Hello!
Officially delurking! This is the first time I have ever contributed to this fandom. It was just something I wondered about while waiting for my laundry to finish. So I decided to write it down and here's the result.
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Rating: G
Author's Note: My first meagre offering to this fandom! Please accept humbly, I thank you.
There are certain perks that come with being the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One of them is being able to wander around the school in the dead of night, when nothing moves apart from the occasional pearly shimmer of a ghost.
He pads noiselessly down a corridor, pausing only to smile and bow his head a little at the Grey Lady as he passed her. Left at suit of armour, and he sweeps into the disused classroom. There is no sound apart from the rustle of own robes as he stands before the Mirror of Erised. He glances up at the ornate inscription along the mirror's gold frame and sighs heavily.
Looking straight into the mirror, he sees only himself first - a young man, with fiery auburn hair tumbling past his shoulders freely, dressed smartly and beaming back at him. The corners of his own mouth twitch a little. He sees true happiness in the eyes of his younger self, and he sees why. Golden curls, a cheeky grin and mischief written all over his face, Gellert Grindelwald stands beside young Albus, with his arm around his waist. Gellert wore a plum waistcoat that Bathilda had given him so long ago - Albus, at the time, had privately thought it was very flash, but that it suited Gellert very well.
"Gellert," the older Albus murmurs. He fights the urge to touch the mirror or look behind him, because both gestures would be futile.
As he watches, Gellert takes a step back and embraces Albus from behind, hugging him tight and smiling genuinely. As he watches, Albus turns his head, so that they are eye to eye. As he watches, Gellert sweeps those vivid locks of hair aside and tucks them behind Albus's ear like he used to, leans forward and kisses him.
Not the hormonal fumblings of teenage lust, but the sweet expression of honest love. It was all he had ever wanted from Gellert.
Old Albus hears the eager footsteps of one particular young wizard. With a heavy sigh, he tears his gaze from the mirror. Casting a Disillusionment Charm, he hops onto a desk by the wall, and waits.
Sure enough, little Harry, just barely 11, hurries into the room under his father's Cloak. He sinks to the floor before the mirror, entranced by the image the Mirror shows him - a complete family.
"So - back again, Harry?"
He knows what Harry sees in the mirror. He knows what they both want - to love, and to be loved. He knows the same kind of ache inside them both, half joy and half terrible sadness. He says nothing.
"How did you know-?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," he tells Harry softly, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. There was only one person in the entire wizarding world he had ever seemed invisible to.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it agan. If you ever do run across it, you will be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."
Inside, his ache worsens a tiny bit as he reminds himself to heed his own advice.
"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something? What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks," he lied.
It was only when he climbed back in bed that occurred to Albus that perhaps he should have told Harry the truth. But then, he thought, as he laid his weary head down onto his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Rating: G
Author's Note: My first meagre offering to this fandom! Please accept humbly, I thank you.
There are certain perks that come with being the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One of them is being able to wander around the school in the dead of night, when nothing moves apart from the occasional pearly shimmer of a ghost.
He pads noiselessly down a corridor, pausing only to smile and bow his head a little at the Grey Lady as he passed her. Left at suit of armour, and he sweeps into the disused classroom. There is no sound apart from the rustle of own robes as he stands before the Mirror of Erised. He glances up at the ornate inscription along the mirror's gold frame and sighs heavily.
Looking straight into the mirror, he sees only himself first - a young man, with fiery auburn hair tumbling past his shoulders freely, dressed smartly and beaming back at him. The corners of his own mouth twitch a little. He sees true happiness in the eyes of his younger self, and he sees why. Golden curls, a cheeky grin and mischief written all over his face, Gellert Grindelwald stands beside young Albus, with his arm around his waist. Gellert wore a plum waistcoat that Bathilda had given him so long ago - Albus, at the time, had privately thought it was very flash, but that it suited Gellert very well.
"Gellert," the older Albus murmurs. He fights the urge to touch the mirror or look behind him, because both gestures would be futile.
As he watches, Gellert takes a step back and embraces Albus from behind, hugging him tight and smiling genuinely. As he watches, Albus turns his head, so that they are eye to eye. As he watches, Gellert sweeps those vivid locks of hair aside and tucks them behind Albus's ear like he used to, leans forward and kisses him.
Not the hormonal fumblings of teenage lust, but the sweet expression of honest love. It was all he had ever wanted from Gellert.
Old Albus hears the eager footsteps of one particular young wizard. With a heavy sigh, he tears his gaze from the mirror. Casting a Disillusionment Charm, he hops onto a desk by the wall, and waits.
Sure enough, little Harry, just barely 11, hurries into the room under his father's Cloak. He sinks to the floor before the mirror, entranced by the image the Mirror shows him - a complete family.
"So - back again, Harry?"
He knows what Harry sees in the mirror. He knows what they both want - to love, and to be loved. He knows the same kind of ache inside them both, half joy and half terrible sadness. He says nothing.
"How did you know-?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," he tells Harry softly, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. There was only one person in the entire wizarding world he had ever seemed invisible to.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it agan. If you ever do run across it, you will be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."
Inside, his ache worsens a tiny bit as he reminds himself to heed his own advice.
"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something? What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks," he lied.
It was only when he climbed back in bed that occurred to Albus that perhaps he should have told Harry the truth. But then, he thought, as he laid his weary head down onto his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.