Albus had to wonder which was stranger, that everyone else seemed to refer to Gellert by both name and surname, or that Albus couldn't help thinking of him quite simply as 'Gellert.' For his own part, both his names were customarily used, or simply his surname. That, he supposed, was to be enough expected of someone who had lived as long as he had managed.
It hung there, on the fringes of his mind, his own demise. A future that loomed, ambiguous and convoluted before him, prickling at his senses. Or at least, something was. Flashes of is spasmed through his mind. Dormant memories, long suppressed and too eagerly revived, of a maddening sort of fever, of indigo flames coiling around him.
"The truth is a burden few people can bear with grace-- but for those who can, clarity is often the greatest tool," Albus said, his voice soft but heavy. It was truth, even if only to his own ears. He forced his focus back to Zach; were anything catastrophic to happen, it would be happening now. If his mind was going to reject what Albus had done, it would already be underway. "If I thought it wise to remove the episode entirely from your mind, that might have been an option. However, I cannot stress enough the danger Gellert may pose, and I only hope that the memory of it all will serve as incentive: avoid him, at all costs."
It was something Albus doubted he had to say, but he was reluctant to leave such a matter to chance. Of the two of them, Albus only trusted Zach to follow his instructions; Gellert's compliance was entirely dependent upon his mood.