Chapter Text
There was something slightly off about Nurmengard. Albus certainly preferred it to Azkaban and it’s dementors, but something about it got his hair on end. The (very human) guard took him and the ministry escorts to the far tower, through hushed whispers and mad screams of defeated followers from the cells they passed. And at the top, they found him.
Gellert Grindelwald’s pale skin stretched over his bones, his healthy slim figure now a sickly hunched silhouette. But his face… now that was a whole other story: his hair had grown to his shoulders, a few rebel strands dangling over his lighter eye, that closed in a wink to go with the smirk painted across his lips at the sight of his visitors.
He stood in the middle of his cell, with five wands pointed at him, as the wards around him were taken down. Stepping out at the guards’ order, he looked at Albus:
- You’ve gone soft with age, mein Schatz. The boy I once knew would’ve left me to rot for more than six months for the-
- The greater good? I don’t think so, that’s more your department. But do not worry, old friend, our ideals might’ve strayed apart, but I have no intention of letting you off the proverbial hook.
Gellert didn’t answer, and Albus watched the aurors restraining him in a carriage before sitting in his own. Taking a deep breath, Albus rubbed his eyes and tried to calm himself, this was going to be more complicated than he thought.
Albus only saw Gellert again in the ministry’s court room. For a man in chains, he seemed quite confident. In fact, he seemed to be the only person who wanted to be in that room, though anything had to be better than a moldy cell in the middle of nowhere.
Gellert had always enjoyed people-watching (yet another striking resemblance between them) and he seemed to be reveling in it at the moment. Albus followed his gaze up to the gallery, where a crowd began to gather. A few reporters, some visitors, and an outrageous amount of aurors, all of them sharing the same expression, the same apprehension, almost fear. Gellert seemed to like that, as he did when they collectively flinched at his barest movement.
Albus didn’t speak. He didn’t have to, and frankly, at this point, he didn’t want to. But the decision had been made long before they dragged Gellert from his prison. So, he watched his reaction. The German stood blank faced, listening to it all: the confinement in Hogwarts, the prohibition of magic, and the marvellous vote of confidence being given to him as a favour to ‘the hero of the wizarding world’ (Albus forced himself not to grimace at that particular one). And then they got to the bond:
- As you will be bound to Mr. Dumbledore through a blood bond, preventing you to use any kind of magic, move outside of established limits, or perform any acts that may endanger or disagree with him, at the cost of your physical integrity.
Gellert’s eyes shifted to Albus, his brow slightly furrowed in surprise, maybe? The ministry official terminated the session and the gallery applauded. Gellert was moved away, and Albus got up, apparating just outside of Hogwarts’ grounds before anyone could come up to him with uncomfortable questions. Yes, very complicated, indeed.
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The chains were uncomfortable, yes. But not nearly as excruciating as as not having magic. Gellert felt an ich under his skin, as if something was missing. So, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t find it in him to complain about whatever spell Albus was using: the shiver running down his spine, the trickling electricity across his fingertips, too much like his own magic to actually be unpleasant. That is, until the burning started. He looked down at his wrists to see swirling red lines wrapped around them, burned through his skin. The same sharp pain over his collar bone got him to slightly wince. Not his proudest moment, but it got Albus to take his eyes off their joint hands and look at him with something dangerously close to worry. The repeated sting in his skin told him something he should’ve realized from the start. Whatever Albus was doing was dark magic. Old, dark, complicated, and undoubtedly illegal magic.
- It is. - he said, barely loud enough for even Gellert to hear.
Of course Albus was a skilled legillimens, and of course he’d never miss a chance to gloat. Gellert decided to make the best of it: “do they know, or was it a special request?”
Albus shrugged.
I knew you still had it in you , mein Schatz.
Albus seemed to smirk, though it could be that Gellert’s mind was simply playing tricks on him. One last sting, and the spell seemed to be finished.
Albus urged him to raise his wrists, and the Aurors seemed to like what they saw, because they turned to leave without a word. Gellert could feel as they left school grounds and Disapparated, as his restraints left with them, and he could finally look around the room. Albus’ office wasn’t big, and most of the walls were covered with bookshelves full of leather-bound volumes and buzzing silvery instruments. The far wall was free, so to speak, since it was covered in pictures of Albus smiling and shaking hands with all the influent names of the last three decades, diplomas, and the occasional framed newspaper clip of a famous student. The desk was cluttered with stacks of parchment, and school books, like any professor would have. In fact, Albus’ office was so ordinary, Gellert was almost disappointed:
- No family portraits?
Albus didn’t answer, instead he sat by his desk and gestured at the chair across from him:
- Have a sit, Gellert.
He did. Not that he had a lot of options at this point.
- That’s not true. You have every ounce of free will that you’ve ever had. All you’re forbidden to do is perform magic of any kind.
- And leave the school grounds, and do anything against your will, or seen as a move against you. Not to mention the small inconvenient of you poking around in my head at all hours. I have to hand it to you, Albus, I never expected to end up as your lapdog.
- I apologise for intruding in your mind. But, Gellert, you must understand, this isn’t punishment. In fact, I believe we can rehabilitate you in some way. I know you, you have a brilliant mind and-
- And I won’t change it. Whatever “rehabilitation” you have in mind won’t change the fact that I’m right, Albus. And you used to agree with me. - he ignored the sudden burning in his collar bone- what happened to the boy who wanted the world at his feet? We can still have that, together.
For a moment, Albus’ eyes shined with an all too familiar glow that Gellert hadn’t seen since a long-lost summer. In a dark room, after their last fight, right before Gellert turned away for the last time. Not quite anger, not quite sadness, something in between. And no matter how unaffected Gellert seemed on the outside, that look never failed to make his heart sink.
Albus cleared his throat:
- I believe I ought to show you the school grounds, shall we?