Daring Trysts
@regretismyconstantcompanion
More than a week had passed, and Gellert had yet to receive a letter from Albus keeping him informed about the young time-traveler’s condition, about the most recent developments at Hogwarts in its whole.
A faint frown of displeasure marring his aristocratic features, he thus entrusted Vinda with relaying his instructions to the Alliance recruits presently compromised in Verona and with aiding them in person until the most imminent threat had been dispelled while Gellert himself returned to Magical Britain, a flock of magnificent crows trailing him like a sinister omen.
Should Albus have betrayed him a second time, making a mockery of the tentative trust he had extended to him, he would show no mercy toward the man confronting him as an enemy in several visions.
And yet, although his mistrust and cynicism had augmented as he had matured, he was well-aware of the necessity of questioning what could be mere dictates of habit and impulse.
He would, therefore, refrain from judging Albus until he had determined the truth for himself.
Once he had decided on a suitable meeting place within the depths of the forest bordering the edges of the castle grounds, he drew his wand.
His grace was that of a veteran conductor as he weaved his intricate spell, implanting his orders in the birds’ minds until they morphed into a mesmerizing tune they delighted in dancing to.
The entire flock departed, then, and spread out, locating their feathered comrade currently in Albus’ hands and guiding him to the center of the forest.
A picture of nonchalance as he learned against the trunk of an ancient oak tree, Gellert lay in wait.