Chapter Text
It was an afternoon in the late summer of 1899. As soon as Anton Vogel stepped foot inside his house, he could sense that something was off. As he walked along the narrow corridor, he could almost hear his piano playing. Puzzled, he stepped closer, and he could hear it now: It was Mozart's piano sonata in D major.
He drew his wand and walked quietly to the drawing room where the piano was placed. His suspicion was confirmed when he caught sight of a young man from behind – Gellert, his friend who had disappeared all summer after leaving school, or to put it more precisely, his expulsion. His hair has grown quite a bit, golden curls spreading over the back of his pearl-white shirt, and his shoulders somehow seemed to grow boarder, too, flexing and relaxing with the music he was playing.
He seemed so devoted that Anton couldn’t bear to interrupt. He put away his wand and stood at a distance behind him, listening quietly. Gellert must have noticed him. The boy had always been overly perceptive – a sense of magical aura, as Anton liked to define it. Anton couldn’t help but let the corner of his mouth curl up. He raised his right hand in the air, and with a magical hand movement, hit the keys, filling in a few treble notes. Gellert knowingly withdrew his right hand, allowing Anton to play with him. It seemed that several months’ separation had not broken the tacit understanding between them.
When the song was over, Anton teased softly, "I thought you didn’t like to play the works of other composers." Let alone Muggle composers, he thought to himself.
Gellert didn't respond right away, which was already unusual. Moments later, he turned to face Anton. With a grin, he said, "Long time no see, Anton," he waved his hand tensely. "May I... stay at your place for a while?"
Slightly stunned, Anton stared at him up and down. Gellert looked a little different, though he couldn’t immediately point to what exactly. His smile was flawless.
Anton came to stand by his side, leaning on the piano, while patting his friend's shoulder. "Of course," he replied without hesitation. He darted a look at the boy’s neck where, exposed by the low-necked shirt, a shiny necklace caught his eye. His gaze lingered on it for a moment, until he added with a warm smile, "Otherwise, who else could make the lonely piano here sing so beautifully?"
*
Gellert told Anton that his magic would fail from time to time, and he would leave him in peace as soon as he recovered. Anton didn't believe it at first, thinking it was some poor excuse he felt the need to make up for some reason. Gellert had always had seemingly inexhaustible energy and creativity. Magic was as natural to him as breathing, just some malleable clay in his hands with infinite possibilities.
He couldn’t imagine what someone so gifted by heaven would be like stripped of his magic. In fact, Gellert really didn’t seem any different other than avoiding using magic. He was just quieter, more withdrawn, spending more time contemplating and napping. He did seem to be – as he put it – trying to restore his energy and regain his magic.
On a sunny day, Gellert would lie sideways in the armchair, resting his legs on the armrests and picking up the pendant he wore all the time towards the sunlight. He would observe, or as it seemed, admire it for a long time. Most of the times, Anton just watched him from a distance. He could almost hear Gellert’s mind at work, the memories spinning around, but he never did know what was inside this young wizard’s brilliant mind. And he seldom asked. He’d wait patiently, content with the few words the golden-haired boy was willing to gift him when he was in the mood.
Anton knew him like no one else – his way of doing things, of thinking, something they learned since they were nothing but fledglings.
Gellert had come to Durmstrang in Year 3. For some reason, he transferred to public school from homeschooling. Even before the "initiation" that any transfer student must go through had reached completion, this mysterious foreign boy had taken Anton’s first place in their class. Astonishment and jealousy were smoldering in his heart. This was a feeling he had never possessed before, and he didn't like it.
Soon enough, Anton had to admit that Gellert was better than him in almost every subject. He desperately needed to save himself from a whirlpool of jealousy. And one day, when he found himself standing by the boy’s side, confronting the seniors who were bullying him, he finally found his antidote: instead of what he had been feeling, he could love him and cherish him; he could care for him like he was a part of his own being.
The closer they got, the more clearly he saw that this man had unlimited potential, and with an attitude that bordered on paranoia, he held on to what he wanted – or, rather, resisted what he knew he absolutely didn't want.
We should stand in the light. We must make changes – young voices spoke of grand ideals – Not for someone else, not for the future, but now; it has to be us, has to be me.
*
"It's fixed!" Gellert, who was lying on the couch, held the parchment up high. After having it be Accio’ed by Anton, he again buried his head in the books that Anton had picked for him from his family library.
To help Gellert regain his vigor, Anton tried every means to find things he could do, even handing over his own job application to the German Ministry of Magic.
The parchment that was handed back was covered with countless redactions and harsh comments. Upon reading it, Anton could feel his palms sweat. But when he calmed down and delved into the revision process, the revised draft was indeed much more convincing – although it contained some degree of shameless exaggeration.
"Thank you..." He was about to say some nice words when he caught Gellert raising his right hand while staring at the book, lost in thought. Judging from the direction of his fingers, he was planning to summon the coffee mug on the side table. However, the cup sat on the table, unresponsive. Gellert raised his eyes, seemed confused for a second, and then, as if remembering something, he retracted his hand, embarrassed.
The pain that flashed in his eyes did not escape Anton's notice. With a sigh, Anton called the cup into his hands, and sat on the couch next to Gellert.
"Don’t you plan on talking to me sometime? About what happened to you this summer?" He handed Gellert the cup, trying not to let sympathy slip into his voice. Gellert wouldn't like that.
Seeing that the young wizard fell silent, he continued, "It has something to do with the person who gave you this necklace, right?"
He never wanted to force Gellert to speak, but he knew that if he didn't, the wound might never heal, and he couldn't bear to see someone who was meant to shine so brightly look so dejected.
Gellert shook his head no. "It's my fault." He avoided Anton's concerned gaze and looked down at his own hands.
Anton had a personal understanding of the loss of magic. After his father left home, his mother had lost her magic for quite some time. Those were dark days, and he wasn't sure if his mother would choose life if not for him.
"Thank you, Anton, for taking me in." Gellert rarely said thanks, and at this moment, he looked especially sincere. Anton noticed his fingers trembling slightly.
"Of course," he blurted out. It was hard for him to imagine any circumstances where he would turn him away.
There was a hint of hesitation on Gellert's face. "What am I to you?" he asked lightly.
This question caught Anton off guard, but he quickly brought up a smile and said teasingly, "A dropout." His smile grew bolder, now changing into a more serious tone. "But I’ve heard that those who change the world are all dropouts.”
Gellert laughed softly, although Anton could sense the bitterness within. "You love me. That's why you think so. "
Anton was taken aback for a moment. Probably only Gellert would speak of love all so casually like that, but he didn't deny it. He just subtly swapped the pronouns for something more general. "You got that backwards. People think so. That’s why they love you."
These words made Gellert raise his head sharply and look into Anton’s eyes, as if he was seeing him for the first time. "You think so?"
"Oh, I’m quite sure. "
*
Gellert was getting better day by day – not only his mood and spirit, but also his magic. He never experimented or practiced in front of Anton. Instead, he just used magic every now and then, and basked in Anton's surprised look.
He began to work on his manifesto and put his plans in writing. Occasionally Anton would be allowed to provide advice, although he wasn’t sure how much of that humble attitude was sincere and how much was just for show.
In any case, he was pleased that his piano was singing again – this time, with Gellert's original works. In his spare time aside from all the books and scrolls, he devoted his energy to music, pouring his creativity into the dance of notes.
"Does she know that you play and compose?" Anton asked in a casual tone, leaning against the piano.
"No," Gellert mumbled, biting his pen and studying the manuscript, before correcting him. "He doesn't."
Anton's eyes followed the pendant around Gellert's neck, which would sway slightly with the movements of the young performer, reflecting colorful rays of light in the sun. His eyes darkened at that.
And Gellert seemed to have seen through him. He didn't stop playing, but added with a half-smile on his lips, "But who really knows who?" he concluded his performance with a glissando and looked up at Anton. "If really seen, who would still be loved?"
To that, Anton didn't reply, but he was looking forward to the day when he could truly see him. That’s when he would use himself as a counterexample and laugh at the man who liked to generalize about almost everything.