After years of operating solely in the shadows, a young man sits alone in a dimly lit studio apartment. The walls are lined with tattered newspaper cuttings and printouts spanning nearly 200 years of history, from topics ranging from Robert Oppenheimer, Rosalind Franklin and the introduction of the Statute of Secrecy. The slats of cardboard loosely covering the windows let in an eerie glow from the street lamps outside. Under one of these windows on a handmade wooden stool sits Vlagueis, Vlagueis not being his real name, but a name that would soon inject terror into Muggles and Wizards alike. Vlagueis stares into nothing, savouring the calm before the storm, he gets the mental image of a hurricane, causing destruction and death to everything in its path, and at its centre, at the very eye of the storm...Vlagueis, revelling in his serenity. A light from a passing siren casts a flicker on some of the articles on the wall, Vlagueis looks from a cutting about stem cell reseach to an anniversary piece on the second wizarding war and smiles to himself. It feels strange on his face like a mask hes never worn, he wonders to himself when the last time he was truly happy. Not that it matters, everything will change soon. Feeling suddenly restless he stands up, peels back some of the card in the window and gazes out at the people below, Vlagueis had never felt an affinity towards muggles had he towards the wizarding world, but he couldnt help feel a certain connection to them. He observes them scurrying about like hi tech ants, plugged into an artificial world, blindly following the flavour of the week. He almost feels sick, turning away from the misery he takes in the room around him, mould creeps up the cardboarded windows, heaps of scientific equipment mingled with dark arts tomes and artifacts litter the apartments few surfaces and behind the shabby wooden door is an intricately detailed map of the underground labyrinth that is Gringotts. He would need to leave here soon, it would not be safe for him anymore, he felt oddly attached to the decrepid old walls but they had served their purpose, and with his research complete it was time for him to spread his wings.
Changing out of his study robes Vlagueis glances down at his body, scars line nearly every part, purple colouring on his chest and needle marks, like little punctures cover his skin. Tracing his worn fingers over the wounds he wonders, has any other in history gone to the lengths i have? I have pushed the limits of both science and magic to the very brink of life and death itself, to the very limits of existance? His mind wonders to a young Tom Riddle fooling around with horcruxes, if he had the knowledge I have would he too had achieved the same results? If Gellert Grindelwald was born decades later would he too had succeeded? It matters not he decides, late was the hour and his trail of bodies and twisted failed experirments would lead back to him soon, for today he must rejoice... for tomorrow, is when the war begins.