Chapter 3: A Thief Disciplined
July leaked into August, and August morphed into September. Gellert and Albus hadn’t brought up their departure to Aberforth again, but they still made their plans. Owls flew back and forth across Godric’s Hollow that even Gellert’s Aunt Batty noticed the correspondence. Both boys checked to see whether the letter had been previously read, but they never were.
Until now.
The figure waited in the streets, his outline barely perceptible in the thick darkness. He sat benignly on the cobblestone, staring patiently at the heavens, waiting for an owl to pass over head. He hadn’t long to wait before a sweeping eagle owl swooped across the night sky. A wand was slipped from the folds of the robes, and a spell was cast. “Accio Owl!” It shot down and landed onto the thief’s arm. The owl screeched as its delivery was torn from its beak. He opened it hastily, afraid the addressee would turn suspicious as time went by but no response returned. It was a single sheet of parchment.
16 September 1900
Albus,
We cannot ignore it any longer. Precious seconds spill into the base of the hourglass every moment we delay our departure because of the boy’s hotheadedness. I have thought of a lead for the Wand as I polished my own, but can say no more in this letter. Tomorrow we must approach the boy and take the girl, or someone else will take action on this lead before us. The world awaits”
Gellert
The thief noticed some strange symbol that lurked around the letter, stamped into the seal and such. He didn’t recognize it, but he never learned the runes of old. He shoved the letter back into its envelope and resealed it with a hasty charm. It worked, for a few seconds, but the seal broke again in mere moments. Fear clutched the thief’s heart. He could recreate the letter, but undoubtedly the addressee recognizes his correspondent’s handwriting enough to easily recognize a forgery. Furthermore, the thief couldn’t read or write very well. Before he could make a decision, the torn envelope was snatched out of his hands. The owl continued its journey to the addressee. The thief looked pitifully at the owl.
Albus awoke as sharp talons pierced his bedsheets. He sat up, lighting his wand and taking the letter from Gellert’s owl. He always left the window open for letters, knowing what a light sleeper Aberforth was. But something was wrong. The envelope had been opened and read, so much was clear. Albus leapt from his bed and looked out the open window sharply. The square was deserted. Whoever had intercepted the letter didn’t linger around the scene of the crime. Albus sat back on his bed and read the letter quickly before burning it, shooting a thin stream of flames from the tip of his wand. He glanced nervously out the window once more. Someone out there knew some sort of information about the quest and Gellert’s and his plans. Albus fell back asleep, worry and frustration lining his face, and dreamed of faceless enemies reading all the letters he had sent.
The next morning Albus woke up early in the morning, feeling more exhausted than when he had gone to sleep. He strode quietly out the door and straight to Gellert’s house. He pulled a tiny broomstick out of his pocket and, with a whispered “Engorgio!”, flew into Gellert’s open bedroom window. He landed lightly on the mustard-colored carpet and shrunk his broom back down to its minute scale as before. With gentle shakes, Albus woke the sleeping form of his friend. “Gellert,” he muttered. “Gellert!”
“Mfgh?”
Albus lifted the pillow off Gellert’s face and nearly shouted. “Gellert!”
“What?” said Gellert grumpily, sitting up in his bed. His blonde curls were tousled beyond any chance of organization, and his normally cheery face was sluggish with drowsiness.
“Someone intercepted the letter you sent me last night.”
“What?!” yelped Gellert loudly, and the steady snoring that had filtered from under their feet stuttered. They both stood there, not daring to breath, but soon again the snoring continued. “Do you have it?” whispered Gellert apologetically.
“Of course not,” said Albus, sweeping the thought away. “I burned it the moment I read it. It’s gone. But someone knows! Someone knows about our plans, about the lead you have!”
Gellert groaned and glanced at his wand, and realization struck Albus. “Gregorovitch,” he said hoarsely. “He’s bragged about some powerful, ancient wand he models his own craft after.”
“And I found traces of elder wood in my own Gregorovitch wand,” said Gellert, shaking it gently. Green and silver sparks sprinkled from the end. “And its made of oak, not elder. It could lead nowhere, but you never know.” Gellert shrugged. “It might lead somewhere.”
“But we have to deal with Aberforth first,” said Albus, the intercepted letter completely forgotten at Gellert’s revelation. “Yes. Let’s go, we need to leave as soon as possible.”
They left the room through the front door this time, walking furtively across the square as the sun rose. Light streamed through the clouds and settled on the graveyard. It seemed to Albus that the sunshine particularly highlighted Kendra Dumbledore’s plot. Albus forced the thought away and looked back at his own house. They stepped over the small fence and through the front door. “Aberforth?” called Albus tentatively. Gellert gave an encouraging nod. “ABERFORTH?”
Albus’s brother stepped down the rickety staircase, his arm around his little sister. “What do you want?” he asked angrily. It couldn’t be hard to predict why Gellert and Albus were here.
“We’re leaving,” said Gellert sharply, reaching towards Ariana. “Now.”
“No.” Aberforth pushed Ari behind his back. “I told you last summer, you’re not taking her. Go wherever the hell you want, but Ariana stays.” Aberforth glared provokingly. “I knew you would be leaving today, looking for some stupid wand””
“You,” said Gellert, and his enunciations were like earthquakes that struck like bolts of lightning. “You took that letter, you filthy little monster….” Gellert slowly took his wand out, a manic glint in his eye that Albus couldn’t help but notice.