"Albus, I'm not going to sit and wait for you to become responsible!" Aberforth's loud, disturbing voice freezes the air around Albus. He is about to decide whether to reply with a sarcastic line or appeal to his conscience when his brother turns away and rushes home.
Albus notices an unknown boy standing in Bathilda's window. He can't distinguish his facial expression quite yet, but there is something in it. Albus doesn't know what exactly, but something strange. Flattered by his attention, the boy stares at him daringly. Later he will simply tell Albus, "If someone shows interest in me, I can't resist."
Bathilda interrupts their silent acknowledgement by inviting Albus in.
"Oh, Albus, actually I was going to send you an owl...My nephew Gellert came to live with me. School problems, you know. Both of you could use a friend, especially you," chirps Bathilda, handing Albus a cup of herb tea, "Gellert! Albus is here!"
Gellert graciously descends the stairs just to make Albus's heart flip. Without a shield of the cloudy glass Dumbledore can really appreciate his delicate features. And that is all. Bathilda sits the both down and tries to engage them into a warm conversation, but all her attempts are in vain. They don't say a word to each other before Bathilda sends them both upstairs to "talk a bit". Gellert grins and mutters, "This way". Albus doesn't understand what's happening right now...But he can't help admiring Gellert's features, posture and blue eyes. He can't get his image out of his head. Anyway, he has always been drawn to people witch such strong-willed and stern eyes.
"Emm, sorry that I've come out of the blue. She's invited me in," falters Albus, standing awkwardly halfway in the room, unsure if he should enter.
Unbothered by his new neighbour's awkwardness, Gellert approaches his large gramophone and put on a musical piece unknown to Albus.
"What are you listening to?" inquires Albus, but his new acquaintance sinks into his chair and puts his foot on his desk, seemingly ignoring his friendliness, "Never heard of it. It's a good one. The composition has beautiful melodies in it. It adds great energy..."
"No, thanks," stops him Gellert, "Do not talk if you have nothing to say."
"I won't," promises Albus. For some reason that remarks brings him a sense of relief. He's never been good at small talks.
"Why were you spying on me?" challenges Albus pointing at the window.
"I wasn't spying," counters Gellert, repeating his gesture.
"And I'm sure you were," insists Albus and sits next to his bed, "You stood at the window and looked at me when I was with my brother."
"Your brother? How many do you have?" asks Gellert with mockingly exaggerated interest in his voice, clearly to make fun of Albus's unconvincing commentary on the classical music.
Albus lets the crude remark slide, since he has to play the role of a greatful guest. Besides, an old folio on Gellert's desk catches his attention: the thick book is jacketed in a glossy black cover that has been cracking and puckering with age. The intriguing title "Mortum et Donum" hookes his interest immediately.
"Is that what you're studying? Well done," approves Albus, gently touching the fabric bookmark.
"This is about 250 years old," comments Gellert and finally deciding that his special guest deserves his undivided attention, he turns off the music.
"Where did you get this? I've never seen this book in Bathilda's library," asks Albus with such a genuine interest that surprises Gellert.
"From Durmstrang. I borrowed it from the restricted section a year ago," he answers, and the pregnant pause makes Albus even more curious about Gellert's endeavours.
"What were you doing with that?" wonders Albus, suspecting some kind of ancient magic practice.
"I've been lecturing my close friends. And myself, actually," clarifies Gellert, and his squint and ironic smile hints at something more prominent than a routine tutoring.
"There are clubs there for those who are interested in such things. I have a lot to do, so if you don't need anything..." states Gellert, but before giving him an ambiguous smile he gives Albus a slow appraising glance.
"I'm already leaving," Albus says softly. Suddenly he shrinks into himself before Gellert's direct gaze. He feels helpless against it, naked even.
"Oh, by the way..." adds Gellert, leaning on the arm of his chair, half rising.
"What?" asks Albus, and his heartbeat's accelerating.
"You should come on this Saturday night. I dedicate almost all my free time to my...project...", Gellert considers and takes a small book from the bedside table and flips through it mumbling, "Maybe then the time will be right."
"On Saturday, at five o'clock, your room," asserts Albus and, after receiving Gellert's approval, disappears into the doorway.
Albus Dumbledore. Gellert feels something uncanny about him. He is and ordinary boy his age, but, somehow, seems different from everyone else Gellert's ever met, as if the earthly body of the young redhead is assumed by something. This something has just stolen into the his room after many years of looking for Gellert out there. He'd prefer to wait for this something untill all is still - right now his priorities are set up straight. But who knows? Who knows?...
