1948
Hogwarts, 12th of January 1948
Gellert,
I have no idea what to write. I started and burnt eleven letters during the last two months, and here I sit again and find no words.
What does one say after forty years of silence and a duel almost to the death? I made you promise not to play games with me but what else is there beside the facade? The alternatives seem either ludicrously mundane or ludicrously intimate.
What is there to say?
What?
Nurmengard, 20th of January 1948
Dear Albus,
our relationship was never conventional. It was never meant to be conventional. My answer to you is this: there is no proper way to start after forty years of silence. So you might as well start however you want to.
What is on your mind, Albus? Don’t think, don’t sanitise, just tell me: what is on your mind?
Gellert
Hogwarts, 2nd of February 1948
What is on my mind when I read your letter, Gellert?
This. Did you mean to kill me three years ago? Would I be dead now if I hadn’t beaten you?
That’s what is on my mind.
Nurmengard, 7th of February 1948
Dear Albus,
I see. Let us start with something easy, then. Did I mean to kill you? I never meant for us to duel in the first place. It was you who sought me out, embracing the possibility of both your death and mine. So, I should be the one asking: did you mean to kill me?
But if it comforts you — if I had wanted you dead, you would be.
Gellert
Hogwarts, 20th of February 1948
Gellert,
don’t be pretentious. You did not let me win. You fought hard and with all you had. You would have clung to power with every weapon and at every cost. You wanted to beat me. But would you have killed me?
P.S. 22nd of February 1948. Why do we do this, Gellert? What is the point? Why do I even send this?
Nurmengard, 1st of March 1948
Dear Albus,
you started this topic, so you only have yourself to blame. I am quite capable of holding a civilised conversation that does not circle around either of our violent deaths. And if you already know what you want to believe — why ask?
But do not misunderstand: No, I did not enter our duel intending to lose. That is not what I wrote. What I meant was that I held back — subconsciously. That there were moments during our fight when I might have pulled through and hesitated — just for a fraction of a second, mind you — and that cost me my victory in the end.
You doubt that? Then you must be rather confident — over-confident, one might say — in your own abilities. I need not explain to you what the Elder Wand is and what it is capable of. You have tested its powers by now, I presume.
Gellert
Hogwarts, 27th of March 1948
Gellert,
Not over-confident, merely realistic. But my superior skill isn’t the only solution to this puzzle, is it? I stopped pursuing the Hallows a long time ago, but I still did plenty of research on them, you know? The wand chose me. That’s what must have happened. If not because of skill, then because of something else.
Albus
Nurmengard, 30th of March 1948
And that being what? Your noble spirit? This is getting boring, Albus.
My turn to ask a question: will you ever graduate from school and grow up?
Your well-meaning friend
Gellert
Nurmengard, 25th of April 1948
Albus, don’t sulk now. You are only proving my poinrt by your brooding silence.
But let us turn to lighter matters, if you are not ready to confront your own cowardice. I have been corresponding with Lancelot Prewett for a few weeks. Has he mentioned me at all? He reached out to me at last. Ten months after you sent him my paper. He was extremely reserved at first, but I cracked him up alright. Seems we will be collaborating.
Is not that great? I can apply myself to something good, just as you hoped.
Your friend
Gellert
Hogwarts, 25th of April 1948
Gellert,
I have not been sulking. It is simply that my life, in contrast to yours, can get rather busy at times.
In response to your initial question: two days after your letter arrived, I received an owl from the Chief Warlock asking me to contest a seat in the Wizengamot during the next election.
Now that I write about it — maybe it was no coincidence at all? Did you see this would happen and tried to goad me into accepting? In that case, you may also have seen that I refused, no doubt to your great disappointment.
What do I understand of law? What would I want with a seat in the Wizengamot?
Possessing the Elder wand is already more than enough power for one single man. To tell you the truth, I was close to destroying it several times during the last three years. You will no doubt be shocked to hear it, but I really think the world would be better off without it.
And it is better off with me teaching transfiguration.
Albus
Hogwarts, 1st of June 1948
Don’t tell me you are the one sulking now?
Albus
Nurmengard, 13th of June 1948
Dear Albus,
I am delighted that you have missed my letters and deeply sorry to have kept you waiting. As you might perceive from my handwriting, my hands are rather shaky. To tell you the truth, I have been unable to hold a quill for a few weeks.
Do not worry on my account. It is nothing serious — merely a rather persistent tremor in my hands due to an overly enthusiastic Cruciatus. Antonovich enjoys to discipline me for ‘insubordination’, occasionally. I am not trying to evoke your sympathy, Albus, or complain about my situation. Fortunately, his creativity does not reach beyond this one curse, so he will probably not be causing me any lasting damage.
I wonder if this letter is going to reach you, Albus? Will the authorities confiscate it for mentioning torture in their prison? Probably they won’t. The Cruciatus might be called an ‘unforgivable curse’ yonder on the isles, but it is a fairly standard treatment of outlaws here in Austria. And I do not disagree with that on a theoretical level. It’s just that I would rather not experience it myself. But it cannot be helped. I always knew that it might come to this.
Let me get to the point — the tremor is getting worse: I am not shocked to hear you are considering to break the Elder Wand, Albus. In fact, I saw you do it more than once. Interestingly, I also saw you as a member of the Wizengamot. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, to be precise. But I did not see this specific letter, no.
Seeing is such a fickle and strange gift. Who could ever know what comes to pass and what does not? I saw you kill me in our duel once, Albus, and I saw me kill you. I saw us together, old and wrinkled, in a mountain cabin. I even saw you married to a woman once. I do hope that this will not happen, for both of your sakes.
I wish I was free of these dreams, Albus. More than anything I wish for this. I experimented for more than ten years, trying to find a modification to the Dreamless Sleep potion that would stop my visions. To no avail. So I keep dreaming. And keep seeing.
But we all have our burden to carry and mine is lighter than some.
Your thoughtful friend
Gellert
Hogwarts, 21st of June 1948
Gellert,
I am sickened by reading your account. Not surprised, exactly, but still. No matter what you are guilty of, they should not be using the Cruciatus on you. How can we build a better future, how can we justify the power that a state has over its citizens, when people are tortured in its name? We need a foundation of rights for everyone — elf, giant, wizard, Muggle and criminal — or there will never be peace.
Do not think I agree an inch more with your views, Gellert, or find your deeds any less despicable than two years ago.
These two things are utterly disconnected.
Albus
Nurmengard, 1st of July 1948
Dearest Albus,
What would you want with a seat in the Wizengamot? Upon my soul! There you have your answer.
Here is a cause you could devote your energy to: better treatment for the murderers and lunatics in Azkaban. Or would you prefer not to sully yourself with such lowly people after all? House elves might be more deserving subjects of your protection — ugly, but harmless.
In any case, your indignation is touching. But as you can see from my writing, I am feeling much better already. And do not forget that it was I who build this prison. And I certainly had people tortured in here for information. Antonovich’s brother was in the resistance, you should know, and he died in Nurmengard. What do you think why he was so eager to become a prison guard?
Being kept in Nurmengard is no walk in the park, but given the choice between Azkaban and this place, I would choose my current accommodation any day. Dementors, Albus? If something is truly inhumane, it is those disgusting creatures, if creatures they are. I may bring to your attention, that I never once had dealings with them during my time of office.
Think about it: maybe it is not too late for an application.
Your friend
Gellert
Hogwarts, 14th of July 1948
Touché, I might say. But I might also say that a political belief is not reason enough for a political career.
Nurmengard, 14th of August 1948
Dear Albus,
I presume that you are in Godric’s Hollow today, sitting on a bench between the evergreens, crying silent tears into a gaudy lace handkerchief.
I don’t know if this might comfort you, but I saw the two of you in one of my dreams a few years ago, sitting at the dinner table in your mother’s house. If I should venture a guess, you were in your late thirties, but looked older. You were trying to feed her, but she refused to eat. She seemed to have descended far deeper into madness and instability during those passing years. It seemed she did not even recognise you anymore.
It was only a brief vision, and she might have had brighter days than that, but you should allow yourself to consider that we did her a favour. It wasn’t us who ended her life, not really, and you know it.
Regardless, I am sorry for your loss.
Gellert
Hogwarts, 25th of August 1948
I am not comforted. Not in the slightest. How can you decide that her life was not worth living? How can you be so arrogant as to decide this most personal of questions for anybody but yourself? Especially based on the doubtful accuracy of a single dream you had years ago?
We failed her, Gellert. Our entire family. My father in giving in putting his vendetta over his duty and caring for his sick child, my mother in keeping her locked up instead of moving away to some remote place where she could be free, and myself in caring more for my own glory than her wellbeing. It is only Aberforth that I can exempt from this judgement, since he was too young and he did what he could.
I visited her grave last week and swore to myself that her fate will always remind me that it is the weakest whom we must protect at all cost.
Nurmengard, 13th of September 1948
Dear Albus,
What to make of you? I truly do not know. Smile at you, pity you or be impressed?
Your parents did what they thought was best. They might have done a million things differently. Install protective charms around their property, for instance. It is futile to dwell on the past. Trust me. I know that better than anyone.
And you are wrong, Albus: I base my judgement on more than one short vision. I am sure you have done extensive research on obscurials, and your sister isn’t the only victim you have met, if I may remind you. You know it would only have gotten worse. Gradually worse. And the obscurus would have become gradually more powerful and more dangerous. There was no future for her and that is the truth.
Gellert
Nurmengard, 14th of October 1948
Dear Albus,
So back to silence we are. What is it that you expected from me? You demanded of me to speak true and without artifice, so what could I offer to you if not to be frank? I’m not saying that it did not matter what happened. She might have had one or two more or less bearable years ahead of her — even though how you would have managed to take care of her without an income, required to take full time care of her at the state you were in at the time I do not know — but it would not have changed the grand cause of things.
You have all right to grieve her sad fate, but to spend the rest of your life admonishing yourself?
Gellert
Nurmengard, 06th of November 1948
Dear Albus,
since you seem uninterested in discussing it, I might as well remember you that you still owe me another answer.
The air smelled like winter when I woke up this morning. Soon, the cold will come in earnest, and the death tolls will start to rise again. I hear that the Muggle economy is somewhat recovering due to our friends from overseas, but they are still in a devastating plight, aren’t they? I am sure you are familiar with the numbers?
Twenty million displaced people, most of them homeless. Child mortality as high as it ever was. And among the band of noble winners, a new war is brewing. Hear my words, Albus: the Muggles are not done yet. I am sure you follow the conflicts among the so-called “allies” here on the mainland. They are steering straight into the next war. And this time, they have weapons even magic is powerless against. If only you could see what I see - explosions so bright my eyes burn from it hours after having woken up. They could plunge the entire world into chaos this time, Albus, us included.
Will you sit idly by, congratulating yourself on your moral superiority when that happens?
All their grand technology was developed to wage wars, Albus, did you ever notice that?
You still owe me an answer, Albus.
Your friend
Gellert
Hogwarts, 12th of November 1948
Very well. Here is my answer: your argument has no leg to stand on. The idea that an imaginary elite - skilled, virtuous and superior - should be allowed to rule is 2500 years old, Gellert. The concept was called 'Aristokratia', as you might remember, and it has been invalidated countless times since then.
You do not need to inform me about the political and economic situation, Gellert. I am well aware. Yes, the Muggles have brought immeasurable suffering over themselves, but not because they are Muggles, but because they are human. The ability to make feathers float in the air has not endowed us with an ounce more wisdom, as your very own biography so sadly illustrates.
Most humans are weak before power. And most humans are ready to use or tolerate violence. And he who thinks he is wiser, who thinks he deserves power to solve the violence, who could be the philosopher-king atop the aristocrats, has understood nothing.
And tell me this, Gellert: If your only cause was to stop the Muggle war and save innocent lives, why didn’t you do it? You could have found a way, surely, to assassinate or imperius a handful of leading politicians or to change the contents of a few letters. The truth is that this war suited you, because you thought it proved your point. You wanted this war to happen, and you are not even admitting it.
Albus
Nurmengard, 14th of November 1948
these are harsh accusations indeed. Because I did not single-handedly stop an entire continent waging war against itself, I am to be blamed for it? And your accuse me for not using Dark Arts to accomplish it? How hypocritical can you get, Albus? And how do you even know if and in which way I got involved? I am sorry, Albus, but you know nothing about me.
Snape looked up from the last letter and studied the meage little bundle labelled '1949' that was laying on the desk in front of him. Two, maybe three letters, no more. "And you kept this up for fifty years?" he asked. "I must applaud you for your level of endurance.
Dumbledore's portrait chuckled but otherwise made no reply.
Snape tossed the letter on the desk and crossed his arms. "I can feel the love seeping from every line, warming my clammy fingers."
The portrait laughed. "I told you it was some time coming and that we had to sort out some differences in the beginning."
Snape snorted. "That's some understatement."
"We merely had some philosophical debate, Severus."
"Clearly." Snape emptied his glass. "Are you sure he fell in love with this man, Albus? I cannot really see it coming. Maybe he made a mistake during your enchantment?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You don't have to read these letters, Severus, if you find it fatiguing. In that case, however, I would at the very least ask you to visit the memory 1992/JUL/26/NUR/II."
Snape made a non-committal grunt, selected an apple from the fruit bowl, poured himself another goblet of water from the pitcher and reached for the bundle on the desk.