217 Chapter 217: Short Fuse

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1 May 1994, Hogwarts, Scotland

"The first seal was broken; the world serpent is dead. Ragnarök is coming. We need to be ready, Albus. Or everything we have, everything we are, will be gone, forever."

Dumbledore couldn't help but shiver when the word Ragnarök was spoken. It was like the entire Quidditch pitch froze, the birds stopped singing, and the wind stopped blowing. That single word created a wave of cold and unease spread to even the spectators who hadn't even heard the word due to the privacy ward Albus put in place.

However, instead of going with his instincts, Albus snorted, "Gellert, in the time I have known you, you thought that this prophecy was being fulfilled three times and every single time was barely more than a hoax. We don't even know that it's a prophecy, it's older than even the epics of Gilgamesh, and it has been translated dozens of times from then."

The headmaster was correct, of course. The prophecy of Ragnarök was rumoured to be the first prophecy in existence, a poem about an end to an eternal conflict. It was all nonsense, of course. There was nothing that suggested that the prophecy of Ragnarök was barely more than a piece of fiction or literature, nothing more than an ancient tale that survived the ages. However, for some reason, the text was labeled a prophecy because it seemed to resonate with many researchers. The whole thing was just too vague and was translated many times, losing a lot of context. There were thousands of interpretations of the poem, dating back thousands of years, each differing drastically from the last, but still following the poem.

People just did not accept that the so-called prophecy was nothing more than an interesting piece of history.

Gellert seemed to have expected this response, "For one people consider to be so wise, you've always been so blind to the truth. The world is changing, holding its breath waiting for the final conflict. Your dream, my revolution, they're all so meaningless, now that the Dark and Light are ready to end their war, once and for all."

"Now, that's your interpretation of the prophecy. Really? That's out there and you know it. The war between the Light and Dark will never end, especially with the two of us still alive. This has always been a war between champions, nothing more."

"Is that so?" the Dark Lord responded with an amused voice, "Then what was that voice in the back of your head whispering in your ears? I remember you succumbing to it many times in our youth, not even knowing if it was your own thoughts and ideas guiding your actions."

Albus couldn't help but stifle a flinch at the accusation. Gellert had just brought up one of the most shameful eras of his life. At the time, Albus was so taken with his status as a Light Champion that he followed its suggestions as if they were gospel. He was a foolish boy, then, who thought that the Light was a benevolent master, that would help him save the world.

It was a mixture of grief and desperation, really. He had started doing this after his sister died and it was easier to just retreat inside himself, to let someone else, something else, take control. 

And so, Albus created his Order of the Phoenix on the Light's suggestion, trusting it implicitly. He fought against Gellert many times, but it was after he had used a spell suggested by his patron, one that accidentally vaporized an orphanage in France. He was further disabused of the Light's benevolence when he ended up using the children's souls in a ritual to power sacrificial wards. Sure, he had won the battle handily, thanks to it, but it was at that moment, that he had truly woken up from his trance, one that lasted decades.

He still called up to the Light and followed its wisdom, but not blindly. Not like he did before. And he found that while the Light was more frustrated with him, it ended up respecting him enough to give him more context with its suggestions. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was better.

Dumbledore simply replied, "I admit the knowing that the Light has an agenda of its own, independent of my own wishes, but I have it under control now."

"No, you don't," Gellert answered with a scoff, "You have no idea what I found, what I discovered. I did not seek out the Elder Wand to fight you, Albus. I sought it out because it was the best way to resist the Dark's calling. It's also the reason why I lost in our duel, while your Light actively aided you in your fight, my Darkness was doing its best to hinder me, to kill me and get a new host. 

"In many ways, I am thankful for the manner you imprisoned me. It allowed me to regain control while not allowing the Dark to continue to spread chaos. And in return for this gift, I never tried to retrieve the Elder Wand, allowing you to have the inherent protection it offered against your Light. I even chose not to escape and make any trouble for you. By the Darkness, I've even solved more than a few problems from behind the scenes. I chose not to interfere in your affairs because you have won fair and square. But I just couldn't let you do this, not with what's coming. Seriously? Removing the family crests of an entire nation. What the hell were you thinking?"

Albus stiffened, "I am creating my dream. I told you once that I wanted to create a world without war. This is me taking away their greatest weapons to reduce the harm they could get."

"And when it comes? When the rest of Ragnarök comes to pass. What will your neutered wizards do then?"

"Ragnarök isn't real, Gellert. You need to get over your obsession."

The Dark Champion glared at him, "Sometimes I wonder if you're deliberately obtuse or if the Light is messing with your mind in the background." 

"I am in control of myself!"

"Are you now?" Gellert responded with a drawl, "So why are you so frantic about the Longbottom brat? Don't tell me it's because you need him to kill the Riddle boy. You could kill that guy with your hands behind your back. You created him, hoping to use him as a uniting factor in your new world but were planning on killing him anyway. There's no reason that you really need the Longbottom brat for anything, except for having a prophecy near you to break. The Light has always urged you to use the power of a broken prophecy, hasn't it? You do know what's going to happen if you do actually break a prophecy, right?"

"Lily Evans showed the world that. I still don't know what prophecy she broke, but it wasn't a major one if the blast was concentrated only in Godric's Hollow," Albus replied, "And I am not so foolish as to risk breaking a prophecy."

"But you're still keeping the brat around, ready to intervene at any moment. I'm not judging you; I have a prophecy of my own, ready to be broken, but I will not do it unless you break yours first. Although, I don't think the upper hemisphere will survive this fight, and that's me being conservative."

Albus repressed the urge to groan, this conversation was going nowhere, "Why are you here, Gellert? You didn't have to reveal yourself in public like this."

"Nowadays, it's hard to get people to listen. You can't tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention."

"That's not an answer. But there's still something I don't understand. Why all of this? I can see why you would stop my ritual since you disagree with it. I can see why you would take the Garden of Avalon – don't pretend that you haven't taken it – since it could be used in thousands of different ways. But why kidnap Neville Longbottom? Why reveal things in public that I kept buried for years? Why even reveal yourself and not take advantage of your anonymity?"

The Dark Champion grinned, "Why does anyone do anything? You've grown blinder in your old age, Albus. When I came to you, when we were teens, terrified of my visions of war machines, weapons of mass destruction created by muggles, and saw them for the threats they were, you comforted me, but you dismissed my visions. And now, look at what the Muggles are doing. They created thousands of weapons capable of wiping out humanity. They destroyed our planet with their inventions and polluted the air we breathe, and the water we drink, in their greed for more power. I was right, Albus."

Albus did not respond, letting his former friend continue, "I was always right. I tried to get them when they could still be flopped, but that time has passed. We can't do anything about it anymore. And the sad thing is that you don't care. I could have tried being discreet with you, but you forget that I know who you are. You would have dismissed my concerns, just as you are doing right now. The difference is that you wouldn't have even tried to listen. But I see that I was still mistaken. No matter how much I try to convince you, you will still cling to that foolish dream of yours. So, I'll do to you what you did to me. I will destroy your dream, utterly, so that you can do nothing but focus on the coming threat."

"What coming threat? I told you, Gellert, that Ragnarök isn't real. You don't even have a shred of proof. You will not ruin my life's work for a story. I refuse it."

"What can you refuse? I've already put everything in motion. You can kill me, right here, right now and nothing is going to change. Your dream dies today Albus. You can strike me down, torture me to your heart's content. You could smite me and bind my soul to another fortress, but at the end of the day, everything you have built will be nothing, but ash and you'll have no choice but to open your eyes to the truth."

Albus growled at his former friend, "What truth?"

"Now, who am I to spoil your enlightenment," Gellert then suddenly brightened, "Oh, would you look at that. It's time for me to go."

"Do you seriously think that I would let you go after what you have just said to me?"

Gellert burst into laughter, "Well, you have a choice. You can try to stop me from leaving and that would be very messy. Oh, you'll probably win with the Elder Wand on your side, but I bet I can take most of the spectators with me. Or you can let me go and focus on the mess your protégé is about to make."

"What mess?" Albus uttered, only to feel the portkey arrive in the wards, the castle allowing its entry as it was keyed into the original wards. The headmaster couldn't help but feel slightly relieved when he saw young Neville lying on the ground and limping up.

What in Merlin's name was Gellert talking about? He turned to ask him that, only to notice that the Dark Lord simply wasn't there anymore. Albus cursed in anger and frustration. He had a lot of damage control to do and very little time to do it. The mere idea that Gellert was back had a lot of implications in Europe, let alone Britain and he would need to deal with them.

However, before he could do anything, he felt magic being built up near young Neville as the boy glared at Severus Snape. Sure, the potion master was a rather unlikable man, and he had a tendency to antagonize Gryffindors – particularly young Neville – but he was still very competent at what he did.

Albus expected the potion master to have insulted the boy for some reason, or to give him a snide comment or another. Severus really was a petty man. However, what he did not expect was for Neville's eyes to flash crimson and to yell out, "Avada Kedavra!", casting a perfect killing curse at the potion master. 

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