dhibooks Chapter 2
Chapter 2
D-GG
1952 year 8 month 4 day,
Dear Gellert,
I know I should wait for you to contact me.But I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage right now - Nurmengard is out of range where I can use Legilimency.I can only approach you by writing on guesswork.
I remember the way you sulked, during the weeks we spent together.When you are unhappy, you will leave abruptly, exude a gloomy atmosphere like isolation, and come back a few hours later as if nothing happened.I thought, what used to be hours of sulking is now months?When I am alone, time always becomes extraordinarily long, but compared with you, I still experience too little of this kind of time.Looking back, I didn't mean to laugh at you.I think the way you sulk is charming - your casual displays of emotion are part of your charm.
I know it's best to let yourself process these emotions, but I can't just leave you alone.I think it's probably my fault, I always like to meddle in other people's business.If we were face to face now, I think you would sternly reprimand me for my hypocrisy and walk away.
Yes, I am writing this letter to beg you to come back.Not as a famous wizard, not as a Hogwarts professor, not by any title I'm proud of.Just being a human being, at the end of the day we are all mere mortals.You once called this old man of mine a friend.You try to write to me, and I can only rely on my imagination, thinking it's just a correspondence.But I'm very happy about it.I would like to say to you with the utmost sincerity that you always have the right to lose your temper with me.
Please believe me, I really don't hate you.Also, can you stop hating me?
Best Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
GG-AD
1952 year 9 month 26 day,
Albus -
After I've considered all the nasty words - no, I'm going to start my letter with a simple thank you.Fascinating sulking, you're so damn good at it.I haven't laughed like this in a long time.
But about Muggle literature?Albus, tell the truth.Send me a summary of non-offensive items - and I'll keep myself from sulking.This woman named Woolf—very weird.
Legilimency?Don't mess with my mind, stay away from it.But it is true that the days have become long, like the taffy you often sucked during the summer vacation. When we chatted endlessly, you always stretched it slowly between your lips and fingers, endless and endless.That completely distracted me.My quill has slipped off the parchment more than once.But when we cast a spell on it, it blew up merrily, remember?Green smoke?
You still don't ask for help at all.Remember that time I magically dangled your legs from the bed frame and made you wait?Poor thing, you can hardly maintain your usual demeanor.I was so pissed off that I couldn't beat you.
As for my life, it is all thanks to you.Now all I have left is taffy days and memories.
Early morning: The guards visit, checking all my papers for signs of dangerous arithmetic.They often treated me roughly. When I first came here, there was no torture of spells, only beatings with fists.And a woman - you killed my husband, she screamed, you killed my husband.I always laughed at it, so after a few years they didn't.Albus, I'm as gifted as you are when it comes to arrogance and arrogance.Even with knocked out teeth, being forced to kneel on rocky ground, bruised all over, even with broken teeth and bloodshot throats, laugh back at those who tormented you.Such gifts far outweigh wit and magic in prison.
Food tastes like dust and I've lost a lot of weight.The window is so old and the glass is full of scratches that I can't see my shadow clearly, but I think I'm like a skeleton.It's hard to imagine that I've ever had sex with a British genius on the shore, is it?
On long taffy days, I would read until my eyes blurred, stop, read again, and take notes afterwards.Maybe I should bequeath you my library - but never mind, you're bound to be bored.My magic is still full of darkness, even though I can no longer practice it.I went through ancient legends and some old experiences, aimlessly but carefully rummaging for answers.Tell me, old friend, have you found the Hallows?Did you fulfill our dream without me?Have you become the master of death when you have cast off your fellow man in a vile prison?
Yeah, I remember writing like that in Durmstrang, shambling like an old man, with one eye on the paper and the other on reading Strong Potions, slipping my The quill was dipped in salamander blood.
I walked lightly in the small cell, hanging on the shackles in the corner three of the mice I caught - I stepped on their tails as they ran past me, and then broke their tails necks, and peeled off their skin with their teeth.They took many years to slowly decay.It's like killing a chicken for the monkeys to see - no rats have bothered me since.After a long time, I am surprised that I can bear and get used to such a stench.
At dusk—in the winter months, to be exact—I could see the setting sun outside through the narrow slits of my window, a cold yellow winter sunset crumbling behind dim icebergs.I want to gather the gray magic scattered in the wind, and sprinkle a few drops of blood from the clouds, flying free like a wandering spirit, and hitting the sky.Leap, leap, as I used to do, and even after that I'd go back to my cell obediently.Like the leap I took when I took "it" from the old Gregorovich house, high-spirited.I seem to recall the room where I danced with you, when I was swimming in an old book of black magic.And flying is an indispensable skill for the Dark Lord. Although it looks scary, it is also - equally fascinating.
At night, the window panes are covered with frost, and the moon rolls behind cloudy black clouds.I love this north of the border.It is much better to spend the rest of your life in the tallest tower, with the company of vast and desolate lands, overlooking the cliffs outside the window, than to live suddenly in England's few green spaces.It's just that I used my wand to trace the winding course of the Volga on your naked back and form ice crystals on your skin.Blooming like flowers and soft as feathers at the edges, they bead up and tumble down your spine with a soft, soft moan.
When I touched the frozen glass with my hot palm, the frost melted into water, and it felt familiar, but silently.Not the slightest human voice, nothing at all.
Albus, taffy days.It was you who threw me and locked me in this cell.Leave me alone, be friendly with your Neville and Ginny, and repeat the silent days.
your sulking
Gellert Grindelwald
AD-GG
1952 year 10 month 13 day,
Dear Gellert,
October 10 this year is another peaceful day, but many people are still afraid of this day because of superstition.England in these years has been very peaceful and reassuring.Thank you for your sulking letter.It is not difficult to see from the correspondence that your talent in poetry collections is still as shining as when you were a teenager.
Yes, I know what I did to you, but I will not apologize for doing this out of principle.In order to prevent you from causing more harm to this world, and for—of course, for our greater good, I must take the power from your hands.Just think of me as a smug old bastard, this impressive nickname was given to me by my students a few weeks ago. (I also added a few strands of gray hair to make me look more like that.) But you know, I'm not going to kill you.It breaks my heart when I think of your brilliant talent, your invaluable gift, being worn away by the endless taffy days; especially after hearing about all the abuse you've been through , I feel even more righteous indignation.I hope at least, I can bring you a little happiness.
Gellert, I think you should understand that I didn't win that battle to get anything from you. (I admit that I appreciate your usual careful choice of words.) I want to tell you my intention, I will let "it" go to the ground with me, so that I can successfully end the blood history that "it" has brewed for many years... Of course, As you said, I'm a really self righteous jerk.However, because of the disappearance of "it" in recent years, I have seen peace in the European continent, and everyone is living a peaceful and happy life. Isn't this the most important thing?
I admit, though, that I'm not sure what answer you'll give on this matter.
But one thing, I have to apologize to you - if, well, you were trying to teach me Russian geography when, well, you were making ice flowers on me with your wand, then I'm afraid I've let you down, I was too Too distracted to focus on making sense of those meanders.It’s just that I’m wondering—we’ve only known each other for more than two months. Although I admit that the past is fascinating and memorable, is it really worth mentioning it so often?Did that short time, the one you discarded so easily when you left, really matter to you?
I wish you would have told me what the guards did to you sooner and I could have removed them immediately