A burning summer

13th July 1899

The two greatest wizards in history sat in Bathilda Bagshot's kitchen, their bellies full of good food she had insisted on making. She was convinced that they ate too little and that by dint of bending over the books they would grow ten years older in just one month.

Albus had laughed several times at that comment, even though years later he had wondered if Bathilda hadn't had some unconscious vision of what was going to happen. In that summer of 1899 he would soon have been forced to grow up and become a man all at once, and not in a month, but in the banal handful of moments. Those darker times were, however, still far away on that placid evening in mid-July, for the moment Albus had really only seen Gellert's clear eye, the dark one, and what was hidden behind it, had somehow fallen into forgetfulness.

He was looking at the photo that Mrs Bagshot had framed and placed on a shelf. It depicted him and his lover. The day that photo was taken was etched in his mind with precision, he remembered every moment. On 2nd July 1899 Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald had created their Pact of Blood, unconsciously creating a turning point in the history of the Wizarding World. The pact had been challenging for both of them, they had underestimated the raw magic that had served to seal it.

They had underestimated so many other things in reality.

In any case, they had returned from the grove towards Bathilda's house still slightly shaken, but happy, and once arrived the historian had surprised them with a quick CLICK for which the two wizards had just had time to straighten their backs. So that photo showed them with rather serious faces, a little pale and with dishevelled hair.

However, Albus liked to look at it and think of the enormous progress they had made since that day. By now they were writing speeches, programs and manifestos for campaigns. The future change of the world was so concrete that it seemed it would take just one more step to achieve everything. Even the Deathly Hallows were no longer so far away, they had managed to trace the Elder Wand to the dark wizard Loxias who had possessed it not even a century earlier and they were sure, they knew for sure, that neither the Invisibility Cloak, nor the Resurrection Stone had ever left Godric's Hollow.

Gellert lightly touched his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"We should go before your brother gets mad like a wild goat again" he reminded him, then going to take his shoes and immediately getting a scolding from his aunt.

"Don't talk about dear Aberfort like that! It is very noble of him to work during the summer holidays to support his family," she said.

Gellert snorted, but still added a "Pretend I never said that, then" in a dry tone. Albus could not blame him, his brother seemed to have almost developed a hatred for the young German wizard. The younger of the Dumbledore brothers could not stand him and had on several occasions made comments that Gellert had only barely ignored with cold looks.

On the other hand, Aberforth was really doing all he could to make some money. He had started working at the bakery in the square, to which he went every second day in the evening and then returned the next morning at dawn. The bread there was made Muggle-style, causing terrible working hours. His brother didn't complain, however, on the contrary, he got angry if Albus didn't come home in time to look after Ariana.

They wished Bathilda a good night and went out into the dark, mingling with the shadows. The air was dense and heavy, a thick layer of clouds had taken possession of the sky for a couple of days by then, but the rain had not yet arrived to cool the village. In the distance you could see the flashes of the first lightning and the sky gurgled, ready to release the drops of water that had been held for so long.

Another bolt, closer this time, reflected in Gellert's clear eye.

"We should get a move on, in a few moments there will be a deluge," he said, looking up at the sky.