Nurmengard
Nurmengard
Albus stood on the grounds of Nurmengard. The fortress towered above him, throwing its shadow at him.
The stones, he noticed, were worn, some crumbling, others blanketed in moss. The base of the fortress was almost exclusively covered in ivory. Its huge ranks had climbed up to ten meters, gripping the stones tightly, moving into every gap they could find.
The dark forest around him was unnaturally silent. Like a predator crouching in tall grass, ready to jump its prey. The wards of the fortress continued to keep everything away.
Longingly his gaze wandered back to the fortress. It would be so easy to just go inside. Yet, he couldn’t seem to move his feet.
He should forget about him and return to Hogwarts. His castle was far more inviting and warmer than this dark fortress of misery.
His mind kept wandering in circles. His thoughts always returning to him.
He had sworn to never see him again, to never set a single foot into this depressing prison. And yet, something prevented him from leaving.
Albus looked down on the grass, cursing himself. His stupidity. He should not have come here. Their time has long since passed. Everything that remained were memories and broken things. Death and destruction had marred their way.
Those fond memories he remembered in painful accuracy could not be brought back to life.
He should have known better than coming here.
Albus closed his eyes and tried to scratch together one last ounce of willpower.
When he opened his eyes again, he was even less determined. He had already gone past the wards so he could not simply dispparate. He would have to walk back.
Shifting in the cold wind, he let his gaze wander. Still, he saw nothing.
Instead, he remembered that fond smile, how he had rolled his eyes at him, the way their magic danced together.
He needed to leave. Now.
He managed to move one foot. His eyes landed on the tower which was slowly succumbing to time.
He wondered how the inside might look now. After all those years. Would the stairs be crumbling like the stones of the outer wall? If he were to enter, would the loose stones crunch under his steps?
The torches would still carry the ever-burning flames that were so carefully confined to them.
Any plant or animal would have been kept outside of the walls. Strong wards, humming with magic, took care of that – and of many more things.
No evil could enter without permission. Nothing good either.
His steps would echo in these empty halls. The cold climb up his feet until it reached his heart.
The bars on the cells which were mostly deserted by now would softly glow with inert magic and the soft light of the setting sun.
When he emerged from his thoughts and looked up, he noticed the cell was clean and mostly empty. In the doorway the wards he had cast almost a lifetime ago were shimmering. His magic still strong as ever.
“Hello Gellert.”
“Albus.”