful either.

“I’m going to need some time to take all of this.” Albus finally said.

“I know.” he let out a breath. “I will wait for you in the meantime.”

Notes:

Firstly: I’m not dead lol. I’m sorry for the radio silence, real life had been tiring.
Secondly: THANK you for still sticking around and a special kudos for anyone commenting. I love all of your comments and you got me to continue <3
Thirdly: I know this was not what you guys had in mind, but I have to make the story and the plot move forward. I hope you still liked it all the same ^^. Also I firmly believe that Grindeldore both experienced love at first sight – it’s just that while I imagine that it turned Albus into a nervous blushing mess (How Do Normal People Handle It??), Gellert just reset back to his default mode (because whatever is it that he is feeling??) and then had a Moment when he realized that he was a goner.
Next chap is going to be the second task – finally! :D

Chapter 24

Notes:

*drumming* The second task!

1901, January, Friday 11th

Albus was halfway to the Durmstrang’s Headmaster office when he spotted Gellert – resulting with him missing a step in the stairs he had been walking down and almost falling in the process – but Gellert, who was talking with Henry, mercifully didn’t witness any of this.

The second task had been announced to begin at 13pm sharp and with only half of an hour left, most had already retreated to where the spectators were to be seated. Minerva had left an hour ago already, checking and rechecking the golden coin she had to take with her and he imagined that Aberforth must have been doing the same. The rest of the students probably fled the castle early too, to get both a good place and a good view.

The first task had attracted many, the second was sure to gather even more now that everyone’s interest had been picked.

The only reason Albus was still here was that the Durmstrang’s Headmaster had unexpectedly asked to see him. He would have gone with Ariana otherwise – she had stopped to see if he was ready to leave earlier – if not for Danacov’ summon.
He had been so sure that Gellert was already there and not still here, he thought somewhat petulant. He was going to have to pass him by in order to resume his way. Albus would rather not, but since he couldn’t cancel Danacov – not with a plausible excuse anyway – it would have to do.
For a wild second, Albus entertained the idea of explaining to the stoic Durmstrang’s Headmaster that he couldn’t come to this meeting, that he was terribly sorry, but ‘see, I saw my somewhat husband and we are sort of not talking to each other. Please understand; it’s very new I’m not used to the awkward yet.’
He imagined Danacov’s disgruntled face at this, and he had to suppress a smile.

Henry noticed him first. He perked up and waved at him exuberantly. Albus waved back a bit shyly – Gellert’s eyes were on him now.
He continued to approach them and willed himself to project a calm exterior, yet even he had to admit – it was awkward. But at the same time, Albus had missed even just looking at Gellert, so it felt sort of nice to have him here. He seemed tired though, and Albus wondered worriedly if it was his fault somehow.

“What are you still doing here?” Henry asked him. “Don’t tell me Danacov want to talk to you too?” He inquired.

“He also called for you?” Albus tilted his head on the side even as he couldn’t help but let the surprise bled in his tone. This was strange. Why would the Headmaster ask for them both?

Gellert frowned slightly as if he was wondering the exact same thing.

“That’s weird.” Henry voiced. “I just thought he was going to yell at me for one of the pranks I did, but…” he trailed, “Now I’m not so sure. He’s a bit scary.” he stated before sighing. “Do I really have to go?” He directed his question to Gellert.

“Yes.” he replied. “He’s not Dippet.” Gellert added, and Albus realized that he had also missed the cadence of his voice. He internally sighed; he really was so taken by him, it was ridiculous. “He’s not going to talk to you for hours. It should be quick.”

Henry hummed. Then he stole a glance between the two of them, visibly noted their discomfort and, for once in his life, didn’t say a thing. Albus was more grateful for this than he should be.

“We should go.” Albus reminded them both.

“Sure.” Henry acquiesced.

The two of them started to leave then only for Gellert to stop him in his track as he caught his forearm.

“I…” Gellert started uncertainly. Albus was not used to him being this unsure. “About what happened –”

“I will see you after.” Albus cut him off because while he wasn’t ready to speak about it right now; he also wanted Gellert to know that it would be okay, that they would be fine by the end of it. “Alright?” He smiled at him.

Gellert tentatively smiled back. He gradually let go of his forearm. “Alright.”

 

*
Aberforth fidgeted.

The fact that each champion was to be put at a precise place was expected. It didn’t even shock him that each placement depended on the score they had managed to make during the first task. (Those games were so lame; at this point Aberforth wasn’t surprised to hear that his score had been judged appalling.)
Yet, even though he tried to contemplate this as little as possible; he still had entertained some expectations about the next task.
He had imagined for one, something flashy and grand, like an advertising that got out of hand. He had not, however, imagined that he would have to let someone guide him into the heart of the Institute before going down, down and down again, inside the tunnels and foundations of it. He also hadn’t suspected that once disposed there (where? Abe wasn’t sure) he would be told to stay put until he was given the signal to move. Then that someone had all but fled, leaving Aberforth the time to contemplate his life’s choices (poor, clearly) and the arcs made of stones supporting the whole edifice.

All this haste, he huffed, and for what? For waiting without moving while he gazed around and tried – without much success – to ignore the very on-the-nose door obviously waiting for him. (He had been left at the feet of it, and if they thought themselves subtle, they truly weren’t. But then, he surmised, they didn’t need to be. Abe was stuck doing this anyway so why waste time with tact?)

He crossed his arms over his chest in tired irritation.

Vinda barely had the time to finish adjusting his gear when that someone had come to take him away, he thought moodily. She had looked annoyed by it too – her eyes had flashed and she had smiled at whoever it had been dangerously wide. If Aberforth had been on the receiving end of this; he would have been worried for his well-being. (As he was not, he had to admit that he didn’t really care – a mistake, he was sure for if he started to encourage her by not even trying to protest, Vinda would take it for acceptance and then the world would be in grave danger.)

He was beginning to impatiently tap his feet against the ground when a voice – coming out of nowhere – told him in a very pronounced Russian’s accent; “Your turn to go.”

Abe jumped in surprise, turning his head around so he could see where the person speaking to him was, before his eyes settled on the spectral figure standing (floating?) behind him. The ghost looked like what Abe imagined a tsar to be; with a long beard and a well-coiffed mustache curling excessively at the ends. He also wore the kind of tunic he had once seen in an illustration’s book, except for the fatal gash cutting his jugular and neck on the horizontal that was. He might have been lucky that the ghost hadn’t greeted him by taking his head off like Nearly Headless Nick liked to do with the first year. “Did you absolutely have to appear behind me?” He evenly asked instead, trying not to stare at the still bleeding wound of his neck.

The ghost smiled like the majority of mostly-dead-bordering-on-undead spirits did: like a completely mad and creepy entity. If this was a mean for him to take the aforementioned door faster; it was working wonders.
Abe went toward it like a man hoping for salvation, but it was still cautiously that he turned the handle. It opened without much fuss, and Abe peeked at the other side curiously. He couldn’t see much, nobody had bothered with the light. Moreover, the flames they had put up where he had been waiting weren’t enough to completely reach and illuminate the décor that was behind the door.
But it was enough for him to make out the form of a sinister stony tunnel looking gloomy as hell and going drastically down. It all but screamed ‘trap’ to him.
Aberforth would – really – rather not go down there.

“Still there?” the man – ghost asked in both bland disinterest and interrogation as if he was wondering why Aberforth was ruining his after-life day with stalling. “You’re losing time.” He added.

The guy had all eternity; Abe thought unkindly, couldn’t he wait for him to take a second or two for himself? “I’ll be going soon.” He replied politely because ghosts could be so easily vexed sometimes (Abe once told the Fat Lady that her hair was so-so (she had asked!) and she had felt so insulted that she had forbidden him the access of the Gryffindor’s rooms for two weeks. He had to hide behind Henry or any other classmate at hands before he caved and apologized to her).

The man said expectantly. “Well?”

Abe continued to regard the morose stairs and made a grimace. (When all of this was over, Aberforth was going to find someplace peaceful and quiet where no idiots could trespass and stay there for a while. He pictured it already: he would put a ‘do not disturb if you wish to live’ sign on his door before locking it, firmly, and then –)

“You’re taking too long!” The ghost suddenly reproached; exasperated it seemed by his prolonged inaction. He pushed him, except not exactly since he was an incorporeal specter, but he did something and it made Abe stumbled a little even as his feet came in contact with the first stones of the stairs.
It resulted with him tripping – the stones were suspiciously wet –before falling.

Aberforth screamed all the way down.

 

*
The advantage – when one painfully rolled down the stairs – was that it saved a lot of time. The inconvenient (non-negligible) was that one tended to be a disoriented bruised mess when one finally arrived at the end of these.

From an exterior perspective, it must have seemed like Aberforth got very rudely excused by a ghost before landing – a small mercy for his dignity – on his backside.
The ground he was resting on was cold and damp, wetting his clothes and making them stick to his back. Above him the cellar – for it was one with gray-dark stones going from the bottom to the ceiling of it – was crying clear water making the air around him all the more cold.
The silence reigning inside the place was rather impressive, he thought and oppressive both. Aberforth couldn’t hear a sound apart from the ‘plock-plock’ of each drop of waters.

He slowly forced himself up by leaning on his elbows. The door – that had so helpfully opened for him (sarcasm) – shut off quite aggressively. “I wouldn’t have gone back to it, anyway.” he muttered moodily. He fully stood up, but now most of the dim light coming from the stairs had been taken away as well, leaving the cellar in near darkness. “Lumos.” He casted before dusting the dust off his clothes in annoyance.

His light’ spell illuminated the ceiling enough for him to note the humid stony walls and the few centimeter of water running on the entire floor. Abe’s eyes flickered up where the water was pearling there before falling down like teardrops on the ground; endlessly wetting the ground.

He tentatively advanced, each of his steps disturbing the calm liquid surface and making ‘splosh’ sounds as he went. If he were to be discreet, it was going to be a very missed opportunity.
Aberforth couldn’t tell exactly how long he walked; only that at some point the path he was following was barred with an impressive brick wall. He stopped, contemplating this new development.

“So,” he said out loud because it both gave him countenance to hear his own voice – being all alone in this enclosed space was creepy – and it helped him think. “I either go back, tempting but I don’t think that was the purpose, or,” he lighted up the bricks’ surface with the tip of his wand before tentatively running one of his hands on it. Abe could feel the magic simmering under his palm. Maybe… “I pass through it. Like at the 9 ¾ station.” He hummed lowly.

He considered it, slowly weighing his options (few) for if he was to run head first into a wall, he would rather hope that the latter opened up for him. (He couldn’t begin to imagine the concussion his head would suffer from this kind of impact, only that it would hurt. A lot.)

He needed to trust himself on that one. “Merlin, that’s a terrific idea.” he breathed as he took some steps back and readied himself for a sprint. “I’m never doing it again.” He vowed before breaking into a quick run.

The relief he felt when the bricks let him pass was immense – his skull was safe! – but short lived for he nearly tripped again (he swore that he got a very good and full-proofed equilibrium normally) against some… stuff that was laying on the ground. Getting sick of all those doubtful surprise, he was quick to point his lighted wand down.
He let out a (manly and not high-pitched) yell when his eyes discover the body of his unconscious brother.

Abe hurried to him, checking his pulse with shaking hands. After he made sure that he was breathing – thanks Merlin for this – he patted his brother’s cheeks, giving gentle taps at first but since those received no replies he progressively became firmer until Albus’ eyes shot open. His gaze slowly but surely focused on him. “Where… are we…?” Albus asked, looking as lost as he ever did.

“Somewhere inside the foundation of the Durmstrang’s Institute.” Abe replied as he swept his wand around them so that his brother could see the whole thing.

Albus blinked at their surroundings. Once and slowly before he finally turned his stare at him. “And why are we here?” He reasonably questioned.

“I am here because of these stupid games.” Aberforth emphasized the ‘I’. “You, I don’t know how you ended-up here.” he frowned as he looked at Albus. “How do you ended-up here?” He interrogated him.

“I…” his brother started. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and tilted his head up as if the wet ceiling could hold any answers. “Danacov asked for me.” he seemed to recall. “I was on my way to his office with Henry…” his eyebrows knitted together. “Then I’m not sure.” he admitted. “I think someone cursed me. I remember feeling extremely exhausted.”

“This keeps getting better and better.” Aberforth scrunched his nose. “It’s like a whole conspiracy; everybody is guilty of something.” he mumbled, exasperated by this. This was why goats were superior; none of them would ever betray nor lie to you. He casted another look at his brother – almost wet from head to toe – and decided that he would rather leave than stay and figure out why they had such doomed luck. One of them had to be reasonable. “Come on, let’s get out of there.” He urged his brother to a more standing position by offering his free hand. Albus’ fingers were cold in his, he noted.

How long had he been left here exactly?

Albus went back to his feet steadily enough, so either he didn’t stay unconscious long or he was powerful enough to shake off the eventual dizziness. He absently dusted his clothes, and Aberforth wanted to tell him to not bother – most of his clothes were damp – but then his hands went to his belt and he froze entirely.

“What?” Abe snapped.

“My wand.” Albus breathed. He frantically checked his pockets first and then his waistcoat as if it could possibly hide behind one wrinkle. “She’s not here.”

“You lost it?” He was incredulous.

“Someone took it.” he marked a pause. “Again.” Albus frowned deeply, looking almost angered for once. On him it didn’t appear as heated as it did on his own face. He didn’t color in frustration and he didn’t seem to prepare himself for a good shouting. It looked calm instead; a mild sort of thing with hidden fangs carefully planning to pierce your skin when you last expected it.

Abe knew his brother. He wasn’t violent, far from it, but it didn’t mean that he was someone to be messed with. “You can still put Danacov’s curtains on fire if you feel like it.” He flatly proposed as he sent a side-glance at him.

 

*
They walked.
It was not like they had so much choice, there was only one… tunnel and the rest was barred to them with the walls. So they continued on this path for a while, and it took enough time that Abe started to think that this task was rather uneventful. You know; if one forgot that he just found his brother laid unconscious on the ground and all.
Of course, because he dared to form this silly thought, something happened.
It started small, just a little something Albus noticed at first.

“Don’t you think there’s more water than before?” He asked him, looking at his feet.

“Like the level is lifting up?” Abe wondered. He looked down and studied his shoes. They were in fact more immerged than before. “Are we going toward the lake that surrounds the Institute?” He questioned his brother.

“I don’t think so?” Albus titled his head to the side. “What would be the point?”

“The whole thing has no point.” Aberforth reminded flatly. “We better not end-up in the lake.”

Abe truly hoped it wouldn’t have anything to do with it because he really wasn’t a water-guy. He was actually very aware of this. The only times water and him had tried to go along was during the rare holydays at the sea; with the English’s land eaten by the waves and white cliffs rising high above green meadows. The beach back at home came along polished and round pebbles making it impossible for him to step easily on them, and was often accompanied with the laughers of his siblings going up when he would inevitably trip on the stones.
He hadn’t liked the sand that stayed stuck in his hair; the salty water only made his skin itch, and swimming wasn’t on his to-do list either.
(Water and him had a very simple deal; they kept their distance from one other and in exchange, Aberforth didn’t curse its very existence.)

Aberforth kept staring at the obscure liquid encircling his limbs. It was definitely going up, eating the fabric of his trousers centimeter by centimeter. “Tell me you didn’t know this was going to happen.” Aberforth asked, somewhat resigned, at Albus.

“What?” Albus demanded, turning his attention on him sharply.

“You were at the lake speaking with a Merpeople last time.” Aberforth pointed, not unreasonably he mused.

“Is this going to become my fault if we’re trapped here now?”

“Well, why not?” Aberforth crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. “Since you always seem to know what’s going to happen, why couldn’t it be your fault?”

Albus laughed without humor. “You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re unbelievable!” he fired back, a scowl beginning to form on his face. “You and your inability to speak up frankly!” Albus looked at him astonished and Abe thought; ‘ah, got you!’ He continued; “This is so laughable because you speak like, five languages,” he wasn’t even sure on the number but it was five at least, “And yet you’re unable to tell me even a little tiny thing,” he put almost two of his fingers together to show Albus how little the gap in between them was and thus how grand his failure was. “About you. You’re so cagey about everything –”

“Oh, I’m cagey?” Albus was apparently worked up enough that he snapped back. “What about last summer when you learnt a thing,” he stressed, “About me and immediately tried to Obliviate me for it?!” he countered, his voice rising in volume as he went on. “I’m not fighting with you now.” taking a deep breath, he said, “We need to stay calm because –” He started to instruct.

But this teacher’s voice of his only annoyed Aberforth more. Merlin, but did Albus have to apprehend every aspect of life as if it was a class he had to pass? “Here we go, the ‘know-it-all-voice’!” he made air quotes. “Let me tell you that I would not have tried to Obliviate you if you had spoken up to me!” he shouted in the enclosed space, the sound rebounding on the walls entrapping them. “You left me in the dark and then acted surprised when I didn’t take it well!” he wondered, sometimes, how Albus’ mind had envisioned him taking the news. But then, he guessed, Albus had probably just planned to not say anything at all to begin with. “It’s Gellert for Morgana’ sake! He’s awful and –”

“He’s not awful!” Albus defended hotly.

This was when a sinister ‘crack’ – promising nothing but disaster – rose in the air. The two of them stilled completely in primal fear at this; Abe was half-persuaded that if they didn’t move an inch more it would stop things from happening.
But reality didn’t work like this.

Rain started to fall on their heads. Little drops ricocheting on their bodies.

Albus let out a long exhale. He looked at Aberforth like it was, approximately, twenty percent his fault. “As I was trying to say,” he started, his words clipped. “We need to stay calm and concentrate on finding the exit because we are underground and the water is rising drastically.”

“Just say it plainly next time.” Aberforth retorted, hating how damp he was getting.

Albus seemed ready to hex him, with or without wand, but then Aberforth pressed him forward, all but pushing him to keep going on so that they could follow his own precious advice and get out of there.
They were slower than before, if only because they now had water reaching their knees and it made walking more difficult. But they finally found the end of the tunnel; it debouched to a round room of sort, a cellar inside a cellar, which was amazing and all, but Aberforth would like to see an exit door more.
Or he saw nothing of this sort.

“We have a problem.” He stated, his eyes going to scan the curved walls. There were no more tunnels going elsewhere and there were no doors going outside.

The rain above their heads was beginning to gain in intensity and soon it was not some drops of water anymore, it was a whole downpour falling on them.

“We sure do!” Albus had to shout to be heard above the oppressive sounds of water. “Let’s quickly check the walls!” he proposed, “Cast a Revelio on them! You take right, I take left!”

Aberforth nodded, before running to the right. His clothes were sticking to his skin. His coat was floating on the surface behind him, and at this point he was more or less waving off the water so he could go on. It was closer to swimming than walking.
Did Aberforth already tell that he hated water?
And did he ever say that he never learnt to swim to begin with?

“Why did it have to be water?!” he lamented as he started to cast the Revelio’s spell all around him. This wall was really a wall, so he moved on. The next was too. Moving on. He repeated the motion; almost reaching the middle of his side before something finally showed up. The water was coming to his chest, below his shoulders still, but not for long. “Here!” he called his brother loudly, watching with gratitude as a huge door finally materialized before him. He loved doors. “I've found something!” hearing his brother coming, he didn’t wait up before urgently turning the handle. It was obscured, already underwater, but Aberforth found it after a few tries. The door didn’t move. “It’s closed!” he accused the traitorous thing. Abe cursed. He pointed his wand at it. “Alohomora!” when the spell hit its target without any visible effect, Aberforth started to lose patience. “Bombarda Maxima!” he incanted in a shout. This one didn’t work either. This unwanted resistance made his temper flare up. He kicked at the reluctant wood, trying to force it open if that was what it took. “I don’t have the keys!” He hissed at it even as he shook the door more violently than before. His hands started to protest at the treatment even as the door continued to move on its hinges but refused to open. A stubborn thing. Aberforth shook it some more, mostly out of frustration this time.

Albus put a hand on his forearm, silently demanding that he stopped. Abe did, but only for his hands’ sake. “You cannot explode all of your problems.” Albus chided in a dissatisfied frown. He absently pushed the wet strands of his hair away from his face. The water was starting to lick at their shoulders.

Aberforth frowned back at him. “I’m sorry,” he said drily enough that he was sure his brother could guess just how not sorry he was. “But do you have another idea?”

His brother studied the door, looked at the hinges closely before he took Aberforth wrist and made him point his wand down; “Cast a Lumos, I see nothing.” he demanded. Aberforth obliged, this time without complaining even (the water had gone past his shoulders now). Albus gazed at the locking mechanism intensely. “Look,” he told him as he pointed a finger at the center of it, every movement making splashing noises. “There.” he showed him the horizontal and slim hole where the key should slid in. Aberforth didn’t think that any key could enter there. It reminded him of some Muggle’s automatons he once saw, where you needed to put a coin into it so it could activate. Wait, a coin –

“My galleon.” he said, hopeful now. He fished it from his pocket and once out, he put it in front of his face, so he could see the gold captured inside it still shining despite the poor light of his Lumos. “You think this is going to work?” He asked his brother.

“Let’s hope so.”

Aberforth slid his little galleon in the keyhole. For a second or two nothing happened and he began to panic a bit. But then the door clicked open and he had a minute to feel relieved before the water accumulated on the room weighed on them, excited at the promise of more space to invade.
They both yelled – in accord for once – as they got pushed out.

 

*
They got spat outside, showered one last time as if they were in dire need of a bath. Aberforth felt the earth, well the mud, under him (and let it be clear that he didn’t feel clean despite all the washing around). He sniffed, thinking that he better not catch a cold on top of everything. Albus next to him coughed as if to hammer his point.
He blinked the water out of his eyes, trying to gaze at their new surroundings. There was a clear path, cut into some wild green vegetation. It was creating a sort of moon gate, shading the alley under with their lush leaves. Aberforth stared at it with barely canceled suspicious – he was having what one could call a day – but unless they wanted to be cut by the thorns visibly present into the bushes, it would have to do.
He hoped that what was next was not cursing the vegetation. There were to have some limits to it, right?
Right.

“Well that’s lovely.” He deadpanned; his mood as sour as a cat that had been drowned. He felt like one too, with his hair sticking to his forehead and his boots ruined beyond recognition. He stood up and immediately regretted the action; his clothes were stiff and uncooperative. He tugged sharply at it; thinking that he probably looked less ridiculous sprawled on the ground.

Albus next to him sighed, a long and suffering thing, but he too seemed irritated by the state they were in. “I can still cast a drying Charm.” He proposed evenly as he rose up on his feet. He didn’t wait for Abe’s grumble of affirmation before he did just that by raising his finger and touching Aberforth’s clothes with his. He felt the fabric dry on as Albus’ magic travelled on it. It was with some relief that he righted his outfit. That was better. He watched as his brother did the same for himself.

“You can still cast most things, don’t you?” He asked him, thinking that confiscating Albus’ wand never worked well.

“Not everything.” he said, pressing his hands on his clothes as if to flatten them. Abe personally thought that this was a lost cause. “And it does ask for far more concentration.”

Aberforth hummed before he looked around them again. “We should go. The faster we go, the faster we’re out.”

Albus nodded, in agreement. He tilted his head up, looking at all this vegetation in curiosity. He hummed. “Mademoiselle Daphne sure has a peculiar…” he trailed. “Vision.”

“She’s cracked, that’s for sure.” Abe mumbled, scrunching his nose up. “You don’t have to be all diplomatic; she’s not here to hear it.” With this he started to move, his footsteps cautious and gazing around the flush green in alert. He heard Albus following closely behind him.

“All of it this is Charmed.” Abus voiced what Aberforth had begun to suspect. He grimaced. No one knew what kind of thing could be hidden into them then. Which meant that this bucolic décor could turn into anything and everything, and at any moment at that. “I’ve heard that she is quite reputed for her Charms’ works, but I never had the chance to witness it before.”

“Well, now you have. Cheers.” he felt more than saw Albus rolled his eyes at him. “What?” He questioned sharply as he turned his head toward him.

“Nothing.” His brother sighed.

Abe sighed too, trying to diffuse the tension on his edgy body. He turned his attention back ahead. “All of this is bollocks anyway.” He whispered lowly.

This was when he heard the unmistakable noise of wood cracking somewhere, near him. He slowly turned on himself in order to spot where it could be. His eyes caught on a hesitant vine of sort twisting onto itself ‘till it created a bud.
It was a bit like watching a mechanism being activated and like a well-oiled machinery the thing started to gain in confidence and soon enough big yellows petals bloomed one after the others. Abe was so fascinated by it – in a taken aback kind of way – that he was completely shocked when the heart of the flower threw pointy needles at his face like a biting snake attacking at a high speed. He instinctively took some steps backward and barely had the time to cast a defensive spell before it could graze the side of his cheek.

“What the hell.” He breathed as he looked down at the sharpened and gleaming things now on the ground. “What the hell.” He repeated in astonishment.

“What was this?” Albus asked, coming closer. He took one look at the flower before he gazed at him. “Are you hurt?” He said in concern as he started to cradle his cheek to have a better look.

Another series of cracks answered him.
Aberforth had a bad feeling.
He quickly concluded that he would rather never know what this could lead to.

“We’re going.” He told Albus in a tone that booked no argument. He grabbed his brother’s hand before breaking into a run, ignoring Albus’ sound of surprise at being tugged like this.

His feet hit the ground heavily and he wildly gazed around in the hope to see some sort of exit from all those bushes encircling them. He kept an eye on the vines and made a face of pure dismay when he counted all those new flowers forming around them like some ambushed archers ready to shoot on sight.

He mentally cursed. “Keep close to me!” Aberforth ordered at Albus.

The first one went off and he swiftly dodged it by using the speed of his run to make it miss them. The second one flew near his face; a tad too near for his taste for his ears rang with its angry hiss long after it had passed him by. He had to redirect the third one with his wand, making him slow down his mad run a bit. Albus bumped into his back in a ‘humph!’ unprepared by this sudden pause, and the momentum jolted him, creating a short window of opportunity for the fourth one which aimed for his leg. The tip of it cut into the protecting gear of his knee like a knife into the butter.

“Bloody hell!” he shouted. He had to stop completely and he crouched down as the fifth one was going for his skull. The sixth and seventh ones were on their way to shoot at them. “Protego!” he incanted, feeling relieved when he noted that his spell was working. He used this little respite to dislodge the sharp needle stuck into the leather of his gear. The protection seemed to have done its job and have taken the worst of it. He let out a relived breath. “Are you okay?” he asked even as he checked the rest of his gear to see if he had taken another hit. He could have sworn that another one had passed by his notice earlier. But hey, he wasn’t going to complain if that wasn’t the case. Satisfied, he patted his protective leather one last time, before he even realized that Albus had never replied to him. He looked up. “Albus?”

Albus’ fingers shook as they took the needle out of his left arm. Abe’s eyes widened. The fine and threatening thing was marred with red. It colored Albus’ hand faintly with it, but given on how his skin had paled drastically, the contrast was stark. He let it drop into the ground. “Your shield isn’t going to hold for long.” He informed rather evenly given how soft his voice had gone.

“You’re injured!” Abe half-accused him as he grabbed his brother’s arm to study the damage himself. The thing hadn’t missed him, lodging itself neatly. His clothes – not reinforced like Aberforth’s – hadn’t offered any defenses against it. “You should have said something!”

Albus exhaled; “When we were running like we were possessed or when we were shot at?” he wondered, looking at him flatly. Abe huffed, refusing the sound argument. Albus put a hand on his arm and visibly winced. “Focus on your shield Aberforth. I’m going to be fine.”

“You don’t look fine at all!” He protested hotly.

Albus ignored his outrage. Good for him, Aberforth thought pettily, for he was also going to ignore him. He rechecked his injury, batting his hand away from it and folding his sleeves up so he could have access to it.

“Those flowers… I know them.” Albus’ eyes darted around. “I just can’t place them.”

“Their correct Latin’s name won’t help us.” Aberforth pointed to him. He continued his inspection with narrowed eyes. He was glad to note that he wasn’t bleeding that much. But, more worrying than the blood was the way his skin had become sort of clammy. He put his palm on his brother’s forehead.

It was burning.

“Yellow flowers like this have to be extremely rare.” Albus continued, unaware of his state it seemed. “I think I’m just confused because it’s not in the right environment.” he said, more to himself than for him. “Yes, that right! I just need to ignore the rest and focus on –”

“Albus,” Aberforth cut him. “What we need now is to get out.” he explained to him slowly. Albus was right: his shield wouldn’t hold forever. The incessant attacks were starting to weaken it. Also, the bushes seemed to be whispering between themselves, the leaves rubbing with each other rapidly making a deafening sound that reminded Aberforth of a waterfall.
They really needed to get out of there.
Merlin, but Aberforth should have just cursed the vegetation from the start. He clenched his jaw. “I’m going to not explode all of my problems by putting fire to them instead and you’re going to stay right next to me, okay?”

A beat. “Don’t speak to me like this.” he frowned. “I think the flower is originally from South Europe. Italia, perhaps?”

“I’m taking this for a yes.” Aberforth informed him. He readied himself and took a deep breath before he suddenly dropped his shield – it was soon going to be ineffective anyway – and started to throw an Incendio at everything that dared to move in his periphery.

The good news was that the flowers burned well. The bad news was that there were a lot of them.
Aberforth felt more than saw Albus’ shape tilting down. He barely had the time to throw another Protego before catching him.

“I’m okay.” Albus still had the nerves to insist.

Abe rechecked his forehead. By Morgana, it was hot. “Sure, that’s why you can’t stay on your feet.” he replied, unimpressed. There was no way Albus was going to walk, less even run with him, he mused. And there was no way Aberforth was letting him here. Making a decision, he took most of his brother’s weigh on him, securing him as best as he could against his back; before laboriously beginning to drag him. “Merlin, but you’re heavier than you look!” He complained loudly.

“I think I know what this is.” Albus told him, apparently unbothered to be on Aberforth’s back now. His voice was starting to trailed a bit at the end.

“Awesome. Keep it for your next article in Transfiguration Today.” He proposed, refocusing on putting fire on everything. He felt vaguely like a pyromaniac, but it was working. The flowers were being destroyed and they could take a step without being attacked right and left.

“It mostly used in Potions though…” Albus continued, his voice pausing more and more in between each words and syllables, while Aberforth directed his fire spell on the right side where he noticed a big yellow thing blooming. “I think there was an accident once…”

“I can believe that.” He replied absently. He readjusted Albus on his back; he was beginning to slip down.

“It’s the main ingredient in –” Aberforth interrupted his brother’s halting speech by groaning, exasperated. He just saw another abominable flower. He pointed his wand at it. “– the Draught of Living Death.”

“Wait.” Aberforth said, his interest picked, “The Draught of Living Death?” he asked Albus for confirmation because he might have been a tad distracted here. He jolted Albus a bit after several seconds of silence. Albus murmured something to himself. “Amazing.” Aberforth concluded.

Aberforth exhaled shakily. So much spells in one go coupled with keeping his brother’s weight on him… all of this was starting to tire him. The stress this task was creating wasn’t helping either. And he had to continue on his own now since Albus was out cold on his back.
No pressure, he thought sarcastically.
He incinerated the last flowers, feeling more drained by it than it should. But all of exhaustion was entirely forgotten when he noticed the exit. This moon gate of bushes was finally giving way to something else, somewhere where the sun was seen more sharply and where Aberforth could hear the brouhaha and chatters of people alike. The excitation of the crowd was palpable even from where he was.
Aberforth smiled. He managed it! He went toward it, took a step forward.

Aberforth felt something brush his skin.

Nothing more than a stinging sensation and he reached to rub at it; completely dumbfounded when his fingers caught on a stick stabbing his neck. He got it out, and his eyes took on the pointy weapon without much understanding – he had burnt all the flowers after all, there were no more of them. Yet he was starting to be a little dizzy. The only occurrence of ever feeling like this he got in memory was of that time he missed a meal right before playing Quidditch. Just that little warning your body gave you that meant you were pushing it a bit too far.
He took a step or two, wobbling, thinking that he had eaten before coming here.
Out of sorts, he blinked his eyes, trying to make this newfound confusion disappear. But his vision began to swarm then and it was even more difficult to chase the drowsiness away. But the exit was staring right back at him – it was there and so close! – and Aberforth was sure that they were safe.
But then he stumbled down, his breathing heavy even to his ears, as supporting his brother and himself was too much suddenly. His knees completely gave out. They crashed down on the ground, with Albus rolling off of him.

They were not safe at all.

His eyes started to close without his accord more and more. But in the periphery of his sight, he saw a dark shadow, moving close, closer, too close.
It bent over Albus.
Aberforth’s numb fingers made their way toward it, slowly. The shadow had a wand. A sharp stick with dark carvings swirling into the wood. It registered as odd to him – shadows didn’t have wand, did they now? (Did magical shadow exist now?)

He touched it. It was not as misty as he imagined. He gripped, tugged, demanding its attention. They turned around to study him. “Hands off.” He said, but it came out more like ‘and ooof’. It was the feeling that counted Aberforth decided.

There was an exhale – a little amused huff – before the shadow began to pry Aberforth’s fingers off of them. Shadow didn’t have fingers either, he mused, distantly alarmed. They tried to dismiss him, to put his whole arm away from Albus. But Aberforth was stubborn. The shadow frowned, displeased.
Aberforth’s eyelids were heavy. It reminded him that he truly wanted to sleep, no, he needed to. (Just a little second, and then he would kick whoever that was off.)

He didn’t even have the chance to see who that could be before Abe lost his grip on many things – his brother, his wand and reality.
(Not necessary in that order.)

Notes:

I hope this chap still makes sense and that you enjoyed it; it actually fought with me tooth and nails! Lol
I wish you all a happy Christmas along a very good holyday 😘

Chapter 25

Aberforth’s dreams were a mess of places, faces and mismatched events. He remembered them as hazy and chaotic pictures.

He was back home in Godric’s Hollow except his father was there and his father had never put a foot here – he had been too busy slowly dying in Azkaban by the time they had all moved out in the village. This discordance in the scenario was too great to be ignored – even in his dreams; Abe knew that this never happened. Perhaps it upset him too much even, which prompted his mind to change the scenery.
He was in the gloomy tunnels of the Durmstrang’s Institute with his wand lighted with a Lumos at its tip and with Albus next to him. The water was going up, up – no, he was in England, of course he was in England, and this was the holidays and for the occasion they had all decided to go out and see the sea. The waves were going up and down, up and down. Despite this, his sister was not afraid to wet her feet into the cold waters of the ocean.
His parents were here too, already swimming far away in the gleaming horizon – they were nothing more than silhouette with vague defining features. It looked like this at least to him, who was resolute to stay on the rocky shore. Ariana continued to play with the water that was slowly sliding on the shore before going back to the ocean again, creating as she did ripples and chaos along the flat surface. Albus appeared suddenly into this picture; he came up without warning behind him; smiling and trying to tug him along him for a bit. But Aberforth didn’t want to go in there and refused to be moved. Albus resigned himself to let go, his hands slipping away from Aberforth’s arm and he continued his route, running toward the ocean until he had reached their sister. They exchanged words and he heard their laughers going up and up and down until it got quieted by the rush of the waves.
Then the waves abruptly went up and up, getting angry for no reason, and it swallowed his parents entirely and it was coming for his siblings who seemed unaware of the danger awaiting them and –

Aberforth startled awake, his heart still beating a rapid rhythm against his ribs.

He pried his eyes open with some difficulty, his eyelids seemed to be glued with each other and frankly he barely had the energy to fight them. The urge to just laze and let himself be taken by sleep once more was immense, but still he persisted, and after a try or two he managed to open them.
Everything was so… white, he thought, blearily gazing at the light curtain enclosing the space around him. It moved slightly along the air reminding him of a sail of a boat. He blinked again and looked down at himself. He was lying, tucked in bed, the covers as white as the rest.

Aberforth was pretty sure he was back into the Durmstrang’s infirmary.

He slowly moved his articulations, testing them a bit and waiting for a form of pain to appear, but nothing hurt especially. He wriggled his fingers and that was when he realized that one of his hands was trapped into another. He carefully turned his head to the side, but he had to do a double take to make sure that he was seeing correctly.
There, with a part of her body resting on his bed and the other one sitting on a chair; was Vinda. She was fast asleep by the look of it, her head pillowed inside the crook of her arms. Aberforth perked but she didn’t suddenly wake up. Her black hair were almost messy for her – that was, there were two strands out of order – and she seemed to have gotten rid of her beloved hat, putting it on the coat hanger standing to his left. Her face, bathed by the low light of a sun going down in the sky, was oddly peaceful in her sleep. The gentle atmosphere was giving a soft and unhurried air to her usually vibrant and sharp personality.

He smiled at her and still feeling sleepy, he closed his eyes again with his hand still in hers.

 

*
The second time Aberforth opened his eyes; there was no Vinda in sight. In the chair she had previously occupied was Henry, looking fidgety and perhaps bored – not a good mix for the sanity of the world. But he seemed to sense Aberforth coming out of his slumber, and he lighted up, turning his focus toward him.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Henry’s voice was soft as if he was afraid to spook him. That was a little ridiculous; it wasn’t like Aberforth had anywhere to run to even if he wanted to.

“… Am I in the infirmary?” He demanded confirmation instead.

“Yes.” Henry squinted at him. “So, how many fingers do I have?” He asked, holding three fingers up and putting them way too close to his face.

“Haha.” Aberforth let out, finding that his throat was dry. He batted Henry’s hand away and instead silently requested a glass of water. Henry dramatically rolled his eyes but conceded to give him one. Aberforth gulped it down greedily. “My head is fine, idiot.” He replied once he had emptied it.

“Well, I was just checking.” Henry told him as he reinstalled himself in his chair with the air of someone important. “Since you’ve been out for days…” He meaningfully trailed.

“Days?!” Aberforth repeated noisily, putting his now empty glass aside.

Henry only hummed as he made a show of ignoring him.

“How many days?” Abe anxiously questioned.

“Some.” Henry vaguely replied, feigning indifference.

Aberforth sighed, long and aggravated. “Fine.” he conceded, “It was three fingers.” He humored him flatly.

Henry perked up. “Your head is safe, that’s something!”

Aberforth decided to not comment further on it. “So, how many days?”

“Five.”

Aberforth stared agape at Henry, slowly letting this information sink in. Five days was… a very long time to stay in bed. And also a new record, for Abe had never been immobilized for so long. “Merlin.” He finally let out.

“I know right?” Henry acquiesced, nodding at him. “The somnolence effect of those flowers was something else. Thankfully, all we had to do was to wait for it to dissipate and for you to wake up.” he explained to him as he shrugged a bit uncaring, but then his expression sobered. “This task was really lousy.”

“And you didn’t even participate.” he told his friend, “Imagine how lousy it was from the inside.” He huffed, both at the useless second task he just did and at the prospect of a third one to be done. By Morgana, Aberforth couldn’t’ wait for it to be over.

“I did participate.” Henry divulged. “I was out when Minerva found me, but alas, I had to wake up.” he sighed; “I really didn’t like getting attacked by murderous flowers. Or drowned.” he confided in a wrinkle of his nose, “I even lost my glasses while we were running out of there.” He frowned, appearing entirely displeased, and now that he mentioned it, Aberforth realized that he was – in fact – not wearing his faithful round glasses. It changed his face completely, letting his eyes shine through. Aberforth blinked at them, a little surprised to not have noticed it at once. Maybe, Henry had a point and he ought to have his head checked.

“Well, if you think that Albus and I liked them – wait.” he paused as he recalled something very important. “Is Albus alright?” he wasn’t sure what had happened exactly in the end. He remembered having to drag Albus, then a stinging sensation of pain, the grogginess accompanying it, but not much else. He scrunched his nose as he tried to make out the others details, but they seemed intent on escaping him. “Is he here too?”

Henry went very still in his chair. “Ah.” he made a troubled face. “We’re going to have a problem.” He said, hesitantly.

With some effort, Aberforth righted himself on the bed. He felt like this was the kind of conversation he wanted to have while properly sitting and not slouching down. “What do you mean?” He pressed him, a ball of worry forming into his throat.

“Well,” Henry started and paused almost immediately. “The thing is,” he took a breath. “We, kind of, don’t know where Albus is?” He ended-up his sentence in a wince, as if preparing himself to be yelled at.

He wasn’t wrong. “What the hell do you mean?!” Abe shouted loudly. He heard several shushing noises rising at once, and he reminded himself that he was in the infirmary and probably not alone here. Some people surely wished to rest and not hear him scream. It was really too bad for them, he mused without remorse. “How could you lose him?!” He continued on the same tone, his voice gaining in urgency as he talked. (Albus was going to be fine, he thought, he always was. He was just going to be fine, he repeated this to himself.)

Henry bristled at the accusation. “First, I did not lose him; I was not part of the security since I was participating – against my will! – to the game myself.” he stood up, “Second, we have been searching for him for days without results for now, and I already feel shitty.” his eyes blazed; the golden in them making Aberforth’s head spin. One matron suddenly appeared, her head popping from the pushed out curtain of his sort of room before frowning disapprovingly at them. She put a finger on her turned down lips in a silent order to hush. Henry fixed her; “Get out.” he more or less ordered her, and she blinked, seemly transfixed, before letting them be and going back to where she came. Aberforth stared at the space she had vacated. He had never managed to get one of them to comply or do anything he had ever asked. “Third;” Henry continued, more composed now as he turned his attention back to him, “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak too loudly for Gellert – who had been on a warpath for days – is looking ready to murder someone, and he had been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Why does he want to see me?” Aberforth wondered. “He had other thing to do; like finding my brother.” He pointed out the obvious.

“Well, you’re the last person Albus was with and –”

At this moment the white curtain moved aside once more, revealing the somber face of Gellert, closely followed by the lovely one of Vinda. She smiled at seeing him awake but unfortunately, Aberforth didn’t have much time to appreciate it before Gellert was on his case.

“Finally.” Gellert said as he let himself in, “You’re awake.” And the look he gave him could be considered threatening.

“I don’t know where Albus is.” He spilled faster than any suspects interrogated for an Aurors’ case.

“You don’t know or you don’t remember?” Gellert asked, his still stare piercing into his. He seemed to be considering his options and since he had his wand out and in his hand, none of them looked good for Aberforth’s health. At least he was already in the infirmary, he consoled himself, and if he screamed again perhaps the matron would do him the favor of coming back.

“Isn’t it the same thing?” He wondered.

“No.” Gellert’s reply left no room for arguments.

Aberforth blinked at him. “What do you have in mind?” He asked carefully because he was sure that he wouldn’t like whatever this was.

“I was more thinking of going into yours.” He proposed mildly, and yes, Aberforth didn’t like it.

“Huh, absolutely not?” Aberforth shuddered of the mere idea of Gellert diving in his mind with Legilimency. “Anyway,” he continued before Gellert could snap at him, “You need to find him. Do I look like I know or enjoy descripting riddles?” He asked incredulous and a bit panicked.

Gellert glowered at being denied. “Refrain yourself from asking this kind of question if you do not want me to kick your character to the ground.” He told him in a warning tone.

“Maybe we could all calm down?” Henry proposed hesitantly.

“Screw you.” Aberforth replied with feelings, entirely ignoring Henry’s advice. Gellert was just so rude! And to think that some minutes ago Aberforth had still been blissfully unaware of anything and had just been sleeping. He scowled. “I need Albus.” it had nothing to do with being worried for him… It was just that he would be more at peace knowing he was there, that was all. “Go find him.” He made hands movements as if to shoo him the way. (If only this could work, he mused longingly.)

Henry visibly despaired at them by sighing loudly and this was the only warning Aberforth got before Gellert’s eyes flashed in anger. He took a step toward him, but somehow Gellert’s imminent lashing out made Vinda – who so far had been utterly unperturbed by the tense atmosphere – moved. Gellert stopped his progression mid-step. He watched as Vinda elegantly sat on the foot of his bed, folding the long skirt of her Beauxbâtons’ uniform as she did so and pointedly positioning herself in between Gellert and him. Then she raised her eyes to meet his and the two of them shared an uncomfortable look that seemed to convey a lot of things.

Gellert seemed to sort of relent, though if asked, Aberforth would have a hard time explaining how exactly. He sure didn’t let the matter go for one. “Do you think I wouldn’t have already found him if this was this easy?” his accent was coming out stronger than before, a sure sign of extreme irritation. “If you weren’t such a failure, we wouldn’t have lost Albus in the first place.”

Gellert truly knew where to hit, he thought absently as his body tensed. “You’re such an arse.” Abe stated between clenched teeth. “I didn’t even want to enter this mess.” he reminded him, because Aberforth would rather be as far as he could from this all. He could have done without this nagging feeling of guilt at having – temporarily – lost his brother too. “I’m only doing this for Ariana.” He helped a sibling and all he got in return was to be accused of losing the other one. Aberforth mulled that the three of them were all less chaotic when they were not together. Albus usually found his way home for one and Ariana didn’t make any waves for two.

Surprisingly, instead of insulting him some more (Abe knew he was itching to) Gellert became pensive. “You’re only doing this for Ariana.” he repeated, seemly deep in thought. “You weren’t supposed to come. But you’ve made a bet with me, joined the Aurors and I made sure Travers would take us.” he retraced the events out loud, and no, Aberforth didn’t need to know what ‘I made sure Travers would take us’ could mean. He didn’t need the details and the less he learnt about them, the better. (Aberforth was getting really good at this denial thing. By the end of the year, he hoped to have mastered the discipline.) “It was only a series of conjunctures that made you came here.”

“Conjunctures.” Henry repeated in a disbelieving snort. He raised his eyes at the ceiling.

Abe stared at Gellert. “Fascinating.” He said in tone more used for ‘I really don’t care’. It was in the subtext, and he was sure someone as brilliant (sarcasm, obviously) as Gellert would get it.

But Gellert didn’t rise to his jibe and instead started to slowly pace around his bed. “Without you and your intervention,” he continued as if he had never been interrupted, “It’s Albus who would have taken her place.”

“I suppose so.” He recalled the discussion the tow of them had after leaving Danacov’s office after Ariana’s name had been called and how Albus said he had only hesitated. He had hesitated, but without Aberforth here, he knew deep down that Albus would have done it, other magical contract or not. He was also abruptly aware of Mademoiselle Daphne and of how expecting she had been – how she had assumed right away that Albus would step up. She might not have known Aberforth was related to Ariana – he was generally the member of their family that everyone forgot – or she just had really hoped for a different outcome.
And wouldn’t it be great to have Albus as your champion? His mind whispered. With his infinite knowledge of spells and his powerful magic; he must appear like the perfect candidate for the job. Unlike Aberforth who couldn’t care less about it.

“Ooh.” Henry let out as he straightened in his chair. He was following Gellert with his eyes. “I do not like where you’re going.” He told him.

“I do.” Vinda countered, crossing one of her legs over the other. She appeared fascinated by this twist. Henry and him frowned at her. “This is an interesting development.” She justified after catching their twin dubious looks.

“Did…” Aberforth trailed, “Did someone just put Ariana’s name into the goblet so that they can have Albus?” He wondered, hoping against all odds to be wrong.

Gellert didn’t even mock his reasoning, which was bad sign. Instead he stopped his pacing to let out a long and stressed breath. “It’s Albus who was targeted in the first place and not Ariana.” he concluded. Then he passed a hand in his hair, messing his curls up. “I changed things and it ricocheted.” he said, looking struck, “I may have created my Vision by trying to change my Vision!” He exclaimed in pure frustration.

“Okay.” Aberforth said, because what the hell do you tell someone (that you didn’t even like to begin with) when they were (apparently) having a breakdown?

“But…” Henry began, looking deep in thoughts, “If you already know what’s going to happen, can’t you just guess where Albus is?”

Gellert stayed silent, turning more contemplative.

Vinda studied him. “You have an idea.” She guessed.

“Yes,” he started, “But, I need to narrow his localization down.” Gellert replied to her. “They lost his wand too, right?” He demanded to Henry.

“They lost his wand too?!” Aberforth exclaimed. Honestly, losing someone was bad enough, but losing a wizard’s wand was somehow even more unbelievable. The Durmstrand’s Headmaster must be tearing his hair out by now, he mused without any compassion for said man. This was the worst kind of publicity anyone could hope for.

Henry scratched his chin. “Yes, it apparently disappeared during the game.”

“Using Albus’ wand to find him would have been the quickest and easiest way, but since this is out of question...” Gellert’s face did something complicated. “Maybe, it won’t even be needed.”

It didn’t cross anyone’s mind to explain to him what the hell this meant. Aberforth let himself slouch against his bedframe in a defeated sigh.

 

*
“So,” Henry started, apparently unable to stand the silence; “When you said you were going to find Albus, I didn’t realized it meant strolling into some forest in the middle of the night.” he looked around, tilting his head up as he gazed at the high trees surrounding them. “Does anyone ever tell you that you’re a little extreme?” He wondered, his shoes crunching the snow in earnest.

“Not to my face.” Gellert replied absently as his eyes were fixated on the glow his wand was making. The dimmer the light was, meant that Gellert shouldn’t bother, but the brighter it became… It was really taking him longer than he would have liked, but Gellert was using what he had at hands here. It would have been faster if he had Albus’ wand at disposition; Gellert mused as he swept his own around him before choosing a direction. Thankfully, if his Vision had been correct, he already knew the place. Unfortunately, the White Forest was nowhere near small. “And I didn’t ask you two to follow.” He slipped meaningfully.

“You didn’t have to.” Vinda slid herself into the conversation. Unlike Henry, she was capable of advancing rather discreetly into the snow, a talent he appreciated. “Perhaps, we’ll be lucky tonight and the opportunity to curse someone will be presented to us.” she said hopeful as a sunny smile was slowly coming to her lips; it was visible even in the low light of their lighted wands. She turned to Henry, “Or will this be too extreme?” Vinda asked him with a slow blink of her eyes as if the whole notion was foreign to her.

“Forget it.” Henry breathed. “You’re too scary for me.” he told her which only seemed to please her even more; “Hey, you’re sure your spell is working?” Gellert tore his focus from his own wand to send him a flat glare. “Don’t look at me like that; I just want to be sure that I’m not freezing for naught.”

“I’m sure.” Albus’ magic and his were connected through their blood pact and by using this mean; there was no way he could be wrong. Of course, it would have helped a lot, he thought somewhat annoyed, if he had their blood pact on him. Alas, it had stayed with Albus. It was a bit like his magic was asking a question before, carefully, following the echo of a reply. It was a rather tiring technique, Gellert realized, doing his best to stay concentrated. He truly needed to sleep, he thought wishful. He hadn’t had a real resting night for too long. He missed the long peaceful night and the lazy morning he managed to have in Nurmengard. “Your glasses,” Gellert switched the conversation, feeling that he needed some sort of stimulation if he wished to stay alert enough. “I’ve thought you would have already Conjure another pair.”

“I’m not that good at Conjuring, and – what?” Henry asked him as he caught the flat look he was giving him.

“Just ask someone.” He said in a tired sigh.

“Why, you would do it?” something in his expression must have given him away because Henry teased; “My, I’m flattered.” he said around a grin. “But the truth is: there were very special glasses.” at their silent interrogation, he explained, “They were heavily enchanted. I would need to have them make up again.” he told him. “I’ve found a discreet glassmaker in the magical’s London. She’s very good too but expensive.” he sighed. “My parents are going to kill me.” He lamented.

“Your parents are wealthy enough.” Vinda commented; she waved the matter away elegantly with her wand, the light of her Lumos doing a slight looping. “I’ve heard the Potter’s vault in Gringotts is nothing to be shy of.” She mentioned.

“If you tell me you know how much we have in there, I would be concerned.” Henry looked at her with a guarded expression. “Even I do not know.” he hummed; “I should take my invisible cloak down there for a ride.” He mumbled, considering the matter silently.

This caught Vinda’s interest. “I wouldn’t play with the goblins,” a smile was spreading on her face despite her warning. “They can be quite vicious.” Her eyes gleamed in barely concealed excitation.

Henry stared at her worriedly. “Does anyone ever tell you that you’re… concerning?”

“No one alive.” She replied evenly.

Gellert raised his eyes up, gazing at the white gathered on the naked wood and branches of the trees, before training his gaze on his wand once more. They were trying too hard to lighten his mood, he mused in another sigh. He changed directions, the two of them still hot on his heels. “You always seem so bothered by it that I thought you will be more upset by the loss of your glasses.” He admitted – distracted by the beam of light on his wand – to Henry.

“I’m bothered and upset.” Henry confirmed. “But having… well…” he trailed apparently unwilling to say ‘Veela’s heritage’ out loud. Gellert wondered how it came to be. The Potters were reputed to be a pureblood family. But in reality, this happened more often than not, he knew. True pureblood wizards were rare, and how could it be any different given centuries of existence? Who could say for sure, after all, that no ancestors of theirs ever had an affair with someone they shouldn’t? It was only that everyone kept this so hushed, he thought in disinterest, that it became a scandal when one of those things were revealed publically. Gellert personally didn’t care, but for some it was a matter of pride. “It has its perks too.” He finished with a little smile.

“Like what?” He questioned, honestly wondering about the advantages it could bring.

Henry theatrically flicked a strand of his hair with a finger, overdoing it by miles. “I have spectacular hair.” He declared in a grin.

Vinda stared at the top of Henry’s head. “I believe my hair is better than yours.” She said, likely trying to make out in the dark of the night if she was superior to him or not.

Henry gaped at her audacity. “No way!” He exclaimed, outraged.

Gellert ducked his head down so they wouldn’t see his smile. They were really trying too hard, but they were certainly keeping him entertained. They bickered agreeably enough behind his back as he continued to guide them through the snow and the trees. But at some point, his wand lighted up drastically, and he stopped their progression, feeling Vinda and Henry going silent.

“So?” Henry was the first one to break the sudden tension.

“It’s pointing there.” Vinda noted as she regarded their surrounding sharply. There was neither something new nor differently than what they had already passed. Nothing was standing out, and there was certainly no Albus in sight. It was just more snow. “But there’s nothing.” She reached the same conclusion as him.

“I know.” he agreed, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt. “We’ll check it anyway.” Gellert told them, making his way toward the spot his wand was indicating. “Don’t go on the other way.” He instructed them before one of them could even think of it.

“What’s in the other way?” Vinda asked him in a low hum that betrayed her curiosity.

“There’s a magical shield.”

“In the middle of the forest?” She pressed, intrigued now.

“The forest is cursed.”

“The forest is cursed and you’re telling me only now?!” Henry yelled, scandalized. “You two have no manners.” He complained with feelings, letting out a huff at the end of his sentence.

“It’s not dangerous.” he assured him. “The epicenter of the curse is on the other side,” he pointed to his right, to the place nearest to them where nothing was moving. It was one of the most telling sign of the curse. The second was that the trees on the other side still had their leaves. They were pale blue or white and impossibly frozen in place. “It’s kept inside the shield.”

The stillness inside seemed to leave Vinda perplexed. “What kind of curse is it?” She wondered.

“It affects the weather.” he explained. “The story said that a witch cursed the land. The result is that it’s always cold here and the snow never melts. That’s why it’s surnamed the White Forest.”

“There’s snow here too.” she remarked, displacing some white powder with one of her shoes. “Is it worst inside the shield?” She questioned.

“Yes. Inside, it’s so freezing it’s unlivable in the long-term. The tale said that its originals inhabitants had all turned into frozen statue.” it was not even the grimmer tale that Gellert had read. Fairytales tended to end-up bloodily, most just forgot it. “The Russian’s Ministry had to intervene around the eighteenth century because the curse was propagating around. They hired the best witches and wizards of their times to build this shield.” he explained as he pointed at the near transparent barrier protecting them from the worst of the curse. As far as Gellert understood, it was a very strong Protego coupled with another strong spell or two. It had to, given how big it was in surface. Gellert had been fascinated by the story when Alexei had spoken of it in fifth year. Alexei had… known a lot about it, he abruptly recalled. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to think of this. “It is holding so far.” He closed the subject, deciding that studying it was not a priority.

“Like… in the Tales of the Snowy Kingdoms?” Henry slowly wondered, tapping the tip of his lighted wand against his chin. It made the golden of his eyes shone so brightly that Gellert had to look elsewhere.

“You've read the book?” Vinda said, surprise coloring her voice. “Oh, Ariana told you about it.” she guessed in a cunning smile. “And you remembered.” Her smile grew.

Henry made a face at her. “Why are you making it sound weird?”

“Well, is it?” Gellert asked, making a point to look at him steadily.

“Er…” he started for once at loss, but then his eyes widened and he pointed his index past them. “Hey, look there’s something on the ground!” He shouted desperatly.

Gellert was ready to call his bluff, but then he saw what had caught Henry’s attention. He bent down, feeling their presences at his back and dusted the fine snowflakes, slowly revealing a delicately sculpted dark stick.
His hand stilled.
The wand was divided in two parts, broken; the wood tore messily in what used to be the middle. There, dropped carelessly was Albus’ wand, or more accurately, what was left of it.
Gellert’s hand shook.

 

*
Somewhere, Albus’ eyes fluttered open.

Awareness returned slowly to him. He blinked himself awake, his vision adjusting gradually to the environment surrounding him. His first impression was of white and his second was of the cold, freezing his every breath along his back.
He sat up with some difficulty; feeling terribly disoriented as his last clear memory was being drenched while he had been with Aberforth. He shivered. While Albus had dried ever since, he was far from being warm, especially not now surrounded as he was by snow.
But thinking of Aberforth made him realize that he had yet to spot his brother. Was he not with him last time he checked? Albus admitted that he had been a little out of it toward the end – the venom of the flower having bitten him quite literally – but he remembered that Aberforth had been grumbling nearby. He recalled the sounds of his complaints even if he was incapable of recalling his exact wording.

He forced himself to fully stand, but he almost regretted it as a cold breeze passed through him, making him hug himself in order to chase the worst of its glacial touch away. He decided to walk a little around – if anything moving would be best for him than staying still – and so he started to wander aimlessly, trying as he did to reconnect this new environment with what he remembered of the second task.
Each one of his steps was leaving a stark mark on the snowy ground, the white powder so thick that it engulfed his knees easily. He quickly casted a couple of Charm to keep the fabric of his pant dry, and another one to keep his body from the cold, but the night was slowly but surely falling in the sky, slightly starting to darken the dull painted grey of it; and with his sight alone Albus wasn’t able see the end of the forest.

It was little bit worrying.

He took another step, and recoiled at once as his forehead bumped into… something. His head swirled and he patted his forehead in a gesture of peace even as he winced a little. Then he stared at what he – apparently – walked into. Sadly, Albus was not seeing anything more than earlier – that meant nothing at all – and thus it was with much hesitation that he raised one of his hands until his fingers touched a flat surface. Magic shimmered smoothly on it, making colors appearing briefly before they faded once more into transparency, creating a perfect illusion.
It was without doubt a shield, he thought. A powerful one, Albus presumed, given that it seemed to run far. He took some steps to the side to confirm his theory; but everywhere he ran his hands, he was blocked by the impeccable surface of this shield.

This was… problematic, he decided in a frown.

The wind blew again and he clutched his robe tighter. It was not the kind of attire he would have chosen if he had known the day he would have had, but it was too late and he had no spares. What was more problematic than his clothing, Albus thought as he redirected his gaze at the invisible shield, was that he still didn’t have his wand on him. He ought to resolve this first.

“Accio wand.” he intoned. Heavy silence answered him. He pushed at his magic. “Accio wand.” He repeated the incantation with more force. He felt his magic buzz and crackle, troubling the eternal calm around him. The seconds passed, but nothing came. It was very frustrating, he mused in a huff.

Just as he was wondering if this magical’ shield was powerful enough to stop his wand from answering his call; the night fell around him abruptly, like someone had blown the pale sun away, leaving him in near darkness.

Albus tilted his head up, without really understanding what was happening. “What…?” He let out, blinking up at the starless sky. It had been the beginning of sunset a few minutes ago, how could it be the night already? He wondered, baffled by this strange phenomenon.

But, he heard soft crunching sounds of steps and Albus, expecting it to be Aberforth, ran toward it with his brother’s name on the tip of his tongue only to stop abruptly as he came face to face with the last person he expected to see here.

Pieter Lovanoff.

Notes:

I’ve first mentioned the Tales of the Snowy Kingdoms in chapter 15 ^^
Good news is that I’m well into the next chapter, so I should be able to publish it sooner that this one :D
Hope you’ve enjoyed it and thank you for reading <3

Chapter 26

Ariana had come back from his brother’s bedside for a while now (the matrons here were very punctual and respected the visit hours strictly) only to realize that Vinda had yet to return to the Beaubâtons’ quarter.

Anxious about news of Albus, she decided to wait for her inside their common room. She took a book to keep her occupied, but the hours had turned and passed and the others girls had progressively deserted the room and their studies for their own beds, leaving Ariana alone.
At some point; she had put her book aside and might have also nodded off, the confortable couch calling her for an impromptu nap. She jolted awake though, blinking her eyes blearily into the darkness as she heard the loud door of their quarter open, bringing along it Vinda and Gellert’s voice.

“What are you going to do?” Vinda asked with a sense of urgency that was normally beneath her.

They must still be standing at the threshold of the door for not having spot Ariana. She stilled, knowing that she eavesdropping but unsure if she should come out and make herself known. In the end, years of hiding won over everything else and she made herself smaller, trying to make her body disappear within the cushions of the pale blue couch.

“I’m going to keep searching,” Gellert replied. His voice had gone flat with exhaustion and something else that Ariana was not able to identify. “What else do you want me to do?” He almost snapped at her.

“I want you to not be impulsive.” Vinda retorted placidly. “I want you to remember that I will help you.”

There was silence then, and Ariana wondered if she should risk perking out to see how the scene was playing out or not. But, as she was considering it, Gellert said; “I don’t know what do to.” And the admission was so low that even Ariana – who was close – barely caught it.

“I don’t know any spells that could work on a broken wand,” Ariana blinked at the cushion nearest to her. Whose wand was broken? She wondered silently. “But between your Vision and what we’ve already gathered I’m sure we can make something work.” she told him with confidence, “Also, there is another way to unfold this: if we find who is behind this –”

“– we find Albus.” Gellert finished, softly agreeing with her.

They separated soon after, with Gellert going back to his own quarter while Vinda passed through the dark common room without noticing her. She then went up to her quarter; her steps light even to Ariana’s listening ears. She managed it easily, letting no one know that she had broken curfew by several hours.

Ariana waited a bit before doing the same.

 

*
1901, January, Thursday 17th

The morning after, Ariana did as if she hadn’t seen nor heard a thing. Vinda nor Gellert had noticed after all, and she was rather good at pretending she didn’t know anything.
However even she couldn’t ignore the harsh headlines printed on every paper that had been dropped on their tables at breakfast by some of the students’ owls. It attracted everyone’s attention – most knew that something had happened during the second task, but most details hadn’t been shared – and made them readily took a hunching position to read, choosing to ignore the food laid in front of them and tantalizing their noses for a promising juicy article.

Ariana had not taken the time to think about it before, but there must have been reporters coming and covering each task. She had been so taken by others things that she had almost forgotten the passion and interest this kind of tournament created.

Ariana gazed down at it as well – Juliette and Vinda were willing to share their journals – and she wasn’t too surprised to read mostly exaggerated nonsense, all told in a tone of excited doom and false secrecy. But the picture of Albus in the copy of Vinda’s Daily Prophet greeting her – moving slightly before unexpectedly smiling at her – took her aback.
It was Albus’ graduation picture. Albus had shown it to her proudly once, not so long ago. They had no rights to go and dig it, she thought, feeling a sort of slow anger rising to warm her veins the more she stared at it.
Something broke then; a glass not so far away from her, startling her. She looked over, but it was just one of her comrades knocking a glass over in haste and nothing else. She wasn’t sure why she believed it to be something else.

She stood up and left the hall. She wanted to visit Aberforth quickly before going to class.

 

*
January, Saturday 19th

Ariana wasn’t sure why they were back in the catacomb. Henry had vaguely commented that a secret’s meeting required a secret’s lair, but it still sounded like a reached justification. Perhaps, it had nothing to do with secrecy at all, and more to do with Gellert strange fixation on cemeteries.

Anyway, they were all there now, well almost all she amended guiltily for Aberforth was still stuck in the infirmary, under the care of Juliette and Olympe. Ariana didn’t know why he needed to be surveyed to begin with, but Vinda had decided this and no one really wanted to go against Vinda; not even her brother who must be now furiously snapping at Juliette. Vinda had said that like this he would be entertained, and Ariana was certain that he was supposed to be resting and not be making his blood pressure went higher. But she wasn’t a specialist, after all.

Then, there was Albus who was still… not here. It had been a week now. He hadn’t magically reappeared despite the way every newspaper gossiped about it.

Normally, Albus wasn’t the one in troubles; this was more her things if she was honest or Aberforth’s, because he never learnt to keep his opinion for himself and this landed him into difficult situations more than once. So Albus’ absence now, made Ariana all the more worried for him. She hoped that he was well, but guessed that if he was in any capacity to do as he pleased; he would be there. So he might not be well.
She nervously fiddled her hands together.

“Let’s recap what we know.” Gellert ordered more than asked as he started to slowly pace around.

“Ariana’s name got out of the goblet.” Vinda tranquilly began from the high position she had perched herself. Ariana had the persistent doubt that the stone she was seated on was the top of a very old and imposing tomb. The letters might be partially erased and faded with time, but still. Yet, it was not at Vinda’s lack of regard for the dead, but at hearing her name that Ariana tensed. She then exhaled quietly, trying to calm her nerves down. She hoped that one day she would be able to go somewhere without receiving lots of accusing stares and becoming the roots of a myriad of troubles.

“Whoever manages this used blood magic.” Minerva continued. Unlike Vinda, she wasn’t anywhere near a tomb or anything resembling it, on contrary she seemed intent to keep her distance with the whole thing.

“They found the ritual in the Durmstrang’s library, in a book last consulted by Igor Karkaroff.” Gellert added quickly with his hands folded behind his back. He didn’t stop his steps even as he talked, walking in a pattern that only made sense to him. He seemed very restless despite his fairly relaxed posture, and Ariana thought – not for the first time since Albus’ disappearance – that only a little thing would probably be enough for him to snap. He seemed to be itching to.

She scrutinized Vinda, searching for clues as Ariana knew that she and Gellert had gone out some nights ago. Whatever they had found then – or hadn’t – hadn’t approved Gellert’s temper at all. They also hadn’t shared the details with them, but Ariana hadn’t forgotten the bit about a ‘broken wand’.
If this was what she thought… then it was no wonder that Gellert was this fidgety.

“But they needed Ariana’s blood for this,” Minerva reminded them, a light frown marring her forehead. “And we still don’t know how they got it. It had to be willingly given too for the spell to work – the book had been very insistent on it.”

“Oh wait, wait!” Henry exclaimed excitedly, raising one of his hands in the air as if he was in class. The gesture made him straightened from his previous slouched position on a… fallen stele. Ariana made a face, hoping that no ghost would feel offended by this. “The day we were standing guard at the goblet – well the day I was standing guard, because you know you were busy fighting with Aberforth – whatever, so that day,” he continued after Gellert sent him a pointed glare. “Ariana and Vinda were with us. Ariana was reading near and at some point this guy – Pieter Lovanoff – he kind of ran into on her.”

Ariana blinked at him. She had all but overlooked this, but now that Henry mentioned it… “It’s true.” she confirmed, nodding along. “I… He said he was sorry though and he helped me with my fallen books.” she recalled her surprise at him bending down to reach for them. He could have used his magic to levitate them, but chose not to. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “He scratched my hand with his gloves when he handed them back to me.” she explained, “I remember…” she trailed, pensive, “Finding his gloves unusually sharp.”

Vinda hummed, a finger gently tapping on her lower lip. “You forgave him, I presume?” She asked her.

She acquiesced. “Of course.”

“Then this is how he got her blood.” Vinda concluded, “And since you forgave him, it could be considered that you gave it ‘willingly’.” she pointed before breathing a low; “Phrasing in books.” She tsk’ed.

Ariana made a little ‘oh!’; “And he went right to the goblet after!”

“But what would be Lovanoff’s motive?” Minerva wondered as she crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s a member of the Magical Investigation Bureau; he’s not concerned by the games directly.”

“Maybe he was not doing this for him.” Henry mused out loud as he searched for a connection. He passed a hand in his hair, somehow managing to make them look wilder. “Maybe he was doing this for Igor Karkaroff.”

“No,” Gellert rejected at once. “If the main goal was to make Albus participate in the games, Igor got nothing to gain.”

 

*
Albus and Pieter both reached at the same time for a wand that was not here leaving them into a strange parody of a duel where none of the duelers had anything even remotely threatening in hands and only got the posture.

“Who are you now?” Pieter Lovanoff almost exclaimed. He looked a little savage around the edges with his hair sticking up messily and his wide eyes.

Albus could admit that his own appearance was probably more ruffled and miserable than he was used to; but it was no excuses for not recognizing him. “Who do you think?” he almost snapped, feeling his temper rise. “Aren’t you the one who took me here?” He fired his accusation.

“Why would I take you here since all I want to do myself is to get out?!”

This made Albus frowned. “If it’s not you, then who?” He questioned him with a tilt of his head.

 

*
“Then it’s Mademoiselle Daphne.” Henry proposed as he named another possible culprit. “She gets Albus and wins the games.”

“Mademoiselle Daphne wants Albus. Igor finds the spell. Pieter gets Ariana’s blood.” Gellert trailed as he resumed what they had so far. “It’s a mess.” He concluded and Ariana silently agreed with him.

“Divide and conquer usually is.” at this new voice, they all got their wand out and pointed it toward the intruder. All except Ariana of course, whose eyes went round with shock as she recognized him. Igor Karkaroff was standing there; his Durmstrang’s uniform a splash of blossoming red into the dimmed atmosphere of the underground catacombs. “I see that I’m coming at the right time. You look like you’re in an impasse. Also, on a side note: the catacomb, really?” He drawled, clearly unimpressed by their ‘secret’s lair’.

“Our – for now – unnamed group enjoys flair and drama.” Henry told him, alert now and standing up fully. He didn’t lower his wand and the others had yet to do it either. She wondered if they were all waiting for an excuse to Stun him – it was a known fact that Igor Karkaroff was not an easy personality to… appreciate. He didn’t like many people either, only purebloods, and even then he was reputed to be picky.

“What do you want?” Gellert demanded; his tone clearly conveying that he would suffer no nonsense from his part today.

“To help you.” Gellert openly grimaced at this, looking like he must have hit the bottom if he was in a situation where he needed the other’s help. “I know,” Karkaroff said, mirroring his expression of pure distaste, “This hurts me to say this too.”

“Why would you do this?” Minerva questioned, raising a disbelieving stare at him. She took a step closer to him, her arm sure and her wand leveled at him, but Karkaroff held his ground.

Karkaroff’s face hardened as if he was forging on. “The last task…” he began quietly. “They took my little cousin. He’s barely nine. They went too far.” he told them. “This whole thing has gone too far.” He added, holding their gazes.

Their group shared a long look. But after some hesitation, they lowered their wands so they weren’t all so obviously threatening Karkaroff. Though, it was evident in Ariana’s eyes that they were remaining vigilant, it was in some of their posture and in the way they tracked his every move.

“Your reasoning is not wrong, but you’re still not there.” Karkaroff continued more relaxed now that the air around him seemed less hostile. “It’s true, I was the one tasked to find the right spell.” he confirmed. “He knew exactly which book I needed to search into, just as he knew that it was in the Durmstrang’s library.” he told them. “I have access to the library and was promised, ah let’s say,” he paused, a tad uncomfortable; “A lesser opponent for the Triwizard Tournament as a reward for my help.” he shot a look at Ariana as he said it. It wasn’t particularly apologetic or remorseful, but it still made her still completely. It was insulting to be considered less because of her lack of magic, even more so in the casual way he did it. She pursed her lips, feeling a white hot frustration rose within her but, by habit, she repressed it down. Before with the Obscurial inside of her, this kind of feelings would not have been… safe for her or anyone else in her vicinity. Now, she supposed that she could shout at him, but she didn’t think that he deserved it. “With one down, I would only have to worry about the other.” he went on. “It increased my chances to win.” He concluded in a careless shrug.

Minerva eyed him. “You really did all of this for your own interest.” She remarked flatly. She seemed entirely unimpressed with him.

“What else is there?” He asked her genuinely intrigued it seemed.

“Who’s ‘he’?” Vinda pressed another angle.

“Don’t you know?” Karkaroff smirked, a little cruel curl of lips as he addressed Gellert specifically now. Gellert’s grip on his wand tightened briefly, but he didn’t respond to this baiting and remained silent. It seemed to be costing him greatly though.

Henry put his hands on his hips. “So this is Pieter Lovanoff.” He concluded.

Igor Karkaroff raised his eyes up to the ceiling, likely praying for patience even as he looked fed up by their mere existence. “Of course it’s not Pieter Lovanoff.” he replied in an exasperated huff. “The poor thing is loyal to him you see.” he pointed carelessly at Gellert. “It would have saved him a great deal of troubles if he wasn’t.” He said it like this had just proved to him how useless concepts like loyalty were.

“I don’t get it.” Henry admitted in a pout that was – objectively – a little adorable. Ariana decided to not linger too much on it.

“Pieter has an advantageous position however.” Karkaroff continued like Henry hadn’t spoken. “And there’s just so many way to deceive people.”

“It’s Alexei Dolohov.” Gellert divulged in an almost sigh.

 

*
“Probably the same person that trapped me here.” Pieter Lovanoff said moodily, “Did you – by chance! – anger Alexei Dolohov too?” He asked Albus.

“Alexei Dolohov.” Albus mouthed the name. “No, but I’ve heard of him, he’s –”

“Happy to see that you’re awake.” a voice said on the other side of this magical’ shield. “And I don’t even have to do the presentation, amazing.”

They both turned sharply toward the voice. Albus stared but the young man standing on the other side of the transparent barrier didn’t ring any bells. He seemed tall, with raven hair curling slightly at the nap of his neck. It offered a stark contrast with his milky skin. He was wearing a smile, it appeared soft on the surface but there was something a little sharp mixed into it too. He was dressed for the weather, proudly wearing a heavy coat with fur on its edges.

 

*
“And we have a winner.” Karakroff said in a derisive grin. “You took your time, but you got here.” He told Gellert, sounding over-indulgent. Gellert, for his part, looked like he wanted nothing more than to murder him on the spot.

After some beats of silence, Minerva voiced what they all thought. “… Who is Alexei Dolohov?”

 

*
“Who are you?” Albus asked just as Pieter Lovanoff demanded; “Did you come here to gloat?”

The man gave them an indulgent smile. “A little.” he replied to Pieter, “And to answer your other question,” he said turning his blue eyes toward him in interest, “I am Alexei Dolohov.” he did a graceful little bow. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you with my true appearance.”

“Your true appearance?” Albus repeated, feeling himself pale over the very unpleasant thought forming inside his head. He looked closely at Pieter Lovanoff, at his betrayed gaze trailed on Alexei Dolohov and he… didn’t like the conclusion he reached. “Polyjuice.” he deduced. “You’ve been impersonating Pieter Lovanoff all this time?” He wondered because surely… this couldn’t the case. They must have switched places later; Pieter couldn’t have been here for months, stuck outside with this wall of magic preventing him from leaving. Without wand too… no surely this couldn’t be. It was too improbable.

“What do you mean by ‘all this time’?” Pieter interrogated him. “How… how long have I been here?” He demanded, doubt bleeding in his tone.

“Long enough for me to have a little fun Pieter.” Alexei Dolohov soothed quickly like Pieter truly had nothing to worry his head over. “You’re quick.” he contemplated him intensely and Albus wondered if he should take a step backward. “As expected of course.” he hummed. “Gellert didn’t like slow people. And you will have to be smart to captivate him for so long.”

“Oh gods help me!” Pieter exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, “Is this still because of Gellert?!” he let out, apparently having enough of it. “You need to take a long breath and to let it go, because let me tell you: obsessive is not pretty on you.”

 

*
“Someone with a grudge with dear Gellert.” Karkaroff explained. “A very obsessive grudge, may I add.”

 

*
“You’re getting bolder the longer you stay there.” Dolohov tranquilly remarked as his gaze lazily contemplated Pieter.

“Well,” Pieter drawled; his eyes hardening. “I’m already trapped here while you’re playing me outside, how worst could this be?”

Dolohov’s eyes, in contrast, lighted up. “Oh, dear Pieter, I could so easily make it worst.” he assured him sweetly. “Never forget this.” Pieter recoiled on himself and became silent. “Now, where were we?”

 

*
“Are you truly saying that this Dolohov has been impersonating someone for over five months?” Minerva asked Karkaroff, disbelieving.

 

*
Albus didn’t like the gentle threats coming out of Dolohov’s mouth. His tone might be nice, but the promise it held truly wasn’t. “Have you truly been impersonating him since September?” he questioned. “It’s been five months.” He elaborated more for Pieter’s benefit than for Dolohov’s.

 

*
“Do not underestimate him.” Karkaroff told her in a warning tone, “He’s more than well-versed in the Dark Arts.”

 

*
Pieter’s eyes rounded; his face a picture of shock. Dolohov though, didn’t seem troubled at all. “Time,” he started, “Is such a tricky thing.” Dolohov pressed his gloved hand against the surface of the magical’ shield, not unlike Albus had done some minutes ago. Sparks of lights and colors emerged at his touch. “This was put in place centuries ago by the best wizards our country had.” he explained; “See, a long time ago, a witch cursed this land and its inhabitants. It’s a lovely fairytale about how close-minded simple people can be.” his voice took a hard edge. “But even if the events have now become nothing more than a story narrated to make children sleep; the fact remains that this land is cursed.” he caressed the barrier, in a manner that could be considered tender, one more time before dropping his hand. “The cold was progressing more and more, so our Ministry decided to contain it as much as they could by building this shield. Like this, the curse is enclosed in, and no one enter inside.”

“Yet, we’re inside.” Albus pointed; his teeth close to shattering. The air around them was freezing him to his bones and staying still and talking wasn’t helping him in this matter.

“I’ve found a way in, some years ago.” he smiled, “It was a nice little challenge I set for myself. And I cannot deny that it’s very useful.” Albus bet it was. “This shield is raised constantly and had been for a long time as I told you. It had created over the centuries a little – how to say this? – distortion with the outside world.” he paused before he looked up, “The sun is about to rise.” He commented as the first rays began to touch and light his face.

From Albus’ perspective however, it was as if the sun had suddenly chased the night, a terrible imitation of a true sunrise. He recalled how the night had basically fallen – all at once – in the same manner earlier. “Time passes slower inside the shield.” Albus deduced even as his eyes travelled around. There was no real way to see the difference, where the shield began and where it stopped, the trees around them were all white but this might be because of the season. Winter, perhaps, erased most tells but came spring and the demarcation could become eyes catching. Albus wasn’t going to stay here till spring however. As he continued to look around, he wondered how tall this shield was supposed to be.

“Exactly.” Dolohov slowly acquiesced. “Which is why I will make it quick; this conversation is rather long from my side.”

“I was not aware we were having a conversation,” Albus told him, feeling the sarcasm coming easily on his tongue, “But if it’s too much trouble for you, you can always let us go.” He proposed flatly. He didn’t truly believe that it would work, but it was also agreeable to let some of his irritation at the situation out.

Dolohov laughed. “Oh no.” he breathed, calming his chuckles, “Don’t misunderstand this. Even if this is unpractical for me right now, you’re not going out of there, Mister Dumbledore.”

 

*
“Would this Dolohov be…” Ariana trailed shyly now that all eyes were on her; “The one we encountered when we were inside the Durmstrang’s Headmaster office?” she asked Gellert. She had be so sure then, that this person must be Pieter Lovanoff – the dark robes she had been allowed to glimpse at through the keyhole had been unmistakably the ones the members of the MIB wore – but Gellert had been determined that it had not been him. He had recognized the wand this person wielded, she recalled though he had refused to share more with her. “Was it him then?” She pressed him now.

Gellert casted his eyes down. “It was his wand.” he admitted to her before he turned his focus on Karkaroff. “Alexei couldn’t have done it with just your participation.” he pointed. “You might believe yourself to be a person of importance, but in the grand scheme of things, you truly aren’t.” Gellert told him without mercy, apparently even taking a certain pleasure to remind him of this.

“You’re right.” Karkaroff scowled deeply but conceded, obviously unhappy to have to confirm this. “With me alone, he wouldn’t have gone far. I didn’t know it at first – and I’m only guessing at it now – but he must have recruited Mademoiselle Daphne too at some point.”

“You’re suspecting her?”

“Obviously. She is a very capable witch and she wants to win just as badly as I do.” he affirmed. “I’ve searched the ritual; she put most things in place and all Dolohov had to do what to collect the blood of some Squib. A child’s play for him.” he shrugged. “I suppose all he had to promise her was basically the same as me in reverse; I wanted an opponent down, she must have wanted a worthy competitor. It all works out for him in the end.”

“Except when it didn’t.” Henry pointed out as he twirled his wand lazily in between his fingers.

“Yes. I didn’t know there was another Dumbledore. It was quite unexpected.”

“If I follow you; Dolohov is doing all of this because he wants his revenge on Gellert.” Minerva resumed. “Then why he is going after Albus?”

 

*
“Why?” Albus demanded. He didn’t think he had to be more precise more than this since Albus was standing into a cursed land for no apparent reason.

 

*
“Why? But because it’s the simplest way to get back at Gellert of course!” Karkaroff let out a little mean laugh. “I’ve warned your friend before too; Dolohov are not to be crossed.” he told Gellert. “But it’s too late now, you’ve crossed him, so don’t be surprised to find yourself in troubles.” He huffed haughtily like Gellert should have seen this coming and now should just endure his fate without complaining since he refused to be reasonable.

 

*
“Because I made myself a promise: I vowed to destroy Gellert Grindelwald completely.” Dolohov simply replied. He eyed him almost sadly, “It’s a pity that it must fall on you; for I have nothing against you personally.” he admitted with a sigh. “But Gellert likes you so…” he made a graceful movement with his head as if to say: ‘what do you want to do about it?’ Albus thought that he could do a lot since Dolohov was the one putting him in this position to begin with. “And to destroy Gellert, I must crush his happiness first.” He smiled at him then, like Albus was going to do him a big favor.

His rather brutal honestly took Albus aback. He recoiled on instinct. “And how are you going to achieve it?” Albus questioned after several beats of silence. He was sure to dislike his answer.

Alexei Dolohov’s eyes gleamed. It wasn’t the most reassuring sight.

 

*
“Aren’t you going to be in trouble too when Dolohov learnt that you spilled his great plan to us?” Henry asked in an unfriendly smile, the gold in his eyes sparkling at the prospect.

“Why would I be?” Karkaroff retorted in a raised eyebrow. “He already got what he wanted or have you not noticed that ‘Pieter’ had been suspiciously absent ever since the second task?”

“You’ve waited until you were sure to be out of his reach to talk to us.” Vinda hummed in understanding. “It’s clever in its own way.” She admitted.

“You’re such a coward.” Minerva accused him vehemently, her unforgiving stare on him.

“There’s not need to be so passionate about it.” he said in a derisive huff, “I only have my best interest in mind, so what of it?” he truly seemed to consider this kind of selfishness to be the norm, Ariana realized. What a way to live, she thought as she frowned at him. “The real question here is: what are you going to do now?” He questioned Gellert.

 

*
“I’m not going to do anything.” Dolohov told him. “Aren’t you already trapped here?” he asked in a rhetorical manner, his question ending with a note of deep amusement. “Without your wand too.” he shook his head as if this was a regretful fact and not something of his own doing. “I wonder…” he trailed, a glint illuminating his eyes. “How long are you going to survive given the harsh living conditions here?”

Albus let his taunting slid off of him; he had a more pressing concern. “My wand… what did you do with it?”

“I’ve had it for a while.” he hummed, “One of Ollivander’s, right?” Albus didn’t dignify this with a reply. “Don’t worry,” he said after he realized that Albus was not going to answer him no matter how long he waited, “It won’t be wasted.” Dolohov assured him while Albus began to do exactly this: worry. If something had happened to his wand… he pursed his lips, trying to not think of the worst. He mostly regretted not having taken the time to research Runes to put on it. It would have protected her from being stolen right and left. He swore to himself that as soon as he got her again in his hands, he would do it. “After all, we need to give Gellert something to remember you by.” He grinned.

 

*
Gellert’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m going to hunt him down.”

Notes:

Hope you've enjoyed it :D
On a side note: the whole Albus' scene was purposely cut to show you the slow passage of time (days had passed for the others in between this chap and the previous one, while Albus is still doing/living the same action). I hope it was not too confusing to follow ^^

Chapter 27

January, Tuesday 22nd

There were many things to be said about the Dolohov’s estate.

The fact that this was an estate to begin with perhaps, because surely making a house this grand was to either compensate for something or to throw their money to everyone’s faces.
Gellert was betting on the former – mostly out of pettiness he confessed – but he couldn’t totally rule the later out.

Gellert stared at the tall fence guarding the entry of the garden. There were golden leaves on it; turning over themselves into an ever moving and hypnotizing pattern. Nothing was done to conceal the magic this propriety possessed, and Gellert was annoyed to say that he liked this. From what he could see of the garden, it seemed to be the same – way to lush not to be influenced by some enchantments of sort – and he remembered enough of the house itself to know that it was also true inside. He supposed that it was another way for the Dolohov to declare their superiority: they were not afraid Muggles, too hidden from them to be discovered, and they were proud of their skills enough to show them off.

A house-elf suddenly appeared into existence, effectively breaking Gellert’s reverie with the loud sound of his Apparition. It was a little creature, only slightly taller than Greety was, with an austere face and an even more severe outfit. The house-elf looked at Gellert under his pair of moon glasses; from the other side of the fence, before declaring; “Mister Grindelwald is awaited by Master inside.” A snap of his fingers later and the impressive fence opened wide to let him in.

Gellert wasn’t too shocked to be already awaited. “Thank you.” He replied passively at the creature.

He followed him as the house-elf guided him through the alley to the front door and to front door toward the room where his Master apparently expected him.
Gellert eyed the house-elf as he directed him inside with unconcealed suspicion. He never particularly liked the oppressing atmosphere here, too many portraits with eyes following your every moves coupled with too little light and it effectively managed to make Gellert felt quite oppressed.

He was sure it was designed like this on purpose.

Gellert hated to admit that it was affecting him in any manners, but his fingers clenched and unclenched around his wand – an obvious tell – even as his eyes seized everything around him. Gods, but he was on edge. He felt almost as hyper aware as he was during a Vision. Except that here; each sound was a potential threat and everyone was no better either.
Gellert tried to talk himself down a bit, but despite his efforts, this feeling followed him as he walked. It couldn’t be helped, he supposed. For his mind and nerves to be more settled, he would need hours of sleep and Albus near and safe.
(Gellert could imagine it so well that he was practically able to taste the fantasy. Albus’ warmth would be next to his and he wouldn’t need to open his eyes to know that he was here, lying next to him, within his reach. Gellert could either go back to his slumber and dreams or he could wake up, but the fact remained: Albus would be there.)

He shook his straying thoughts off. Now wasn’t the time for this kind of day-dreaming. Gellert would really rather indulge in them and not be there – and especially not now, when he was this tense but…
He was doing this for Albus. This alone might be the only thing keeping him from cursing Alexei on sight, so it ought to be reminded.

The house-else stopped in front of a wooden door and Gellert stilled as well. If he had any doubts before, that Alexei was playing with him, they would for sure be vanished now, he mused. It was the door to the famous Dolohov’s library. Alexei – that arrogant fool – had decided to wait for him there.
Gellert hoped that he got choked by his audacity one day. Preferably sooner than later.

The house-elf opened the door for him and invited him inside, but Gellert was more than done with being polite and proper by now, so he pushed pass the creature and entered without further protocol.
He didn’t spare a glance at the shelves full of books this time around, going toward his goal without letting them distract him. The heavy manuscripts holding dark secretive rituals within their pages didn’t catch his interest as much as the man lounging into one of the library’s armchairs did. Alexei hadn’t changed much in those two years or so since Gellert had last seen of him. He still had that cold beauty air that earned him many admirers and appreciative looks. Now coupled with proper clothes instead of the Durmstrang’s uniform, it stood out more. Gellert had never cared much for it, either way. He had known then, that it had picked at Alexei’s ego – too used to be complimented to take any form of rejection well.

He slowed his steps when he considered himself close enough for social standard, and far enough that Gellert could have the time and the space to easily counter a spell if needed. “I would say that this is a pleasure to see you; but I believe that it would be laying it too thick.” Gellert declared tonelessly by a way of greeting. Let them not forget, even for an instant, that this was not a friendly visit.

“Yes,” Alexei closed the book he surely was only pretending to read to give himself some sort of aesthetic. “It would be a shame to start off our conversation like this.”

Gellert raised an eyebrow at him. “A shame?” he repeated. “If you find this shameful, then what should we say about your methods?” he wondered. “Did you want to see me this badly?” he said with a sharp smile, “My, but a mail would have been enough.”

“Don’t start, Gellert.” The man had the audacity to rebuke him.

Gellert’s eyes flashed, but he did his best to rein his temper even as it was boiling inside of him. Think of Albus, he reminded himself. No matter how much he wished – and longed – to curse Alexei, he couldn’t right now. He needed the information on where Albus was first. Then… well, all bets were off. “You’ve started it.” he retorted after several calming breathes. “Now do not go crying if this doesn’t go where you want.” He sharply told him.

Alexei smiled at him as if Gellert was terribly amusing. “Oh, but it’s going exactly where I’ve wanted so far.”

Oh, but Gellert was going to enjoy finding the right curse for him, he thought placidly. “So, I’ve heard.” he sat on the edge on the library’s table, knowing that it used to grate at Alexei’s nerves. At his fleeting expression of displeasure, Gellert was glad to note that it still did. “I didn’t think you would go after a defenseless girl, but perhaps I’ve had a too high opinion of you.” he told him, “How hard was it to target someone without magic? Not too much I hope?”

Alexei laughed. “It’s was fine.” He assured him.

“Why her?” Gellert plainly asked. He had been curious about this since the beginning. Why go after Ariana when the poor girl was just trying to enjoy her time at school? It was not like she had enemies or anything of the sort, and Alexei wouldn’t have considered her a threat – not with her lack of magic.

“I suppose, I just wanted to see and enjoy the chaos it will create.” he admitted in a pensive hum. “Also, you are strangely sweet with her… I’ve wondered for a while, I guess.” Gellert only deigned to send him a flat look at that. “I’ve also wanted to test your friend. I’ve wondered about him, you see.” he continued, unperturbed; “And what a better way to do this, than to force him to play a major role in the games? It was a one stone, two birds’ situation. Something I couldn’t pass up.” he said in a smirk as if remembering how perfect this opportunity had been for him. “But then – I have to acknowledge – I made a mistake.” he grimaced lightly at this, probably not used to recognize his own flaws and even less to express them out loud. “I wasn’t as thorough in my researches as I would have liked. I utterly miss the fact that he had a brother at first, one who was going to be present at that. He went completely under my radar.” and here he was sounding like he was finally feeling some kind of shame, Gellert realized with a start. This was new, he mused. Gellert had never thought that he even had it in him to be honest. “By the time I’ve discovered that he could pose a problem; it was too late and the deed was done.” Alexei finished, putting his hands down on his lap in a theatric and defeated way.

Gellert eyed the action, unimpressed if somewhat unwillingly sympathetic of his struggle. “Don’t beat yourself too much on it, I wish I could erase him from existence too.” But sadly, Albus’ brother refused so far to fully disappear. His mouth twisted, regretful of that time where he had changed Aberforth into a goat. He was sure Aberforth would have been so at home in a barn. Honestly, the fact that someone had gone, and turned him back was almost criminal.

“He’s very unremarkable, isn’t he?” Alexei questioned, looking for support here.

“Yes, he is.” Gellert, despite all, wholeheartedly agreed on this point (and this only).

Alexei sighed before he resumed; “So, the brother took the place I’ve had worked extremely hard for your friend to take – it was a huge step back.” he shook his head in remembrance. “Especially since by then, I discovered he was not just a friend.” He said, his deep blue eyes gleaming in intrigue.

Gellert tilted his head, and gave him a look. “Oh, are you jealous?”

“Please, no.” Alexei was quick to assure. He smiled once more. “But the games helped me in the end.” he crossed one of his legs over the other and regarded him more thoughtfully. “It must be hard for you, to know that you cannot do anything to me, not when I’m the only one to know where he is.” He told him, his voice coloring with a form of practiced sympathy.

It was truly starting to cost Gellert to not hex him. Think of Albus, he reminded himself. He forged on; “You know, when I find him – and I will – I will go for you next.” Gellert stated this like the simple truth it was. “You, Dolohov, are so fond of your little reputation, scaring everyone with this so-told necromancy history of yours. But I’ve been into this library before, I’ve read your books – at most your ancestors got a fascination for the macabre, at worse, it was a careful image they cultivated to give themselves some importance.” he let out a little huff, recalling the hours he spent here, reading books and books on Blood magic and Necromancy. Given what some rituals asked for them to be completed, he seriously doubted than any Dolohov had ever tried them. There was a reason Dark magic was dark after all; and Gellert didn’t think that any of them ever had the courage to sacrifice anything, even for a gain. They were too vain for that. Perhaps, they had used another person to do their will, but it was another matter entirely. He continued; “Smokes and mirrors are what you’re truly good of. That’s your inherence; this capacity of yours to play.” Gellert coldly told him. “You’re just a family of comedians, playing the buffoon to amuse the rest of us.”

Alexei’s smile if anything got wider, while his eyes had turned cold. “You’re not going to anger me enough for me to tell you anything, Gellert. I’m having way too much fun as it is. And before you ask: yes, it was entertaining to see you wonder and guess.” he assured him before huffing at the stormy expression that must be on Gellert’s face. “Revenge is far sweeter than told, truly.”

 

*
“Everybody is going around like nothing happened.” Aberforth stated; surprise coloring his voice and making it rang incredulous.

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he finally escaped the infirmary matron. Certainly not for Henry to eat slices of pie without a care in the world; and surely not this excitement, this fervor that he could almost taste in the air
One would think that a disappearance and the whole disaster that was the second task would have dimmed everyone’s enthusiasm about the Triwizard Tournament. It appeared now, as Aberforth was in the middle of the Institute’s dining hall for his breakfast that it was far from the case. If someone had told him this while he had still been confined in the infirmary, he wouldn’t have believed it; but it seemed that the interest for the games had only grown thanks to the ‘drama’ they caused.

Aberforth was sure that Albus would have hated it – in any case he certainly did.

Olympe put her goblet down, letting her eyes travelled around and taking in the scene; like she hadn’t really noticed what Aberforth was talking about before he pointed it to her.
Ariana, next to him however, appeared resigned to the fact, leaving Aberforth to wonder if he had missed the worst of it.

“The games always hold risks,” Olympe finally told him, “In a way it’s nothing out of what they have expected.” And awaited, was left unsaid, but Aberforth heard it loud and clear anyway.

“It’s outrageous.” he mused out loud. Everyone was betting on their favorite like they were not risking their lives at each task. And when something happened – when something went wrong that was – then it finally became the spectacle everybody had been eagerly awaiting for. Aberforth felt disgusted enough by it that he put his breakfast aside. He turned his focus to the Head Auror instead. The man was along the professors and taking his breakfast with them. He didn’t look stressed out, Abe remarked, despite all the things that happened under his watch and supervision. Nervous sure, but not stressed out. Aberforth’s eyes narrowed on him, wondering if he could burn a hole into him just by willing it. “Travers is even more useless than I’ve first thought; it’s impressive.” He ended-up saying when it became clear that trying to kill him at distance via glares wouldn’t work.

It was Juliette who replied, delicately pulling down her cup of streaming hot chocolate to do so. “He’s too busy trying to minimize his implication and to usher this all under the metaphorical carpet.” She didn’t snort but Abe felt like she really wanted to and only a weird sense of decorum was holding her back. She brushed back some errands strands of pale pink hair away, like she couldn’t be bothered to think more about that man.

“Why do you need Travers anyway? I’m here.” Henry reminded him in case Aberforth had managed to spirit away his existence. He was unnecessarily leaning toward Ariana to tell him this, all but invading her space with his elbow. His sister looked a bit caught in between them for a fleeting moment before she turned her head toward Henry. Aberforth couldn’t see what his sister’s face was doing anymore but Henry’s eyes were shining so much, they were practically dancing.

If Henry hadn’t come this morning and all but liberated him from the infirmary’s matron – a scary woman holding everyone’s health into her iron and unyielding grip – Aberforth would have swatted him away. Hard. “What are you even doing here?” he aggressively asked him instead. “And how did you get so many part of pie?” Abe added, eyeing the amount of edible goods right in front of him. There were a lot of them, piled right before him like some weird and extravagant offerings. Did Henry actually find a way to bribe the house-elves now? He wondered in a frown. “Go back to your table; you’re not one of the Beauxbâtons’ students!” He made vague shooing movements.

“You’re not either.” Henry calmly countered before putting another slice of pie – apple this time – in his mouth. He chewed pointedly, his lips going upward in a cheerful smile and Aberforth huffed in frustration at him. Every bit of bad temper always slid on Henry faster than water on a duck. Aberforth found it extremely annoying. “And for the pies, I only had to ask for them.” He said, right before going back to enjoying his food.

“We’ll find him.” Vinda gently assured him, cutting whatever arguments he could have with Henry by lightly putting one of her hands on his. It sure derailed whatever Aberforth was going to say very well as he stared down at their hands. Hers was so very delicate, he thought, especially compared to his. Aberforth had always been rather prone to use his hands first and wand second; he also enjoyed manuals works and it showed a little. Her hands though – there were soft and pale and she clearly never got her palm bitten down harshly by a tempered and angry goat. He still winced in pain when he recalled it. “Gellert, for one, won’t stop even if the rest of the authorities do.” She told him, and Aberforth’s mind snapped out of the memory of Chestnut purposively mistaking his left hand for hay to focus on the present and on what was being said.

He tore his eyes away from her hand on his – it was far too distracting – and looked up at her eyes instead. “How is Gellert going to find him?” He fired his question quickly and with a bit of doubt too, because it was Gellert and Gellert should always be taken with caution and a good dose of skepticism.

Henry and her exchanged a furtive glance that didn’t last for more than a beat or two. “I’m not sure.” Vinda admitted. She put her free hand on her chin, pensive. For once, he almost hoped she was searching for ways to dispose of someone. Travers, if possible.

“Reassuring.” He snorted, derisive.

“We –” She started again.

“I’m sorry to be this blunt,” Aberforth cut her off, “But I do not like Gellert.”

Aberforth could almost feel this strange circle of acquaintance, going from his sister to that hellish girl with pink hair, surrounding him this morning collectively pause.

“No shit.” Henry let out. He then shook his head like Aberforth said the most absurd thing which was a bit rich coming from him.

“We know.” Juliette resumed, as unimpressed as ever. She raised her eyes up as if she couldn’t believe how lowly she had fallen to even entertain such conversation. By Morgana, she was such a Slytherin.

Vinda simply arched one eyebrow at him. “There were never any doubts in anyone’s mind that you did.” Several persons nodded at that, clearly all in agreement on this.

“And I’m not sorry for this,” Aberforth continued, too on a roll now to stop despite their disheartening reactions. “But your school is going to lose these games.” he told them all, his tone hurried, “Because I don’t care about them and I do not trust Gellert, and because I need to find my brother.” With this he stood up, ignoring their surprised eyes as he all but reaped his hand away from Vinda’s and started to make his way outside the dining hall with determined steps.

He quickly arrived at the doors with this pace. But then the unmistakable silhouette of Mademoiselle Daphne – her lush white hair, her extravagant and plush furs and the tantalizing way she moved with it all – seemed to be waiting for him at the threshold.
He didn’t intend to stop for her, but she meaningfully blocked his path, arching a white eyebrow at him, and Aberforth had no other choices but to slow down and halt.

“I wouldn’t do that I were you.” She told him and Aberforth didn’t even have it in him to ask her how she knew what he was going to do. He was pretty sure that she was bluffing – that she was one of those people who liked to appear all-knowing without actually being in the known.

“Good thing you’re not me then.” he said evenly. “Get out of my way.” He added without detour. He even glared at her for good measure.

“You’re the spare.” The Beauxbâtons’ Headmaster stated, without detour either.

Merlin, but this kept getting better and better. “And you’re all so charming.” He drawled, full of sarcasms.

“Quitting will get you out of the games.” she confirmed, “But you took someone else’s place if you recall.” she reminded him, her crystal eyes boring into his and keeping him in place as surely as her body was blocking his way out. “If you give up now, then the magical’s contract will fall back on your sister.”

He scowled, deeply resenting the fact that Mademoiselle Daphne was once more using Ariana against him. His sister was not a bargaining chip, but it seemed that she did not get the memo yet. “She will just have to quit too.” Aberforth argued, fed up with this.

“It’s not how it works. There is no turning back once your name is picked from the goblet.” she explained. After a pause, she added; “I won’t stop you.” and to prove it, she cleared the path, granting both a literal and metaphorical out if he wished to take it. “However, choose carefully: your sister’s safety or your brother’s rescue? Which one of your sibling will you doom for the other, I wonder?”

With this impossible inquiry, she left, a fleeting smile on her face and her clicking heels echoing in the hall long after she was gone.

 

*
When Gellert made his way back to the Institute, the afternoon was already nearly over.
He didn’t even pretend to work – Travers could come and fire him if the man had it in him – before he opened the door to his room and all but crash on his mattress head first. He let out a long exhale into the pillow, and suddenly recalled that asphyxiation was a valid cause of death. One that Alexei could try at least, he believed. He added it to his mental list.

“Well,” a familiar voice said, “You’re looking gloomy as hell.”

Gellert raised his head and sure enough Henry was there, cross-legged and looking at Gellert from the other bed like he found him a little pitiful. “You’re not my type either.” Gellert replied before deciding that he was done with this exchange and dropped his head back onto the pillow again.

“I didn’t think you even knew where the Auror’s quarters were.” there were two reasons actually on why Gellert hadn’t come and slept here and it wasn’t because he had gotten lost somewhere in the way. The first was that he would rather sleep with Albus and the second; Travers had made them share a room. Gellert had never been fond of dormitories. It tended to invite to discussion when one wanted to sleep it off for one, he thought in a sigh. Resigning himself, he, at least, stopped to smother an imaginary Alexei with a pillow and turned so that it was easier to speak – if he wanted to that was. At his lack of immediate reply, Henry’s eyes narrowed on him, making the gold in them even more blinding. Gellert briefly wondered if he should Conjure him a pair of glasses. Despite Henry’s protest that it wouldn’t work as well as his old ones, Gellert swore that his ‘condition’ was getting worse and not better. He had witnessed more people than he cared to recall, falling over themselves just to do what Henry wanted those last few days. And the man had barely asked for it. An extremely valuable skill, Gellert recognized, as long as he himself wasn’t a victim of it too obviously. “Do I have to fetch Vinda so the two of you can hide the body while I close my eyes and put my hands on my ears, lalaling loudly and later, try to Obliviate myself?” Henry wondered. With a hum, he added “She’s gone to search for Aberforth, but I’m sure that the prospect alone will make her appear here quickly.”

Gellert distantly remarked that he had already thought of a whole plan about eventual murder. This was probably for the best, since Gellert had been musing of all the ways he could off Alexei since this morning. “Don’t be absurd.” he still rolled his eyes. “I would Obliviate you before you could even dream of doing it.” he marked a pause. “Why is she searching for Aberforth?” He asked; his curiosity picked.

“He was upset earlier.” Henry informed him in a shrug. “And he left the hall quite suddenly.”

“He’s always upset. It’s his default mode.” Gellert huffed since it was nothing new, before resuming his quiet brooding.

Henry blinked at his once more down expression. “Merlin, was it that bad?” He demanded.

“It was… unconstructive.” Gellert articulated, trying to find the correct words for the deep displeasure he was feeling. “I cannot go against Alexei right now – not with Albus missing – and he knows this.” he explained to him, still so very frustrated about it. “He has the upper hand and he’s pushing it.” he concluded. “I would have done the same.” He softly added after a pause.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, curious.

Gellert huffed. “It’s not just rumors you know: Durmstrang is Dark. Not necessary in terms of magic – though from what Albus told me, we’re far less restrictive than Hogwarts in this matter – but in others areas this school cannot be called Light.” he admitted extremely aware of this. He hadn’t been for a long time, not while he was a student here himself at least. How could he after all? It was not like Gellert had anything to compare it to. But now, with the knowledge he gained about Hogwarts from Albus, and with what he knew about Beauxbâtons from Vinda, it was difficult to ignore this plain truth. “We’re shown that manipulation is an efficient tool. We’re encouraged to use it. Treachery is no less damning, unless you are caught red handed at it.” he had learnt his lesson well when he had been expulsed. His experiments had been tolerated before – they had to have been known – but once caught out, then Gellert had been on his own. No more tolerance, no back-ups possible. “I was one of the top students back then. I excelled at it all.” He told him, wondering if this made him Dark as well.

“So?” Henry faintly rolled his eyes like Gellert was unnecessary dramatic. “Look, Hogwarts is not all roses either. We’re divided into houses right from the start and pretty much taught to be proud and to snob all the others.” he explained, “The competition in between some has gotten nasty. The prejudices are high too.” Henry hummed contemplative. Gellert wasn’t that naïve, of course Hogwarts had his own darkness and Beauxbâtons surely did too. But Durmstrang was Dark in broad daylight, it was not hiding any of it, and worse; it was tainting those inside with it. Slowly perhaps, but inevitably. It was something that Henry couldn’t really understand, he supposed. “All in all, well, I don’t think we’re so much better than you cheating Russians.” Henry concluded.

“Austrian.” Gellert corrected absently.

Henry waved the matter away with a low ‘sure, sure’. “Obviously if you repeat that to anyone, I will lie and call you names.” He informed him quite seriously.

“Obviously.” at Henry insistent gaze on him, he let out a flat; “What.”

“You’re almost a good friend when you’re not hexing or threatening anyone.”

Gellert rolled his eyes heavenward at all the silly words going out from his mouth today. “You’re still not my type.” He declared before putting his face into the soft pillow once more and this was the end of that nonsense.

 

*
Aberforth chose Ariana.

He could justify it, and they would be good and sensible points, but this absolutely didn’t make him feel any better. Aberforth was sure the dirt under someone’s shoes was on the same level as him for doing so.

If his mother chose to come back from the dead and rose from her grave to tear his ear off like she used to threaten to when Aberforth wasn’t polite enough; he wouldn’t even be too shocked. He might have gotten away with insulting the Mallard’s son – a Muggle’s neighbor of them in Godric’s Hollow with which Aberforth had a tense and ongoing competition on who got the best farm – but he didn’t think that letting Albus, Kendra’s darling boy, into the dubious care of some European would have been pardoned so easily.
Because, for all Ariana had been his mother’s priority during the last decade of her life, it was Albus who had been her favorite. His mother had always been discreet about it – nothing like the exuberant joy their father expressed each time Ariana so much as breathed – but it had also always been here too; resurfacing in furtive moments when she managed to escape the obsessive and excessive care she was drowning their sister under.

If Aberforth ever told this to Vinda, he suspected that she would accuse him of having middle child syndrome, and call him a bore for not choosing a more original issue.

Vinda might not be wrong. Aberforth suddenly fiercely wished that she could be here, that she would take the time and the effort to search for him until she found his not-really-hiding spot outside. He had a great view here at least, he thought, the round balcony opening wide to the valley with only a little of the pointy and sharp roof of the Institute visible. He was not sure how he found this perfect brooding place however – he just walked away from the dining hall this morning, stubborn enough to not let Mademoiselle got the last word. After that, he more or less let his steps took him whenever they wanted to. He fell on this deserted balcony by chance, and upon noticing that no one was invading it, stayed there.
He didn’t see how Vinda could find him in those conditions.
But she did, catching up with him at the end of the day. He heard her before she appeared, her little shoes gently tapping the stairs as they climbed up into his new secret spot. He was sure that it was her then, which was weird because it could have been any other girl. But he wanted it to be her, and for once, Aberforth got what he wanted.

“You’ve stayed.” Vinda’s voice remarked, both abruptly entering and destroying his bubble of solitude and silence at once.

“Yes.” Aberforth wanted to add that this wasn’t a choice – not really – but it also was, and this had been keeping him still all afternoon. He looked up at Vinda then, at her uncertain face washed by the colors of a day ending and felt guilty. Well, more than he already was. He had enough time to cool off to know that his outburst – while understandable – hadn’t been directed at the right persons. Neither Vinda nor Olympe or Ariana had deserved it. Even that devilish girl, Juliette, hadn’t and this was saying something. At least, Henry wouldn’t mind and brush it off like it was nothing as usual. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, and meant it.

She came next to him and didn’t say much more. She looked out and away like she was trying to piece together what had attracted him into this very place to begin with. Aberforth privately smiled a little, before turning his gaze away too, sharing the view with her. It was more beautiful now, with her here and near, he decided.
The sun was lowering and painting the sky orange, rose and red. Aberforth recognized that it was a pretty picture even as he fiercely longed to be home. He would have exchanged the Institute’s lake for the green fields of Godric’s Hollow without hesitation; the austere castle for their faded Victorian’s house, and even this sunset for some London’s rain.
He furtively looked back at Vinda, before evading her once more. Would she belong, would she fit in the middle of nowhere England? Would she be willing to? He wondered, before lightly shaking his head and sighing. If he managed to go back home with all his siblings, it would be some sort of exploit already, he mused.

The sun was setting for good now, and going elsewhere, its light leaving them slowly.

His family only had three members left now that both their parents were gone, and Aberforth had decided some time ago that he was done with losing another.
Aberforth couldn’t believe that he was going to have to trust Gellert to not mess up while he himself continued this masquerade that was these games.

Gellert really better not screwed up.

 

*
Aberforth repeated this new mantra to himself, and if this was not a sign that he was desperate or that the world was ending somewhere, he didn’t know what this was.

But it was all he could think of, standing in front of the tall trees judging him from all the wisdom of their years two weeks later. Focusing on the rest – on Minerva looking on edge next to him with her face bathed by the torches’ light, on the deafening cheerful public – would certainly be dooming now that Aberforth had realized that the Triwizard Tournament didn’t care for casualty.
So he kept this in mind (Gellert better not screwed up, Gellert better not –) even when the intimidating Durmstrang’s Headmaster, Dmitri Danacov, came on a stage, his long and deep burgundy mantle trailing on the ground after him. He was an imposing and charismatic figure, facing without a flinch his audience. Aberforth thought that most of the rumors of his vampirism must come from this stoic manner of his. It also didn’t help that he was so pale and so fond of dark clothing materials at the same time.

Dmitri Danacov announced the last task to the three champions and to the public at large: “In the heart of the forest,” he began, his voice booming with a Sonorus spell. “Wait a cup made of crest. To crown you the winner; you will have to find it within the hour.”

“What’s with these games and poetry?” Aberforth complained loudly. His voice still got washed out by the excited sounds of the crowd. It was almost like he had said nothing.

So it was not a surprise when he received no answers.

Notes:

Alright... I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been struggling on this one, but at least I kind of sort out the thing that was blocking me? So... *cross fingers*
Thank you for every comments and encouragments, you've all been amazing 💜
I hope you've enjoyed this chap ^^.

Chapter 28

Notes:

Fair warning for this chapter: I’m going to *gently* break your heart

Albus allowed that Pieter Lovanoff should be the one leading them into this new and eerie décor.

The landscape barely changed – and Pieter assured him that it wouldn’t, not on this side of the shield where everything was forever still and frozen.
And yet, the forest they were in must have been, at some point in time, lush and full of life. Albus tried to imagine it full of green leaves, with the wind whispering along them and with birds singing instead of the monotone white they were surrounded with, where the wind more or less screamed into their ears to get away or else.

It was hard to reconcile what must have been to what it was now; and the same could be said about his companion of misfortune.

In a way, Pieter Lovanoff was exactly how Albus had always known him. He had the same physique even if his was more drained down by weariness than his impostor. But he also was an entirely different man. It was in the little details; in how he didn’t outrageously proposition Albus when he offered him a shelter, and in how he moved too sometimes.
But Albus had to admit, Alexei Dolohov had done a good job at recreating him. Polyjuice could only copy a body, but to impersonate someone rightly wasn’t given to anyone. And if he had managed to even fool Gellert, then he must have been even better than good. For the rest, the little faults in Dolohov’s acting, everything could be put unto time. People change – and Albus had to huff because wasn’t it what Dolohov had once told him? – and Gellert hadn’t seen Pieter in more than a year.
And Gellert had been so busy, Albus recalled, too caught up with Ariana’s name going out of the goblet to put much of his focus on Pieter – someone that he initially trust and therefore didn’t suspect.
This Alexei Dolohov was smart, he mused. He couldn’t wait to get out of here in order to confront him and to tell Gellert that Albus had been right in the end – the fake Pieter Lovanoff had been behind all this.

Thinking of Gellert though, made him hope that he was alright and not plagued with Visions anymore. He sighed ruefully missing Nurmengard even more; not the place in itself but the simplicity that it granted them. How the two of them could just be when they were there. Albus also regretted Greety and her biscuits, he thought in a pout. Albus could really do with a biscuit right now...
His stomach rumbled in agreement and Albus had to stop thinking about all the sugary treats that he couldn’t have and focus on what he could do instead.

The sound of his empty stomach caught Pieter’s attention. He didn’t stop walking as he spoke to him. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing to eat unless you –” he began to inform him, a little sheepishly, before pausing as Albus was already biting into a biscuit. “– Conjure them.” He ended-up with a raised eyebrow.

Albus was gracious enough to Conjure one for him too. Pieter took it and quickly ate it; clearly ravenous. “Is this shelter of yours far?” He wondered, watching as his feet disappeared into the snow each time they touched the earth. He Conjured more biscuits for the two of them.

“No, we’re almost there.” he reassured, his tone softer now that he had eaten. “But, I perhaps ought to warn you; the… place is a little particular.” He hesitantly described like he wasn’t sure what words he should use.

The light around them dimmed and raised continuously in what Albus guessed was the sunrise and the sunset like a nervous habit. He didn’t see how it could become stranger than this. “How so?”

Pieter made a face. “I’m afraid that it’s one of those things you have to see for yourself.” he said, bypassing an imposing tree. “Look, we’re here.” He pointed right before them.

Albus followed him and then abruptly came to a stop. He now certainly understood Pieter’s reasoning. It was… hard to describe, if he was honest, not because it was very complicated but because it was just so desolate, so empty that to describe it faithfully would probably mean adding too much to it.
There was nothing and yet, there were houses – or what was left of them. There were little village houses, the kind that could be petite but charming if cared for. But they were as deserted as the rest, frozen like a picture and covered by frost and snow alike. The rest consisted of a well – it must truly have been a village – and several old carts abandoned around.

The sight was already depressing enough, but as Albus and Pieter made their way into the road – Albus could feel the paved path under his shoes – nothing could have prepared him for the frozen statue.
Its human size caught in a run and overly expressive face – set into one expression of fear and horror – was nearly enough to make him scream. Instead, instinctively, he reached for a wand that wasn’t there while he took more than one step backward.

Pieter halted and gazed at him, incredulous, before realizing what must have happened. “There are more of them,” he said, looking at the statue that had spooked Albus so much, “They’re dispersed all around. I think they tried to leave before the curse hit them.” he told him, sharing his own disquiet with him. “I used to think that it was a fairytale.” he confessed in a breath that, like all the others, made a little cloud of white puff into the air. “And that the curse was the result of a magical’s experimentation gone wrong.” He deflated, making his eyes evade the permanent and panicked stare the frozen man was wearing.

Albus too, found himself quick to flee this image of terror. “Where is your shelter?” He asked again, more eager than ever to reach it – and not just because of the harsh weather this time.

“Just here; inside one of the house.” he pointed at one with a cracked open door. “With a roof over our head and walls around us, it keeps most of the wind at bay.”

“It’s less windy than earlier.” Albus remarked now that he wasn’t so taken by the general… atmosphere of the place. He wriggled his fingers, feeling them a little less stiff. Was it warmer here or had Albus already gotten used to the cold?

“It’s better, isn’t it?” Pieter said in a little smile as he watched him. He looked like he knew that he managed to surprise him.

“Strangely enough, yes.” The cold was somehow less biting. Finally, some good points, he thought choosing to ignore all the rest.

Pieter then entered his self-proclaimed shelter and Albus followed him inside. The little house’s interior wasn’t much to speak of, but there were rest of furniture like chairs and a table and apparently Pieter had been using bits of them both to make a fire.
Pieter was quick to sit himself on the floor around what Albus assumed to be the heart of his fire. He gathered what was left of the wood, moving soot and putting some of it on his fingertips. There were no embers left behind, and Albus supposed that one second of inattention was enough for the frost to attack and smother any flames. But Pieter didn’t let any of it discourage him. He went and finished to snap an already broken chair. He then put the wood into the center. Albus watched as he finally seemed to concentrate intensely on it. Moments later, a first flame appeared much to Pieter’s evident relief.

“It’s harder and harder to start a fire.” Pieter admitted in a long sigh. “I’m not that good at wandless magic to be honest, and it doesn’t help that I’m tired.” he sighed once more. “I can’t believe that I’ve been here for months.” He gloomy recalled, putting more little pieces of woods to feed the flames.

Albus sat down, mimicking Pieter and ignoring as much as he could how it wetted a part of his clothes. Getting closer to a source of warmth was the priority if he didn’t want his body’s temperature to drop even more. “The fire…” He trailed in wonder as he focused on the way the flames moved. It was rising too slowly, Albus noted. He was no stranger to fire himself – he had put the curtains of his own dormitories in flames once with nothing but his mind and will – but never had he seen one doing this kind of halted dance.

Pieter nodded, understanding Albus’ curiosity. He stroked his fire absently with a wood stick. “The counter spell used to confine the curse is the strongest here, because we’re at the center.” he motioned to all the things they saw outside. “The curse must have been cast here originally and so this is where the counter spell is the most active.”

“It makes sense.” he said, “And since the counter spell had created a distortion…” Albus hummed as he trailed, becoming pensive. “The cold isn’t less biting.” he realized abruptly. “It’s only slowed enough that it doesn’t affect us right away.”

“We’re probably more ‘slowed’ here too.” Pieter concluded with a sad twist of his mouth. “Now that I know that there’s some time distortion at play, everything makes so much sense.”

“We need to find a way to get out of here.” Albus declared, feeling the urgent need to leave this place even more keenly.

Being ‘slowed’ wasn’t good; even if the results were appreciated now. If Pieter had been here for months without noticing it, then how long had Albus been here? Was the Triwizard Tournament over already?
And what about Aberforth? He suddenly wondered. Albus had been with his brother during the second task, and he had no certitude that he hadn’t been put inside the shield along him. Only a general lack of grumbling in their vicinities had ensured him so far that Aberforth was – hopefully – safe. But perhaps Alexei Dolohov had put him elsewhere. He was certainly cunning and wicked enough to have done so.
And what about Gellert? His mind promptly hushed. That man was after him. Alexei Dolohov said – he talked about destroying Gellert, Albus recalled worriedly.
Albus needed to get out.

Pieter blinked once at him before letting out a deadpan; “And I want to be elected Supreme Mugwump.”

The fact that he didn’t roll his eyes should be considered a minor exploit. He couldn’t expect Pieter to share his concerns, but Albus was sure that, at least, the man wanted to get out as much as him. “I think we should focus on our current problem first.” He evenly replied.

Pieter loudly snorted; an inelegant sound that seemed to exist just for this purpose. “Listen about our ‘current problem’” he began, making excessive air quotes like he thought that Albus phrasing was a bit ridiculous. “I’ve tried alright? You don’t think I’ve just stayed here for – for five months,” he stumbled slightly, “And didn’t try everything I could come up with.” he told him, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “But the truth is: with this shield surrounding us and without wands, we can’t do much.” he informed him with a light shake of his head. “When I’ve first heard you, I’ve thought I was finally going to be saved. And I was so happy.” a soft smile passed on his lips. It changed his whole face and transformed it into something more boyish. “I was already day-dreaming of retiring into some hot destination – because let me tell you how fed up I am of snow – and I was going to, finally, enjoy life. I was picturing beautiful tanned women and men, warm sand and the sounds of the waves and instead,” he momentarily paused, a grimace passing over his feature. “I’m here with you, with this ever on-going ‘problem’: how to get out of there? And, I am,” he finally paused to take a breath, “Utterly,” he insisted, “Exhausted by it.”

Albus let the silence stretch around them while he contemplated Pieter. It was true that he looked tired, something that he had caught right away, but perhaps Albus hadn’t realized how much this situation must have weighted on him. He imagined that, if he himself had been here for five months, he would be completely done by it. “The lacks of wands certainly complicate matters,” he agreed, making sure to keep his tone calm and soothing. “But, let’s not desperate.” he insisted. “If you wish to ‘enjoy life’ as you say,” Albus air quoted back at him, “Then, I suggest that you keep trying. If we give up now, we’re never going to go out, that’s for sure.”

There was another pause before Pieter exhaled a long sigh. “Fine.” he told him. “Do you have a plan? One that I didn’t already try by chance?”

Albus drummed his fingers on his chin while his mind worked. He stopped them only when an idea struck him. His eyes twinkled. “I’ve been thinking of this shield.” It was, after all, their main obstacle between them and the exit.

“Alright.” He said, seemly suspicious of what could come after if his narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

Albus decided to be blunt and to the point, they both had no time to lose and Pieter seemed to be the type to appreciate directness. “I want to go through it.”

“You can’t.” Pieter refuted at once in a heavy frown.

“Alone, no.” Albus easily conceded. It was not made to be crossed so of course, going against it head first wouldn’t work, but: “But the two of us, at the same time…?” he hummed once more, “I think, if we both focus our magic on a single point at the same time, we may be able to go through it.” He elaborated.

“You want us to force our way through a very strong magical shield.” Pieter resumed as if to be sure he heard correctly.

“Yes, exactly.” Albus confirmed in a contented smile.

Pieter stared for a beat before letting a flat: “Why.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Why what?” He demanded.

“Why am I being punished by the universe like that?” Pieter wondered, making a betrayed face. “First Alexei Dolohov, now you with your crazy and suicidal idea!” he exclaimed, looking more and more wounded at his apparent lack of luck. “I’m a gentleman, I’ve never hurt anyone!” he complained. “I just don’t understand.” He added after a pause. Pieter seemed to be seriously researching who he could have wronged in this life to deserve such a fate.

“We should try it soon.” Albus advised after he let Pieter had his little breakdown.

“Ah, before I regain my common sense, of course.” He acquiesced like it was to be expected.

Albus did raise his eyes up. “Before my magic weaken too much and we lose more time.” He corrected. Honestly, his plan wasn’t as crazy as Pieter made it sound. Was it?

Albus mulled over it as he bit into a freshly Conjured biscuit.

 

*
1901, February, Tuesday 5th

Gellert mused that several mistakes had led him into his current situation.

The first one had been to come back to Durmstrang when it had been clear the first time around that this place didn’t mix up well with him.
The second one had been to trust old faces too blindly.
The third one – the most obvious one – was that Gellert had become terribly soft and indulgent, something that he couldn’t even blame on age. See Henry, who near pester him at times; well, two years ago or so, Gellert would have already found a way to dispose of him. But now, despite still being as creative as ever, he endured, worse even, he understood. Same with Ariana – oh he liked her, had right from the start, but then after meeting Aberforth, everyone tended to shine rather brightly – with whom Gellert was bordering on meek.
If his past-self could see him, he would make faces at him. He knew, for sometimes Gellert still cringed internally.

All of these, he thought, were why he was strolling once more into the White Forest as the twilight was approaching with Henry and Ariana hot on his heels.
(Well, he amended, all of this and Aberforth (who was always at fault) and Travers (who was useless at best and incompetent at worst).)

Travers had asked his Aurors to check on the cup before the game started – he didn’t seem to wish for another scandal – and Gellert had volunteered for once, not one to pass up the opportunity to once more check the perimeter of this forest. Perhaps, this time, be it under a brush or behind a tree or near hidden by the snow, Gellert would find Albus and everything would be alright once more.
Perhaps.
He hadn’t expected Ariana to find and follow him. He also hadn’t anticipated Henry appearing and slipping into the forest with them as soon as he could. He felt like he should have.
(He would have suspected one of them of snitching to the other, but in this peculiar circumstance, he didn’t see how they would have found the time to do so.)
They kept chatting up pleasantly next to him as they strolled into the forest while he pretended to be annoyed with them both. They would have probably continued like this until they reached the location of the cup, but then something like a delicate hazy veil fell on them and their surroundings, and Gellert began to have a bad feeling.

“What’s happening?” Ariana asked, looking around in concern.

“Is it… the Nebulus’s Charm?” Henry wondered, his brilliant eyes narrowing on the mist rapidly thickening around them.

“Yes.” Gellert confirmed in a curt nod. It also had nothing to do here, he thought, as his companions’ most defining features started to fade a bit under the sudden and heavy moisture hanging in the air. Even Ariana’s Beaubâtons uniform began to wash out; the blue of it slowly being hidden under this cloak of humidity.

“What this Charm do?” Ariana asked, passing one of her hands in front of her as if to test it. With her hand stretched like this, Gellert wasn’t sure if she could even make out her fingers. She still wriggled them a little.

“It creates a deep frog. But mostly, it hides its caster…” Henry trailed, seemly uneasy at the possible implication.

Gellert checked his pocket watch, frowning down at it when he saw the time it announced. He put it closer to his eyes to be sure that the mist wasn’t tricking him. “The task is not supposed to start yet.” he started to say as one of his hands put it under his coat once more. “It’s way too early for –”

A loud and deafening booming noise interrupted what he was going to add; making them startle badly. Ariana bumped into Gellert in the process and seemed content to stay near. He could also feel Henry’s shoulder brush against his.

“What’s –” Ariana began, her eyes wide, she was looking around once more, a frighten edge to it now. “What’s this task about? Do you know?” She questioned them both.

Next to him, Henry shook his head in negative. Gellert answered; “I’ve heard Travers and some members of the Magical’s Investigation Bureau talk about Trolls.” he admitted lowly, “And I’ve seen them.” he didn’t add that he only did so because he fell on them while he had been patrolling the forest in search of Albus, or at least some trace of him. Gellert had enchanted a compass to help him in his research, but the forest was so heavily cursed that it had corrupted his mechanism a little. Gellert had found himself in front of a Troll’s cage before he realized his lapse. He thought that making the compass point at what you desired most would be enough, but his little invention still relied on magic, and nothing perturbed magic better than magic – a frustrating thing to be recall of. “They got the creatures parked near. There were a lot of them.” He recalled the cages he had seen. Huge and many, and filled with just as many Trolls. Gellert had grimaced just at the sight of them – and not only because of the smell. He had been a little disappointed in the Durmstrang’s Headmaster for choosing this kind of mindless magical’s creature. Everybody knew after all: Trolls were rather stupid.

A loud and earth shaking sound erupted then. Ariana openly grabbed his arm in a tight grip. Gellert would have told her not to worry, except that more and more sounds came after that leaving, even him, unsteady. It soon became undeniable to Gellert that it was extremely large steps and that it was coming closer to them.
In short, it was certainly a reason to worry.

“By Merlin.” Henry whispered under his breath. Surely recognizing the trouble coming their way, his hand went and gripped the wand he secured at his waistband.

“We’re going to be as silent as possible.” Gellert instructed because as much as a Troll was absolutely useless, it was still a giant with a penchant for destruction. “And slowly; we’re going to move out of its way.”

His two companions nodded eagerly.
Carefully Gellert started to direct them, trying to be mindful of natural obstacles like trees, logs, and such. It was not an easy feat considering that the Nebulus hid most of it to their eyes until they were right in front of it. Also, as silent as they were being, their feet still crunched under the snow; making Henry visibly wince next to him each time the sound ricocheted a little too much around.

They walked nearly blindly around, and for a while it was fine. But then, they came into contact with what looked like a tree trunk – that was what he thought of at least before said trunk spat saliva at their feet. They collectively stilled. Gellert slowly lifted his head up. The foul breath that brushed his curls away from his face wasn’t a welcome surprise.
Gellert made a face, utterly disgusted.

“Ew!” Henry let out. With the way Ariana was putting a hand covering her mouth and nose, Gellert would say that she also agreed wholeheartedly with this statement.

A shadow passed above them and Gellert didn’t have to be an expert of Trolls to recognize the shape of heavy cudgel about to be put down. “Run.” He ordered in a breath.

The three of them dispersed at once; Ariana letting out a surprised scream as Gellert roughly grabbed her and led her away. The loud sound of the cudgel hitting and cracking wood rose into the air along the heavy steps of the creature – happy now to have someone to give chase. Gellert gritted his teeth. He truly hated Trolls.

He pointed his wand toward the nearest and tallest moving figure. “Stupefy.” he incanted; watching as his magic found his target. “Henry!” he called, letting go of discretion now that it had no use anymore. “Petrificus Totalus.” He directed this one to the other Troll and promptly frowned. There had been only one before and the forest was grand. Why were they both doing here?

“How many of them are there?” Ariana questioned, sounding tense. She looked spooked but wary, probably dreading the answer.

“Stop cursing them!” Henry suddenly replied as he came to what appeared to be a sprint stop next to them. “Trolls are magical’s creatures,” he rapidly explained, breathing loudly from his quick run, “They not only can sense magic, they’re also attracted by it!”

“I can’t curse them?” Gellert repeated, his mouth twisting down. What kind of restricting rule was that?!

“Not if you don’t want –” Henry never got to finish before a huge hand appeared and nearly grabbed him by the head. Henry let out a yell as Gellert reacted by pushing him and making him fall down – he said to not target Trolls but he didn’t say anything about him after all. Henry was lucky enough that the Troll’s aim still missed him by a hair, in fact it messed it and probably took some strands along if his wide betrayed eyes was anything to go by. Henry touched his head, tentative. His face turned affronted. “Alright.” Henry conceded; his voice strangely calm and even. “Go ahead and curse them.” The ‘I don’t even care anymore’ was more than implied.

“I was not waiting for your permission.” Gellert flatly remarked. He would still curse them of course, as soon as the opportunity rose.

For now though, the priority was to flee, and so they ran, wildly, with an edge of panic that only something bigger than you and with the ability to harm you a lot could give you. It certainly made them motivated. But they also ran without direction, for neither of them seemed to know where to go, only that they didn’t want to stay here.
Gellert was slightly ahead, a right he earned by being the one with the longest legs and stride. He still had Ariana’s wrist into his grip and was – he acknowledged – forcing her to keep up with his fast pace. Henry had followed his example and had taken her other hand, leaving her no choice but to speed up. It was far from the most practical way to escape, but they didn’t have much time to spare with those Trolls all around.
But they were managing.
At least they did.
Gellert didn’t know what happened, but one second he was running and the next Ariana let out a high pitched scream and abruptly stopped. The momentum in between her not moving anymore and him still speeding like a mad man, made Gellert let go of her. Henry and him stumbled a few feet ahead, and collided into each other for their trouble.
Gellert would forever deny the undignified sound he let out and the ungraceful way Henry and him fell on the ground, unintentionally knocked down by themselves.

“Ooh, you bumped my head,” Henry whined, massaging his forehead. “You’re so bony!”

“You’re not that comfy either.” Gellert complained too.

Henry raised himself up, or at least his upper half with his armpits, making excessive painful noises as he went. “I’m so done.” he informed the world at large, and normally Gellert would have told him to get up and suck it up, but the sudden light coming from below them and the distinctive sound of a spell activating made him shut up. They both looked down. Henry quickly passed a gloved hand on the ground, sweeping the snow away to reveal – “Hey –” Henry began.

He never finished.
Gellert himself didn’t even manage to think more about what was happening before violent screams invaded his head. He put his hands on his ears on instinct but it wasn’t coming from the outside.
Gellert felt his pulse rise up, panicked and scared like a small animal, and tried to force himself to breathe through it.

“Gellert!” Ariana’s own concerned scream penetrated the internal chaos that had befallen onto him. He felt her rush to his side, and he forced himself to open his eyes. He didn’t know when he had screwed them shut. Ariana seemed to realize that Henry was down too and she placed herself in between them both. She grabbed Henry’s arm, trying to bodily lift him up without much success. Seeing her lack of result, she gave up quickly. “What’s happening?” she urged. She looked at them both, shaking and struggling uselessly on the ground, her head going from one to the other as if she could find a way to fix it. She shook Henry by the arm she still had in her grip. “Why are you like this?!” She pressed.

“A pentacle.” Gellert managed to say in between gritted teeth.

“A bloody pentacle!” Henry added with feelings. He was squirming into himself, while trying to narrow his eyes. “Shit, but there are a lot of runes there.” He said in a pained breath.

Ariana travelled her blue gaze to the part of the pentacle Henry had uncovered, eyeing it. “I only know a little about Runes…” She started, apologetic like she was failing them by her lack of knowledge.

Gellert could make out enough of it to guess what it was. He mentally cursed the Durmstrang’s Headmaster who clearly orchestrated this whole task just to spite him. “It’s a Chaos Pentacle.” Gellert provided, hating how it was affecting him and making him shook the more he tried to suppress or ignore its effect. “It’s the reverse of the Harmony one.”

“There’s a reverse?!” Henry exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down.” Gellert hissed in reproach. Henry did, but his face was near mutinous.

“How do we get rid of it?” Ariana took over.

“A Finite Incantatem.”

“Can you do it?” And Gellert heard her real question here: are you able to?

He could, but it wasn’t how a Chaos Pentacle worked. “I can’t.” and this was why it was a most vicious thing, he decided. Not only it was contracting his chest in a merciless grip, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else, but it was also terribly specific in its breaking. “I’m inside. Only someone who is outside can disperse it.” He could technically cast other spells, but none would stop the runes from doing their works. It had to be lifted by someone on the outside.

Henry and him were inside. The only option left was Ariana – who couldn’t cast at all.

Ariana pursed her lips as she had reached the same conclusion as him. “Is there any other way?” Gellert rapidly shook his head in negative, wishing to shake off those awful voices, hurling in his mind. If there was another way, he didn’t know of it. Sadly, it was only a quarter of their trouble, as loud approaching steps were heard. Ariana turned her head toward the growing sounds. “The Trolls are coming.” She said, looking more torn if possible.

“You need to leave.” Gellert stated, trying to breathe through the discomfort so that she didn’t realize how much he was pain right now. But the truth was nothing but nice. It felt like his magic was being forcibly tugged out of him. The more he resisted, the more it tugged. It was maddening.

Ariana’s eyes flashed, her hidden temper showing up. “I’m not leaving you out there!”

“I can’t cast like this. And neither can Henry.” he voiced. Henry had, in fact become strangely silent. Gellert wondered if he too, was doing his best to not upset Ariana too much. “You need to leave.” He repeated.

Her expression turned stubborn. The kind that Albus got when he decided that he was going to do something even – or perhaps especially – if Gellert didn’t agreed on it. To see it mirrored on her didn’t bring him much comfort. Albus too, always became stubborn at the worst moment. It must be a familial tradition, he mused somewhat annoyed at the Dumbledore for not teaching their children some basic self-preserving instinct.
Ignoring his current predicament and searching on how to change her mind – his tactics had never worked well on her brother, but maybe she could be more reasonable – he almost forgot that this time he got another card into his deck. One that chose this moment to act on his own.

Henry grabbed Ariana’s chin, sudden and rough, and thus aligned her eyes with his. “Run.” He ordered her, his magic ringing in this simple word and his golden iris shining wildly.

Gellert felt the compulsion to follow his directive keenly, to stand and to run, in his bones. So when Ariana’s own eyes glazed over, he wasn’t surprised that she stood up. She didn’t even question or protest anymore; she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

 

*
"One," Albus started to count out loud in order to make sure that Pieter's nerves wasn't going to get the best of him. It had taken him more gentle nudging for Pieter to accept. He couldn't afford the man to back down now; Albus needed him too much for that. Pieter visibly steadied himself but stayed put. Good. Albus would have hated to have to run after him into that thick snow. "Two," Pieter gulped slightly, and Albus readied himself. "Three." He said before taking Pieter's forearm (just in case) and sprinted toward the shimmering shield.

Albus gathered the magical's energy he had left and – had been inclined toward this kind of thing – he would have prayed. His plan, he realized, was borderline crazy. Pieter might have had a point earlier in saying so, but Albus didn't see another way for them to exit. To wait for rescue was a sound idea in theory, but in reality, the forest was vast and they were all but another little snowflakes into it. Albus had no doubt that Gellert was searching for him, but even Gellert, accomplished as he was, couldn't create miracle from scratch. If they managed to exit this bubble of energy, then finding them would be easier. Albus might even be able to Apparate them away.
Though, it was better not count too much on this option, he thought, as they violently collided with the shield. It was, to put it gently, displeased by them – there really was no other words for it – and was reacting much like an annoyed cat would, by hissing and puffing its tail. Except that it was not a cat and so the result was completely different.

Albus felt his magic being called back by the one of the shield, near painfully. The barrier certainly didn't wish for them to pass. But at the same time, it didn't want them to stay here, entrapped as they were into its net. It had not been made to keep prisoner, but to keep things in or out. And so, with this two intruders stubbornly insisting to go into the other side, the barrier followed its most primary mode by spatting them out on the other side.

The two of them gracelessly rolled onto the ground, bodies spent and ears ringing. Albus ended-up with his stomach on the ground, and only the cold humidity of the snow made him rolled around, nearly bumping into Pieter as he did. They stayed still with only their chests heaving for a while. Albus didn't feel like moving just yet if he was honest. Therefore, it took him some time to realize that the blaring sound they heard was not a result of overtaxing their magic.
Albus used his elbows to be somewhat more up, and to figure out where it was coming from.
It was the shield, its surface troubled now, and it was ringing up like a warning.

He urged Pieter on his feet even as he himself stood up shakily. “Come on, we have to leave.” Pieter was almost boneless in his arms and Albus didn’t have that kind of strength to carry him. “Come on.” He pleaded as much as he pressed.

“I don’t feel so great.” He admitted; his words faint and slurred.

“I know.” Albus acknowledged, not so great himself. “But I believe that we activated something when we passed.” he told him. “It definitely rang.”

“Alexei must have put an alarm of sort on it… that control freak…”

“Can you walk?” Albus worriedly asked him, as he tried to make Pieter sit at least and not slump in his arms like he was as slack as a marshmallow.

The frog around them was thick and dense, easily rivaling the humid air the Thames carried around in London's city. There hadn't been any before, not on the other side of the magical' shield, but now that they were freed, the misty atmosphere was hard to miss. It reduced the view, not that the scenery held such surprise anymore, but it did question Albus. If the mist was not strange to be found this deep in the forest, it was still intriguing to have so much of it.

“I… don’t think so. Can you even tell where the exit is?" Pieter asked in a weak voice, making Albus focus back on the situation at hand.

"Everywhere that is not here will suffice for now." Albus replied. He didn't know if Dolohov would really come or not – and he wasn't willing to wait and see if the man did. Albus was a formidable duelist, but he currently had no wand or much energy left for it. Moreover, Alexei Dolohov didn't seem like he was a hopeless wizard. Manipulations didn't look like it was the only subject he mastered.

Albus urged Pieter as much as he was able to, going as far as helping him stand. Pieter grunted, annoyed at the treatment but too wrung out to really protest. He was swaying even with his support, and Albus was a little ashamed to admit that he wasn't that much better either. Thankfully, walking straight had never been an obligation in a forest. They passed and bypassed trees with a collective and labored effort.
When Pieter's body slumped down, the suddenness of it almost took Albus down with him.

“Pieter!” Albus exclaimed when keeping the other wizard standing really became too much.

But Pieter had lost the battle against unconsciousness at some point, his weigh now carrying him down, and stealing the breath of his lungs away. Albus couldn’t possibly let him out there, not in the state he was in, and not with Dolohov who could come back any time now.
So, he dragged him by the forearms, Pieter’s feet leaving two parallels lines after him. It made a too very clear path right to them, but Albus couldn’t do anything about it. Albus was too busy panting, searching for his breath and exhausted, he finally fell down.
He stood up, made himself really, and started to make his way out again with Pieter. He managed to walk some meters before falling again. This time, he failed to stand up again, his legs protesting too much and he was too tired to fight against it.
He closed his eyes, just breathing for a while as he stayed on the ground.
He couldn’t do it, he admitted to himself, feeling a form of helplessness settled in him. Pieter was too heavy for him and Albus’ fingers were too cold and stiff. He brought them to his lips and blew air on them, hoping to warm them at least a little. It didn’t really work.

He was close to lose all hopes when a high bird call made him look up to the red and orange dot moving in the sky, like a comet made of fire and feathers breaking through the twilight of the day.

 

*
“Is that… a phoenix?”

Following Henry’s interrogative gaze, he squinted up. “It’s Fawkes!” Gellert exclaimed with a blooming smile despite all. “It’s probably answering Albus’ call.” which meant that all Gellert had to do – in theory – was to follow the bird. If only movement of any kind wasn’t such a problem right now. “I need to move!” Gellert said, frustrated beyond belief. He never had liked to be restrained in any way, be it physically (“Don’t go there.”) or intellectually (“Don’t read this.” “Don’t do this!”) and now wasn’t an exception. Moreover, Albus was finally close by after weeks of absence and Gellert couldn’t even walk to him! He couldn’t believe his luck – or lack of.

 

*
“Fawkes.” Albus whispered, a smile breaking on his face. Fawkes flew down, and slowly came closer until he landed and settled gracefully in his arms, making a place there for himself. The warmth of his feathers was chasing most of the frost that had settled inside of him. He let out a breathy laugh, “You came.” He told his friend, hugging him shamelessly as intense relief was coloring his voice.

Fawkes made a chirping sound in reply as if to say that Albus shouldn’t doubt him. Albus smiled.

“What an interesting bird you have.” A voice he now recognized suddenly told him. Albus whole body stilled before slowly raising his eyes from his phoenix to the newcomer, and Alexei Dolohov was here then, a sinister smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

*
“That Durmstrang’s Headmaster is crazy.” Henry stated in a ragged breath. He was struggling against the effect of the pentacle; twisting and twisting over himself while holding his head in his hands as if this could bring him some comfort. Nothing would Gellert knew; the Chaos Pentacle wasn’t a tool that ever allowed it to happen. “Did someone tell him that it was just a bloody game?!” he said, a bit of his temper showing up. “No wonder you’re all end-up maniac like your friend Dolohov.”

“He’s not my friend.” Gellert almost spat the word out. He tried to focus his magic on the circle painted onto the stones without much success; the pentacle was restraining his magic inside and the later was too busy fighting it for this move to work. A never ending circle.

“You promised me… dragons and I haven’t seen any.” Henry continued; his pain visible in the lines of his face. “You… steal my cloak all the damn time… like the kleptomaniac you are… and all in all, you’re… pretty terrible.”

“Is this a last will?” he asked as he trashed on himself. He wanted an out, no, needed one. Albus was so close, Ariana was probably lost in the woods by now, and a Troll was coming. He didn’t know he could despise trees so much. “Does your speech have a point?” He snapped.

“Yes.” he seemed to try to collect himself as he let out a long breath. “Because life is unfair, you’re the strongest one out of the two of us.” he said, his voice wavering a bit at the end. “I’m going to pass out soon and… you’re not.” he drew his wand, holding the white stick in a shaky grip, “You’re going to own me so much after this.” he warned before incanting; “Flipendo!”

The jinx hit Gellert right on his chest, leaving him breathless while his body was forcefully pushed backward. He connected with the trunk of a tree which hurt but at least it stopped his course. He coughed. He easily admitted that he had never been on the receiving hand of such a jinx, usually he countered it way before he could touch him; and so he never knew this thing could be this uncomfortable. He straightened uneasily, clutching at the abused side that had the misfortune to connect with the tree. He stood, wincing slightly. This was going to bruise.

But: he was unrestrained. It was the first thing he noticed as his magic flew around him freely. He let out a breathy laugh tainted with naked relief. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the feeling of throwing me backward,” he told Henry who – true to his words – was out. “You won’t always have the excuse of kicking me out of a pentacle.” he said as he approached the drawn circle and pointed his wand at it; “Finite Incantatem.”

He watched with satisfaction as the painted symbols and lines vanished. As the last one disappeared, he collected Henry’s lax frame and dragged him to rest against a tree. Then he looked at the menacing grey sky; the snow was starting to fall and the night was drawing nearer as time went by.

He put a Protego around him and waited a minute, his wand ready to hex as he expected a Troll to come barging in. But the minute stretched, carrying neither sounds nor menace. Gellert frowned, thrown off, but decided to not linger too much on it. He wasn’t going to complain if the creature had finally chosen to change direction. “Now, don’t say I never do things for you.” he said as he patted Henry’s coat pocket and smiled when he found what he was searching for. “Also, I’m hardly a kleptomaniac.” He vehemently denied even as he fished for the cloak hidden into Henry’s inner pocket.

Gellert then followed into the vague direction he had seen Fawkes going to, covering his head from the fresh falling snow with the cloak of invisibility.
It could not be considered stealing, he decided. It was a loan at most.
He quietly walked, trying not to let the random nature deviate him from his destination. It wasn’t terribly long before Gellert saw a figure slouched down on the snowy ground. He approached it, on the defensive, with his wand ready and his steps cautious. But only the slack and unconscious face of Pieter greeted him and Gellert abandoned caution to hurry to him.

“Pieter!” He called, letting the fluid fabric of the invisibility cloak fall on his shoulders as to not scare the man too much. When he received no answer, Gellert put two fingers to check his pulse and after quickly searched for any visible injuries. Pieter seemed fine, if cold to the touch and so Gellert put a Warming Charm on him. He made a knot with the invisible material so that the cloak could fit around his neck and not fall before bodily putting him in a more secluded space. When Gellert deemed Pieter secure enough, half hidden by the trees as he now was, he incanted his second Protego of the day. He would come back for his school’s friend after he got Albus, he mused. Pieter’s presence at least confirmed to Gellert that he was on the right way.

In fact, Gellert spotted several traces of footprints near. Onto the pure white ground, they were stark and well defined. They made him pause for a beat, briefly unsure. He saw this before. He already knew where they would take him.
Wait. Did he fall asleep on his way here? (He didn’t, did he?)
He decided to make his steps fit into the footprints that had been left behind – he dreamed of it enough times to recall that part well and he couldn’t help now but to follow the already written script. When they led him to a clearing of sort; the place appeared smaller than he had previously envisioned. More eerie too in a way. It was both more realistic than he had imagined, and yet since he had lived that moment already, it created a distance between him and his surroundings.
Gellert had Seen it so many times, had been here so many nights, that witnessing it for real (was it real?) after all was nearly improbable, but –

There was a man lying on the ground.

Gellert’s eyes widened as his heart recognized him at once. He stopped. He just – stopped everything, ceased to do anything. Perhaps, even the world paused for a second here in sympathy for him.

There was a man lying on the ground. (He was always on the ground by the time Gellert made it.) The fresh and falling snow was starting to hide the colors of his clothes, slowly whitening the surface of it, one little snowflake at a time.
His chest wasn’t moving. The auburn hair pooling around his head made for a crown of blood. His eyes were open, unseeing, unfocused and ignorant of the charged sky above him.

His blue eyes were open.

Gellert’s breath caught and died somewhere in his throat. This was usually the part where he woke up, trashing in his bed. But he didn’t, not yet. Why didn’t he?
Why didn’t he?
It was not… real, was it? No, of course not. Nothing was. It was not real, like an illusion or a trick of light was not real. It was only another night, another Vision troubling his sleep. Yet the snow gave up and crunched under his high boots, the bite of the cold against his skin was irrefutable and true.
Gellert needed to be sure, and for that he had to face and confront the image in front of him.

It was with his heart in his throat that he advanced toward the fallen body laying here. When he was close (too close and not close enough), he crouched down and forced his eyes to see. It was not Albus, Gellert insisted even as he traced the familiar lines of him with his gaze, searching for flaws. For all his Vision were clear, they tended to lack details. Little things that made him distinguish them from reality.
So his eyes travelled over the form of this man who wasn’t Albus.
But, he was wearing Albus’ face and coat, and the tips of the fingers were staining with ink like Albus tended to have after he spent the morning’s hours on his articles and projects. His hair was just the right color and the lost freckle on his upper lip was exactly where it should be.
Gellert didn’t think he ever dreamed him so well. Gellert doubted he even could.

He let out a sound. It might have been a whimper. It might have been a scream.

Gellert grabbed him and gathered him in his arms in a too suffocating embrace that would have Albus swat him away and buried his nose into his crook of his neck. Gellert's chest was heaving and shaking; all unwanted tears and desperation like a child who refused the truth presented before him and decided to do a tantrum about it. Albus's chest was still, and his body limp and unresisting. His head moved slightly without will at each of Gellert' ugly sob and the pulse that should be beating under his ribcage and travel into his veins was gone.

He was gone.

A rustle in the vicinity and the first sight of something perking out of a ditch in the snow made Gellert flinch. His grip around Albus’ frame tightened to the point where it must be hurtful; like Gellert could protect him (like Albus even needed his protection anymore) from whatever was about to come. It was not a Troll that appeared into the fallen snow, or even something nefarious really, it was only Fawkes.
Once the initial surprise passed, Gellert felt himself beginning to see as red as the feathers of the phoenix.

“What kind of familiar are you? Aren’t you supposed to protect your master?” he whispered, he shouted to the disheveled phoenix. The little bird made a high grieving note and it dared to cry, droplets of clear crystalline water falling from its black round eyes. “You’re crying now!” Gellert accused, incensed. To have an animal crying for Albus; when the only one who should have the right to was him. Did this phoenix think the two of them were equals? There were not! “What a stupid and useless thing you are!” Gellert mocked, sobbed. He passed a trembling hand into his hair, and he tugged at it harshly, wishing nothing more than to wake up now. This Vision had never gone so far before. What was the point of this now? “You’re not even capable of saving him! Now you dare to shed tears for him!” he yelled, nearly yanking his own hair out. It didn’t wake him up. Why didn’t it wake him up?! “This isn’t real, this isn’t real.” He repeated under his panicked breath. But the feeling of Albus’ cold skin under his fingers was, and so were his hot tears running onto his cheeks.

Yet this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Gellert didn’t want this, so it couldn’t exist.
Perhaps, Gellert himself wasn’t even here. No, Gellert must be elsewhere. He must be in Nurmengard. Yes, he was in Nurmengard. The sun was low and the day was tired but Gellert had Albus. Albus who drove him mad playing hide and seek with this purple lamp of his, who couldn’t handle much liquor but who didn’t feel instant regret in the morning after. Albus who liked to pretend and lie with a smile. He could manipulate almost as well as him but was weak for the first hint of sugar presented to him. His eyes twinkled; Gellert didn’t even know that it was thing before meeting him. The picture in his head was so vivid and lively that he shut his eyes close, willing it to become true.
He lived this once surely he could live it again if he concentrated enough. His grandmother had once assured him that all things in life was a matter of time.

Time.

Gellert opened his eyes. Time was the only viable measure in the end, his mind latched on. Everything and everyone had to bow before it and had to follow its flow.
Except –
Gellert adjusted Albus’ weight into his arms delicately before he fished one handed for the sphere he had stolen into the Department of Mysteries and hidden inside his coat’s pocket. He had packed it along the rest when they left Nurmengard. He had then kept it on him, more because he didn’t trust the full security of his trunk and suitcase than because he had intended to use it. Now though…
The time turner settled into the heart of his palm. Gellert eyed the golden circles ready to be used with a form of naked hope bleeding on desperation. He closed his fingers on it.
He looked back at Albus. This needed to work.

Gellert let go of Albus – gently, carefully, unwillingly. His head lolled back, exposing the too pale flesh of his neck before being cushioned by the snowing ground. “Just wait for me Mein Liebling, I’ll be back before you know.” He softly promised him, his voice barely above the wind. Gellert’s fingers twitched with the urgent desire to touch and painfully clenched, but – and he hated himself for it – he let go.

He quickly stood up, passing the long chain of the time turner around him in a brisk movement. It was with shaking hands that he turned the circles around and round.

“I mark the hours, every one,”Gellert recited in a whisper as he turned it. “Nor I have yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you,” he breathed, feeling the Time magic buzzing louder and louder around him. “Are gauged by what you have to do.” The world tilted, the air moved quicker around him...

And Gellert disappeared.

Notes:

Me, feeling sad and down: Valentine’s Day coming up, so maybe I should write a cute little one shot? It could cheer me up??
Also me: perfect time to off one of my favorite characters! 🔥🙃

I gave Gellert a time turner (chap 13) so of course I was going to have him use it *cue plotting author laugh*
Also – don’t kill me please ToT and rest reassured, the happy ending tag is still very ON 💜

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Seasons With You