Tap-tap-tap.

An owl at the door with Gellert’s response.

“You are perhaps right about my previous use of force being excessive, unnecessary. However, sometimes force is necessary, isn’t it? How far will you go, Albus, to preserve what has been entrusted to us to preserve? In the moment of darkness, when you must fight to maintain all that we struggle for, all that we believe, will you have the strength? Or will you be swallowed by the darkness?

“These are dour thoughts to ponder on a dark witching hour. Fear not the demons, my friend! I have faith in your courage. Who but you is as good a friend? Who but us to lead Wizarding society into its new era?

I am glad as well to have met you.”



If Dumbledore had his choosing, he would have been here hours before. He would have arrived after lunch, at sunrise, an hour before dusk. Anything but midnight, any time for a battle but the witching hour, when all the demons come back to haunt him, when all the darkness is dredged up. But there he was, finally through Nurmengard’s gates after more soul-searching than he could have imagined as a seventeen-year-old fresh from Hogwarts and ready to take over the world.

As he walked through the compound toward the central tower, he could feel the wide-eyed gazes of the prisoners upon him.



In the town square, in the apothecary, in their own gardens, everywhere Albus and Grindelwald went, the people of Godric’s Hallow watched them. Albus, accustomed to the curiosity of his neighbors, was nevertheless uncomfortable.

Gellert reveled in the attention.

“Look at them, Albus!” he crowed one day, taking hold of Albus’ arm to prevent him from shielding his face from the glances of all in the square, from hiding. “They’re desperate to know what we’re doing. Can you feel the energy? Imagine that energy being channeled to our purpose.”

“I don’t think they’d understand,” Albus replied. “I know these people, Gellert. They’re happy to share this town with Muggles, to blend in alongside them.”

“Muggles are not completely without worth. You, Albus, have shown me that. But we have to make society a place of order, a place where we can function to our highest degree of capability. Muggles have to be prevented from dragging down our progress. Wizards must be leaders, not followers. Don’t you agree?

Albus, of course, agreed.



The low murmurs of the imprisoned throng drowned out the distant sound of the battle he had left at the gate. Grindelwald’s last few remaining soldiers were engaging the Aurors at the gate. It was so stupid, so futile. Wizards should not be killing each other for the betterment of Wizardkind. There would be casualties on both sides. Albus’ British Aurors had avoided this Continental war for the most part; they were luckier than their Muggle counterparts that way. Dumbledore wondered if Grindelwald had… influenced… the German Muggles in their continuous bombardment of Britain in an effort to shake him out of hiding.

Dumbledore was ashamed of himself for being that vain.

But he still felt it was probable. For what was spilled Muggle blood compared to Wizarding affairs?

Grindelwald had always been careless with Muggles, but the lives of witches and wizards meant something to him. Why didn’t he recall his troops? Albus was here, he was going to confront Grindelwald, which is what the other wizard wanted in the first place. He must know there was senseless slaughter being perpetrated on his doorstep. Forty-five years ago, that would have meant something to Gellert Grindelwald. He would have stopped them, then.

Wouldn’t he?



“I can’t come out today,” Albus told Gellert. “Ariana’s hurt herself. She’s been refusing to talk since.” Ariana was sitting in the parlor, rocking back and forth.

Gellert squatted down next to the seated girl, her arm recently bandaged by Albus. “How are you today, Miss Dumbledore? That’s an interesting choice of bracelet on your arm.”

Ariana scowled, but stopped rocking. “It’s not a bracelet, Mr. Grindelwald. It’s a bandage. I’m hurt.”

“Oh no!” Gellert’s horror was exaggerated, his eyebrows disappearing rising until they disappeared under his hair. “My dear, that’s terrible. What happened?”

“I fell on my arm,” Ariana told him as crisply as she could while trying not to giggle.

“You fell?” Gellert threw his hands to his head in mock astonishment, finally making Ariana laugh. “From where did you fall?”

Ariana suddenly fell silent again. She looked at the floor.

“The ceiling,” Albus answered for her. “I am afraid we got into a bit of a disagreement about suitable activities for the morning’s entertainment. Ariana shot straight up to the ceiling, and then we had a bit of trouble getting her down.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” Ariana muttered before she started rocking again.

Gellert put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and smiled at her. “Ariana, I understand. It is not your fault, you know.”

“I’m too mad to get in trouble,” Ariana said, shrugging.

“No, you are better than that,” Gellert told her seriously. “One day, when your brother and I have taught the Muggles their place, you will walk out in the open with nothing to fear. You will have the chance to learn as we have. There will be no more wasting of magical ability through fear of exposure.”

Ariana, paused in her movement, looked up and locked eyes with Gellert. She was just as serious as he was, and for a moment, she looked far, far older than her fourteen years.

Then, she looked away and resumed her rocking.

Albus walked up behind Gellert, placing his hand upon the younger man’s shoulder. “As I said, I can’t come out today.”



The prisoners were pushing up against the fences they were trapped behind, staring at Albus. One man started yelling at Albus, but he was too frantic for Albus to determine the language.

“I’m sorry,” Albus said in English, not pausing to look at the man. He had seen no sign of Grindelwald yet, and it was making him nervous. “I don’t understand you.”

“Out?” The man asked, clearly reaching for whatever English he spoke. “You take us out?”

Albus turned to look him in the eye, to truly see the man. His eyes were wide and wild, pleading. “I will try,” Albus replied.



“I do not know, Albus. I tried very hard not to get upset with her, but I find it so difficult! How do you stay so patient with these people?” Gellert lay on his back in the field, picking apart the petals on a wildflower.

“Your Aunt Bathilda is quite intelligent, Gellert,” Albus replied, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was lying next to Gellert. “You just need to ask her about history rather than let her try and prattle about manners. She could help us a lot, you know. She is absolutely brilliant at tracing the ebbs and flows of power struggles throughout the centuries.”

“Really?” Gellert sat up, throwing the damaged flower aside. “I had no idea. You’re so much better at diplomacy than I am. That’s why we’ll make you the king.”

“The king?” Albus arched an eyebrow. “I thought we were going for the title of Chancellor, or First Minister, or Mugwump or something. Are we royalty now?”

Gellert laughed. “I meant it metaphorically, but why not be royalty? You can rule, handling the laws and all those people, and I will control the armies and subjugate our enemies. We’ll be side by side, but I’ll let you wear the crown.” He smiled down at Albus mischievously. “Unless you’d rather give it to me.”

“Of course I get the crown,” Albus said, his heart pounding. “I’m older.”



Albus turned away from the prisoner suddenly, at the sound of the tower’s door crashing open.

“You always were better at talking to people,” Grindelwald called to Albus from the doorway. “I was always more charming, of course, and much smoother, but people seemed to go for your stoic nature. Perhaps it seemed to mean more when you would open up and say something.” He laughed, the sound echoing in the dark night. “Would you believe I’ve missed you?”



The knocking on Albus’ window was insistent. Gellert had levitated himself up and was demanding entrance. Albus threw the window open and got out of the way just in time. Gellert landed with a crash, tumbling across Albus’ bedroom floor.

“Shh!” Albus hissed. “You’ll wake the others.”

“No,” Gellert whispered, disregarding Albus’ worries. “They are both sound sleepers. I had to come over, though. I figured it out! The first step! I know who has the Elder Wand.” He grabbed hold of Albus’ arms, squeezing them in excitement. “An old friend happened to mention it in a note to me. Gregorovitch is boasting about having the Elder Wand. The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny! It is ours, Albus! Let’s go take it, right now!”

Albus laughed out loud. “I need a few days to make preparations for Ariana to travel. Aberforth goes back to school in just a few days; let’s wait until then. We cannot afford to make silly mistakes in our haste.”

“No,” Gellert said. “No, you are right. We must be careful. But we have a plan, now, a real plan.” He leaned in until he was almost nose to nose with Albus. “We have to agree, once and for all officially, Albus. I have always thought that it is at the witching hour in the darkest night that a man reveals himself for who he truly is. So look inside yourself closely and know who you are before you answer me. Are you in this with me, Albus?”

Albus’ heart was going to burst from his chest, it pounded so hard. He could barely breathe, let alone answer. Gellert and his excitement were everything Albus had ever wanted. “Of course I’m in this with you. For the greater good!”

Gellert laughed and embraced Albus forcefully. “For the greater good!”



“I know your secrets, Albus.” Grindelwald looked almost sad, as Albus approached him. “I know all of them, even those you have hidden from yourself. I imagine you know most of mine as well. We were so close, all those years ago.”

“We were,” Albus replied, fearing where Grindelwald was going with this conversation.

“And now you come to stop me, or to die trying? Albus!” Grindelwald’s voice was strained. “I have the Elder Wand! I do not want to kill you. I will not have to if you join me now. It is not too late!”



It was almost impossible to see through the smoke. The noise of it was the worst, the bangs and shrieks of the spells, the grunts of young men, boys really, trying to fight their hardest, the keening of Ariana that suddenly, so suddenly, stopped.

“What’ve you done?” Aberforth shouted, suddenly throwing away his wand. Gellert slashed his wand through the air toward Aberforth, but Albus grabbed him from behind, holding him immobile. Albus held Gellert while his eyes searched the room, but he instinctively let go as soon as he saw her. Oh Merlin, what had he done? He could hear both of his parents yelling in his head, and Aberforth’s hysterical sobs pierced him straight through. He didn’t bother to stop Gellert from running away.



“Come on, Albus,” Grindelwald called. “You don’t want to do this anymore than I do. So just let it go. Get rid of your guilt, your shame, get all of those other voices out of your head. It’ll be just the two of us again, just as it used to be only the two of us, working together for the greater good of Wizardkind.” Grindelwald tilted his head, then, smiling ruefully said, “There’s no one as good as you, you know.”

Ah, those words that had taken Albus in over his head time and time again that summer. How good it would be, just the two of them, able to do whatever they pleased, the world restored to peace and order, and Albus as the good king! How good…



Ariana, on the floor, unmoving.



“It’s never been only us, Gellert.”

And wands were drawn.



*