Albus Percival Wolfgang Brian Dumbledore stood in front of the single painting he owned of his long-dead sister, Ariana. His heart was pounding, blood flowing throughout his entire body, but he couldn't turn away. Though he stared at his sister, only one man's face was racing throughout his head, his thoughts running into him wherever they went.
A soft whisper of footsteps came from the door, and he knew Aberforth had come. For what, Albus had no clue. But he had his suspicions. If only a little pep talk could get rid of his anxiety, as it did the last time he battled against... Against... Gellert. Good ol' Gellert Grindelwald still had something on him, no matter how hard Albus tried to suppress it. So much for the 'greater good', it seemed.
Aberforth, once, had been Albus' younger brother. But now he stood with Albus, at just the same height. He'd grown into a man too quickly for his liking.
"Dear brother... We have waited so long. Too long, you know. I- I'm thankful, Albus. Thank you for going to avenge Ariana. Thank you for giving us the chance to take back, if only a bit, what we lost when we lost her."
Albus' heart broke at Aberforth's pure words. He expected a battle cry, but instead he saw a cry of sorrow and longing. With a small swish of his favorite deep purple starry robe, he engulfed his brother in a hug, wiping away the tears flowing down his face.
For the battle was today.
----------------------------------The Battle------------------------------------
Shouts and screams of incantations and pain rang through the earth, the air metallic with the scent of fallen soldiers. But only the sound of rushing blood and the unworldly feeling of leaving Earth itself reigned in Dumbledore's mind. He instinctively shot spell after spell, every one hitting its designated mark. He did this without hesitation, his battle facade in full view.
The battle seemed to last for ages. But fatigue did not faze the man. He had eyes for only one other, the man whom he was to kill. Usually Albus was fully engaged in his battles, knowing from past experience how the smallest mistake could lead to a gorge of pain and sorrow, whether it be for others or for yourself.
When his mind cleared, he stood in a circle, not quite alone. For one other man stood not 10 meters away from where he stood. Everyone else was frozen in their positions, head tilted to watch the battle. This was what they had fought for. This was the fight that truly mattered in the end.
When Grindelwald released the spell, nobody moved. Everyone knew that there was nothing they could do. This battle was Albus and Gellert's. Nobody was to interfere. The fight would end in the greater good, whatever that meant for that specific person.
For a full seven seconds, neither moved. But then, calmly, Gellert bowed, beginning a proper Wizard's Duel. Both took their stances, and Albus felt a tingling shaking his entire body. His magical core was trembling, the good and evil parts of their souls shaking.
A phoenix of strength and fire rumbled through the fibers of Albus' body, levitating him. He was charged with power, charged with love. And at the same time, Gellert was experiencing the same thing, lost in the love he had for the man in front of him.
They met in the center of a perfect circle, auras of gold surrounding their bodies. Gellert reached his hand out to Albus, inviting him yet again to the dark side of greater good.
Tears pricked at the edge of Albus' eyes, but he would not lose the opportunity he regretted letting go of years ago.
When their hands connected, magic exploded, and for anyone watching, the world turned black.
Soulmates.