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Cassandra Vablatsky (welcomemystery) wrote in lockewood, @ 2010-04-16 00:09:00

Who: Gellert Grindelwald and Cassandra Vablatsky
What: Gellert confronts Cassandra about the visions she had regarding his future.
When: April 16, Friday afternoon
Where: 22 Quills St.
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete



The revelation that Cassandra Vablatsky was a Seer--a real one, as confirmed by a quick perusal of Lockewood's bookstore--was one both intriguing and ominous. Gellert had heard what she had told Albus about him, of course. And though it was hardly immediately concerning, given Albus's determination to convince himself that Gellert was completely manageable when under his care, it did bring up some complications. After all, who knew how much she had Seen? And how much she would continue to See, as the days and weeks passed. What Gellert knew of his future came from the secondary and tertiary accounts of history textbooks, and those hardly told him the details of what he would go on to do. Cassandra, on the other hand...she knew those details. She probably knew a thousand things that Gellert could use. And if it became common knowledge that she was a Seer, and she could, perhaps, be made to "See" things in the future that would be of benefit to Gellert....

There was no question about it; he had to see her. Discovering in which house she resided was simplicity, and Gellert directed himself there as soon as he got off of work. He made a point of ensuring that his clothing was neatly-pressed and perfectly-tailored to his form, that his hair was arranged just-so and shone even more than usual. He wanted to make an impression. He wanted to remind her who, exactly, it was that she was dealing with.

Gellert knocked on her door and then took a step back, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, forcing himself to stand a little straighter--a little taller. Appearances could mean everything.

Lockewood was quite peculiar. Cassandra might have not minded it so much if it hadn't been for the fact that whatever magic had construed the place or whatever was protecting it interfered greatly with her gift. She felt as if she had lost all control she had over it. Generally, Cassandra could count on the fact that anything large that was going to happen in her life would be shown beforehand. Of course, that wasn't something she could simply rely on, because it didn't always show her everything. Bad things would and did happen that she had no idea of. But this was different. This was an extreme version of this. She had never seen herself being brought here, had never seen herself being forced to meet Gellert Grindelwald. And that was all distinctly unsettling.

She always was back to simply being bombarded with an image whenever it felt like entering her head. She touched something, brushed up against someone - shook their hand - and now it submerged into visions that only sometimes made sense, things that she couldn't put into context. She wanted to be able to meet all the people that were here - because there were certainly some interesting opportunities, but at the same time, the paralyzing fear of her childhood had returned. She was easily marked out as being different.

Perhaps this why she was slightly surprised when she heard a knock on the door. She didn't know who could be visiting and neither had she foreseen anything. Quietly, she hoped it was Professor Dumbledore. Surely, he would be able to help her - and she felt the desperate need to try and impress upon him how dangerous Grindelwald was. Somehow (and her cheeks burned quite red just as the thought) she rather suspected that was going to be easier said than done. But she had to make him understand. He wasn't safe.

Cassandra had just begun to open the door when she caught sight of that familiar blond hair. Reacting in an automatic sort of way, she quickly shut the door again and bit down on her lower lip, leaning her back up against the door, as if it would make him go away. What was he doing here? She glanced about for a moment, wondering exactly what she was supposed to do. She didn't doubt that if he wanted to get inside, he would.

"I'm sorry," she called, raising her voice a little although she still sounded perfectly polite and formal despite the fact that she had just slammed a door in his face. "I do not particularly wish to see you."

Though it was hardly unexpected, Gellert could not help but be a little taken aback when the girl shut the door a mere second after opening it. It was not that it was offensive. Gellert had, after all, put up with many far more insulting things during his time here in Lockewood. He smiled when she called out to him through the door, unable to help being somewhat amused at the fact that she apparently thought some sort of polite dismissal was enough to effectively rid herself of him.

He stepped closer to the door, pressing one hand to the wood panel and leaning in to ensure that she heard him. "And I do not particularly care, Miss Vablatsky," he murmured. "Though I will be kind enough to give you the option of letting me in, rather than forcing me to blast this door open myself." He would, too. It would be easily repaired; no evidence for anyone to charge him with destruction of property. But he had always been a man of somewhat limited patience. It would be in Cassandra's best interest not to try to find out just how far that patience really did extend.

Gellert moved back, prepared for her to open the door--or to draw his wand. His fingers already rested on its handle, a Blasting Spell welling in his fingertips.

Cassandra shut her eyes for a moment as she listened to Gellert speak. The threat was not particularly surprising. It wasn't as if she had been particularly discreet when she had left the cottage the last time. She had all but run out and cried after having shaken Gellert's hand. She didn't know if he knew exactly what she was, but even if he hadn't pieced everything precisely together, she wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he had found out in some other capacity. Something in her chest tightened a little at the idea of Professor Dumbledore telling him, but then it wasn't something that she couldn't rule out. It was just difficult to imagine when he had been the man that had helped her keep everything a secret, had warned against telling people and had tried to teach her how to keep herself from being manipulated. But then, Grindelwald and Professor Dumbledore obviously had a very different sort of relationship.

She only had a few seconds to think, to react, because she was quite certain that he wasn't lying and that he would come inside, one or way another. Well. Cassandra wasn't going to let him inside and she had little intention of being around when he forced his way in.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she hurried past the stairs, making her way into the kitchen. She grabbed at the bottom of the window, pulling it open, planning on climbing through it. She was certainly small enough to fit. She felt that she had a better chance of slipping away then, finding someplace to hide - or, at the very least, it would be easier to draw something of a crowd if he persisted in coming after her or tried to hurt her in any manner.

Gellert waited for precisely fifteen seconds. He wasted no time in drawing the Elder Wand, in examining Cassandra's door for any enchantments or wards against unauthorised entry. There were none. It occurred to him that perhaps a Blasting Spell, though it would certainly serve its purpose in regards to intimidation, was not the best way to go. He would have to waste time with silencing charms, after all, and then repairing the broken door...no. Perhaps he ought to unlock her door the simple way, and then find a way to frighten her into submission once he was already inside.

So when the allotted time had passed, Gellert tapped his wand to the doorknob and muttered a quick, "Alohamora." The door swung silently inward, opening to an empty foyer. The girl thought she could escape, did she? Well. That was hardly an option.

Gellert let the door slam shut behind himself, stalking down the corridor and glancing into the rooms as he passed them, checking to see where she might be hiding. A quick Hominum Revelio made his search much more effective; she was in the kitchen. Gellert quickened his pace, lifting his wand as he went. The girl was already halfway through the window by the time he got there, but a single, dark charm was all it took to grasp control of her limbs and force her to climb back down and turn to face him, the window sliding roughly shut behind her.

"Sorry," Gellert said. "No escape that way."

Cassandra could feel her pulse pick up as the door slammed. It was practically thudding in her ears, making her wrists throb with it. Her motions seemed clumsy and inefficient as she managed to boost herself up first up onto the counter and then onto the sill. She was moving too slowly, still trying to keep silent. But it seemed so inefficient - knowing that he was already in the house, knowing that he was walking, moving, coming closer. She was certain that she could hear his footsteps. She needed to be faster. Maybe she didn't even need to run once she was outside the house. Maybe it would be just enough to quietly shut the window, to duck underneath it and wait for him to leave.

But, no, no, time was up. Her limbs suddenly jerked, feeling as if they were being pulled taught with strings, as if she were being made into some kind of puppet. She struggled against the sensation, trying to move the scant few inches more that she needed to slip outside. It was no use. She was climbing down, moving out of the open window frame to stand back on the ground. The window remained open, but her back was solidly against the counter, her arms tightly against her sides, as if she could make herself smaller, as if she could make herself disappear. She looked at Gellert, who was standing only a few feet away. It was almost hard to believe, just by looking at him, the depravity that he contained. He looked so young; he was only a few years older than her, she'd warrant and he was quite handsome, there was no mistaking that. But the things she'd seen. They'd been terrible. Wicked. There was no redeeming factor in this boy, only a lust for darkness that Cassandra wanted to be able to stay as far away from as possible and thus far, had not succeeded.

"What do you want?" Cassandra asked, trying to keep her voice even. She also tried to make it as loud as possible, but was certain that it still came off sounding a bit quieter than usual. The problem was, of course, was that she was quite certain that she did not want to know why Gellert Grindelwald had come to visit her. There was no reason that could be promising, but she wanted him out of here as quickly as possible.

Gellert's gaze slid past her to the still-open window, and he did not even raise his wand to send it slamming and latching shut. "What do I want?" he repeated, brows lifting even further. He stepped closer, keeping the Wand in clear sight at all times, a constant threat. The curl of a smirk around his lips was slow and dark, something hungry and terrible glittering in his eyes. "Why, Miss Cassandra, I should think that would be obvious."

The distance between them grew ever shorter, until finally he stood but a hairs-breadth away, extending a hand to let the backs of his fingers graze along the length of her arm. She felt soft and feminine beneath his touch, and Gellert was suddenly reminded of how truly long it had been since he'd felt it necessary to intimidate a woman. His hand rose upward and he curled a single lock of her hair around his forefinger, letting the silky strands slide through his grasp. She really was quite pretty, and Gellert could appreciate as much even if it meant nothing to him in a physical sense.

"I know what you are," he said, and there was a harmonic sing-song quality to his words, giving his voice an eerie air. And then he dissolved into a laugh, hand dropping back to his side. "And you, darling Cassandra, my darling Seer, are going to do exactly as I say."

Cassandra could hardly help the way she suddenly flinched as the window slammed shut just behind her. The tension in her body ricocheted up another notch as she briefly shut her eyes. Her arms, if possible, pressed in more tightly against her sides and her fingers curled into her palms so that she could feel the blunt press of her own fingertips. She wished she hadn't reacted so visibly. But there was little she could have done about it. The sound was wholeheartedly unexpected and she was already on edge. She was already scared. She was hardly accustomed to having to deal with things like this. Certainly, there had been the odd wizard or two that had figured things out and had come and seen her, but it had been when she was home with her parents - or when she was at school and Professor Dumbledore had quickly and neatly deflected each one of them. And, of course, none of them even came close to wielding the kind of power that Grindelwald had.

She opened her eyes again and watched as he came closer. Her skin prickled and she swallowed perhaps just a little unevenly. She was trying to think, because she needed to get herself out of this. There had to be a way. If she shouted - if she shouted, she didn't think anyone would hear her and she had no doubt that he would hurt her if the opportunity presented itself.

That didn't stop the way she pulled, curving ever so slightly away from his touch, her eyes finding some spot on the wall behind him to concentrate on. She didn't know if he was trying to trigger something - and worse, she didn't know if he would. She would have given so much to never have to seen any part of his future again, because she was quite certain that there was nothing but darkness and death in it and she wanted no part of it.

"It doesn't work that way," Cassandra answered once he finished with moment of amusement. Her voice was soft, but it didn't tremble at all, was entirely firm. And it didn't work that way because she had so little control her, but it didn't work that way because she would also refuse to let herself be controlled by him. There were many, many bad things that he could to try and force her, but she simply wouldn't and that was as clear as it needed to be in her mind.

"It doesn't, does it?" Gellert pressed closer, wrapping his fingers firmly around her upper arm now. He was still smiling, tilting his head forward so that their brows almost brushed. His other hand directed the tip of the Elder Wand to her stomach and traced a long, slow line up her abdomen, catching at intervals on the fabric of her shirt. "See, I think that it does." And even closer, closer...he could feel her every exhalation gusting across the bridge of his nose, his lips. He had her trapped against the counter and with the magic that was already beginning to well in his fingers, ready in an instant to be focused through his wand--there was nowhere for her to run.

And he was patient. He could be if necessary, at least. He could stay like this for hours if need be, touching her, holding her until the threads of his magic triggered something within her mind and made her See. Darling Miss Vablatsky, so blissfully naive of what a potent weapon she possessed in that pretty little brain of hers. Gellert wondered what Albus would think of his methods at the moment--if he would consider the means to justify the ends as Gellert so clearly needed to regulate what this girl Saw and what she told people. Of course, Albus could never truly appreciate the gravity of this situation for Gellert. Not without knowing some of the things that Gellert had done and was ever-so-likely to do again. The things that Gellert was positive lurked just beneath the surface of those eyes, if only she would open them...would allow herself to fall sway to his presence.

Cassandra was about to smartly reply that No, no, it did not work that way when the comment died on her lips. He was just so close that she couldn't help but feel surprised, couldn't help but feel so acutely uncomfortable. She couldn't even remember the last time someone had been this obscenely close to her. She took in something of an unsteady breath, because she was trying to control herself, trying to make herself get through this, even if she didn't know exactly what he was doing.

However, the motion of his wand across her stomach was more than she could bear. It practically felt as if it were touching her bare skin, what with the fabric of her shirt was bunching up, was moving with the pressure and the press of the wand. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she had raised up the hand, the one that he wasn't practically keeping pinned to the corner and had smacked him quite soundly across the cheek.

"Do not touch me," Cassandra said sharply, her voice coming off louder, stronger than she could have ever hoped for. At the same time, she was already acutely aware of the fact that such an action would probably only provoke him. She had probably done exactly the wrong thing, but she couldn't exactly say that she regretted the action. It was completely inappropriate for him to be so close to her, to be touching her so casually. She wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted him as far away from her as possible. Again, the impulse to tear away from and try to run rose once again, but she still didn't think she would be able to get away. Something would have to be done first. She would have to knock him out - or perhaps trick him. Her mind was racing, because suddenly, it was becoming more and more imperative to get free of this monster.

Bright, vibrant pain sliced through the nerve fibers of Gellert's cheek, his head roughly jerked to one side from the force of her slap. The bladed strength of it shuddered down to Gellert's very core, clarion and white-hot. And though it hurt slightly more to do so, Gellert was smiling when he turned his head slowly to meet her gaze once more. There was something about his grin that was harsh and feral, his eyes now overwhelmed by the shadow of his quickly-dilating pupils, a flush of something altogether too like pleasure flooding his cheeks beneath the red mark from Cassandra's hand. Gellert was not even aware that he was laughing until the sound was already bursting from his lips, harsh and cruel.

The Wand thrust forward, stabbing into Cassandra's solar plexus as the incantation that had already been on the tip of Gellert's tongue finally fell forth-- "Crucio!"

Cassandra had drawn back slightly when he turned back to look at her. Her instincts flared with warning, crying out that she needed to escape now, no matter what the cost was. However, there was little she could do. There was no time to react. She could have hardly anticipated his next action in any case. She let out an involuntary cry of pain as he jabbed the wand against her body again; the sensation was almost immediately muted by the spell that went tearing through her body. Her vision flared white as it consumed her entirely, sending her body into something of a convulsion, muscles all pulled taught as they were forced to comply with far too much stimuli. It felt as if her very body was being torn apart, blood boiled, tendons taken out, muscles stripped free of where they belonged, everything falling to pieces. It hurt unlike anything else Cassandra had ever felt before, and she was sobbing without even being aware of it, the sound spilling out of her, ragged and hoarse.

Her knees had buckled underneath her almost instantly, sending her careening somewhat dangerously forward, so that the small gap that had existed between the two of them was nearly eaten up entirely. In all honesty, the only thing that was holding her up together at all now was the force of his hand. She could no longer feel it, however. She wasn't even aware of his presence.

It took several agonizing moments before she became aware of herself again. She was taking in loud, shuddering gasps of air that were occasionally choked off by a sob that would swell up in the back of her throat. She could taste the salt from her tears and blood from where she had bitten down on her own lower lip.

As the curse took hold, Gellert tightened his grip on her arm, preventing her from crumpling immediately to the ground as her body suddenly seemed desperate to do. The Cruciatus was a beautiful thing, working its way through someone's form. The way it made their limbs tremble, their pupils contract to microscopic pinpricks, the feel of it--hot and red and glowing--beneath her skin. Gellert could feel it where he touched her, that fire racing through her veins and contorting her nerves, shooting action potentials across synapses so quickly that Gellert imagined that were it visible, it would be like a small, brilliant electric storm....

He let her tip forward just a little more until her body was pressed against his own, both of Gellert's arms wrapping around her waist to support her as she twisted and shuddered and screamed against him. She felt too fragile beneath his grasp, as though the slightest pressure might cause her to wither away. He did not leave the curse on for too long. It could be dangerous, after all, to allow a Seer to go mad. Oh, their Gift drove half of them mad on its own, more often than not, but Gellert was hardly inclined to expedite the process. Not when he had something to be gained from her sanity.

"Shh," he hushed her as she finally seemed to draw back toward lucidity, stroking her hair, running his fingers through those lovely ash-blond curls. "Be quiet, now...." He tilted his head in, pressed his lips to the side of her neck. "Calm down. Everything will be all right." It was a beautifully ironic lie.

Cassandra, once she was aware of the parts of her body again, and not merely the overwhelming pain that she had been bathed in, realized that she was trembling. It was only seconds later that she realized just how close she was to him. She let out a hiccuping little sob, unable to hold back the sound as he began to speak; his voice was soft and lilting and one could almost believe that he genuinely meant the words if it hadn't been for the fact that he was the one that had just hurt her so badly. However, it was the press of his lips against her neck that mobilized her. It horrified her almost worse than anything else, sent her teetering over the edge, trying to cling to any last defenses she had.

She awkwardly, desperately, messily, tried to push herself away from him. Her arms were pressed tightly in against her chest, crossed at the wrist, and where also touching his chest. She unfolded them, willing life and steady motion into the aching tips of her fingers as she pushed against his shoulder so that she could try and get upright again. Her legs were just barely holding her, felt as if they might fold again at any moment, but anything was better than being flush against him, with him touching her so casually, as if he were entitled. As if he were enjoying it.

"I'll tell Professor Dumbledore what you do to his brother," Cassandra said finally, finding her voice even if it was still broken apart by the occasional lingering gasp from her tears. It didn't matter. The words, the thread, were spilling out before she could do anything else. Because he had to care about that, didn't he? He and Professor Dumbledore were involved in some manner and surely he did terrible things all the time that Professor Dumbledore wasn't aware of. If she exposed him, showed the truth - well, he couldn't possibly want that, could he? And no, maybe he didn't know the details of what he would do (but she wouldn't be surprised if he already did have some plan), these were things that would come to pass and she would know them, could win Professor Dumbledore over with him.

"I'll tell him that it was you and not the boy you're going to frame for it," Cassandra said, her voice growing a little in strength, although it was most certainly still bordering on hysteria.

"You will not," Gellert said, letting her draw back, though of course there was not far for her to go--even pressed all the way against the counter, there were but centimetres separating their bodies.

He was not entirely certain what she meant. The reference to what Gellert did with Aberforth was connected to some sort of evasive operation--something that would occur in the future, of course, as Seers did not see into the past. Did this mean that Gellert would, eventually get caught? Caught, but able to foist the blame onto another...and get away with it, it sounded like. Clearly Cassandra was unaware that she was doing Gellert no disservice, making this threat. For she had just confessed to him one of her visions, and even with this little information, he could plan for something that he otherwise would never have expected to happen. He could anticipate the unanticipated, could choose who amongst the village he might frame were such a thing ever necessary, and plan how he would account for the usual sorts of injuries he inflicted upon Aberforth.

Gellert was smiling as he tilted the Wand up to press into the hollow beneath her hipbone, the motion almost idle despite its inherent threat. He could torture her more, he knew. Could torture her until she was too frightened to ever speak again, never mind about Gellert. But again, that carried the risk of insanity, and he could not afford to lose this opportunity that had been practically dropped into his lap.

There were other options, though. The Cruciatus was not the only curse of any influence. "You will not," he repeated, "because you will not remember."

It took Cassandra only moments to figure out exactly what his words meant. She could feel the press of his wand, hovering in against her skin; the positioning of it did not go amiss and she was not naive enough to think that he wasn't doing everything in a very precise, decided manner. She swallowed evenly, silencing any remaining sounds that accompanied her tears. Any notion she had about trying to outlast this endeavor was suddenly out the window. This was a matter of simple preservation. She was going to do anything she could to get away from him.

Her body seemed to move of its own accord, because, honestly, she was also angry. She was upset and hurt that he would walk into a place that was supposed to function as a home to her and threaten her so blatantly, handle her and hurt her as if her was entitled to. As if he had every right to do this and ignore anything that she was saying. She hated people like him. She hated people that wanted to use her and didn't care about anything other than their own gain and thrived off of other people's pain.

She reached down and roughly slapped aside the hand that was holding the wand up against her hip; her other hand was reaching up to slap at his face again. Her hands reunited again to push against the narrow width of his shoulders. She used all of her strength, forcing her body weight into it, stepping forward, trying to force him to move away from her so that she could gain the opportunity to try and escape. She needed room - just a little more - to be able to get out from between him and the counter. She would run. She didn't know how far she would make it, where she would go, but she would run the instant that she gained the chance.

Gellert stumbled back a step when Cassandra pushed him, not quite comfortable yet in his altered body, having lost over a stone between intentionally not eating in the final days of his and Albus's fight and the ceaseless vomiting caused by the stomach bug. He was not accustomed to being so thin or to his shifted center of gravity. So though he had been on his guard, had even been expecting her to try something like this, Gellert still lost his footing. He reached out, grasping for her shirt as she darted from between him and the counter but his hand fell short and she slipped free.

He did not try to stop her with magic. Gellert overtook her in a few strides anyway, his body slamming into hers so hard that they both fell to the floor, Gellert twisting her roughly onto her back and straddling her waist, pinning her arms down with his forearm pressed over her wrists. Breathless, colour rising quickly in his cheeks, Gellert touched the tip of his wand to her temple and seized onto her gaze. He just needed the two memories. The vision of him with Aberforth and this one, itself.... He had to be careful, though, tampering with a Seer's mind. This had to be a clean extraction, no scraping into nearby memories, no trauma to her neural circuitry. He could not do it with Legilimency, then. He was not skilled enough in the art to erase a memory without damaging other parts of her brain. But he could afford the mess he might cause by finding the memories....

Gellert pushed as delicately as he could through the veil that hung over her gaze, letting his mind sink into hers through the connection of their eyes. The vision itself was impossible to view, at least with his extent of Legilimency. The Seer's gift protected it from being examined at his intrusion, but it did not protect it altogether. Gellert gathered up every last thread of the memory, taking care to ensure that he held onto no extraneous thoughts, and then-- "Obliviate." The vision of whatever he had done to Aberforth was wiped clean from her mind. As for her memory of this event, of his visit, he let a few strands linger. Not enough for Cassandra to be able to piece together what had happened, but enough half-formed images and emotions to let her know that she should never disobey him.

Gellert was oddly dizzy when he finally withdrew himself from her mind, cleaning up as best he could in his wake. He had to tilt forward and rest his brow against her chest for a moment, to let the blood flow back to his head until the vertigo passed.

Cassandra raced across the kitchen floor. The sound of her boots was loud and her skirt kept getting wrapped up around her calves as she tried to make it back to the front door. She couldn't help but shriek out loud when he suddenly grabbed at her, their bodies hitting together roughly. She was terrified, some desperate little sound welling up in the back of her throat as she continued to try and fight him. Her chin smacked the ground as she fell and the taste of blood flooded her mouth again. One of her knees was scraped in the floor, her skirt twisting up and around her legs. She struggled to gain some kind of proper footing, the heels of her boots sliding over the smooth floor, before he was suddenly repositioning her.

He moved her body as if she was nothing and that was even more terrifying. She abruptly found herself on her back; her head hitting the floor just a little too hard. Her hair was everywhere. Some of it was across her face, in her mouth and in her eyes. His weight felt unerring solid on top of her - which she tried to convince herself wasn't true. He couldn't weight that much more than her. She just needed to - she just needed to be able to get out from underneath him, to pull herself her free. The moment that she began to raise her hands up, to try and scratch him, to rip out a piece of flesh of his face or neck, his own arm was pressing down against both of her wrists. The pressure made them throb, made them feel thin and and fragile. She still curved her hand up as far as she could, letting her fingernails find his skin, digging in wherever they could do.

"Get off of me!" Cassandra shouted, the exact words almost lost due to the fact that she was crying once again, the sound loud and abrasive. She turned her head stubbornly away from his as he raised up his wand, shutting her eyes as she continued to kick her feet, trying to find some way to dispel him.

It did nothing. Never before had she felt so utterly defenseless in her life. Never had she felt so weak. Nothing she did could change the fact that she could feel him slip carefully into her mind, paging through whatever he wanted - although he couldn't see her visions - that much was clear. It was all gone within seconds - along with her understanding of exactly what was happening. That did little to stop the fact that she was still crying underneath him, trying in vain to curl in on herself.

It was several seconds before Gellert's head cleared, before the last waves of dizziness had passed through and he was able to straighten without feeling as if he might pass out or vomit or both. He paused, watching Cassandra--mussed, crying, but already with that slightly dazed look seizing her features, so characteristic of the effects of Memory Charms.... Gellert brushed her hair out of her face, the gesture somehow more business-like, more matter-of-fact than gentle. Simply straightening up another loose end.

Gellert rose to his feet, stepping away from her quivering body and tucking the Wand away. He had little doubt that he would be seeing much more of her, especially as she and Albus were friends. But it was clear that he could not influence her the same way that he could Aberforth. He had control over nothing that was particularly of value to her. He could not threaten to murder her family members or her loved ones should she resist; there were none of them here. The best he could do was to manage the situation. He was certain, though, that such a task was well within his range of ability.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Vablatsky," he said, tone mild. "I enjoyed getting to know you better."