"You don't want to be in my jail," Gellert said, reorienting his body to a vertical position. "It's incredibly boring, believe me. And I'm sure spending a week in those cells is likely to make you ill in its own right." No, the jail here was nothing like the prison that had been taking shape in Gellert's mind for almost five years. Unlike the small ten-cell jail of Lockewood, Nurmengard would be gigantic. Ten thousand beds, with a spell worked into the walls that would allow for expansion with a single incantation if necessary. State-of-the-art torture chambers, curses worked into the stone floors themselves. And it would be beautiful, with its black marble walls and ogival windows, accessible by Apparition for Gellert and Gellert alone.
He sank underwater for a brief moment, deciding that his face had become entirely too warm and dry. Emerging, he tousled his hair with the fingers of one hand, the water elongating his curls into gentler waves that stuck to his cheeks and the back of his neck. "I do cook," he confirmed, nodding. "Though I doubt I am as good as your grandmother. Molly Weasley, yes?" He lifted an eyebrow. "She brought me food after we got out of the hospital. It really was quite magnificent." Delicious, even if Gellert had not been able to bring himself to eat it in her presence. And Albus had hardly complained at a second helping of chicken noodle soup.
He just smiled at her last comment, tilting his head up to gaze at the clear blue sky, shot through with a few wispy clouds. She was far more correct than she knew in her analysis, though he would never say so in her presence. Gellert was horribly prone to boredom to begin with, and once it settled in it was near impossible to relieve. Prolonged boredom, in his case, tended to lead to acts of violence that were more impulsive than rationally premeditated. Certainly to be avoided as much as possible, while he was still so in the public view.