So few days, yet so much time has passed since his death. Since that soul which was the world’s only remaining hope was lost. Since Harry Potter was killed.
And once again, I am forced to endure the consequences of fate. Things turned out so differently last time. Grindelwald was much more human than Voldemort ever was, and thus much less powerful. But he still had to die. Otherwise it would have been me.
The first time I heard about the prophecy concerning Samuel Grindelwald and myself was a rather less enjoyable time than one would elect to have on a regular basis. Thoughts of anger at the world. Wishing that I wouldn’t die. Wishing that I would die. Trying to gain strength to be prepared when I confronted Grindelwald.
The prophecy which would determine the destiny of the world dwelled on my mind. No one knew but my brother and I. Aberforth was told the prophecy by the dying Cassandra Trelawney. He told me, of course. I cannot remember anything, save this, of that prophecy. “End evil, he will, if Darkest wizard he does kill. If not, death will follow in both of their trails.”
Darkest wizard meant, not Grindelwald, but his devoted follower: Tom Riddle. I had a chance to stop all war and pain and spite. By the time I realized my ironic mistake, it was impossible to correct. The new prophecy concerning Voldemort was made to me, in another quirk of Fate’s. Then, only Harry could defeat Voldemort, and even then, evil would survive. But Lord Voldemort still feared me.
I thought, rather hopefully, Maybe if Harry kills Voldemort of my order or by my advice, maliciousness will end. I tried to show young Harry what I could. My attempts all failed. Harry was killed when he gave up his will to live, preferring what would be a much quieter existence, if a non-existent one.
The water reflects what it wants you to see and has no color of its own. It seeps through the cracks in people’s morals to convert them to its beliefs. This is the nature of evil. Necessary to life, subtly controlling, and as unstoppable as a wave when allowed to acquire speed. No one sees the snake-like convergence upon them until they’re drowning. Worst of all, water doesn’t believe it is wrong in rearing its head as a tsunami and killing people. They know not of their ethical transgressions.
Water has no weaknesses. If ever I found what could destroy it forever, I would; to eliminate human’s evil nature, that is. It is immortal, yet not living. Vapor can come back to its original liquid form under certain conditions.
Harry was fire, and fire cannot subdue water. Fire puts up a believable pretense of power and vigor, but behind that veil of force is fragility. Without air, fire does not burn. In the presence of water, fire is quieted. Unpredictable as it is, the flames damage what is loved and what is hated simultaneously. Courage cannot overrule reality.
Open rage has no effect but destruction. Sometimes the destruction of oneself.
And air will always be present; insubstantial and essential; invisible and all-seeing. Air which is so like dreams in that it outlasts all else, but has no power to change the world. Air which rouses fire.
As old as time, yet naïve as the clouds. Wind can be powerful, but can be deterred easily. The air, which symbolizes my very being, betrays all at some point; does not help their lungs to inflate at some point. Those who are my friends lead shorter lives because of me. Because they want to overcome that which could have been stopped, by me no less, but wasn’t for a mistake in someone’s character.
Regrets cascade over my mind, blocking out all vision and sound. Not touch, though. A non-existent breeze pretends to jump about my face, taunting me for what I am. My feeble limbs ache from crouching here, in Kreacher’s den. (Grimmauld Place has another Secret Keeper now, though I can no longer remember who it is.) Wistful and wishful as I once was, reflections will not consume me anymore.
Something else already has.
Love has begun to be disloyal to me as it takes away, one by one, all those so filled with it. As understood as Muggle technology and as tangible as a kind thought. Love is the only thing present in a child; love of life, love of family, love of joy. Soon enough this innocence is taken away from them by the general evil of this world. And I can’t change that anymore.
I can’t bring back those lost lives, those lost souls, those lost hopes. Even my own hopes have left this world.
Those hopes may be found again tomorrow, or whenever I “ finally “ leave the world as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter
A/N: Hello!
Anyone who can come up with a better title will get a cookie.
Also, I’m unsure whether it’s “Grindelwald” or “Grindlewald.”
I wrote this a while ago (January, I believe) and it wasn’t quite so AU then. (By the way, I hope you could tell that it was Dumbledore’s point of view.) What do you think of it?
Any Artemis Fowl fans reading this should remember to support the Orion Awards!