FIC! entry 12
September 27th, 1956

Dumbledore,

The peculiar thing is that you've given me no particular reason to want to help you with this Voldemort bloke. (That would be the correct British term, yes? Bloke?) It was mostly technical stuff. Obsessed with death, that one, even for a Dark wizard. Terrified of it, even as he nursed delusions of grandeur. Unhealthy attitude. But you probably knew that already. Yet he was not on the path of the Hallows. Probably just as well. The fewer upstarts after that sort of thing, the better.

He was mostly on about his crackpot theory to improve the Killing Curse--won't work out, I don't think. That and Horcruxes. Woolly business. I like all my bits in one place where they belong, and if somebody's good enough to take me out I'd rather die properly, none of this floating about half-alive nonsense.

I don't hate you, Albus. That's the problem.


Gellert Grindelwald

"And identity is funny being yourself is funny as you are never yourself to yourself except as you remember yourself and then of course you do not believe yourself."

...I had to hit Wikiquote for the Stein. I fail at lit major.

[entry in the Grindeldore for Goats Blogathon Venture; sponsor me here!]