Fic for Chu?

Harry James Potter hadn't been in this room for years, and he remembered it with a familiar bitter fondness that had become so much a part of his life. This room, traditionally the Headmaster's room in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had been abandoned over fifteen years ago. No one had the heart to open and reuse it after Albus Dumbledore's death nineteen years ago.

He let out a sigh, and even with his eyes closed Harry could feel the familiar light of the Pensieve hit his face. Harry turned to it without thinking about it, letting his feet take him over to where it glowed a gentle silver.

Even after all this time, the magical device remained and stored all of Dumbledore's memories that he had decided to put in there. No one had had the heart to remove it even today. Harry wondered that, if like real memories, the memories in the Pensieve had deteriorated past anyone being able to look into them.

Afterwards, Harry thought it was a stupid idea. At the time, though, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Like so many times before, he dove right in...

...to a field. It wasn' t exactly the place one would expect to find a great wizard like Dumbledore, but he felt with a shock maybe people like him existed in normal places as well. It had all the characteristics of a fall day, late afternoon making the waist tall grass shine yellow in the setting sun. A flash of fiery auburn hair caught his eyes, and he slowly turned his head to observe.

Even after all this time (and owning a Pensieve of his own) Harry still couldn't get used to the feeling of watching events unfold where you were a silent and unnoticable observer. After a moments adjustment, Harry Potter focused in on the scene infront of him.

Now that he was a full adult, and a tad more comfortable with himself, Harry Potter could recognize looking at a young Albus Dumbledore why a dark wizard like Grindelwald fell for him. He wasn't flawless (who could be with that nose) but that wasn't what made him attractive. He had personality and vibrancy coming off of him in waves, and it gave Harry a heady feeling just by seeing it. His blue eyes glowed with an inner humor that was impossible to dislike.

However, Harry could admit that his companion was just as, if not more, attractive than Albus. (When had he thought of him as Albus?). He could tell that even without the late summer sun, the man's (boy's?) hair was just as flaxen as it appeared, and it looked delightfully soft and thick, falling in gentle curves around his face. The man's face had fine features that somehow reminded him of Draco when he was younger, but had humor and wit written all over it. Harry wasn't sure if he had ever seen eyes as green as that other than his own.

With a shock, Harry realized that the handsome flaxen-haired man was Gellert Grindelwald, the Dark Wizard before Voldermort and some say would have exceeded the snake-man had Albus not stopped him. He had expected something... different. Something more sinister and evil perhaps, but not the good natured fondness that Gellert had on his face at the moment.

They had abandoned the stiff coats, wearing only their loose-tied shirts and breeches. It was a state of merryment and complete unconcern for appearences that he had never seen with the brief visions of either man he had seen previously in the Pensieve. They seemed tired, and no little sweaty, but Gellert had a wide grin on his face.

"Albus, please. It isn't like you to let a little spell take it all out of you." Gellert's voice was clearly teasing, the German accent that made most people of the race sound so gruff and unhappy seemed light and flavorful to Harry's ears. "I've seen you perform harder ones." Gellert scoffed at him, waving his hand dismissively in the other boy's direction.

Albus was huffing and puffing in the grass, strands of auburn hair escaping the braid it had been confined in and sticking to his face. Despite his obvious exhaustion, there was an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Well, Gellert, some of us don't want to turn into animals, have you ever thought of that?" He teased, heaving himself off the ground. "I really have no desire to be a Animangus, thank you."

Gellert seemed suprised, even shocked. "That's because you don't know how liberating it is, Albus. Without any magic other than the initial spell, it almost seems like you can fly, my love. Fly." The pre-Dark Wizard lifted his arms into the air with that exclaimation, reaching for the sky and almost seeming to grasp it.

Harry stared for a moment, wondering if he had heard that correctly. My love? His eyes shifted to Alb... Dumbledore's familiar form, and to his shock he had noticed the other wizard's blue eyes soften with affection and something close to adoration. Now, only now could Harry see how Albus could have fallen for someone that would become so twisted. The passion in which Gellert spoke almost made him want to take flight himself.

"Then show me, Gellert." Came the soft and eager reply, as Albus waded through the tall grass towards the grasping Gellert, standing so close behind him that when the sudden wind came, it blended the stray strands of hair together into the most peculiar mix of gold and red. His long-fingered hands twisted into the back of Gellert's shirt, Albus' face pressing into the back of the golden-haired man's back.

Gellert's answering chuckle was dark and deep, but there was deep abiding affection (love?) in that chuckle as he turned and pulled his counterpart to him, fingers twining in that red, waist-length hair. "I shall, Albus. I shall."

Their formes seemed to blur together for a moment, and it took Harry a moment to recognize that familiar blur. He had seen it many times with Sirius (A sharp pang, no don't think) when he changed into his other form, yet he couldn't bring himself to beleive.

It was a sight that could have been painted. Standing in Gellert Grindelwald's place was a magnificent animal, a massive golden horse that reared into the air with an exulant scream of triumph, challenging the very wind to a race. Harry Potter had limited experience with horses, his one experience being with the Dursleys when they had gone on vacation to America one year and had ridden horses in the Grand Canyon. Of course, the experience was somewhat worsened when Dudely did everything in his power to make Harry's horse spook and had suceeded.

Yet, Harry could recognize the perfection in the dark-golden stallion, flaxen mane and tail flashing in the dying sun. Gellert kicked out with his strong front legs to balance himself, before falling back to earth with a resounding crash. It was beautiful, the gold of the grass perfectly matching Grindelwald's hide.

Harry saw Albus stare with longing and unrelenting affection, reaching up to stroke the magnificent creature's nose with the back of gentle fingertips. The stallion arched his neck smugly, dancing under the red-haired wizard's calm hands. His hide quivered with anticipation, and he called another challenge to the winds. Albus laughed and twined his fingers in the base of Gellert's mane with easy familiarity, swinging himself up onto that massive back while Gellert started forward, settling easily onto the Animangus' back.

And they were off, Harry sped along with them out of no accord of his own, watching them run through the waist length grasses with Dumbledore (So hard to think of him as young) throwing up his arms with a wild exclamation of glee, hair falling free of its captivity to form a red banner trailing along behind them. Harry wondered if it was illusion or if it was some sort of ancient magic he had not remembered seeing in his lifetime, but at that moment man and horse were not to seperate creatures but one being, one being racing the wind.

Abruptly, Harry found himself back in the dark and musty room and out of that field, back into the real world. A sigh left his lips as he felt some sort of obscure sense of loss, settling his hands on the edges of the Pensieve. He looked behind him to the portrait that had been watching him with very calm and sympathetic blue eyes.

"Was it worth it, Professor? Was he worth it?" Harry had to ask, had to know. Only now did he realize how little he knew or understood this wizard no matter the time he knew him.

The picture in the portrait simply smiled, and Harry nodded in understanding. Slowly, his feet leaving footprints in the dust of the room, he left and quietly shut the door with a shockingly loud click. Even as he left, the Pensieve still glowed silver with the reflection of man and horse racing the wind.