#grindxlwald

wOW ok, Genoah just wants to curl up here and sleep forever.

Alain encourages this wholeheartedly <3

grindxlwald replied to your photoset “ALAIN’S COTTAGE (EXTERIOR) located on lac d’annecy in haute-savoie,...”

this place is just?? bathed in sunshine??

It’s March. In three months it’ll be June.

Perhaps it’s that number, three, that has his inner clock begin to tick louder. And perhaps that is what makes him disapparate to Nurmengard.

He reads the all too familiar slogan, the one he created almost a century ago, the one he still is living by despite all attempts to the contrary, and feels a stone harden in his gut.

Albus doesn’t know what he is doing here. He hasn’t the time, for one thing ( the most recent horcrux investigation was fruitless, though he now had an even stronger idea worth pursuing ), and there’s nothing for him here ( he doubts that gellert has any desire to see him ). His gaze fixes hard on the slogan until it blurs at the edges before he takes the steps into the prison --- there is something he must tell Gellert, after all, and as he’s already here . . . . .

The sea air is bracing, a salty breeze that cuts through his head. Albus is aware that it is cold more than he actually feels the cold. There has always been a certain level of disconnect between him and his body ( his mother, oh so concerned: ‘have you hurt your ankle, albus, you’re limping?’ albus, confused: ‘i am?’ ) but it has reached a new level this past year as if his soul was slowly peeling away from the rest of him, prepared to leave entirely when the time came. The pain in his right hand, growing ever greater ( that was the nature of the curse --- to strengthen over time ), he was certain played a role. It may been his imagination, but he could swear the blackened, withered, ruined flesh was even more so now than it was near a year ago --- like a carcass rotting.

Nuremgard is a feat of magical architecture: towering, jet-black, with magic near tangible in the air. The sea surrounding it, the constant sighing of waves, heightens the sense of isolation: one is entirely cut off from the world, and will not return to it. ( albus has never been one for the sea; he always preferred lakes, ponds, rivers, but there is something in the solemn majesty of the waves that resonates within him now ) The courtyard echoes the waves until they sound like screams ------ the last time Albus stood here, he freed the prisoners with a single wave of the elder wand. A decision, as it turned out, that hadn’t been his wisest; while many of the prisoners were unjustly imprisoned, there were a fair few that deserved incarceration. . . . .

But that is all well and done and over by this point.

He does not linger, he doesn’t have the time ( he shouldn’t be here ), and he continues into the prison. As he proceeds, he passes by an ancient house elf with sagging skin, protruding eyes, and a lame leg; Albus would like nothing more than to scoop up the creature and take them back to Hogwarts. Yet as soon as the elf vanishes from sight, Albus continues toward the highest tower. It’s darker in this section of the prison, grimmer, with thicker magic hanging across every seam ( that is another thing he noticed --- he’s more sensitive to magic now, as if cursed things called to one another ). Albus recognizes his own specific touch the closer he gets to the tower. The last thing he wanted was for some Grindelwald fanatic to break in and “rescue” him: the tower, the cell, could only be opened by Albus himself.

He stares at the door, wondering if Gellert saw him, wondering what Gellert’s reaction would be to seeing him arrive so unannounced ( how unlike him, that, it’s nearly rude ). Then he realizes he hasn’t the time to wonder anything, and he promptly proceeds into the tower, the door shut behind him. Gellert’s cell sits at the top of the tower, and once there Albus isn’t sure how to proceed ( i should not be here. a letter would suffice, i shouldn’t ------- ). Innate politeness has him reject the idea of simply walking in, yet knocking feels absurd. Placing his good hand against the old stone, Albus contemplates. 

“. . . . Gellert?” his voice sounds unlike his own. He isn’t entirely sure if the person inside would be able to hear him. “Are you awake? I should like to speak with you, if so.”       

SCREAMS QUIETLY in capslock;;

    gellert,

 albus forbade me from contacting you,  but i can’t help it.  he,  more than anyone,  should know the pain i feel without you.  i’m his now,  but a part of me will always be with you,  no matter where you are.  i hope you know this ;  i do not say it lightly.  i trust him in a different way than i trusted you.  he promises happiness but i worry his words are empty.  he rejects my past and rejects my actions when i was yours.  he says i was meant for more than murder.  i find that hard to believe.  i understand it’s in the past, but you accepted my past.  you accepted my creation and my purpose.

 i wish we could go back to the night we met.  things were so much simpler,  then. you were my hero then.  and now,  i am your damnation.  

 i am sorry for what has happened to you.  it is not in my power to tamper with your fate,  whatever it may be.  but i do hope we meet again ---- perhaps even in a different lifetime where the world is not the enemy.

                                                                                        love always,  eliana

"minerva. minerva up here!! yes, i will require some assistance getting down."

grindxlwald replied to your post “braverytaught replied to your post “tell us about Albus’s hobbies…...”

. . .considering that *Minerva* is the cat, this got 2x as funny. . .

i hate .... you both .... so much

bless this.

is today expose minerva mcgonagall’s dirty little secrets day???