It was easy to calm Albus down after a fight: promises to never do such a thing again. Gellert wondered if Albus truly was this naive, or if perhaps his love for him blinded him and made him so. Or perhaps he was deluded enough that he believed Gellert truly meant any form of sorry to escape his lips.
They both wished for the same dream; wizarding domination, yet Albus seemed reluctant to bring any form of physical harm into account. He would change his opinion of course, after many arguments with Gellert over it.
Gellert theorized that maybe Albus thought him not serious when making threats, perhaps he thought it was a heat of the moment slip up. It never was however.
Lying came easy to him; the words drifted like a sweet poison. Albus drank in his lies as if it was a sweet nectar; desperate and hungry he was, as if he clung to Gellerts lies as if to make them truths.
There had been an incident one time while Albus was doing his food shop; see, Gellert usually sat in the town's centre, perched upon a small broken down wall of rock that stood proud, near the stalls. He usually would read, waiting for Albus’s return.
Until that was, he happened to notice a group of strangely entranced strangers; He observed out of pure boredom. He wondered what caught their attentions so! They appeared to be watching a show of some sort, held by a man whom he did not recognise. He stood from his seating, resting his body against a stall.
“And now,” The man said, “I bring to your eyes wonderment; magic!”
Gellert froze at that, the air suddenly became suffocatingly sweet, chokingly warm. Was a Wizard coming out of hiding before his very eyes? His eyes suddenly became wild with excitement, a terrifying joy overcoming him. He watched on hungrily.
“Bullshit.” Said a boy in the crowd, a teenage one. His mother was soon to give him a stern look in response and so he said no more.
Gellert watched on in anxious awe; he had dreamed of this day since his visions began. Since he could comprehend suffering Muggles had caused his kind. Would Wizards no longer have to hide, to benefit the scum that was the Muggles?
There was a brief annoyance it was not himself doing so, yet he ignored it. He had waited far too long…
“Watch closely now; for I shall make this card disappear.” The man had stated to the onlooking crowd.
Gellert was transfixed.
The man held the card high, but then that is what made Gellert’s anger so terrible; for it had not disappeared. He had simply hid it upwards in his sleeve! A cheap trick. A mockery of his divine powers. The crowd seemed to know no better and let out cries of awe; Gellert was silent, rage burning within him.
He waited until the crowd went about, decreasing as the hour passed on. The muggle- the filthy muggle- returned to his stall- it beheld strange trinkets. There was what appeared to be a crystal ball. Gellert looked at it silently, his lip thinning in rage.
“Interested boy? That can tell your future, that can.”
“Can it now?” He answered quietly.
“Indeed it can.”
And then all the sudden, horribly, the anger consumed him, begging for a release, to tear at this man, to reduce him to a suffering mess- how dare he, a filthy muggle, pretend to be as divine as wizarding kind.
“You think this silly thing can divine the future? You believe you truly possess such power and ability?”
The man hesitated, as if caught out; caught in the act of sin by God himself.
“Well now, you obviously are a non-believer, but do trust in me, my gentleman.”
This only worsened his wrath.
He calmed suddenly, fury hiding now; he came closer, “of course.” He had said softly.
He took the man’s hand in his own as if to shake it. Instead he twisted it, taking a violent pleasure upon hearing the bones snap, the scream of agony that came forth from the man… he enjoyed it with mad satisfaction. He twisted it behind his back, then covered the man’s mouth, deafening the screaming.
His mouth came to his ear, to whisper his hatred, to he and he alone;
“You know nothing of magic. You know nothing of the future. You think yourself a wizard? A prophetic man? Do not make me laugh.” He spat.
“Let go, boy, I say!” Came the man’s voice, agonized and muffled.
“Quiet filth.”
Gellert kicked the man to his knees, his boot upon him.
“I have seen things you could not dream of. Could not imagine. I have seen wars. Millions dead, all caused by your kind! Millions die in my visions, I have seen men wounded beyond recognition, I am left with the horror of knowing that whenever I entire the world of the future through my visions, no one shall even believe it. You burnt my people, killed for the crimes of Witchcraft, and now you parade around as us, to mock us.”
He was crouched over the man now, eyes wide. A manic, almost wide eyed expression graced his features, making him appear ghostly.
“Your a mad-man!” He struggled, his expression terrorized.
Gellert kicked him once more; in the stomach after that remark. The man groaned.
“I would love to torture you with magic, however… The trace is still upon me. Besides, You are utter filth- you do not deserve me to waste my magic upon you.”
He took out a dagger that he kept upon his person at all times, A small thing really. The man’s eyes widened in terror. He took a scrap of fabric from the stall- so no one could hear him scream while he served justice, to this filth, masquerading himself a Wizard. An insult to any Wizards before him!
He leaned down again, the dagger near the man's ear now; he made a clean slice, listening to the sweet melody of the man’s pain. Blood poured out, thick and crimson.
His boot hovered over his shoulder before coming down upon it, breaking it. How easy it was to punish.
“You are filth. Remember that.” Gellert laughed, taking a kick to the man’s nose.
The abuse upon the poor muggle continued on, that was until Albus came around of course. Albus spotted him and called out;
“Gellert, I am back now-” He had said cheerily, before his eyes widened, his sentence stopped.
The muggle was a mangle of blood and bruises.
Gellert stood in the sun, looking terrifyingly handsome. Such a light should be impossible for the devil to bathe in, and yet his blonde hair caressed him as if a halo.
“Gellert what have you done.” He whispered, horrified.
“It was necessary.”
Albus shook his head, tears beginning to form.
Gellert came closer, threading his blood soaked fingers into Albus’s hair.
“My darling… Albus, can you not see? He was parading around as a wizard… yet if we revealed ourselves he would gladly burn us, throw us into a mad-house. He mocks our divine powers.”
Albus’s eyes stung with tears.
“You had no right…” He choked out.
“Calm yourself… My darling, darling Albus… no, no, do not cry so,” He comforted, “You see him? He boasts of seeing the future. If he saw what I have, he would go mad. We must not let him mock us.”
Gellert knew if he reminded Albus of his horrid visions, he would see reason.
“Did you truly have to harm him?”
“Yes my darling. I’m sorry, however he provoked an attack! You know how my rage possesses me. Can you truly blame me? Think of your sister! That muggle provoked me, in attempt to make me show my powers, then when he was done, would have attacked me as those boys to Ariana.”
Albus stiffened when Ariana’s name was said, “I… suppose. Just please get him some help, Gellert.”
Gellert took him by the waist,staring at his hair for a long while: Gellert’s fingers had painted it red, glowing in the setting of the sun. He suddenly kissed him.
“Have I ever told you how lovely your hair is?” He murmured upon pulling away, “The blood blends in so wonderfully, into the auburn. I adore it. It is like a fire that was set, glowing with blood- you look most handsome like this.”
Albus’s face flushed, his breath hitching.
However he was distracted soon after, as the man groaned in such agony, making him freeze.
“Gellert we must help him.” He sighed.
“You can. The trace is no longer on you- remove the memories and fix him up.”
Albus bit his lip in hesitation, before crouching down and muttering incantations under his breath, to stop the blood, to mend the bones, until he stopped dead.
“Where is the man’s ear.” He said quietly.
“It was already lost.”
Albus stood crouched there, rather still, for a good many minutes, before deciding to believe Gellert, sighing in relief.
“Obliviate.” He murmured, a frown upon his face.
Gellert merely said; “one day Albus you will understand why this was needed. I hope that day will be soon,” He finished, coming to kiss Albus once more.
“We must put the man somewhere. We cannot leave him on the floor.” Albus replied, curling his hair around his finger, as he did when agitated.
“On the stall chair perhaps?” Gellert offered, hauling the man's weight upon his shoulders, resting him in an oddly shaped chair.
“Never do that again.”
“Of course, my beloved. I just however… could not control my anger.”
“I should have been here to calm you,” He said angrily, more of the anger directed to himself than Gellert.
Gellert’s lips threatened to become a thin smile; “Yes. You may have stopped me from hurting him.”
“God, this is my fault… I am sorry Gellert. You must forgive me.” He sighed, kissing Gellert’s cheek gently.
Gellert had said nothing.