Ariana: A Harry Potter FanFiction

Chapter Twenty-One

“You must be Mr. Grindelwald.”

            Albus was standing in the doorway, leaning against the post. There was a boy standing before him, as well as Bathilda. The boy towered over his great-aunt in a way that was almost comical. He had golden blonde hair that framed his handsome, pleasant face.

            “Gellert,” the boy said, “I’d much rather you refer to me as Gellert.”

            “I’m Albus.” He held out his hand to the boy. Gellert was dressed much nicer than Albus was—wearing what appeared to be some sort of uniform, while Albus was wearing simply a brown vest over his loose-fitting white top and black trousers. He became suddenly self-conscious, wishing he’d done something to his hair, or at least put on some shoes.

            “I’m told you recently graduated from Hogwarts,” Gellert said, shaking his hand. “A very good school, Albus. Congratulations.”

            Albus grinned. “What school do you go to? I don’t recognize your uniform.”

            “Ah,” Gellert said, putting his hands behind his back. “Well, a week ago I may have said Durmstrang.”

            “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Albus said, raising an eyebrow.

            “The dear boy was expelled,” Bathilda said somewhat bitterly, and Albus’s eyes widened slightly.

            “The school did not appreciate my brilliance,” Gellert explained, examining his fingernails. “Quite a shame, really. If I’m to be a great wizard someday, they’ll receive none of the credit for it.”

            “How exactly does one get expelled from the only school that is exceptionally tolerant of the use of the Dark Arts?” Albus questioned bluntly.

            “I’ve no idea, actually,” Gellert replied, “I’m afraid I dozed off during the meeting in which they decided on my punishment. Frankly, I believe the headmaster didn’t like my interest in the Hallows. I believe he realized how close I was to getting them, and he wanted them all to himself, so he released me from that prison of a school. More helpful to me, if you think about it—”

            “Hallows?” Albus interrupted, the word having perked his interest.

            Gellert seemed a bit annoyed at having been interrupted, but smirked nonetheless. “You’ve heard the Tale of the Three Brothers, have you not?”

            “Of course I’ve heard it,” Albus said, “Three brothers encounter and outsmart Death and each receive a gift—the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility—”

            “The Deathly Hallows,” Gellert said, his grin growing wider. Looking to his aunt, he said, “Aunty, you need not stay. Albus and I are grown men—we are in no need of supervision.”