The untold Story of Grindelwald and Dumbledore

Chapter 7 - Open

The cemetery was just as I remembered it. The grave of my mother was only a few rows a ay. The grave which was now in front of us was familiar to me as I had often fled from the house to find some peace here and it was always surprising how many famous people had been burried here, such as Godrick Griffindor himself. Since my mothers death I had not once found the courage or ambition to come here. The funreal had been brief and quick. Only Bathilda Bagshoot had joined us. The caretaker of the cemetery had been given money to be kept from questioning who was buried and why. I could have behexed him as well but I did not want to cause any magic against innocents who were just doing their job. Aberforth had sometimes come back home with dirty hands and I assumed that he was taking care of her grave but I did not know and did not want to know. Ariana had asked me sometimes if we could come here but I had always found an excuse. Even now I did not even want to look in the direction because I feared that all my walls which I kept high and all the anger which I secretly had on her death would break down and I did not want to weep in front of someone. Your mother Kendra died. I pushed the lines far behind in my head and forced myself to focus on the present. I fixed my eyes on Grindelwald. He was kneeling in front of the grave and holding the stone with both of his hands. "Is everything alright?", I asked referring to the young mans unusual position. "It is more than alright.", he whispered rather in the stones direction than in mine. "Was he an ancestor of yours?" He shook his head on the question just to correct himself eagerly: "Well not by blood but he is my ancestor in the philosophy." The pale fingers touched the stone lightly like a feather. My eyes followed Grindelwalds beautiful delicate hands which I had recognised before but never seen on display like this and suddenly I wished to be in the position of that stone. The thought confused me so much that I bit myself on the lower lip and asked another question to concentrate on something else: "Then why are you so fascinated by this? Tell me Grindelwald." The direct demand or even his name brought him back and finally his eyes met mine. They were gleaming with fascination and just like before I felt the same spark of ambition and a goal burning in my own chest. He patted the ground next to him. The grass was dry from the summerheat and the earth was warm. There weren't any flowers on the grave itself which we could have destroyed. "Come sit next to me and I will tell you.", he said. "What if I don't sit down?", I asked boldly just to mock him. His smile grew deeper and he suddenly grabbed my hands and dragged me down. "Then I'll make you sit because I really want to tell you." A chill flooded from my hands through my body and I felt his touch so present that I was not even sure why he had taken my hands in the first place. Once I sat down, following him gladly I took my hands away as my focus grew too unsteady. One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk but he did not say anything until I asked him for the story which was, how I remembered, the reason why we were sitting here. "Well. Do you know Dumbledore, the story of the three brothers?", he asked. I nodded. When I had been younger I had not been very much into fairytales because I had considered them as waste of time when one could also read a useful story in the time. Nevertheless I had sometimes listened when my mother had told the stories to Ariana while she had been cooking in the kitchen. There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely winding road at twighlight. I remembered her soft warm voice, lulling Ariana. Sometimes she would tell me to close the book I was reading at the table to listen to the story which she would consider important. I would tell her that there were way more important things to know but then she would exchange a look with Ariana and my sister would smile and that little exchange of them knowing something together which I did not know would unnerve me enough to silently close the book when she would go on telling the tale. In time the brothers reached a river too treacherous to pass. The memory consumed my insides until I felt so very empty, so very lost. No one would ever tell this story like her. "I don't really want to hear it.", I said confused and Grindelwals nodded seriously. "I understand. I was not going to tell it." I wondered if he had read my mind but he went on. "So the tree brothers are considered the Peverell brothers. And the three subjects are known as the Deathly Hallows the most powerful magical objects that ever existed." "And you beliefe the story to be real?", I asked. I had heard of people seeking for the three objects, the most powerful wand, called the Elderwand, the resurrection stone, meant to bring the dead back to life and the cloak of invisibility which covered it's carrier better than any other charm or cloak. "I do not beliefe they exist, I am sure of it and I will find them." His eyes were gleaming with pride. "How do you know?", I asked. "I have read books. The Elderwand is presented in several books sometimes as death-stick or with other names but there is no other wand which would cause such a bloody story." "But what about the others?", I asked. "I do not know where they are but this grave is the prove. Peverell is an unusual name. The Elderwand can be tracked down to Antioch Peverell. In Durmstrang we had one book telling the story of the tree brothers and giving a family tree where Antioch was joined by two brothers. One of them was Cadmus and the other one was Ignotus. And we have the tale which connects the three of them." To me the story still seemed a bit vague but I felt the fascination from it like a physical touch. "But once you would have the tree of them.", I said. "What would you do?" "I would make this world a better place.", he whispered and I had to lean forward to hear his words, his breath striking my cheek and making me shiver. A better place. I had never considered such ambitions as possible. The world was how it was. I found prove of that every single day in the eyes of my grieving  siblings, my sister who was irreparably harmed. But to own the most powerful magical objects I could not deny the thrill in this. I cleared my throat. "The world is shit. I agree with you in that but no magic can fix that, well apart from dark magic to control our leaders I assume." To my surprise Grindelwald nodded on my words. "Exactly. We need to get hold of the politics without illegal magic. Anyone can seek for the Hallows. That is allowed. And once we had it we would be unstoppable. Overthrowing death and people would follow us because the power would be naturally in our hands." I liked it how he seemed to speak with such eagerness of both of us. "Yes but how to find them?", I asked. "And what should this world really look like?" "That is why I told you. You are smart Dumbledore. I assume you are a good student, good with several important people. I need you.", the last words were said with such urgency and his gaze was so intiminating that I felt like stripped of all my walls. I was impressed by how closely he had described me just based on what he saw. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking of his offer. I watched the grave in front of us. Just a rocky old stone in the middle of a small, boring village. At home my siblings would be waiting. Aberforth would go back to school in September leaving Ariana as my only company. There would not be much money for books. Why not try too seek some magical objects. It was a challenge and for some reason I longed for proving my talent to Grindelwald who seemed aware of it but also seemed brilliant himself. "Allright.", I said. "How do we design the world?"