Our love is our curse

Experience of Love

If someone had asked him what the strongest thing in the world is, he would have said magic before he knew better.
But after fate and a world war had taught him better, he knew the answer.
But he came to this realization many, many years later when it was almost too late and he had broken the strongest.
But he would have to learn that the understanding of love is very versatile.
There is love that lasts only a short time, like a summer romance that is blown away by a breeze. But he could not count his relationship among them. They were too attached to each other for that.
There is love that lasts forever like marriage. One promises something and together, together one wants to spend his life.
He wanted this once even if only briefly. But in this time this would never work that they both knew secretly.
No their love was something completely different. Their love for each other consisted even if initially of shyness. Out of fear that one went too far and could hurt the other so. But over the years and in the world they lived in, they learned not only more about each other but also about their feelings. They learned to love each other and to trust each other. They learned at a certain point what it meant to give their hearts to each other and to lock them up because they could not bear to hurt each other. From this something powerful and very very valuable was born. The blood pact, or the proof that they once loved each other and still do, because what doesn't lie is the heart, and it beats too fast for them to deny it. But until this realization would still take decades
pass
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The summer of 1899 in the village of Godric's Hollow in the west of England. It was a day like any other except for one thing. On the platform of the train stop a train was to arrive and two hearts were to beat for each other for the first time.
The sun was shining brightly over the village but as usual it was covered by clouds. Which is why the city always seemed a little dark leading the bright seasons. The metal rails rattled under the train and made the wagons move slightly. The steam coming out of the boiler disappeared together with the clouds in the sky.
The body of the young man moved slightly on the red velvet covered seats in his private compartment.

The young man's uneven eyes looked out of the train window, as they often do. He watched the darkening cloud cover but did not worry. He welcomed the fact that the fewer people who dared to come out, the better it was for the magicians. The gifted magician would have loved to take out his wand and continue to develop his theories and spells. But he cursed the ministry for not sending a pure mage platoon to Godric's Hollow as well.

He sighe softly before turning back to his book, which he had started since he got in. His eyes flew over the words and phrases and he greedily absorbed every bit of knowledge about the various spells. A short incredulous gasp escaped him as he thought of his expulsion. Durmstrang, the school in the far north that did not shy away from black magic, had expelled him out of fear of his advances. He could still feel the contemptuous looks of his classmates. How they looked at him contemptuously and talked about him behind his back. Even the principal had turned away from him, Gellert being the hope of the school in terms of magic and new spells.

To a certain extent he was disappointed, but for the most part he was disappointed. He understood for the first time that laws were holding back the entire magical world from reaching its full potential. What a shame.
He could almost feel the snow around him, dressed only in his black coat, he had been thrown outside the gates and had to find his way to the train station alone. He was afraid that the cold would freeze off his delicate fingers. The north was relentless and he knew only one person to whom he could go without being chased away again. His aunt Batilda Bagshot.
Taking himself out of his thoughts, he sighed again and tried to concentrate on his book for the rest of the trip.
Unfortunately for him, his mind would no longer focus on the words and no matter how many times he flew over the same word, he could not even begin to absorb the information. Surrendering to his fate, he closed the book with his light hand and placed it in his backpack. He leaned against the window of his compartment with his arm for support, briefly observing his own faint reflection.