RP: There's nothing here in this soul left to save. Date: June 23, 2001 Character: Gellert and portrait Dumbledore Location: Hogwarts than private residence Public/Private: Private Summary: After a day Hogwarts for the things associated with the end of term, Gellert returns home with more than he bargained for. Status: Incomplete
Gellert was called to Hogwarts to sort out end of the term details. He was never quite as fond of Hogwarts as he should have been being in control. Seeing how he hadn't attended Hogwarts himself - going to and being expelled from Durmstrang - and had no sentimental memories of the school. He only traveled to the castle when he had to, like now for the end of the term. He waited for the students to be ushered onto the Hogwarts Express before he went to visit the Headmistress. They discussed what they needed and then he wandered. The castle was huge, he'd give them that. It was well taken care of as well.
When a staircase moved while he was walking up it, Gellert found himself on the fourth floor, trying to figure out a way down and out. Unfortunately with things as it was, he didn't trust the stair case to stay in the right place again and found himself venturing deeper into the castle. Wandering around to gain his baring again, he found himself stopping in a library. When he'd first taken over Hogwarts completely, he had moved the old headmaster and headmistress' portraits from around the castle to the back wall of the library. They were hung in chronological order, all of them staring at him now, murmuring things, whispering to each other, and some even entering another's portrait. He had no idea how long he stood there, staring and thinking. But every time he tried to move, his eyes fell back on one portrait alone. It was one of the last portraits on the wall - hanging with that familiar face. Over the years, the memory of the face had muddied and faded. He refused to use a pensieve to preserve his memories as some wizards and witches did which let time decay the truth.
Without thinking, he reached out and yanked the portrait from the wall. Standing there hold it, with the mocking face, he wondered if he should burn it. But no. In his mind, burning it would not sound any of his problems. But what were his problems? Did he honestly have problems? He didn't think so. He was the Minister of Magic, on his way to being what no one else could accomplish: an immortal ruler. He controlled every aspect of the lives of those under him. No one could take him down, no one could dethrone him. One day, he would ask for true worship and all the only choice they would have is to obey him.
Waving his wand, he cast a disillusionment charm on the portrait and himself. Invisible to the few staff members who lingered that he passed by, he exited the castle and then Apparated to his home, clutching the portrait. Heading to his study, he hung the portrait on the wall before he turned to walk away.
"Welcome to your new home, Albus," he said softly, almost in an insanely happy voice over his shoulder.