December 25th, 1968
Albus--
Happy Christmas, again. Busy with Voldemort, I would imagine?
I admit that it doesn't much appeal to me to write and never receive a response. Or to never know what's true and what isn't. But old Natalia Fedotyeva just fell afoul of a rogue giant, and I had an owl a day from her until then...
I'm getting old, Albus, and tired of mocking you. I suppose you are too. Still lonely? Still hiding?
Don't die over there. You're too clever to be killed by somebody with no sense of humor.
Gellert