The Revolutionary and his Rose

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@nurmengard-master
The Revolutionary and his Rose
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
Albus wasn't surprised that Gellert was remaining as far away from the Ministries as possible. He had found the Elder Wand and certainly there was a risk that others could be tracking it and therefore Gellert himself. He knew many thought that the Deathly Hallows was simple a myth but Albus had never believed it to be one. There had always been rumours and surely they weren't the only ones in search of them. But Gellert had the wand and they needed to be even more careful than ever before. They. Were they a 'they' again? Albus wasn't sure, they would need time to work things out between them and if they could salvage their relationship after the way things had ended. He hoped they could but time would tell. Albus' breath caught as their hands met. It had been so long since they had touched and yet in this moment, it was as though no time had passed. It was like coming home. Their fingers became entangled quickly and he watched as Gellerts eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching. It seemed it was affecting both of them in a similar manner. Then Gellerts eyes opened and the vision around them shifted, the old shed melting away and suddenly they were in a tiny and dark inn room. Bare except for a small bed in the corner, with a tiny window and stone walls. He committed the room to memory, wondering if it would be enough to Apparate there. It was risky, to attempt to travel to a place he had never been. The Floo network would have been safer in that regard but it wasn't worth leaving a trace. Then suddenly they were outside and Albus took in their surroundings before gazing up at the sign that was swinging with a soft creak. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. "I will come and find you Gellert, I promise." Albus turned back to face him, still holding his hand in his tightly. "I shell send an owl to Nicolas in the morning before I begin my journey to you." He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. This dream, reuniting with Gellert. It was more than he could have hoped for only a few days ago.
Gellert didn’t speak at first.
He stood motionless in the snow-laced dreamscape, shrewd mismatched eyes never leaving Albus’ face. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the other’s hand in his. It felt so real. Then again, dreams could be very convincing, especially to a tired mind sharpened by months of isolation. Even now, some guarded part of him — the hardened, pragmatic fragment that had long since stopped believing in empty promises, or even sacred blood oaths — refused to accept it fully.
“You know,” Gellert said finally, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he was merely thinking out loud, “a part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.”
He should have dismissed it right then, the way Albus had looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes, the way he’d said “I’ve missed you” with that touch of quiet hesitation and unflinching softness that always struck too close. Sentiment had no place here, not after everything. And yet, he felt the words pressing faintly into him, just enough to stir something long buried. Part of him resented that. How bitterly easy it was, that even a dream-shadow of this auburn-haired boy could still slip past his guard.
And still, he did not let go.
“But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is real. That you are real. And that you do intend to come.”
Now, a faint glint returned to his eyes, like a flame catching behind glass.
“Then you should know, Albus…” His voice grew quieter, but sharper. “If you come to me, you come to me. No regrets. No leashes. No half-measures.”
Gellert stepped closer, their joined hands framing between them like a pact yet unwritten. He wouldn’t settle for Albus’ second choice again, and he needed to make that crystal clear, even in dream.
He didn’t realise it at first, but he had reached out with his other hand as well, cupping Albus’ palm between both of his. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. A ghost of what had once been confident, burning brilliance, but now tempered, wary.
“I trust one week should be enough for you to find your way to me. And that’s how long I’ll be waiting.”
Exhaling deeply, he let go of Albus’ hand, for once unsure of the outcome, and still… just barely… daring to hope.
"A part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.” Albus felt the sharp sting of those words, despite the easy way in which Gellert spoke them. The doubt was understandable, natural. He was still coming to terms with realisation that they were meeting in this dream, created by their blood pact. It was drawing them back together and Albus wondered why it hadn't done so sooner. But they were here now and within a few days, they would be reunited.
A breath caught in his throat as Gellert reached out for him, taking his hand inbetween his. It had so long since they had been this close and Albus resisted the urge to embrace him. They were both still tentative about their reunion, even if they weren't yet together in the flesh. That would come soon enough. "I am real Gellert and I do intend to meet you." Albus nodded slightly with Gellert told him that he had a week to join him before he would move on. "A week is plenty of time. I'm unsure exactly how long it will take with Muggle transport but I would imagine it will be several days at least." He would make arrangements in the morning. He need to write to Nicolas and send that in the morning. He was already packed, although that had been for a trip he was no longer taking. He would prefer to travel lighter if he was to meet Gellert but he would be able to leave by mid morning. "I could never regret coming to you Gellert." Albus knew he wouldn't be able to freely shake the regrets he held over their final night here in the Hollow together. He had made mistakes and in the end, they had lost Ariana her life. But no matter how it had ended, he couldn't find it within him to ever regret what he had shared with Gellert that summer. "If we are to reunite, I am coming to you freely and wholly. No leaches. No half measures." he assured him, looking into his mismatched eyes. His free hand lifted to gently touch the side of Gellerts coat, just over the heart, as though anchoring the moment in both memory and flesh. Albus felt the loss as soon as Gellert released his hand and stepped back. But he knew distance was necessary, that any moment now they would both be pulled away from this dreamscape and back to where their bodies truly were. "I shall be there in one week. I am coming to you freely and fully Gellert, you have my word." Albus assured him quietly, hoping it would be enough of a reassurance until they were finally together. "I shall begin my journey tomorrow morning."
A faint pulse of satisfaction warmed Gellert’s chest at Albus’ final promise. No hedging, no hesitation, no insolent brother who got in the way between them this time. It was what he had wanted to hear. And for just a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. It was not complete trust just yet, but it was enough to still the inner recoil of instinctive suspicion.
Gellert drew a sharp breath as Albus’ free hand rose to rest on his chest, where the blood pact had returned when the dream shifted. Mismatched eyes remained fixed on the older male, tender but watchful, his expression neutral again though his hands had only just released the warmth of that long-familiar grip.
“The inn sits on the southern edge of Bavaria,” he instructed, pulling himself out of his reverie and gesturing out toward the shadowed woods and hills behind the gasthaus. “The Austrian border is not far from here. Salzburg would be the closest wizarding outpost with safe access, I believe. It has enough of wizarding presence not to arouse suspicion if you travel there by magical means. From there, you may continue with muggle transport.”
His gaze lingered another long moment on Albus’ face, drinking in every detail of his features one more time. “We must wake now,” he said quietly, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles, “lest we become too comfortable in sleep… and don’t want to face reality.”
Gellert turned resolutely away from the redhead, summoning restraint like armor to press back the urge rising in his chest to reach out to Albus again, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait, Albus. One week. No longer.”
And with a sigh, he willed the dream to end.
Albus was only too familiar with the concept of becoming too familiar in sleep. Despite so often being plagued by nightmares, he had spent so much time during these past 18 months in bed. Sleeping, resting a hangover or passed out from an overindulgence - or rather an over consumption of the alcohol he had been so dependant on in the wake of Arianas death and Gellerts departure. He knew it was best they wake now, so that he could start to prepare for the journey as soon as possible. "I will be there before the week is out." Albus assured him. He had listened quietly to all of Gellerts instructions and descriptions. He would be able to use a few magical means to get closer to Austria. He was supposed to be travelling, even if he wouldn't be going to Paris as had been planned. He knew Nicolas would be disappointed to receive his owl and yet how could he not take this opportunity he had been given? Perhaps he could meet with Nicolas as a later time but he would let Gellert Grindelwald slip through his fingers again. "Until we meet in waking hours." Albus offered him a small smile and a nod, feeling a faint panic grip him at the thought of being separated from Gellert. But they were going to meet soon and it would be real. Albus awoke with a soft gasp, his eyes flying open as he cast a soft Lumos without the use of his wand. He was back in the Hollow, in his bedroom. His bags were packed and sitting at the end of his bed and Fawkes, who had been napping on his perch had startled awake, giving a soft trill in confusion as he flapped his wings. "I'm fine, Fawkes." He assured the Phoenix, giving him a small smile before he looked around the room. Had it been a dream? No, he was certain it wasn't. He and Gellert had met and now Gellert was waiting for him! He needed to go. He needed to get to where they had agreed to meet. Bavaria. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had seven days to get there and he knew he would be there long before that. How could he not be? This was exactly what he had been wanting since that night, to see Gellert again. "We need to go to Bavaria." Albus looked across at Fawkes. The Phoenix tilted his head slightly and Albus was certain it was full of judgement. "I need to see him. We need to talk." Fawkes didn't look convinced but offered a quite trill of acceptance. Albus smiled at that and the knowledge that soon, he and Gellert would be reunited. It was more than he had hoped for, for such a long time. But it was happening and soon. Seven days and they would be together. Albus couldn't wait.
++++++++++++++ Five days later, Albus found himself gazing up at the sign that had haunted his days and nights for almost a week. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had finally made it and the inn and sign were real. He had spent much time over these past few days, wondering if this had all been a dream and he was chasing ghosts and his own imagination. But much to his relief, it was real. Which meant Gellert was here somewhere, waiting for him. It had taken a little longer than even he had planned, ensuring he had taken a few different magical methods to travel without detection. Once he was in Salzburg, he had relied on Muggle transport, which had proven a little more complicated than he had expected. He would be pleased if he never caught another bus in his life! But, he wasn't going to complain because it had brought him here. He wondered if he should go inside the inn. He hadn't thought to ask if Gellert was staying here under an alias. He couldn't imagine Gellert was simply waiting inside for him to appear. He glanced up, seeing Fawkes flying overhead. He hadn't been able to travel with him on Muggle transport but he had hated being parted from him. He was pleased he was nearby and he smiled as Fawkes gave a soft call of acknowledgement. He looked back at the inn wondering if he should go inside. Perhaps Gellert had left a message for him? But it was then that he felt it. A warmth, a spark of familiar magic. Gellerts magic. It was nearby and he looked up, feeling a tug toward the woods that were across from the inn. Gellert must be there somewhere. And so Albus followed the magical trail, wherever it would lead.
Gellert woke with a start. His body jolted upright in the narrow bed, heart pounding wildly against his ribs as if on its own volition. He sucked in a deep breath, his hand instinctively flying to rest against his chest, feeling the blood pact still warm beneath his inner pocket.
Slumping back against the headboard, he dragged his hand down his face and then through his blond hair. So it was no regular dream, nor even vision. It was real. He had really shared dreams with Albus Dumbledore.
But then came the doubt.
His jaw clenched as his mind reasserted itself, cold and merciless. It occurred to Gellert then, that he’d been incredibly selfish, to allow himself to indulge in such whims and sentiments on his part. Hadn’t that fateful summer proven that the burden to reshape the world fell upon his shoulders, and his alone? Hadn’t he vowed to himself that he would never again put his own personal desires above his greater good? Their greater good, a voice in his head reminded him. Because if Albus truly meant it… then could he risk hoping that Albus still meant to walk the path with him?
A bitter smile touched Gellert’s lips as he stood from the bed and walked barefoot across the creaking floorboards. Glancing out the small window toward the dark pines behind the gasthaus, he reached a decision. One week, he would wait. No longer. He had given his word. And for better or worse, he would honor it. Even if it was selfish or foolish. After all, no matter the outcome, perhaps this was the closure he needed, to move forward.
—
In the following days during the wait that felt like an eternity, Gellert buried himself in the one certainty he had left: magic. The pine woods behind the gasthaus became his temporary sanctum to test his new wand. The Elder Wand responded to him with exceptional precision and power. With every spell pushed to its limits and subtly expanded beyond, with each new piece of inventive magic he crafted, Gellert felt a quiet but growing elation. The Elder Wand was proving its legendary reputation had not been earned in vain.
And on the fifth day since the dream, just as he attempted for the first time a particularly powerful spell of his own invention, he felt it: a trigger to the discreet yet potent wards he had set around the perimeter, alerting him to the approach of another magical presence.
The Elder Wand rose high before him as he turned to the source of the magical presence, which seemed to grow more and more prominent with every passing moment. His heart stuttered once in his chest, but he quieted it quickly. The blue flames of his new spell still danced around him in a protective circle, and he did not extinguish them. Even as their fierce light licked at the pines, the surrounding trees remained miraculously untouched.
A swirl of wind brushed through the pines, bending them just enough to part a path ahead. Gellert waited, every inch of him composed, the high collar of his coat turned up against the breeze. His posture was careful and guarded. But his sharp eyes searched the treeline with something dangerously close to hope.
And then, at last, Gellert saw the approaching figure.
“Albus,” he said, his voice quiet. “You came.”
With masterful self-restrain, Gellert forbade himself from rushing to the side of the auburn-haired boy he had failed to banish from his thoughts. Piercing mismatched eyes sought intense blue through the flickering tongues of the blue flame, the light casting strange shadows across their faces, half-illumined, half-concealed. The wicked fire might have made Gellert look both divine and untouchable, had it not been for the way his lips were slowly curling into a subtle smile.
“I trust there was no trouble for you to find me?”
Albus followed the magical trail through the thick woodlands. He had little doubt that Gellert would have wanted to cover his tracks and likely had with wards and other spells. But if they were here, they were allowing him to continue without any pushback. Perhaps Gellert knew that he was the one getting closer. Could he also sense his familiar magic? Or was the blood pact telling him that it was Albus who was approaching? It was a comforting thought. That their vows still held firm and bound them together. As Albus ducked under trees and almost lost his balance on the uneven ground, he allowed himself to indulge in just the feel the Gellerts magic. It was powerful, pulsating in the air. He had missed it. That spark that had become as familiar as his own. Gellert didn't just have magic, he was magic. He had been the first wizard Albus had ever met where their magic felt so similar to his. The ever present magical presence, always just simmering beneath the surface and waiting to be called upon. In this moment now, Albus could feel his own magic responding, reaching, searching for it's counterpoint. And then finally, finally, through the next clearing was Gellert, standing in the centre of flickering blue flames. Albus felt relief course through him at the sight, his lips twitching into a small smile as tears blurred his vision. Gellert. He wanted to go to him instantly. To wrap his arms around him and just hold him, still convinced that somehow this was all a dream and he would awake back in the Hollow alone. He paused only when the sight of the blue flames drew his attention. Were they for his benefit? To stop him getting too close? Or had he simply caught him unaware and in the middle of spell casting? "Gellert." He whispered in quite awe, taking a few more steps closer. He was so beautiful, even more so then he had remembered. "Yes, of course I came." Had he really doubted that he would? Nothing could have kept him from this place, from Gellert himself. "No, I didn't have much trouble finding you, beyond perhaps a few too many types of Muggle transport." He now understood Gellerts complaints about travelling to the Hollow when he had relied on Muggle transport.
For a lingering moment as their eyes met, Gellert forgot to breathe. Albus looked just as he had appeared in their shared dream just a few days ago, and yet, the mere sight of him, real and here and staring at him with open awe and aching eyes, still landed like a physical blow. A thousand memories tried to surge forward at once: ink-stained fingers, candlelight sketches, sun-drenched walks, whispered midnight confessions, the trembling moment before a first forbidden touch. But he pressed them all down, forcing himself to focus in the moment.
A shadow crossed Gellert’s expression, doubt flickering in the storm-light of his gaze. The soft curl of his lips did not falter, but the warmth behind them turned guarded.
“Why did you come, Albus?” he asked, quietly. “Truly.”
He did not ask to wound. He needed to know. Had Albus truly come to rekindle what they once shared, to take up the mantle of their greater good once more? Or had he come only to remind Gellert that the past was better left buried?
Gellert took a step to the side, gesturing subtly to the circle of blue fire that still flared around him, vibrant and alive. The wind had stirred it into something fierce and fluid, as if it breathed with him.
“It’s called Protego Diabolica,” he said, a note of pride in his voice, watching the way Albus studied his newly crafted spell. “An invention of my own. A spell bound to intention and resonance. It aims for protection to its caster and also a sufficient test for allegiance.”
A faint shimmer of emotion passed behind his composed features, too brief to name. Mismatched eyes sought brilliant blue across the flickering flame, hungry despite his control.
“If you walk through it,” Gellert continued, “without using Legilimency or any deceptive defense… and you remain untouched… it means your loyalty is still mine. That whatever doubts you may carry, whatever ghosts trail after you… your will remains aligned with mine.”
He took one step back, the blue flames dancing all around him. His fair eyebrows formed a subtle arch, an unspoken question in his gaze, before his arm extended, open palmed. “Come to me, Albus. Come home.”
Albus stood frozen, breath shallow as he stared across the flickering blue fire. Gellert.
It had only been eighteen months since Godrics Hollow—eighteen months since everything between them had unravelled, sharp and fast, like the snap of a wand under pressure. But in some ways, those months had stretched like a lifetime. The distance had grown heavier with each day, each unanswered thought, each memory left to echo in silence. And now, here he was again—Gellert—so vividly real that it made Albus ache. He was unchanged in all the ways that mattered. The same sharp lines, the same impossible presence. The kind of beauty that had always seemed carved from something older, more elemental. Something magic itself would bow to.
Albus felt like he could breathe again, properly, for the first time since that night. The night when Gellert had left—without goodbye, without a final word—leaving behind only ashes and the taste of a dream gone bitter. Since then, there’d been nothing but quiet. No owls, no fire-calls, just the hollow space where Gellerts voice used to live in his days and his dreams. And now… he was here. Just across the fire. Close enough to touch finally. Albus was already reaching up, wanting to just feel him
But then came the question.
Why did you come?
It wasn’t cruel. Gellerts voice held no accusation. But still, it stung. Because buried in that question was everything that had gone unsaid between them. It was a test—not just of his reasons, but of his heart. Albus felt the air shift with it, and the ache that had eased just moments before returned with a sharper edge.
His gaze dropped to the flames encircling Gellert. Protego Diabolica. It was brilliant. Of course it was. Albus could see it for what it was immediately—flame woven from truth, shaped by loyalty, forged from the will to protect. Magic not designed to harm indiscriminately, but to measure. To judge. It wasn’t just a barrier. It was a demand. A threshold that could only be crossed with conviction, with absolute clarity of purpose.
How very Gellert.
The fire pulsed in rhythm with the tension between them, flickering like breath itself. And then Albus saw Gellerts hand extended toward him, open, waiting. He knew that hand almost better than he knew his own. Long fingers, familiar calluses from quill and wand, a faint scar near the thumb that Albus himself had healed once, with trembling hands and far too much care. That hand had once led him into visions of a better world. Into love. Into ruin.
Now it waited again. It was less certain, perhaps, but no less magnetic.
Albus stepped forward, to the very edge of the flames. The heat greeted him like an old friend with a sharp memory. It didn’t burn but it watched. It knew.
“Why did I come?” he echoed, voice barely above the whisper of the fire. He kept his eyes on Gellerts, needing him to see that this was truth, not strategy. Not performance.
“Because… I never stopped walking toward you. Not really.” His words landed softly, but their weight was undeniable. There was no disguise here. No mask of idealism, no shield of rhetoric. Just the raw, frayed edge of something that had once been everything.
“I didn’t come for the cause,” he said, the words steady now. “Not for the plans we sketched out. Not for glory or legacy or the world we thought we could bend into something better.” The flames stirred, testing. They were listening. “I came for you, Gellert.” His voice cracked on the final word, unashamed.
Then, without hesitation, Albus stepped into the fire.
It surged up, enveloping him in a blaze that felt both wild and intimate. It didn’t burn. It searched. He felt it moving through him like water made of flame. It was probing, peeling back the layers of who he was and why he had come. For a breathless moment, he feared it would find some hidden doubt, some fracture of loyalty too small for him to even name and reject him.
But the flames parted. And he walked through.
On the other side, the air felt cooler, quieter. Closer. Gellert stood before him, now with nothing between them but breath. And memory.
Albus lifted his hand slowly, laying it against the familiar shape of Gellerts chest, over the steady, human thrum of his heartbeat. A soft gasp spilled from Albus at the touch. He was here and he was real. "I've missed you." His voice cracked again. "I want to come home. I am home." Home had never been the Hollow. Since that summer, it had always been where Gellert was.
Gellert watched intently as Albus surveyed his creation, sharp mismatched eyes tracking every flicker of blue that reflected in the other’s gaze. He could almost feel the workings of that brilliant mind, analyzing, discerning, unraveling all the hidden intricacies of the spell, noticing what no one else could. Of course he did. Albus alone possessed the brilliance to see the art in Gellert’s magic. Pride rose within Gellert, hot and dangerous, for it confirmed what he had always known, that no one but Albus had ever been worthy as his equal, nor would anyone ever be.
When Albus spoke, Gellert listened in silence, the only betrayal of feeling a sharp intake of breath. He forced the air down, pressed the surge of emotion into stillness, mastering himself even as the words struck deeper than he wished to admit.
Then Albus moved, and Gellert’s eyes widened. He braced himself as Albus stepped into the fire, every muscle in his body taut. Against his own volition, he gripped the Elder Wand tightly, ready to extinguish the flames the instant Albus showed the slightest signs of pain. His breath caught as he watched the wicked blue fire lick at the man before him, his grip so fierce his knuckles blanched, his nails carving crescent moons into his palm.
But Albus passed through, unharmed.
Satisfaction surged within Gellert. Albus had chosen to walk into his test, and he had passed.
And with that, something Gellert had kept locked away began to stir: longing, fierce and unbearable, rising from a chest he had thought sealed in iron. Relief, too, thrummed in his veins, matched by the dangerous sweetness of pleasure: the fire had not hurt Albus. He could pass through, which meant… perhaps… his loyalty had not been lost. His doubts — those gnawing, cynical doubts that had become his shield — diminished, though not wholly gone. A wise man never discarded suspicion entirely. But for the first time in eighteen months, belief tasted sweeter than doubt.
He lowered his wand, keen gaze drinking in the face of the man he had ached for, while his free hand closed over the one pressed to his chest.
“You’re a cruel man, Albus Dumbledore,” Gellert murmured, tasting the irony as he said it, for no one knew better than he how merciless he himself could be, if ever tested or pushed. The awareness almost amused him, and laughter broke free, merry and unguarded, the same wild mirth that had once spilled so easily from him in the golden days of Godric’s Hollow.
“Cruel of you,” he breathed when the sound ebbed, his smile trembling at the edges, “to undo me with so little.”
And with those words, Gellert caught Albus by the front of his coat, pulling him against him and pressing his mouth to his.
“Come to me, Albus. Come home.”
@regretismyconstantcompanion
“Come to me, Albus. Come home.”
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
Albus wasn't surprised that Gellert was remaining as far away from the Ministries as possible. He had found the Elder Wand and certainly there was a risk that others could be tracking it and therefore Gellert himself. He knew many thought that the Deathly Hallows was simple a myth but Albus had never believed it to be one. There had always been rumours and surely they weren't the only ones in search of them. But Gellert had the wand and they needed to be even more careful than ever before. They. Were they a 'they' again? Albus wasn't sure, they would need time to work things out between them and if they could salvage their relationship after the way things had ended. He hoped they could but time would tell. Albus' breath caught as their hands met. It had been so long since they had touched and yet in this moment, it was as though no time had passed. It was like coming home. Their fingers became entangled quickly and he watched as Gellerts eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching. It seemed it was affecting both of them in a similar manner. Then Gellerts eyes opened and the vision around them shifted, the old shed melting away and suddenly they were in a tiny and dark inn room. Bare except for a small bed in the corner, with a tiny window and stone walls. He committed the room to memory, wondering if it would be enough to Apparate there. It was risky, to attempt to travel to a place he had never been. The Floo network would have been safer in that regard but it wasn't worth leaving a trace. Then suddenly they were outside and Albus took in their surroundings before gazing up at the sign that was swinging with a soft creak. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. "I will come and find you Gellert, I promise." Albus turned back to face him, still holding his hand in his tightly. "I shell send an owl to Nicolas in the morning before I begin my journey to you." He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. This dream, reuniting with Gellert. It was more than he could have hoped for only a few days ago.
Gellert didn’t speak at first.
He stood motionless in the snow-laced dreamscape, shrewd mismatched eyes never leaving Albus’ face. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the other’s hand in his. It felt so real. Then again, dreams could be very convincing, especially to a tired mind sharpened by months of isolation. Even now, some guarded part of him — the hardened, pragmatic fragment that had long since stopped believing in empty promises, or even sacred blood oaths — refused to accept it fully.
“You know,” Gellert said finally, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he was merely thinking out loud, “a part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.”
He should have dismissed it right then, the way Albus had looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes, the way he’d said “I’ve missed you” with that touch of quiet hesitation and unflinching softness that always struck too close. Sentiment had no place here, not after everything. And yet, he felt the words pressing faintly into him, just enough to stir something long buried. Part of him resented that. How bitterly easy it was, that even a dream-shadow of this auburn-haired boy could still slip past his guard.
And still, he did not let go.
“But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is real. That you are real. And that you do intend to come.”
Now, a faint glint returned to his eyes, like a flame catching behind glass.
“Then you should know, Albus…” His voice grew quieter, but sharper. “If you come to me, you come to me. No regrets. No leashes. No half-measures.”
Gellert stepped closer, their joined hands framing between them like a pact yet unwritten. He wouldn’t settle for Albus’ second choice again, and he needed to make that crystal clear, even in dream.
He didn’t realise it at first, but he had reached out with his other hand as well, cupping Albus’ palm between both of his. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. A ghost of what had once been confident, burning brilliance, but now tempered, wary.
“I trust one week should be enough for you to find your way to me. And that’s how long I’ll be waiting.”
Exhaling deeply, he let go of Albus’ hand, for once unsure of the outcome, and still… just barely… daring to hope.
"A part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.” Albus felt the sharp sting of those words, despite the easy way in which Gellert spoke them. The doubt was understandable, natural. He was still coming to terms with realisation that they were meeting in this dream, created by their blood pact. It was drawing them back together and Albus wondered why it hadn't done so sooner. But they were here now and within a few days, they would be reunited.
A breath caught in his throat as Gellert reached out for him, taking his hand inbetween his. It had so long since they had been this close and Albus resisted the urge to embrace him. They were both still tentative about their reunion, even if they weren't yet together in the flesh. That would come soon enough. "I am real Gellert and I do intend to meet you." Albus nodded slightly with Gellert told him that he had a week to join him before he would move on. "A week is plenty of time. I'm unsure exactly how long it will take with Muggle transport but I would imagine it will be several days at least." He would make arrangements in the morning. He need to write to Nicolas and send that in the morning. He was already packed, although that had been for a trip he was no longer taking. He would prefer to travel lighter if he was to meet Gellert but he would be able to leave by mid morning. "I could never regret coming to you Gellert." Albus knew he wouldn't be able to freely shake the regrets he held over their final night here in the Hollow together. He had made mistakes and in the end, they had lost Ariana her life. But no matter how it had ended, he couldn't find it within him to ever regret what he had shared with Gellert that summer. "If we are to reunite, I am coming to you freely and wholly. No leaches. No half measures." he assured him, looking into his mismatched eyes. His free hand lifted to gently touch the side of Gellerts coat, just over the heart, as though anchoring the moment in both memory and flesh. Albus felt the loss as soon as Gellert released his hand and stepped back. But he knew distance was necessary, that any moment now they would both be pulled away from this dreamscape and back to where their bodies truly were. "I shall be there in one week. I am coming to you freely and fully Gellert, you have my word." Albus assured him quietly, hoping it would be enough of a reassurance until they were finally together. "I shall begin my journey tomorrow morning."
A faint pulse of satisfaction warmed Gellert’s chest at Albus’ final promise. No hedging, no hesitation, no insolent brother who got in the way between them this time. It was what he had wanted to hear. And for just a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. It was not complete trust just yet, but it was enough to still the inner recoil of instinctive suspicion.
Gellert drew a sharp breath as Albus’ free hand rose to rest on his chest, where the blood pact had returned when the dream shifted. Mismatched eyes remained fixed on the older male, tender but watchful, his expression neutral again though his hands had only just released the warmth of that long-familiar grip.
“The inn sits on the southern edge of Bavaria,” he instructed, pulling himself out of his reverie and gesturing out toward the shadowed woods and hills behind the gasthaus. “The Austrian border is not far from here. Salzburg would be the closest wizarding outpost with safe access, I believe. It has enough of wizarding presence not to arouse suspicion if you travel there by magical means. From there, you may continue with muggle transport.”
His gaze lingered another long moment on Albus’ face, drinking in every detail of his features one more time. “We must wake now,” he said quietly, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles, “lest we become too comfortable in sleep… and don’t want to face reality.”
Gellert turned resolutely away from the redhead, summoning restraint like armor to press back the urge rising in his chest to reach out to Albus again, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait, Albus. One week. No longer.”
And with a sigh, he willed the dream to end.
Albus was only too familiar with the concept of becoming too familiar in sleep. Despite so often being plagued by nightmares, he had spent so much time during these past 18 months in bed. Sleeping, resting a hangover or passed out from an overindulgence - or rather an over consumption of the alcohol he had been so dependant on in the wake of Arianas death and Gellerts departure. He knew it was best they wake now, so that he could start to prepare for the journey as soon as possible. "I will be there before the week is out." Albus assured him. He had listened quietly to all of Gellerts instructions and descriptions. He would be able to use a few magical means to get closer to Austria. He was supposed to be travelling, even if he wouldn't be going to Paris as had been planned. He knew Nicolas would be disappointed to receive his owl and yet how could he not take this opportunity he had been given? Perhaps he could meet with Nicolas as a later time but he would let Gellert Grindelwald slip through his fingers again. "Until we meet in waking hours." Albus offered him a small smile and a nod, feeling a faint panic grip him at the thought of being separated from Gellert. But they were going to meet soon and it would be real. Albus awoke with a soft gasp, his eyes flying open as he cast a soft Lumos without the use of his wand. He was back in the Hollow, in his bedroom. His bags were packed and sitting at the end of his bed and Fawkes, who had been napping on his perch had startled awake, giving a soft trill in confusion as he flapped his wings. "I'm fine, Fawkes." He assured the Phoenix, giving him a small smile before he looked around the room. Had it been a dream? No, he was certain it wasn't. He and Gellert had met and now Gellert was waiting for him! He needed to go. He needed to get to where they had agreed to meet. Bavaria. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had seven days to get there and he knew he would be there long before that. How could he not be? This was exactly what he had been wanting since that night, to see Gellert again. "We need to go to Bavaria." Albus looked across at Fawkes. The Phoenix tilted his head slightly and Albus was certain it was full of judgement. "I need to see him. We need to talk." Fawkes didn't look convinced but offered a quite trill of acceptance. Albus smiled at that and the knowledge that soon, he and Gellert would be reunited. It was more than he had hoped for, for such a long time. But it was happening and soon. Seven days and they would be together. Albus couldn't wait.
++++++++++++++ Five days later, Albus found himself gazing up at the sign that had haunted his days and nights for almost a week. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had finally made it and the inn and sign were real. He had spent much time over these past few days, wondering if this had all been a dream and he was chasing ghosts and his own imagination. But much to his relief, it was real. Which meant Gellert was here somewhere, waiting for him. It had taken a little longer than even he had planned, ensuring he had taken a few different magical methods to travel without detection. Once he was in Salzburg, he had relied on Muggle transport, which had proven a little more complicated than he had expected. He would be pleased if he never caught another bus in his life! But, he wasn't going to complain because it had brought him here. He wondered if he should go inside the inn. He hadn't thought to ask if Gellert was staying here under an alias. He couldn't imagine Gellert was simply waiting inside for him to appear. He glanced up, seeing Fawkes flying overhead. He hadn't been able to travel with him on Muggle transport but he had hated being parted from him. He was pleased he was nearby and he smiled as Fawkes gave a soft call of acknowledgement. He looked back at the inn wondering if he should go inside. Perhaps Gellert had left a message for him? But it was then that he felt it. A warmth, a spark of familiar magic. Gellerts magic. It was nearby and he looked up, feeling a tug toward the woods that were across from the inn. Gellert must be there somewhere. And so Albus followed the magical trail, wherever it would lead.
Gellert woke with a start. His body jolted upright in the narrow bed, heart pounding wildly against his ribs as if on its own volition. He sucked in a deep breath, his hand instinctively flying to rest against his chest, feeling the blood pact still warm beneath his inner pocket.
Slumping back against the headboard, he dragged his hand down his face and then through his blond hair. So it was no regular dream, nor even vision. It was real. He had really shared dreams with Albus Dumbledore.
But then came the doubt.
His jaw clenched as his mind reasserted itself, cold and merciless. It occurred to Gellert then, that he’d been incredibly selfish, to allow himself to indulge in such whims and sentiments on his part. Hadn’t that fateful summer proven that the burden to reshape the world fell upon his shoulders, and his alone? Hadn’t he vowed to himself that he would never again put his own personal desires above his greater good? Their greater good, a voice in his head reminded him. Because if Albus truly meant it… then could he risk hoping that Albus still meant to walk the path with him?
A bitter smile touched Gellert’s lips as he stood from the bed and walked barefoot across the creaking floorboards. Glancing out the small window toward the dark pines behind the gasthaus, he reached a decision. One week, he would wait. No longer. He had given his word. And for better or worse, he would honor it. Even if it was selfish or foolish. After all, no matter the outcome, perhaps this was the closure he needed, to move forward.
—
In the following days during the wait that felt like an eternity, Gellert buried himself in the one certainty he had left: magic. The pine woods behind the gasthaus became his temporary sanctum to test his new wand. The Elder Wand responded to him with exceptional precision and power. With every spell pushed to its limits and subtly expanded beyond, with each new piece of inventive magic he crafted, Gellert felt a quiet but growing elation. The Elder Wand was proving its legendary reputation had not been earned in vain.
And on the fifth day since the dream, just as he attempted for the first time a particularly powerful spell of his own invention, he felt it: a trigger to the discreet yet potent wards he had set around the perimeter, alerting him to the approach of another magical presence.
The Elder Wand rose high before him as he turned to the source of the magical presence, which seemed to grow more and more prominent with every passing moment. His heart stuttered once in his chest, but he quieted it quickly. The blue flames of his new spell still danced around him in a protective circle, and he did not extinguish them. Even as their fierce light licked at the pines, the surrounding trees remained miraculously untouched.
A swirl of wind brushed through the pines, bending them just enough to part a path ahead. Gellert waited, every inch of him composed, the high collar of his coat turned up against the breeze. His posture was careful and guarded. But his sharp eyes searched the treeline with something dangerously close to hope.
And then, at last, Gellert saw the approaching figure.
“Albus,” he said, his voice quiet. “You came.”
With masterful self-restrain, Gellert forbade himself from rushing to the side of the auburn-haired boy he had failed to banish from his thoughts. Piercing mismatched eyes sought intense blue through the flickering tongues of the blue flame, the light casting strange shadows across their faces, half-illumined, half-concealed. The wicked fire might have made Gellert look both divine and untouchable, had it not been for the way his lips were slowly curling into a subtle smile.
“I trust there was no trouble for you to find me?”
Albus followed the magical trail through the thick woodlands. He had little doubt that Gellert would have wanted to cover his tracks and likely had with wards and other spells. But if they were here, they were allowing him to continue without any pushback. Perhaps Gellert knew that he was the one getting closer. Could he also sense his familiar magic? Or was the blood pact telling him that it was Albus who was approaching? It was a comforting thought. That their vows still held firm and bound them together. As Albus ducked under trees and almost lost his balance on the uneven ground, he allowed himself to indulge in just the feel the Gellerts magic. It was powerful, pulsating in the air. He had missed it. That spark that had become as familiar as his own. Gellert didn't just have magic, he was magic. He had been the first wizard Albus had ever met where their magic felt so similar to his. The ever present magical presence, always just simmering beneath the surface and waiting to be called upon. In this moment now, Albus could feel his own magic responding, reaching, searching for it's counterpoint. And then finally, finally, through the next clearing was Gellert, standing in the centre of flickering blue flames. Albus felt relief course through him at the sight, his lips twitching into a small smile as tears blurred his vision. Gellert. He wanted to go to him instantly. To wrap his arms around him and just hold him, still convinced that somehow this was all a dream and he would awake back in the Hollow alone. He paused only when the sight of the blue flames drew his attention. Were they for his benefit? To stop him getting too close? Or had he simply caught him unaware and in the middle of spell casting? "Gellert." He whispered in quite awe, taking a few more steps closer. He was so beautiful, even more so then he had remembered. "Yes, of course I came." Had he really doubted that he would? Nothing could have kept him from this place, from Gellert himself. "No, I didn't have much trouble finding you, beyond perhaps a few too many types of Muggle transport." He now understood Gellerts complaints about travelling to the Hollow when he had relied on Muggle transport.
For a lingering moment as their eyes met, Gellert forgot to breathe. Albus looked just as he had appeared in their shared dream just a few days ago, and yet, the mere sight of him, real and here and staring at him with open awe and aching eyes, still landed like a physical blow. A thousand memories tried to surge forward at once: ink-stained fingers, candlelight sketches, sun-drenched walks, whispered midnight confessions, the trembling moment before a first forbidden touch. But he pressed them all down, forcing himself to focus in the moment.
A shadow crossed Gellert’s expression, doubt flickering in the storm-light of his gaze. The soft curl of his lips did not falter, but the warmth behind them turned guarded.
“Why did you come, Albus?” he asked, quietly. “Truly.”
He did not ask to wound. He needed to know. Had Albus truly come to rekindle what they once shared, to take up the mantle of their greater good once more? Or had he come only to remind Gellert that the past was better left buried?
Gellert took a step to the side, gesturing subtly to the circle of blue fire that still flared around him, vibrant and alive. The wind had stirred it into something fierce and fluid, as if it breathed with him.
“It’s called Protego Diabolica,” he said, a note of pride in his voice, watching the way Albus studied his newly crafted spell. “An invention of my own. A spell bound to intention and resonance. It aims for protection to its caster and also a sufficient test for allegiance.”
A faint shimmer of emotion passed behind his composed features, too brief to name. Mismatched eyes sought brilliant blue across the flickering flame, hungry despite his control.
“If you walk through it,” Gellert continued, “without using Legilimency or any deceptive defense… and you remain untouched… it means your loyalty is still mine. That whatever doubts you may carry, whatever ghosts trail after you… your will remains aligned with mine.”
He took one step back, the blue flames dancing all around him. His fair eyebrows formed a subtle arch, an unspoken question in his gaze, before his arm extended, open palmed. “Come to me, Albus. Come home.”
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
Albus wasn't surprised that Gellert was remaining as far away from the Ministries as possible. He had found the Elder Wand and certainly there was a risk that others could be tracking it and therefore Gellert himself. He knew many thought that the Deathly Hallows was simple a myth but Albus had never believed it to be one. There had always been rumours and surely they weren't the only ones in search of them. But Gellert had the wand and they needed to be even more careful than ever before. They. Were they a 'they' again? Albus wasn't sure, they would need time to work things out between them and if they could salvage their relationship after the way things had ended. He hoped they could but time would tell. Albus' breath caught as their hands met. It had been so long since they had touched and yet in this moment, it was as though no time had passed. It was like coming home. Their fingers became entangled quickly and he watched as Gellerts eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching. It seemed it was affecting both of them in a similar manner. Then Gellerts eyes opened and the vision around them shifted, the old shed melting away and suddenly they were in a tiny and dark inn room. Bare except for a small bed in the corner, with a tiny window and stone walls. He committed the room to memory, wondering if it would be enough to Apparate there. It was risky, to attempt to travel to a place he had never been. The Floo network would have been safer in that regard but it wasn't worth leaving a trace. Then suddenly they were outside and Albus took in their surroundings before gazing up at the sign that was swinging with a soft creak. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. "I will come and find you Gellert, I promise." Albus turned back to face him, still holding his hand in his tightly. "I shell send an owl to Nicolas in the morning before I begin my journey to you." He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. This dream, reuniting with Gellert. It was more than he could have hoped for only a few days ago.
Gellert didn’t speak at first.
He stood motionless in the snow-laced dreamscape, shrewd mismatched eyes never leaving Albus’ face. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the other’s hand in his. It felt so real. Then again, dreams could be very convincing, especially to a tired mind sharpened by months of isolation. Even now, some guarded part of him — the hardened, pragmatic fragment that had long since stopped believing in empty promises, or even sacred blood oaths — refused to accept it fully.
“You know,” Gellert said finally, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he was merely thinking out loud, “a part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.”
He should have dismissed it right then, the way Albus had looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes, the way he’d said “I’ve missed you” with that touch of quiet hesitation and unflinching softness that always struck too close. Sentiment had no place here, not after everything. And yet, he felt the words pressing faintly into him, just enough to stir something long buried. Part of him resented that. How bitterly easy it was, that even a dream-shadow of this auburn-haired boy could still slip past his guard.
And still, he did not let go.
“But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is real. That you are real. And that you do intend to come.”
Now, a faint glint returned to his eyes, like a flame catching behind glass.
“Then you should know, Albus…” His voice grew quieter, but sharper. “If you come to me, you come to me. No regrets. No leashes. No half-measures.”
Gellert stepped closer, their joined hands framing between them like a pact yet unwritten. He wouldn’t settle for Albus’ second choice again, and he needed to make that crystal clear, even in dream.
He didn’t realise it at first, but he had reached out with his other hand as well, cupping Albus’ palm between both of his. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. A ghost of what had once been confident, burning brilliance, but now tempered, wary.
“I trust one week should be enough for you to find your way to me. And that’s how long I’ll be waiting.”
Exhaling deeply, he let go of Albus’ hand, for once unsure of the outcome, and still… just barely… daring to hope.
"A part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.” Albus felt the sharp sting of those words, despite the easy way in which Gellert spoke them. The doubt was understandable, natural. He was still coming to terms with realisation that they were meeting in this dream, created by their blood pact. It was drawing them back together and Albus wondered why it hadn't done so sooner. But they were here now and within a few days, they would be reunited.
A breath caught in his throat as Gellert reached out for him, taking his hand inbetween his. It had so long since they had been this close and Albus resisted the urge to embrace him. They were both still tentative about their reunion, even if they weren't yet together in the flesh. That would come soon enough. "I am real Gellert and I do intend to meet you." Albus nodded slightly with Gellert told him that he had a week to join him before he would move on. "A week is plenty of time. I'm unsure exactly how long it will take with Muggle transport but I would imagine it will be several days at least." He would make arrangements in the morning. He need to write to Nicolas and send that in the morning. He was already packed, although that had been for a trip he was no longer taking. He would prefer to travel lighter if he was to meet Gellert but he would be able to leave by mid morning. "I could never regret coming to you Gellert." Albus knew he wouldn't be able to freely shake the regrets he held over their final night here in the Hollow together. He had made mistakes and in the end, they had lost Ariana her life. But no matter how it had ended, he couldn't find it within him to ever regret what he had shared with Gellert that summer. "If we are to reunite, I am coming to you freely and wholly. No leaches. No half measures." he assured him, looking into his mismatched eyes. His free hand lifted to gently touch the side of Gellerts coat, just over the heart, as though anchoring the moment in both memory and flesh. Albus felt the loss as soon as Gellert released his hand and stepped back. But he knew distance was necessary, that any moment now they would both be pulled away from this dreamscape and back to where their bodies truly were. "I shall be there in one week. I am coming to you freely and fully Gellert, you have my word." Albus assured him quietly, hoping it would be enough of a reassurance until they were finally together. "I shall begin my journey tomorrow morning."
A faint pulse of satisfaction warmed Gellert’s chest at Albus’ final promise. No hedging, no hesitation, no insolent brother who got in the way between them this time. It was what he had wanted to hear. And for just a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. It was not complete trust just yet, but it was enough to still the inner recoil of instinctive suspicion.
Gellert drew a sharp breath as Albus’ free hand rose to rest on his chest, where the blood pact had returned when the dream shifted. Mismatched eyes remained fixed on the older male, tender but watchful, his expression neutral again though his hands had only just released the warmth of that long-familiar grip.
“The inn sits on the southern edge of Bavaria,” he instructed, pulling himself out of his reverie and gesturing out toward the shadowed woods and hills behind the gasthaus. “The Austrian border is not far from here. Salzburg would be the closest wizarding outpost with safe access, I believe. It has enough of wizarding presence not to arouse suspicion if you travel there by magical means. From there, you may continue with muggle transport.”
His gaze lingered another long moment on Albus’ face, drinking in every detail of his features one more time. “We must wake now,” he said quietly, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles, “lest we become too comfortable in sleep… and don’t want to face reality.”
Gellert turned resolutely away from the redhead, summoning restraint like armor to press back the urge rising in his chest to reach out to Albus again, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait, Albus. One week. No longer.”
And with a sigh, he willed the dream to end.
Albus was only too familiar with the concept of becoming too familiar in sleep. Despite so often being plagued by nightmares, he had spent so much time during these past 18 months in bed. Sleeping, resting a hangover or passed out from an overindulgence - or rather an over consumption of the alcohol he had been so dependant on in the wake of Arianas death and Gellerts departure. He knew it was best they wake now, so that he could start to prepare for the journey as soon as possible. "I will be there before the week is out." Albus assured him. He had listened quietly to all of Gellerts instructions and descriptions. He would be able to use a few magical means to get closer to Austria. He was supposed to be travelling, even if he wouldn't be going to Paris as had been planned. He knew Nicolas would be disappointed to receive his owl and yet how could he not take this opportunity he had been given? Perhaps he could meet with Nicolas as a later time but he would let Gellert Grindelwald slip through his fingers again. "Until we meet in waking hours." Albus offered him a small smile and a nod, feeling a faint panic grip him at the thought of being separated from Gellert. But they were going to meet soon and it would be real. Albus awoke with a soft gasp, his eyes flying open as he cast a soft Lumos without the use of his wand. He was back in the Hollow, in his bedroom. His bags were packed and sitting at the end of his bed and Fawkes, who had been napping on his perch had startled awake, giving a soft trill in confusion as he flapped his wings. "I'm fine, Fawkes." He assured the Phoenix, giving him a small smile before he looked around the room. Had it been a dream? No, he was certain it wasn't. He and Gellert had met and now Gellert was waiting for him! He needed to go. He needed to get to where they had agreed to meet. Bavaria. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had seven days to get there and he knew he would be there long before that. How could he not be? This was exactly what he had been wanting since that night, to see Gellert again. "We need to go to Bavaria." Albus looked across at Fawkes. The Phoenix tilted his head slightly and Albus was certain it was full of judgement. "I need to see him. We need to talk." Fawkes didn't look convinced but offered a quite trill of acceptance. Albus smiled at that and the knowledge that soon, he and Gellert would be reunited. It was more than he had hoped for, for such a long time. But it was happening and soon. Seven days and they would be together. Albus couldn't wait.
++++++++++++++ Five days later, Albus found himself gazing up at the sign that had haunted his days and nights for almost a week. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. He had finally made it and the inn and sign were real. He had spent much time over these past few days, wondering if this had all been a dream and he was chasing ghosts and his own imagination. But much to his relief, it was real. Which meant Gellert was here somewhere, waiting for him. It had taken a little longer than even he had planned, ensuring he had taken a few different magical methods to travel without detection. Once he was in Salzburg, he had relied on Muggle transport, which had proven a little more complicated than he had expected. He would be pleased if he never caught another bus in his life! But, he wasn't going to complain because it had brought him here. He wondered if he should go inside the inn. He hadn't thought to ask if Gellert was staying here under an alias. He couldn't imagine Gellert was simply waiting inside for him to appear. He glanced up, seeing Fawkes flying overhead. He hadn't been able to travel with him on Muggle transport but he had hated being parted from him. He was pleased he was nearby and he smiled as Fawkes gave a soft call of acknowledgement. He looked back at the inn wondering if he should go inside. Perhaps Gellert had left a message for him? But it was then that he felt it. A warmth, a spark of familiar magic. Gellerts magic. It was nearby and he looked up, feeling a tug toward the woods that were across from the inn. Gellert must be there somewhere. And so Albus followed the magical trail, wherever it would lead.
Gellert woke with a start. His body jolted upright in the narrow bed, heart pounding wildly against his ribs as if on its own volition. He sucked in a deep breath, his hand instinctively flying to rest against his chest, feeling the blood pact still warm beneath his inner pocket.
Slumping back against the headboard, he dragged his hand down his face and then through his blond hair. So it was no regular dream, nor even vision. It was real. He had really shared dreams with Albus Dumbledore.
But then came the doubt.
His jaw clenched as his mind reasserted itself, cold and merciless. It occurred to Gellert then, that he’d been incredibly selfish, to allow himself to indulge in such whims and sentiments on his part. Hadn’t that fateful summer proven that the burden to reshape the world fell upon his shoulders, and his alone? Hadn’t he vowed to himself that he would never again put his own personal desires above his greater good? Their greater good, a voice in his head reminded him. Because if Albus truly meant it… then could he risk hoping that Albus still meant to walk the path with him?
A bitter smile touched Gellert’s lips as he stood from the bed and walked barefoot across the creaking floorboards. Glancing out the small window toward the dark pines behind the gasthaus, he reached a decision. One week, he would wait. No longer. He had given his word. And for better or worse, he would honor it. Even if it was selfish or foolish. After all, no matter the outcome, perhaps this was the closure he needed, to move forward.
—
In the following days during the wait that felt like an eternity, Gellert buried himself in the one certainty he had left: magic. The pine woods behind the gasthaus became his temporary sanctum to test his new wand. The Elder Wand responded to him with exceptional precision and power. With every spell pushed to its limits and subtly expanded beyond, with each new piece of inventive magic he crafted, Gellert felt a quiet but growing elation. The Elder Wand was proving its legendary reputation had not been earned in vain.
And on the fifth day since the dream, just as he attempted for the first time a particularly powerful spell of his own invention, he felt it: a trigger to the discreet yet potent wards he had set around the perimeter, alerting him to the approach of another magical presence.
The Elder Wand rose high before him as he turned to the source of the magical presence, which seemed to grow more and more prominent with every passing moment. His heart stuttered once in his chest, but he quieted it quickly. The blue flames of his new spell still danced around him in a protective circle, and he did not extinguish them. Even as their fierce light licked at the pines, the surrounding trees remained miraculously untouched.
A swirl of wind brushed through the pines, bending them just enough to part a path ahead. Gellert waited, every inch of him composed, the high collar of his coat turned up against the breeze. His posture was careful and guarded. But his sharp eyes searched the treeline with something dangerously close to hope.
And then, at last, Gellert saw the approaching figure.
“Albus,” he said, his voice quiet. “You came.”
With masterful self-restrain, Gellert forbade himself from rushing to the side of the auburn-haired boy he had failed to banish from his thoughts. Piercing mismatched eyes sought intense blue through the flickering tongues of the blue flame, the light casting strange shadows across their faces, half-illumined, half-concealed. The wicked fire might have made Gellert look both divine and untouchable, had it not been for the way his lips were slowly curling into a subtle smile.
“I trust there was no trouble for you to find me?”
Gellert Grindelwald and Vinda Rosier, Nurmengard Rose Garden.
@corda-comminuta
Gellert Grindelwald and Vinda Rosier, Nurmengard Rose Garden.
Gellert Grindelwald playing the violin in Nurmengard
The Seer’s Sonata
Nurmengard. The Highest Tower Chamber.
Night draped the world in hush, wrapping the granite spires of Nurmengard in velvet dark. The wind outside howled, brushing icy fingers across the stone balcony where the castle’s master often stood to watch the world. But tonight, Gellert Grindelwald remained within, standing alone before the great northern window. Thin iron bars crossed the panes diagonally, forming a lattice of geometry and restraint, but not confinement. The glass held back the wind, not his razor sharp gaze.
Through it, the world stretched into shadow: snow-covered mountain ridges, a black forest sprawling below, and a distant horizon veiled in mist. His reflection stared faintly back at him in the darkened glass, overlaid by distant stars and the pale glow of moonlight.
With a flick of his hand, the violin case resting against the far wall behind him clicked open. The violin and bow rose silently into the air and floated toward him. He caught them in a fluid motion without glancing, as if the gesture had been part of his being.
His fingers curled around the neck, almost tender in their certainty. He turned the instrument slightly out of ritual, inspecting it with a manner close to reverence, like reacquainting himself with a lover’s face. His thumb brushed the grain of the wood, polished by years of use, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that was almost fond.
Still, the violin was not his only voice. There were other times when he sat at the piano.
A grand one waited below, positioned like a monument in the heart of Nurmengard’s entrance hall, polished obsidian black, solemn and elegant, its keys untouched by dust.
He had played it, often enough. When the occasion called for gravity and diplomacy. When silence needed breaking. When charm was a weapon, and civility, a practiced mask.
The piano offered structure. Elegance, order, restraint. It anchored a room with cold magnificence. Regal. Disciplined. It commanded with stillness.
But the piano had always felt like society’s instrument. Predictable, public, performative. It gave too easily. Its voice demanded a throne and two obedient hands. It could command a room, but not the horizon.
Grindelwald understood its power. But the piano was for the world.
The violin was for him.
It resisted. It demanded finesse and pain. Less an instrument, more a companion. One that yielded only to precision and devotion. It was made for those who could coax beauty from defiance.
It was exactly the way he preferred.
And when he played, something in him loosened. He became the tension of the bow. He became the risk of every note.
Once, long ago, in a small, ancient village, he had often played it in a quiet drawing room, where summer light slanted through lace curtains and dust swirled like gold. Across from him, an auburn-haired boy with bright blue eyes sketched in pencil, pausing now and then in contemplative silence.
They had believed, then, that they could remake the world together. That music had ended with the summer: two cruel months that curdled into deafening silence and bitter betrayal. But the echo never quite left his hands.
The violin moved with him — whether played standing, walking, or even beside a battlefield. It required motion. Partnership. Trust. The bow was his wand; the strings, his incantations. And the music, his magic.
It followed him — from war camps to rallies, from candlelit strategy chambers to starlit towers. Not stationed like the piano. It lived in his hand, as mobile and alive as thought itself.
That was the violin’s gift: freedom.
And Grindelwald had never tolerated chains.
Even in music, he chose command. The violin offered intimacy through instinct, not just intellect or technique. He could whisper or wail through its strings. Each stroke demanded mastery: pressure, breath, control. The violin exacted everything from him: spine, fingers, pulse, soul. There was no room for error. No forgiveness in the wood.
And Gellert Grindelwald did not forgive weakness or imprecision. Especially not in himself.
Now, as he drew the violin up beneath his chin, he took a deep breath, that familiar curve settling into place. The bow found its mark, poised with the stillness of a blade before the strike.
Silence, a beat longer than expected. Not hesitation, but control made absolute.
Then, he played. The notes slid into being, soft and wandering at first. This was not performance. It was confession.
His mismatched eyes slipped half-shut, fingers moving almost without thought. The melody carved a spiral through the air, strange and mournful, vibrating against the stone as he allowed himself to be consumed by the controlled passion.
Then it began: the trembling shift behind his eyes. The stir of second sight.
It was not always so for most Seers. More often than not, they were slaves to their visions, dragged into them without warning, unable to choose the moment, the subject, or the clarity. Chaos masquerading as revelation.
Yet Grindelwald… He had learned another way. Not always reliable, but attainable, often enough to command, enough to matter.
Through the violin, through its demands of precision, of instinct, of surrender, he could sometimes reach through the veil. Not merely to glimpse the future, but to summon it. To tempt it forth with each stroke of the bow, each vibrating string. To call it like a hawk to his wrist.
It did not satisfy him to serve as a passive oracle. Where others saw prophecy as inescapable doom, he saw a weapon. The Sight, to him, was no longer merely a gift. It had become a skill. One carved from discipline and fire. A blade honed, not inherited.
And tonight, as his bow danced across the strings, it came sharp.
A white stone citadel rose from blackened ruins. Flags bearing his Alliance symbol fluttered in windless air. Wizards stood proud, unmasked, unhidden, and he — Gellert Grindelwald — stood before them, architect of their liberation.
The violin swelled with the vision, each note more vivid than the last. His fingers did not falter.
Another image, unbidden, bloomed: a young dark-haired wizard, trembling, eyes wide with fury and shame. Shadows poured from him, thick and writhing, devouring a street, a city square, an entire cathedral reduced to bone and smoke. Screams twisted into silence. The Obscurus, unleashed. Not fragile, but cataclysmic. Beautiful, in the way wild storms are beautiful: untouchable, unknowable, unstoppable.
Grindelwald’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He played through it, bow slicing deeper.
A third vision flashed: a hilltop, empty but for him. Wind scraped across the grass in low, restless waves. Above, the sky churned like water held too long in tension. He stood alone, still as stone, waiting. The air was thick with something unspoken. Not fear, not doubt. Certainty. The kind that comes before a storm.
The vision tore itself away.
The bow stilled. The last note hovered, trembling in the air like breath before a blow. He lowered the violin, eyes fluttering open, gazing out the vast window. His reflection looked back at him, pale, unreadable, framed by the black diagonal bars, like a sigil pressed into the glass.
He knew that hilltop. He had seen that vision before. Not once, but many times. He could vividly recall the feeling of anticipation in the vision, the hush, the slow turning of the sky before something irreversible. It always came the same way: the solitude, the silence, the impending sense of inevitability.
It was the same silence that followed him when he left Godric’s Hollow behind.
Once, and only once, he had believed the weight of vision could be shared. That the boy who once sketched at his side, spirit bright as phoenix flame and mind forged in the same brilliance as his, might stand beside him. That they would walk the path of their Greater Good together, not divide it.
But that was an illusion. Flawed. Fleeting. Best forgotten. For clarity, like mastery, demanded severance. And Grindelwald had long ceased to believe in shared burdens.
Empires were not built by committees, nor revolutions led by consensus. The world did not require a chorus. It needed a conductor. And he had accepted, with the ice-blood certainty of a visionary who had scorched his bridges for revolution fire, that the burden would be his alone. Not because he sought martyrdom, but because no one else had the spine, the clarity, or the cruelty to bear it. His past, or even his present, was incidental. Only men of the future were ever capable of making history, after all.
Grindelwald turned from the window, not with the calm of ritual fulfilled, but with a restlessness he did not bother to conceal. The violin and bow lifted from his hand, directed by his skillful wandless magic, returning smoothly to their case.
The future crept close, not as revelation, but as reminder.
But Gellert Grindelwald was no servant to fate. He had never bowed to prophecy. He used it, as he used all things, to shape the world, not surrender to it.
This would be no different. As the echoes faded, his aristocratic features hardened with a steely edge, shrewd mismatched eyes blazing with a fire of calculated resolve. The future resisted him, as the violin had, but he had mastered both. The violin was not his escape. It was his crucible, where every note burned away weakness, every phrase reminded him that greatness required isolation.
Grindelwald did not look back at the violin.
The note had faded, but the vision remained.
And he would make the world hear it, whether it was ready or not.
Gellert Grindelwald playing the violin in Nurmengard
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
Albus wasn't surprised that Gellert was remaining as far away from the Ministries as possible. He had found the Elder Wand and certainly there was a risk that others could be tracking it and therefore Gellert himself. He knew many thought that the Deathly Hallows was simple a myth but Albus had never believed it to be one. There had always been rumours and surely they weren't the only ones in search of them. But Gellert had the wand and they needed to be even more careful than ever before. They. Were they a 'they' again? Albus wasn't sure, they would need time to work things out between them and if they could salvage their relationship after the way things had ended. He hoped they could but time would tell. Albus' breath caught as their hands met. It had been so long since they had touched and yet in this moment, it was as though no time had passed. It was like coming home. Their fingers became entangled quickly and he watched as Gellerts eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching. It seemed it was affecting both of them in a similar manner. Then Gellerts eyes opened and the vision around them shifted, the old shed melting away and suddenly they were in a tiny and dark inn room. Bare except for a small bed in the corner, with a tiny window and stone walls. He committed the room to memory, wondering if it would be enough to Apparate there. It was risky, to attempt to travel to a place he had never been. The Floo network would have been safer in that regard but it wasn't worth leaving a trace. Then suddenly they were outside and Albus took in their surroundings before gazing up at the sign that was swinging with a soft creak. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. "I will come and find you Gellert, I promise." Albus turned back to face him, still holding his hand in his tightly. "I shell send an owl to Nicolas in the morning before I begin my journey to you." He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. This dream, reuniting with Gellert. It was more than he could have hoped for only a few days ago.
Gellert didn’t speak at first.
He stood motionless in the snow-laced dreamscape, shrewd mismatched eyes never leaving Albus’ face. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the other’s hand in his. It felt so real. Then again, dreams could be very convincing, especially to a tired mind sharpened by months of isolation. Even now, some guarded part of him — the hardened, pragmatic fragment that had long since stopped believing in empty promises, or even sacred blood oaths — refused to accept it fully.
“You know,” Gellert said finally, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he was merely thinking out loud, “a part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.”
He should have dismissed it right then, the way Albus had looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes, the way he’d said “I’ve missed you” with that touch of quiet hesitation and unflinching softness that always struck too close. Sentiment had no place here, not after everything. And yet, he felt the words pressing faintly into him, just enough to stir something long buried. Part of him resented that. How bitterly easy it was, that even a dream-shadow of this auburn-haired boy could still slip past his guard.
And still, he did not let go.
“But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is real. That you are real. And that you do intend to come.”
Now, a faint glint returned to his eyes, like a flame catching behind glass.
“Then you should know, Albus…” His voice grew quieter, but sharper. “If you come to me, you come to me. No regrets. No leashes. No half-measures.”
Gellert stepped closer, their joined hands framing between them like a pact yet unwritten. He wouldn’t settle for Albus’ second choice again, and he needed to make that crystal clear, even in dream.
He didn’t realise it at first, but he had reached out with his other hand as well, cupping Albus’ palm between both of his. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. A ghost of what had once been confident, burning brilliance, but now tempered, wary.
“I trust one week should be enough for you to find your way to me. And that’s how long I’ll be waiting.”
Exhaling deeply, he let go of Albus’ hand, for once unsure of the outcome, and still… just barely… daring to hope.
"A part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.” Albus felt the sharp sting of those words, despite the easy way in which Gellert spoke them. The doubt was understandable, natural. He was still coming to terms with realisation that they were meeting in this dream, created by their blood pact. It was drawing them back together and Albus wondered why it hadn't done so sooner. But they were here now and within a few days, they would be reunited.
A breath caught in his throat as Gellert reached out for him, taking his hand inbetween his. It had so long since they had been this close and Albus resisted the urge to embrace him. They were both still tentative about their reunion, even if they weren't yet together in the flesh. That would come soon enough. "I am real Gellert and I do intend to meet you." Albus nodded slightly with Gellert told him that he had a week to join him before he would move on. "A week is plenty of time. I'm unsure exactly how long it will take with Muggle transport but I would imagine it will be several days at least." He would make arrangements in the morning. He need to write to Nicolas and send that in the morning. He was already packed, although that had been for a trip he was no longer taking. He would prefer to travel lighter if he was to meet Gellert but he would be able to leave by mid morning. "I could never regret coming to you Gellert." Albus knew he wouldn't be able to freely shake the regrets he held over their final night here in the Hollow together. He had made mistakes and in the end, they had lost Ariana her life. But no matter how it had ended, he couldn't find it within him to ever regret what he had shared with Gellert that summer. "If we are to reunite, I am coming to you freely and wholly. No leaches. No half measures." he assured him, looking into his mismatched eyes. His free hand lifted to gently touch the side of Gellerts coat, just over the heart, as though anchoring the moment in both memory and flesh. Albus felt the loss as soon as Gellert released his hand and stepped back. But he knew distance was necessary, that any moment now they would both be pulled away from this dreamscape and back to where their bodies truly were. "I shall be there in one week. I am coming to you freely and fully Gellert, you have my word." Albus assured him quietly, hoping it would be enough of a reassurance until they were finally together. "I shall begin my journey tomorrow morning."
A faint pulse of satisfaction warmed Gellert’s chest at Albus’ final promise. No hedging, no hesitation, no insolent brother who got in the way between them this time. It was what he had wanted to hear. And for just a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. It was not complete trust just yet, but it was enough to still the inner recoil of instinctive suspicion.
Gellert drew a sharp breath as Albus’ free hand rose to rest on his chest, where the blood pact had returned when the dream shifted. Mismatched eyes remained fixed on the older male, tender but watchful, his expression neutral again though his hands had only just released the warmth of that long-familiar grip.
“The inn sits on the southern edge of Bavaria,” he instructed, pulling himself out of his reverie and gesturing out toward the shadowed woods and hills behind the gasthaus. “The Austrian border is not far from here. Salzburg would be the closest wizarding outpost with safe access, I believe. It has enough of wizarding presence not to arouse suspicion if you travel there by magical means. From there, you may continue with muggle transport.”
His gaze lingered another long moment on Albus’ face, drinking in every detail of his features one more time. “We must wake now,” he said quietly, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles, “lest we become too comfortable in sleep… and don’t want to face reality.”
Gellert turned resolutely away from the redhead, summoning restraint like armor to press back the urge rising in his chest to reach out to Albus again, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait, Albus. One week. No longer.”
And with a sigh, he willed the dream to end.
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
Albus wasn't surprised that Gellert was remaining as far away from the Ministries as possible. He had found the Elder Wand and certainly there was a risk that others could be tracking it and therefore Gellert himself. He knew many thought that the Deathly Hallows was simple a myth but Albus had never believed it to be one. There had always been rumours and surely they weren't the only ones in search of them. But Gellert had the wand and they needed to be even more careful than ever before. They. Were they a 'they' again? Albus wasn't sure, they would need time to work things out between them and if they could salvage their relationship after the way things had ended. He hoped they could but time would tell. Albus' breath caught as their hands met. It had been so long since they had touched and yet in this moment, it was as though no time had passed. It was like coming home. Their fingers became entangled quickly and he watched as Gellerts eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching. It seemed it was affecting both of them in a similar manner. Then Gellerts eyes opened and the vision around them shifted, the old shed melting away and suddenly they were in a tiny and dark inn room. Bare except for a small bed in the corner, with a tiny window and stone walls. He committed the room to memory, wondering if it would be enough to Apparate there. It was risky, to attempt to travel to a place he had never been. The Floo network would have been safer in that regard but it wasn't worth leaving a trace. Then suddenly they were outside and Albus took in their surroundings before gazing up at the sign that was swinging with a soft creak. Wolfshügel Gasthaus. "I will come and find you Gellert, I promise." Albus turned back to face him, still holding his hand in his tightly. "I shell send an owl to Nicolas in the morning before I begin my journey to you." He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. This dream, reuniting with Gellert. It was more than he could have hoped for only a few days ago.
Gellert didn’t speak at first.
He stood motionless in the snow-laced dreamscape, shrewd mismatched eyes never leaving Albus’ face. He flexed his fingers once, feeling the other’s hand in his. It felt so real. Then again, dreams could be very convincing, especially to a tired mind sharpened by months of isolation. Even now, some guarded part of him — the hardened, pragmatic fragment that had long since stopped believing in empty promises, or even sacred blood oaths — refused to accept it fully.
“You know,” Gellert said finally, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he was merely thinking out loud, “a part of my mind still doubts all this. It could be a probe from my own subconscious, testing me. Or some cruel trick of my mind, conjured by our pact, to measure my own weakness.”
He should have dismissed it right then, the way Albus had looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes, the way he’d said “I’ve missed you” with that touch of quiet hesitation and unflinching softness that always struck too close. Sentiment had no place here, not after everything. And yet, he felt the words pressing faintly into him, just enough to stir something long buried. Part of him resented that. How bitterly easy it was, that even a dream-shadow of this auburn-haired boy could still slip past his guard.
And still, he did not let go.
“But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is real. That you are real. And that you do intend to come.”
Now, a faint glint returned to his eyes, like a flame catching behind glass.
“Then you should know, Albus…” His voice grew quieter, but sharper. “If you come to me, you come to me. No regrets. No leashes. No half-measures.”
Gellert stepped closer, their joined hands framing between them like a pact yet unwritten. He wouldn’t settle for Albus’ second choice again, and he needed to make that crystal clear, even in dream.
He didn’t realise it at first, but he had reached out with his other hand as well, cupping Albus’ palm between both of his. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. A ghost of what had once been confident, burning brilliance, but now tempered, wary.
“I trust one week should be enough for you to find your way to me. And that’s how long I’ll be waiting.”
Exhaling deeply, he let go of Albus’ hand, for once unsure of the outcome, and still… just barely… daring to hope.
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
"You mean it?" Albus was surprised at Gellerts question. Had he assumed that Albus would decline his invitation? Of course, he was aware that Gellert had been flinging accusations his way tonight, declaring how he had betrayed him and perhaps he had in many ways. But he knew that he needed to see Gellert, so they could talk and hopefully reconcile. His life had fallen apart since that night and while he had been trying to piece it together slowly these past couple of months, he knew he couldn't turn down an invitation like this. "Yes, of course I mean it. I want to see you. I... I've missed you." Albus confessed quietly, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure it wasn't a secret, far from it but still he felt exposed admitting it outloud. Bavaria. Wolfshugel. Of course he had never been there so apparation was out of the question. He could use the Floo Network if there was somewhere nearby. Gellert had specified that it was a Muggle inn so there wouldn't be one there. "It might take me a few days travel to get there, especially if you prefer I left so record in the Floo Network." Albus had been planning to travel using the network to Paris the following day but then, that hadn't been a secret. He was certain Gellert would still want to remain undetected. "You said it was a Muggle Inn? Am I able to bring my familiar? You haven't met him yet, his name is Fawkes. He's a Phoenix. I wouldn't want to leave him behind." Of course he would have to remain distant from Muggles, since Fawkes didn't look like any of their non magical avian varieties. Then Gellert was reached for him, offering to take his hand. Albus didn't hesitate. He nodded slightly and reached out to take his hand in his. "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you." He whispered as their hands met. His breath caught for a moment as his touch.
Gellert gave a small, deliberate nod at Albus’ mention of traveling by Floo, his eyes growing sharp again. “No Floo Network,” he agreed quietly. “That’s why I chose a muggle inn. It’s well off the beaten track. No fireplaces that link to any Ministries. I prefer not to be too easily tracked.”
He paused, something almost like surprise flickering across his face, at Albus’ next words. “A phoenix?” His voice softened in a low, curious murmur. “So your family legend came true. A phoenix came to a Dumbledore in dire need.”
Gellert studied Albus anew, as if seeing something ancient and unfamiliar buried beneath the young man’s tired eyes. “Of course you can bring him. I trust he’ll provide far more pleasant company than that brother of yours.”
Stepping forward in a slow and composed manner, he reached out to take Albus’ hand. Their fingers met, and for a moment he closed his eyes. The contact felt like a whisper of something once sacred. He stifled the sigh that rose in his chest, suppressing the sharp ache of longing that threatened to undo him. The blood pact stirred in his other hand, alive and pulsing, as if it too recognised the union.
A breath escaped him, but he forced his focus to sharpen, in spite of himself. With quiet intent, he bent his will toward the dream, coaxing it to shift, guiding them both away from the ruins of the past and into the shadowed present.
The dreamscape around them shivered. The old shed in which they were standing fell away like ash in the wind. In its place, a modest, dimly lit room took form, with its thick stone walls, a narrow window veiled in gauze, and a single iron-framed bed tucked neatly in the corner.
“This is where I am now,” Gellert said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. His gaze lingered on the empty bed, immaculate and untouched, though he knew he lay in it even now. Interesting, how the dream obeyed his will yet omitted his sleeping form, as if some unspoken rule of magic or mind refused to show too much.
Then, without letting go of Albus’ hand, he willed the dream to pull them outside. The inn’s walls dissolved and the scene reformed: a lonely two-story building nestled between dark pine woods and a steep incline of stony hills. The roof was slate, the windows warm but shuttered. A hand-painted sign, just faded enough to be overlooked, swayed on rusted hinges: Wolfshügel Gasthaus.
“Commit every detail to memory, Albus. I trust you’ll find me… if your intention is true.”
worship me
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”
"I've heard you the first time." The words left a sharp sting behind, even if there was no longer an accusatory tone. He hadn't meant to repeat himself. The truth was that, aside from Fawkes, he hadn't told anyone else what these past 16 months had really been like. He had ignored all correspondence until recently and even Bathilda had eventually stopped coming knocking eventually. He had been alone since Aberforth had returned to Hogwarts and had never returned to the Hollow. "You think anything about that night was easy for me? You and Aberforth put me in a terrible position but you were the one that was..." Albus took a deep breath. There was no point in fighting. Albus was tired, exhausted and having Gellert with him here, even if it was a 'dream' of sorts was too good to risk ruining. As Gellert spoke about his dream world being an opening for them, Albus found himself nodding slightly. It was clear neither had been going to reach out to the other. Instead magic had intervened? Was it the blood pact drawing them together? Attempting to force them to mend bridges that they had both thought burned? His heart leapt as Gellert told him not to go to Paris. "Come find me instead." The invitation had been everything he had spent the past year dreaming of. Was it truly that simple? Gellert would tell him where he was and they would meet up again and.... could everything return to how it was? Gellert had the Elder Wand now, they were already one step closer to joining the Hallows. One down, two to go. This was everything they had spent that summer imagining, discussing, researching. But then, he had promised Flamel that he would finally become an apprentice for him. Nicolas had been writing to him for years even before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had been so patient in waiting for him, could he really disappoint him now? This apprenticeship was something he had dreamed of in Hogwarts. Working for Nicolas, learning everything about alchemy. Living in Paris. Perhaps he could write to Nicolas, explain something had come up and he needed a few more weeks? Certainly he would be willing to give him that? Until he and Gellert had time for a reunion to discuss the future ahead. "Where are you? I'll come and find you." Albus took a step forward, knowing he couldn't resist Gellert asking him to meet with him.
A small part of Gellert — the cold, calculating part, trained by years of cynicism and hardened by Albus’ betrayal — had expected Albus to refuse. He had braced for mockery, even a scoff, a look of pity, or a sneer that would remind him why he had never let himself hope.
So when the answer came in that soft and sincere tone: “Where are you? I’ll come and find you,” it didn’t soothe him right away.
It unsettled him. Nothing else that was said before that mattered.
His grip on the blood pact eased, just slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, not necessarily in Albus, but in himself. He stared at the other boy, studied those intense blue eyes and the lines of that face like a puzzle he had once thought he alone could solve.
“…You mean it,” Gellert said quietly, but it was not a question.
He didn’t smile, not yet. His mind still searched for the trap, some sign that Albus was bluffing, testing him, waiting to say ‘I wanted to see if you’d still fall for me.’
But the words didn’t come. And so, for the first time in months, Gellert allowed himself to believe, tentatively, like one might reach toward a flame without knowing if it would burn or warm.
“Good,” he said at last, quieter than before. His voice was firm, but there was a strange restraint to it now, a vulnerability masked in composure. “There’s a muggle inn on the Bavarian border. A place called Wolfshügel. No one asks questions there. You’ll find it if you’re meant to. I’ll leave the signs for you.”
Then, after a beat longer than was necessary, he extended his free hand, holding Albus’ blue gaze intently with his own. “Come here. I think I can even show you… if we make contact. Even in the dream.”
只是截图。
The Inception and Deception of Dreams
@nurmengard-master
Albus climbed into bed, feeling the tug of exhaustion that he hadn't felt in sometime. He had finished packing and what wasn't coming with him had been boxed up or covered in dust sheets. He couldn't imagine he would be returning here for sometime - or ever - and Aberforth never bothered returning here anymore even during term breaks. The two of them weren't really on speaking terms, aside from absolute necessity. He had written to him and said he would be leaving for France, for an internship with Nicolas Flamel. They had been corresponding for many years now and the alchemist had offered him an opportunity he no longer had any reason to turn down. He would be leaving in the morning and he was rather looking forward to finally getting out of Godrics Hollow and starting somewhere fresh. He had barely left this cottage for over a year. After what had happened that night, he'd barely been able to summon the strength to leave his bed. Ariana was dead. Aberforth wasn't speaking with him, except to snarl at him as he assigned the entire blame onto him. Gellert had left without a trace. He'd tried looking for him when he hadn't come back but he couldn't find him. Bathilda at least claimed she didn't know where he was. Durmstrang responded with the same. If Gellert didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Perhaps that was the answer Albus had been needing. If Gellert could simply leave him behind without even a glance back, maybe it was that he had never really loved him in the way he had proclaimed. If that was the case - a thought only further cemented by both Abe and Elphias as well - maybe it was better to simply try and get on with his life. He was entirely alone now, except for Fawkes of course. His precious familiar who had simply turned up on his window sill and refused to leave. "We're leaving tomorrow Fawkes." Albus looked across at the phoenix who was currently perched at the end of his bed. "I think you'll like Paris, I hear they have the most delectable crackers there. I'll be sure to pick you up a box just as soon as we get settled in." He shifted under the covers with the first smile he had truly felt in sometime. Perhaps things were getting better. "Nox." he cast the room into darkness except for a small lamp in the corner that always remained on. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.
Albus knew where he was as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. It was the old shed, where he and Gellert had created the blood pact. It had been the only place they could get at least ten minutes guaranteed privacy where they couldn't be interrupted by Abe or Ari or Bathilda or just a curious neighbour who had too much time on their hands. Albus couldn't help the soft sad smile, wondering why his dreams had brought him back here. But he felt a familiar warmth and he paused. "Gellert?"
Albus openly stared at Gellert as he spoke, wondering if the man truly just didn't understand what their final night together in Godrics Hollow had cost him. Did he think that somehow Albus had simply picked up the pieces of his shattered existence and moved on as quickly as Gellert clearly had? "Aberforth doesn't want anything to do with me, at all. We haven't actually spoken properly in almost 11 months now. Once he left for Hogwarts, he never returned and he refuses to respond to my letters." Albus had sent a few, to try and mend some bridges but it had been pointless and soon, he had stopped trying. He had sent one final letter, ensuring him that his tuition had been paid for, as well as a monthly allowance for anything he would need and an address for where Abe could find him. It was the best he could do now. Albus winced as Gellert so openly admitted that he didn't trust him. He shouldn't have been surprised but he was disappointed. There was no one who knew him like Gellert did and yet clearly he didn't see it. Did he truly think he had changed that much? Did he not understand what the loss of his sister and Gellert had done to him? The mark it had left upon his mind and perhaps his soul too? Albus gasped softly when the blood pact came into view. He watched as it floated between the pair, their drops of blood dancing in the opal liquid inside. The faint glow of light coming from the pendant was warm, comforting and inviting. The pair of them were together once more and it seemed the pact was rejoicing in this fact, even if Gellert clearly was not. The pact floated closer and Albus was already reaching out but Gellert snatched it away before he had the chance to even touch it. "I thought you might have... It's not important." Albus didn't want to voice what he had assumed Gellert had done with their pact. "Yes, I believe it is our pact that has been the cause of us meeting like this. It is, after all, still binding our souls together."
But Gellert had not moved on as quickly as he evidently appeared to. During the many months since his departure, try as he might, Gellert had never been able to wipe Albus from his mind. Every waking moment of his search for the Elder Wand had been a painful reminder of how Albus was supposed to be by his side in this hunt. Every restless night had been spent dwelling on how things could have been different on that day when the three-way duel occurred, and on the hurt and bitterness of what he was sure was Albus’ betrayal.
He had since become better at perfecting his mask of cold calm and indifference, however. It was needed now, more than ever, when he knew the man before him was not an illusion.
“How… unfortunate. But if you’re seeking my sympathy, you shall not have it.” Gellert replied curtly, but it was all out of brutal honesty, not spite, that compelled him to say so. He was certain Albus knew and understood Gellert’s distaste for Aberforth. Feigning sympathy would have been effortless for him, but it would be a lie, and despite the anger he still held against Albus, Gellert didn’t feel like lying about this particular subject. “You are better without him in the way. You knew that. You’ve known that since our summer.”
Our summer. The words left such a sour taste on his lips and pressed a heavy weight on his heart. Gellert pushed it back inward, watching Albus’ reaction to their blood pact. His own gaze was drawn to the entwined droplets of blood dancing within the pendant as the past momentarily pulled him backward, to the day their troth was made, in almost this exact same spot. His mask of iron and ice was close to coming undone. The proximity between them since Gellert had made to retrieve the pact wasn’t helping. He wrestled against the desire to reach out to Albus, to feel him again in his arms.
Gellert only succeeded at suppressing the temptation when he heard Albus’ next trailed off statement. His brows furrowed, his expression quickly darkened. “You assumed I must have discarded it?” Gellert let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Should I be surprised that you’ve become so quick to expect the worst of me?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was hurt. And to think that he had almost given into Albus, while the man had so blatantly chosen to look at him in the worst light.
“Binding us… yes. So it is.” Gellert agreed briskly, frowning at the pact in his hand. As usual, he attempted to assess the situation with the same cold rational mind he always used. In spite of the rebellious desires of his heart. “It binds our everything. Our hearts, our minds, our very souls. I suppose it only drew us together now because of the extreme heightened emotions we’re experiencing in reality. For me, it’s the finding and winning of the Elder Wand. For you, a new chapter of your life.”
"Better off? Without my brother? Better off completely alone?" Albus knew exactly how Gellert felt about Aberforth. He had never tried to hide his distaste for him during that summer and Albus couldn't entirely blame him. While he loved Abe because he was his brother, he still had always known just how to rile people up with a few choice words or even a glare. It was certainly why he and Aberforth had had so many choice words during their teenage years. But they were the only family they had left now and he had been hopeful they might be able to be a part of one anothers lives, to help each other through the grieving for their mother and sister. But Abe had other ideas and so Albus had been left completely alone. "I thought perhaps you had discarded it, certainly. Isn't that what estranged spouses do? Throw their wedding rings into the nearest ocean?" Albus was only half kidding, for he hadn't expected Gellert to have kept the troth. Why would he? It was obvious that he had had no intention of ever coming back so why would he hold onto a reminder and souvenir of their union? He looked down at the pact in Gellerts hand, recalling happier times when he had thought they were going to take on the world together. It had been the happiest he had ever been. Their pact had binded them, completely, forever. He never could have imagined his life without Gellert by his side, but over the past year he had been forced to. "Yes, I suppose that's all it is." Albus almost whispered, hoping they had been drawn here for another reason completely. "What do you suggest we do then?" Breaking it was unthinkable, to lose all connection to the man standing before him. Besides, he had heard just how painful it was with such blood magic was undone.
“Yes, Albus, yes!” Gellert replied, a hint of fevered passion of his youthful self flashed across the mask of his cool countenance.
“You’re better off without that reckless, idiotic brother of yours. He was nothing but a hindrance on your path to greatness, I’ve told you as much several times. But no, you weren’t alone then, were you? You had me! I was ready to be by your side, Albus, I was ready for us to travel and conquer the world together. I thought that would have been enough for you, as it was for me. But how wrong I was. You shattered that chance for us.”
An involuntary bitter laugh tumbled from his parted lips. Despite the proud composure he attempted to maintain, there was subtle tremors coursing through him, swaying his form nigh imperceptibly. How could that brilliant mind of Albus not work out how his betrayal had affected Gellert? That the singular fact that Albus had chosen Aberforth, an unworthy brother, over Gellert, his supposed soulmate, was earth-shattering enough to destroy everything holy and sacred between them? Was it ignorance, denial, or arrogance?
“Estranged spouses?” A ghost of a sneer crept over his lips. “We are more than that, Albus. We were so much more.” The blood pact grew warmer in his palm and glowed brightly, as though agreeing with him. “Unlike you, who has clearly moved on and thought nothing of what we once had, I have chosen to hold onto it. It serves as a good reminder too. A reminder of your betrayal, and how I need to be more wary with guarding my heart.”
That was nothing more than another direct jab at Albus. Gellert might have other reasons to keep their blood troth, but those were reasons which he didn’t feel Albus had earned.
His fair eyebrows furrowed as the other inquired of what they should do. “You sound like you’re contemplating of destroying it,” Gellert remarked sharply, instinctively drawing the pact closer to him. “How fitting, with everything you’ve already done.”
Albus listened to the outburst quietly, taking in every single word as if it were a dagger to his chest. Did Gellert not understand him at all anymore? Had he spent these years apart determined to misunderstand him at every single turn. The revelation left him feeling even more alone and adrift than he usually felt.
"You left!" Albus snapped once Gellert had finally ended his tirade. "Do not have the audacity to stand there and tell me how you wanted me at your side when it was you that abandoned me when I needed you the most!" How quickly Gellert seemed to forget that he had been the one to run away that night and disappear into the night within an hour of Arianas body hitting the floor.
"Aberforth is the only family I have left. Your dislike of him doesn't change that." Albus didn't always like Aberforth but he still loved him. He was his brother and the only family he had now. They were the final Dumbledores and he didn't want to think about his life entirely without him.
He paused as Gellerts words hit him, declaring that he clearly had moved on. "What? Is that truly what you think? That I've moved on from what we shared that summer?" How could he even suggest such a thing? Did it make it easier to betray him and his ideals? "Don't you dare stand there and tell me how I feel Gellert! I wasn't the one that abandoned you and you would do well to remember that!" Albus snapped at him. "Everything I've done? What have I done exactly?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Gellert’s mismatched eyes. It was very close to disbelief, but too volatile, too raw. His grip on the blood pact tightened until the veins in his hand stood stark against pale skin, the magic within it pulsing brighter now, sensing the tension between its creators.
“I left?” he echoed, his voice low, incredulous. “You think I chose to abandon you without cause? When you’re reminding me, again and again, that you’ll still choose your worthless, uncultured brother over me?”
His gaze bored into Albus with the intensity of a spell, the kind that came from emotion too deep to name. His voice rose, coloured by fury but laced with pain that cut deeper than he intended.
“You stood there,” he spat, “and let your brother try to attack me. You allowed him to pull yourself away from me. From us, and everything we’d planned. And when Ariana—”
His voice trailed off. The name hung in the air like a funeral bell. For a moment, his composure faltered completely, his face twisting in frustration and hurt. A beat passed in silence between them, heavy as a tomb.
“I shall not keep reminding you,” he said sharply, “of how that betrayal affected me.” His voice was steady and cool. His expression had smoothed once again. There was no trace of the passion that had flared a moment before.
“But if I have been wrong…” he continued, his tone softening, woven with repressed longing, “Why don’t you prove it to me?”
Albus was staring now, eyes widening slightly as Gellert continued his tirade against him. It was clear he was mostly still angry at him, even after all these years. It was no wonder that he had never reached out, never tried to seek him out. Had he never considered the fact that it was he himself that had abandoned him that night, running away without ever looking back? "Yes, you left!" Albus hissed, taking a step forward and feeling himself shaking in anger and frustration. "I defended my brother that night! He is a powerful wizard but we both know he was no match for you! He was brash and rude but you had no right to...." Albus took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, not that he had anticipated Gellert would be here tonight. He wondered if he would have been more or less likely to come if he had known who would be joining him? "I didn't let him attack you, I never would have allowed that either. You forget that I loved you both and the last thing I wanted was you two genuinely fighting. Sniping and snarking I could cope with but not what happened that night." The mention of Ariana made his breath catch. Few ever spoke her name anymore. Almost no one remembered her now. Bathilda and Elphias never mentioned her. Aberforth would give him a look if he dared say her name aloud. Did Gellert still think of her? Had he mourned her loss? The look across his features made her thing that he had, that he did but he couldn't bring himself to ask. "You abandoned me." Albus whispered the accusation. "I needed you then, more than ever before. I came looking for you at Bathildas only a couple short hours later but you were gone! Did you ever speak with your great aunt about it? Did she tell you how I raced to your room, certain that she was mistaken, or lying. Only to find your bedroom empty and you no where to found. Did she tell you how I collapsed, how I sobbed to discover that you had fled without even so much as a goodbye?" Albus turned away from him now, tears burning in his eyes and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He couldn't bear to have Gellert look at him right now. "For months, I was certain that you would return. That you had run only to protect yourself that night but that you would come back to me." He laughed bitterly then, remembering how he had waited in Godrics Hollow for months, almost a year. Isolated and alone, Aberforth back at Hogwarts. If he wasn't crying or laying around in bed, he was drinking as much fire whiskey as he could until sleep would claim him. "Every letter that arrived, I was certain it was from you. Every time the gate opened, I was certain you'd come back. Even at Arianas funeral, I was sure that you would be there. For me." He wiped at his eyes now and at the tear stains down his cheeks. So don't talk to me about betrayal when I was the one waiting for you!" Albus turned back to face him then, a small frown across his features. "Prove it to you? What? My loyalty?" Albus frowned slightly, wondering what Gellert had in mind and if they could salvage anything that had one been between them. He wasn't so sure. Not anymore.
Gellert stared at Albus, at the tears, the rawness, the tremor in that familiar voice, and for a fleeting instant, even in the dream, he felt it again. That same strange gravity that had once pulled their souls into orbit around one another. Even now, with bitterness straining between them like a taut string, Albus still had the power to undo him.
The blood pact pulsed quietly in his hand like a second heartbeat.
“I’ve heard you the first time,” Gellert said softly, and for once there was no accusation in his voice. His eyes fell, lashes low over mismatched irises, shadowing something burried and aching.
A long pause stretched between them, the dreamscape around them eerily quiet and unnaturally still, like the hush of snowfall or the breath before a spell.
“I was angry,” he admitted, his voice low and controlled, though his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. He resisted the impulse to reach for Albus. Such tenderness, even now, felt too dangerous. “What we had ran deeper than anything blood alone could give. I was angry that you allowed your brother to come between us. So easily.”
His gaze lifted then, slowly, the tilt of his head almost curious. “This dream, whatever it is that binds us during sleep, it’s not coincidence. It’s an opening. A rare one.”
When his eyes met Albus’, there was no softness there, only fire, fixed and unyielding. “You said you’re meant to leave for Paris tomorrow for an apprenticeship with Flamel?” He paused, then spoke with deliberate force: “Don’t go. Come find me instead. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you where I am.“
A beat.
“Come back to me, Albus. With the Elder Wand I’ve just claimed, we can begin what we were always meant to. Our cause. Our greater good.”