The Greater Good [GrindelwaldxDumbledore]

~ Chapter Seven~ Albus Dumbledore

Gellert wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he knew what woke him. A series of loud bangs forced him off the bed in such a hurry he caught his head on the sloped ceiling and almost knocked himself out. 

Angry and with his head throbbing he half-tripped over his still-packed suitcase in an effort to get to the window. If anyone else had heard the ruckus they did not pour out onto the streets in search of its origin, or perhaps they already knew and this was a frequent occurrence, something mundane that only a stranger would notice.

The streets filled at the sound of the church bells. Several large families raced up the hill to try and get the best seats or secure as many of them as possible. A couple of older men were bickering as they leaned heavily on wooden canes, Gellert couldn't hear them but there was no mistaking the squashed up expression of a man in a heated debate.  He felt alien; like he was viewing something private in the intimacies of a world he was visiting.

The front door clicked shut and he could hear the shuffle of his aunt's skirt and click of her heels as she stepped down from the doorstep. He was alone at last. His heart raced as he snuck along the hallway, peeking his head into rooms to get his bearings. 

Bathilda's room hid behind a door with a well-worn handle, her bed had been made, a luxurious amount of pink satin stretched across the vast expanse of the four-poster. Her makeup, perfumes and powders all neatly arranged on a bedside table with a large heart-shaped mirror. She didn't have a large collection of jewellery like his mother, just two pearl necklaces and an opal pendant lay in an open box lined with black velvet. Suddenly aware of his intrusion in her privacy he backed out of the room and closed the door. 

A thick layer of dust coated the handle of the last door, he scrunched his nose up and pushed the door open. It couldn't open very far, a large dark wood bookcase blocked the path of the door. He squeezed in and was instantly reminded of the school library, charmed to be far larger than the original footprint with the majority of it going to the large shelves leaving only narrow walkways that he doubted his aunt could fit through.  The hardwood shelves bowed alarmingly under the weight of the numerous books crammed onto them, he didn't dare touch anything just in case he started off a chain reaction of destruction. 

Gellert weaved his way through the isles quickly, taking mental notes about the location of any book title or an author that might aid him in his ongoing quest. He was a little disappointed that he didn't find much, but he knew his aunt had more books downstairs. 

Another loud boom rocked the bookcases, sending a few lighter books plummeting to the ground. Gellert protected his head, the sharp corner of a hard-backed edition of Celtic Majick caught his shoulder as it fell. Sure it would bruise, he rubbed it tentatively and swore. Unsure of when the next blast would be fired he scurried to the door hunched over to protect himself from anything that might be dislodged by his heavy footsteps. 

Downstairs he found two rooms to be locked, leaving him only the living room and kitchen to have a quick look around. The toilet was just outside the back door, a large tin tub hung rusting off a large hook on the wall. A little disgusted by his aunt's austerity and lack of housekeeping he closed the door and longed to be out of the dust and grime of the house. 

He realised his mistake as soon as the front door slammed shut behind him, he didn't have any means to let himself back in. The sun was warm on his back as he walked through the town, most people were still in church, but the odd person looked cautiously at him through their windows. He tried to think up a reasonable excuse as he reached the churchyard, a hymn bellowed out of the church increasing his feeling of trespass, he hadn't been to church since his grandfather's funeral. 

Gellert bailed out before he reached the oak doors, instead, he turned into the graveyard. He walked up and down the rows of tombstones, pausing at names he thought his grandfather may have mentioned or those that sounded like famous people he may have heard his father boasting about having met. The singing had stopped, replaced by a strong male voice preaching about living a sin-free life. Gellert managed to hide his derisive snort as a cough and hurried to the far corner of the yard.