GREY WINGS || A Hogwarts Story

Chapter Twenty-Four

"For what?" He asked blankly. 

"So many things."

Grey looked away, spotting a large portrait on the adjacent wall. It depicted a pretty young girl with a somewhat sad expression. She was clutching a small bunch of flowers and observing them intently. 

"Is that my aunt?" Grey remarked. 

Beside him, he could tell that Dumbledore was thoroughly taken aback by his blunt question. It took a moment for him to compose himself. 

"Yes, that is my sister, Ariana."

Grey looked away.

"What," Dumbledore paused, swallowing thickly, "What did he tell you?"

Grey had no energy to lie. 

"That a few weeks after you made the blood pact, consequentially making me, you planned to leave together. Your brother tried to stop you. You tried to kill your brother but killed her instead."

Dumbledore inhaled sharply. 

"Half the truth."

At his statement, Grey locked eyes with his father, hardly shocked to find tears swimming there. 

"The first part was correct. And we did plan to leave. Aberforth disagreed and tried to stop us whilst Gellert taunted him. All three of us duelled. But I had no wish to kill him. None of us knew in the chaos, whose spell struck Ariana but we were all equally to blame."

The explanation was plausible to Grey. A tragic tale, as Grindelwald had accused but one that held as much blame on the evil man as any other. It was much more believable. Now those strings had been tied off in Grey's mind, he cast his eyes away from Dumbledore, having no more burning questions. But the wizard was clearly discontented with the silence. 

"How did Richard die?" He asked solemnly. 

Grey mused that now was probably the best time to ask such things because he knew he'd feel nothing when responding. 

"He saved Newt. Grindelwald," The name was poison on his tongue, "Went to kill Newt but he jumped in front."

He heard Dumbledore sigh deeply at his words. 

"He sacrificed himself," Dumbledore lamented. 

Something stirred in Grey for the first time but he could not identify the feeling. However, it forced fiery words from his lips like the acid spit of a salamander. 

"Because he was a better person than any of us."

Each word was tense and stern.

"Yes," Dumbledore concered.

But it wasn't enough.

"He was better than any of us," Grey repeated strenuously and he locked eyes with the professor again. 

He noticed a few tears had fallen down the man's face. He envied them. The subtle stirring in him was blossoming into a rage but he didn't want it, he wanted to be sad, not angry. Angry was Grindelwald so he desperately swallowed it, breathing deeply. 

"He was better than everyone." He murmured again as a mantra, "He was better than anything."

The rage dwindled back to the now comfortable numbness. He turned his attention back to Dumbledore, but he was surprised to find a pained look of understanding on his face.

"You loved him," He whispered.

It was a statement, not a question. But the answer came so naturally to Grey.