May. So terribly, dangerously, devastatingly close. And worlds, and worlds away. In the wake of Gellert's departure, Albus hadn't been able to avoid considering the other exits in Gellert's life, including his dismissal from Durmstrang. A bit of exploration had revealed somewhat more questionable circumstances than Gellert had led him to believe, though he couldn't properly say that Gellert had lied to him. At least, not over this. Albus simply nodded.
The way Gellert looked at him, studied him, was not so terribly unfamiliar. Perhaps he ought to say nothing. He knew he ought to leave, and quickly, but Gellert had a way of complicating everything, including his best judgement. But it was better, he was sure, to satisfy a bit of Gellert's curiosity, to give Gellert no reason to follow. To press. To push and prod and--
"Apart from the miniature revolutions on the microscopic level of individual human life?" Albus stipulated. "No. The world is much the same." The difference in Albus's own life, in his experience and expectations had varied violently over the time that now divided them, but the world at large? No, it was much the same. "Though I suspect some small measure of development is due to begin, as Germany has rather recently elected its youngest Chancellor in its history."
Could Gellert guess? Did he already have designs on the office? And just how much of Albus's inflection could Gellert read with so little familiarity?