Disclaimer — Everything recognisable is JK's.
Prompts: (au) assassin, (character) Gellert Grindelwald, (object) mirror
A/N: I have no idea what this story even is. It wrote itself, I swear. I was just the medium.
Warnings: Character death, plenty of gore, hinted non-con. Pretty much everything you should avoid if you don't want an M-rated fic. You've been warned.
Bloodthirst
A Dark Lord who had conquered the world. The world bowed to his feet. Gellert Grindelwald, the terrible one.
But sometimes, being the all-powerful, mightiest wizard wasn't very fun. Gellert had a hobby, though, powered by a device his once-friend and later-nemesis, late Albus Dumbledore, had created to see his dead sister.
Stood in front of the very same device, Gellert let his fingers run along the ornate frame, his eyes seeking the words he had remembered a long time ago.
erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
One might think the Conqueror Supreme would desire even more power, might, or perhaps a beautiful girl. He had the first two in plenty already, and he had no wish for the third, thank you very much. Newt made for a pretty whore under the imperious, and Gellert took delight in each twitch of the younger man's lithe, delicate body under his own, stronger self.
What Gellert craved for was blood, and though he owned the world, it was apparently bad PR—it was a Muggle term Gellert had come to like very much for some reason—to go around killing random folk just to quench his thirst.
Gellert had watched himself doing what he really wished to in the mirror for so long, though, and in the end, he had created a spell to make it a reality.
It was a beautiful thing, really. The world of his own making, a mirror to the real one, except a fake Gellert Grindelwald didn't exist there.
He was the creator, and he was one.
Gellert let a grin cross his face. The mirror reflected it, and even to himself, he looked borderline insane. Perfect.
With a swirl of his wand and a muttered words—he preferred his spells small and sweet and strong—the mirror rippled, and Gellert walked through.
Across, Gellert gave himself a moment to appreciate his creation. Then, deciding to have some fun today, he drew a pouch from his cloak pocket and summoned a long, red strand of hair from the depths. Pulling out his flask, he dropped the strand in. With a tiny shake to the flask and a muttered 'Bottoms up!' he chugged the thick, predictably-white goo.
He felt his body morph and grinned. Polyjuice never failed to amuse him, and this particular form was too precious. He grip on his wand tightened, and Gellert apparated, no particularly location in mind. This was his world, and he wouldn't get splinched.
The next moment, Gellert found himself in a familiar place. The kissing gate of the graveyard stood to his right—this was a mirror world and everything was in opposite side; Gellert would have to remember that. How very amusing.
He let his feet take him along a familiar, if symmetrically opposite, path, coming to halt outside a pretty cottage. Sounds of laughter echoed from inside. Not for very long, though.
The door creaked when Gellert pushed it open. It never had when Gellert had been young, but the age seemed to have gotten to it. Someone called a name from inside; Gellert didn't bother to make it out.
A girl came into view, her back towards him, her hair a luscious golden. Gellert smirked. Having his own world was fun—he decided who lived and who died. At the sound of his footsteps, the girl turned. She was beautiful, Gellert thought, with her wide eyes and the soft curls framing her angelic face. He might have wanted her for his own, had he preferred the fairer sex. Alas for her, though, his heart had fallen for her elder brother, and Albus had betrayed him for her. Dead her.
All the blood in the world, and hers was the sweetest to him, now.
"Hello, little Ari, where's your mother?"
The girl's blue eyes widened further, impossibly. She remained mute, but her eyes darted upward, and Gellert chuckled. The girl shuddered at that and curled in on herself, and Gellert couldn't help but cackle.
Though he had let her live, her mind was still the same—broken, and beautiful. It delighted Gellert to no end, and what was this world for, if not for his amusement.
He made his way to where Ariana had pointed, taking the stairs two at a time, ignoring the repeated 'Who's there?' from Kendra. In a quick motion, he slammed the door to her room open and stunned her, loving the terrified, wide-eyed gaze in her eyes.
"I don't think you know me, Mrs Dumbledore. In another world, I might have introduced myself to you as your eldest's lover, had he been loyal, and had you been alive. Alas for you, though, this world is mine, and I'm here for something else."
With each word, and each step further into the room, her face paled even more. Gellert could hear Ariana rushing up the stairs, and if he timed it just right, he would get to see her lovely reaction.
His actions were quick and precise, coming from a long time of practice. A cutting curse popped her neck open like an attached lid of a box, blood gushing out. Just as Ariana's hand curled around the doorframe, her pretty face coming into view, Gellert let his hands stain themselves red.
Then, he conjured a straw. Muggles came up with beautiful inventions, really. Dipping one end into the largest hole he'd just opened up, Gellert took a long drink. And meeting Ariana's gaze, he winked.
Soon enough, the other girl would meet the very same fate.
The real world had taken all the people who had led to Albus leaving him for his version of "the greater good", and perhaps Gellert was not able to take revenge there, but he would murder each and every one of the people Albus cared for, over and over, even, if he wished so. Gellert Grindelwald was thirsty for their blood.