Grindeldore // The Hallows That Divide Us

~22~

Dumbledore Residence - 1898 (Continued).

There was a solemnness to the salty tears that lingered in the corners of Gellert's eyes. The pain which resided in his heart, he thought could not be burdened any more...

Then it started to rain.

The mud-covered grass he was sat in got heavier by the second. Now becoming a wet puddle under his body that was soaking up into his clothes.

Though physically he felt detained to his developing emotions, his mental state was collapsing in on itself. He held himself back, listening to the continued whispers of Albus and his brother from inside the house. Waiting for the slight chance that Albus had made everything up, and he had in fact chosen Gellert instead of his family.

But with the growing silence, followed by the heavy footsteps of Albus' counterpart, Gellert knew that his hope had just become desperation.

He'd also not realised the sky had turned into a matted, grey darkness. The rain aside, dusk was approaching. Had it really been all day?

Getting up, he brushed away what little stains disheveled on the back of his trousers. Notably, it could have been worse, but the pain of Albus' non-directional rejection had now welded into his brain; halting all other feelings from penetrating his prefrontal cortex.

All that remained was a dangerous, emotional, wreck of a boy.

His hair stuck to his face. The salty, wet mixture of rain and tears. Gellert's expression was unexplainable. Relaying onto his movement, as he walked down the side of the house. Slowly. Stopping just before the corner, so he could witness Aberforth storming out of the front door.

Deceivable as he was, Gellert waited until his competition was out of sight. Swiftly making his own way over to the door, as if his feet had not even touched the ground.

He didn't knock.

Opening the wooden mantel as if it were his own home. In a way it was. Or it had been...clearly not anymore! 

The danger of Gellert's presence was venomous. The house could feel the weight of his sorrow and anger, bundled up like a tight package that was ready to burst. Luckily for him, Albus had vacated the room as well. He hadn't entered the house for a conversation.

The room that he did happen to stumble into however held a different familiar face. The one Dumbledore that wouldn't judge him, because she didn't know any better.

Ariana sat in a circle of her own madness.

With chalk scattered across the wooden floor, and a selection of matted dolls that seemed to be missing limbs, Ari stared up at the new man that had entered her domain.

His tenacious presence had not come into consideration, as she pointed at his mismatched eye, laughing comically.

"What's wrong with you?" She laughed.

Gellert creased the corner of his lips, aware that talking might signal his location to Albus, but playing the game was much more fun.

"What's wrong with you?" He replied. Aware that her disability was clear to her, and she could not have cared less.

"I'm not right...not right in the head!" She burst out laughing again. This time a lot louder.

With a hint of panic before assurance, Gellert made a dash for the adjoining door, and bolted upstairs. His footsteps incoherent as if he had silenced his own movements.

In comparison, the footsteps that were heard in the house were followed by a familiar, raspy tone. Not too deep, but not too heavily masculine either, which was comforting to Gellert. The familiarity was his reality.