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Presumably Germany (1899)

Leaving England had been easy.

Leaving Albus however, had been a mixture of emotions, combining the etiquette of anxiety, discomfort and relief.

After the...event. It had been a horror of malevolence. Gellert had not just left the country for a quest for the elder wand, but it had actually been more systematically planned so that he wouldn't have to face Albus again.

But had Albus felt the same? There would lie the unpredictable question. The amount of times he had deceived Albus had been unprecedented. Horrid and incompetent.

But that wasn't even the worst thing. Gellert knew something else. Something even worse. Something he had kept from the prying ears of his better half.

He knew who's fault it was.

He knew who had killed Ariana.

But that didn't matter now. Even if Albus had found out he knew, he would never tell him. Because that information wouldn't have been closure, it would have been blame. And then annoyance. So he couldn't say. He couldn't disrupt the conscience of the only person who had ever truly known him.

Living with the guilt of that was awful, but tolerable if it meant Albus had one less thing to worry about.

And that was all that Gellert could keep his mind on, to distract himself from forming any unwanted attention, as he roamed the streets in Germany. A petty traveler on the deserted streets.

With nothing but his wand up the sleeve of his coat, he looked as similar to a rugged thug as did the drunk that was stumbling about behind him. The man looked like he was following him so Gellert hastened his step. Not wanting to get distracted, either.

He was on a mission. And this involved his undying attention to the task at hand.

Retrieving the elder wand.

Albus had already done the hard work. Finding the current owner of the elder wand. Gellert had thanked him, but it hadn't been genuine. He knew that, but once again he felt nothing because he knew he didn't care.

Feelings were sodden aspects of human existence that held a person back from their intentions and goals.

Gellert couldn't allow something as basic as feelings to hold him back, yet what had Albus been...?

Surely not a hold back.

He had told himself that Albus had been an ally. Only that. Well, that and so much more. In ways that he couldn't describe accurately, Gellert sighed at the weight of the prospect of 'love', and how he had allowed himself to give it away so easily.

As an intelligent psychopath, Gellert in fact had no idea whether he had meant it.

Love...

Maybe at times he had? Others he hadn't. His feelings were a metaphysical concept that kept changing. He couldn't be sure. The whiles of right and wrong were confusing, but what mattered now was not his feelings for Albus.

He had to focus. 

Continuing along the outstretched street had reminded him of the similarity it held to London.

He'd scanned the buildings, searching for the doorway that connected the muggle world to the more important wizard sector.

They were all different. The different doorways from the different countries. There was always more than one, but Gellert had read about a specific one that brought him out in the German equivalent of 'Diagon Alley'.

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