Gellert had hoped that the morning would bring with it a time or date for his first excursion, but he was greeted only by a bowl of gelatinous porridge and the promise of a perfectly fine day spent indoors choking on dust. He struggled to hide his disappointment with a pained glance towards the windows before stepping into Bathilda's cluttered office.
He hadn't noticed the state of the room when he visited it yesterday, the half-light of the evening had darkened the corners of the room enough that he hadn't seen the full-scale statue of a woman leaning against a bookcase. It puzzled him for a moment, it didn't look anything like any of his relatives.
"Oh I see you've seen my pride and joy, that's one of the founders of Hogwarts, Rowena Ravenclaw," Bathilda looked at the wonky statue lovingly.
Gellert bit his tongue to stifle a laugh, the statue had seen better days. It had been made not of marble, but something less substantial, cheaper, and as such was now showing its age. The tip of her nose had been chipped off and the fancy tiara on her head was no longer symmetrical, the finer pieces had broken. He then noticed why she was leaning, the large clump of what appeared to be concrete remained stubbornly at the base, causing her to lean drastically to the left.
"That should have been worth much more than what I paid for it, but people in large houses don't know the value of what they consider rubbish." She syphoned the dust off the poor statue's face, perhaps hoping it would help Gellert see her beauty but quickly desisted when the stirred up dust caught in her throat. She gave a great hacking cough and pointed to the window.
Gellert wrenched it open with enough force he thought he pulled his shoulder out of its socket, but it would only budge enough to reveal a slither of the brilliant blue sky. He used his own wand to pull at the dust cloud, concentrating it into a small ball of swirling air, before forcing it out of the small gap and breathing a sigh of relief.
"Thanks for that, cleaning spells are not my forte." Still wheezing she used the various oddments of furniture to make her way towards the comfort of her chair. She refused Gellert's offer of help politely, instead, she asked him to make a start on clearing the mess that had invaded her space over the years.
It was easier said than done, every item he wanted to send into the non-existent pile to be exiled from the house was met with a thousand reasons why it was required to stay and he was tasked with finding a new place in the house in which to hide it. He complied for the first hour and a half, but when faced with a moth-eaten jacket that was large enough to house a family of four as a tent did he decide that its new location should be in the bin. A pair of mismatched shoes, broken quill and a broken mirror all met the same fate before lunch.
A quick glance around the room left Gellert a little downhearted, while it looked better than it did at the start there was still so much left to do. He heard Bathilda calling him from the kitchen, his stomach rumbled, but he took the chance to fix the statue so it could stand properly. The floorboards in the hallway creaked. He shooed the chipped flakes under the rug and hurried to the door.
Bathilda didn't say anything, but she did give her desk a cautious glance over before she pulled the door closed behind them.
When they returned after lunch he soon realised it had a taste for fingers. He yelled a series of obscenities in his native tongue as he tried in vain to release his fingers from the trap. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his lunch threatened to make a second appearance.
"I should have warned you about that," Bathilda said in alarm, her fingers struggling to find the knot in the wood she knew would release it. Once his fingers were free she took them into her hand to inspect the damage. "Nothing is broken, but that doesn't stop it hurting, perhaps we should call it a day and tackle some more tomorrow."
"Why do you have such a thing?" Gellert lifted his hand above his shoulder to help alleviate the throbbing.
"When I was travelling many years ago I came across a small family of muggles that had inherited it from a cousin, or so they told me, they were glad to be rid of it..."
"I can see why."
"It took me over a year of gentle persuasion for it to let me open that drawer, there is a nack to it, but I don't recommend you try it."
"I'm not going anywhere near that thing."
"The others weren't such a problem, but this one is rather choosy as to who is and isn't allowed to peek." She kept caressing the desktop as she spoke, "Incredibly handy for manuscripts I don't want people viewing, you know, works safer left buried."
"Pretty easy to find them if they did, they'd be the ones with the broken fingers."
Bathilda laughed and patted him on the back. "I'm done with you for the day, go."
Gellert fought the urge to give the desk a hearty kick on his way out, her eyes followed him all the way out of the door. He breathed a sigh of relief and took the steps two at a time, hoping that the owl had left him another note. His heart sank like a lead weight, his room was just as he left it, the bedclothes tossed about by another night of terrifying visions.
Not wanting to spend his free afternoon stuck inside, and wanting to get a breath of air that wasn't 40% dust he told his aunt he was going for a ride. The sun was warm on his back as he walked his way up the hill, following the occasional pile of manure that told him he must be on the right track. He stopped at the side of the vicarage to watch a couple of bowtruckles skirmish over which was going to make the apple tree their home. It sent a pang of loss through his heart, reminding him of the forest surrounding his home.
No one seemed to notice him wandering around, and at one point he was sure he must have walked himself into a circle before he turned left and found himself staring straight into the archway of the coach house. He was greeted with the familiar smell of horse sweat, leather and fresh hay as he walked between the two rows of stalls. Some horses offered a nicker of welcome, while two flicked back their ears in distrust and the chestnut mare at the end launched herself at him with her teeth bared.
"There's no need for that now, is there?" Gellert stepped back so he was out of reach, but that just seemed to infuriate her more, her hooves started to scrape the back of the wooden door with enough ferocity he thought it wouldn't be long before she broke through it.
"Step away, boy, can't you see she doesn't like ya?" One of the stable lads, no older than Gellert brushed past with a bucket of water.
The mare launched at the stable lad as she had done with Gellert, but the young man didn't recoil, he launched the icy cold contents of the bucket on the horse instead. Shocked she bolted backwards, bashing her hindquarters into the brickwork at the rear of the stall.
"Serves you right, taking a chunk out of my brother." He was about to laugh when the bucket was ripped out of his hand. As he turned to look who had taken it the bucket crashed down on his head. Black dots appeared in his vision as he stumbled around blindly.
"Serves you right, if she's damaged I'll have you pull that fancy carriage all the way to Mullion Cove." A man filled the walkway with his broadness, he pushed the bucket back into his son's chest with enough force to wind him.
"I'm sorry," the boy whimpered rubbing the back of his head with one hand.
"You will be if she's ripped off that shoe again, I'll be glad when that ill-tempered wench heads home."
"You are still talking about the horse right?"
His father took a step forward and the boy darted away in the direction of the tack room. "Yeah, that's no way to be talking about paying guests, is it?" He coughed and turned to look at Gellert, "You'll be wanting your horse, sir?"
Gellert gawped for a moment before nodding, it was hard to take in all the muscles that bulged willingly through the thin white shirt of the man before him. He must have stared a little too long as the man gave him a peculiar look.
"Willard, stop your cowering and take Mr..."
"Grindelwald." Gellert almost yelped at the reaction the coachman had to his accent.
"Take Mr Grindelwald to the back yard, he wants the mare." He hovered over Gellert for a moment, "Are you leaving, or will you still be wanting your place?"
"I'm just going out for a ride, check out the countryside..."
"I'd be careful doing that, the moors are a dangerous place."
"I know, my aunt warned me already."
The man nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer and sidled off to the house.
Gellert stood there dumbfounded for a moment, not hearing Willard until he asked the same question for the third time.
"Will you be wanting your carriage, sir?"
"No, not today."
"You got a saddle?"
"I won't be needing one."
"Are you mad? No one rides without a saddle, not with horses as unpredictable as they are, too risky."
"Perhaps not around here, but where I'm from it is common."
"And where are you from if you don't mind me asking?" He walked Gellert past the carriage barn, crammed tight with everything from a governess cart to a peeling stagecoach. The back yard was accessed through a tiny doorway, it was much dimmer than the other stables and the amount of daylight shining through the roof showed that it would hold back as much water as a sieve.
"Germany."
"Must have taken a while to get here with just one horse." The smile on his face dropped as he looked into an apparently empty stable, empty for the collection of droppings that had yet to be skipped out. He went deathly pale and started to stutter 'sorry' as his body refused to cooperate in getting him back to the house.
"It's okay," Gellert said trying to mask the fact the mare was now rubbing on his shoulder affectionately. "She does this, nothing to worry about, I'll just go and look for her." He slipped back the bolt on the door.
"I don't understand." He walked over to the door and pulled it open. "I swear I locked it."
"You probably did, I did tell your little brother she can get out of a locked door." Gellert smiled, "I know where she likes to go, she won't be far, don't worry I'll have her back before dark."
The mare waited for Willard to be out of earshot before she stepped out of the deep straw bed and onto the cobblestone walkway. She nuzzled Gellert's hair affectionately as he walked her out of the darkness and into the afternoon sun. Her tail swished at a couple of flies that dared to land on her flesh.
"I thought I might find you here."
Gellert whipped around to the sound of the voice in alarm.
"I'm getting good at making you jump, aren't I? Sorry about that." Albus stepped out of the trees into the light, he looked tired but managed a smile. "I take it she is a fine beast, although I must confess that I cannot see her."
"Some would say that was a good thing." Gellert patted the thestral's neck, his fingers tangling in her dark mane.
"It is by opening doors that others keep closed, from fear, that we learn the most extraordinary things. I myself have had many an interesting conversation with the merpeople in the lake at Hogwarts. Most people avoid them due to their dark association of leading people to their destruction and those that do take interest often struggle with the language. It is a fascinating subject, but not perhaps for this moment. I take it you were planning to have some fun?"
"You are welcome to join me, she can take both of us without issue." Before Albus had a chance to argue, Gellert lined Cora up with an old stump to use as a mounting block and was about to climb on board.
"Wait, you can't, people will see us." Albus grabbed Gellert and pulled him off the stump.
"Oh yeah," Gellert looked up at all the windows that looked down on the small gravel courtyard they were stood in. "I just got a little excited."
"No harm was done, but perhaps a disillusionment charm under the cover of the trees would be a good idea?"
It took a few tries for Albus to get on board, a couple of times he overestimated the effort and tumbled over the other side with a yelp which was quickly followed by laughter.
"They are going to think this forest is haunted with all the racket you are making." Gellert's ribs ached from laughing. "Perhaps if I was visible it would be easier?"
"One last go..." Albus said as he swung his leg over, his arms searching for the solidness of Gellert.
Gellert felt Albus' heartbeat against his back.
"I've always wanted to do this," Albus whispered, his breath warm on Gellert's ear.