Chapter 1 : thoughts from a prison of stone.
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We were cartographers, you and I. Together, we would spend endless hours mapping out our world, our future. Everything was possible when we were together.
I was the compass, crying out which places should be marked next whether it be France, Germany or even Russia who could be brought under our power. And you, the quick witted pencil, would jump to my demands. Pulling out the map of the world, you would criss-cross your marks until the blues of the oceans and the greens of the land were covered over in blurs of black, everything obliterated away under our control.
With a mind like yours, Albus, everything else was grey, incomparable. Nothing could stand out against the backdrop of you, not even me. You were a supernova, shining bright above us; I was a mere shooting star, an interlude of you.
You would even go on to conquer me one day.
At night, we really grew to know one another, safely away from watchful eyes.
Sometimes, we would wander the fields from dusk until dawn. Hands joined, swinging in motion, we would talk. This wasn’t talk of our future, our wizard utopia – that was left for the day – this was talk of you and me. You talked endlessly about your family, your mother, brother, sister, even your father. I simply nodded and smiled in response. The only relation you knew I had was Aunt Bathilda, and that knowledge was unavoidable.
Now and then, we would sit by the banks of the river and watch the moon’s rays bleach the water a lighter hue, the soft ripples dissipating the colour until it all faded to the ebony black which now possessed my heart. I would remember those moments as the few where only peace was felt by us.
I wonder if you remember it like that too, Albus.
It was always in the morning that you saw clarity, that I would see the fleeting dance of fear enter your eyes. That perhaps you saw me for who I truly was, that my spell hadn’t worked on you. It was most evident after we had spent the night together. These cases were close to being exceptions, their frequency low, but each one burnt into my mind.
You would roll over on your side to my awaiting smile, a smile only reserved you, and then I would see you shiver, recoil from my stare. This was followed by you tumbling out of the bed quickly, muttering away about Ariana needing you as you scampered off long before the sun had even risen.
We never mentioned how your sister was better looked after when she was in your brother’s care.
The girl and the boy would follow us wherever we went. Always discreetly, always silently, but always there. Every touch of the hand, each secret look, was witnessed by them. Their eyes remained wide open, unblinking, to what they probably considered a sin.
They never bothered you as much as it bothered me.
‘Ignore them, Gellert,’ you would say. ‘They won’t say a thing. Just forget about them.’
I never could forget. I never would. Even now, their faces haunted me. Her pulsating eyes whirred round and round in their sockets as sparks of light darted in front of her. His, filled with venom, their glare poisoning your mind against mine.
From the moment the girl’s gaze turned to a dull one, I knew you were lost from me.
Death became my companion a long time ago.
It came to me in my prison of stone. Lurking in the shadows, it counts down the time until I would become its property. For now, I remain yours, entrapped in your punishment. I can feel your grip slackening though. You must be growing old too, Albus. You aren’t the infinite wizard so many thought you were.
Death is like you in another aspect. I am and always will be a fleeting thought in both of your minds, gone before either of you can recall my name. Almost unmemorable in the wake of a new great wizard who has occupied more of your time than I ever did. One day, they will ask what sort of man was Gellert Grindelwald. I wonder what your answer will be.
You have one privilege over death though, Albus. You were never simply an interlude of me like death which came as a rite of passage in old age, you weren’t a phase of me like the waxing gibbous was of the moon, you're a part of me.
A part I'll never forget.
A/N: Randomly wrote this last night as I thought it would be interesting to see Gellert's perspective of their relationship close to his death. Thank you for reading, and if you have time to leave a review it would be much appreciated! ♥
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