A/N: This is the Grindelwald idea I had out of nowhere. Review if you want some more.
He had made a mistake. It was reasonable to make a mistake from time to time. It is the natural order of things to believe that you are correct in your decisions and actions, when in fact you are quite wrong. When the previous actions you took have a serious impact on current events. However this was the biggest mistake he had made as of yet. Nuremgard was full. There was no more room in the dark monstrosity that was the Dark Lord's prison. Thus, it was quite reasonable that he would take no more prisoners.
That was the mistake.
His greatest weapon. Fear and deception. He did not have the powerbase to control all of Europe at the flick of a wrist, but the whispered words into his enemies ears, and his open displays of power at every opportunity had shown his enemies that he was unstoppable. Unbeatable. Even Albus Dumbledore had refused to meet him in open combat as of yet.
But he had made the mistake of being too powerful. He grew too fast and expanded his power base too quickly. Easily being noticed by the rest of the world. And the fear was replaced by a determination that could liken itself to the most willful dark wizard in his army. As Hitler was pushed back, Grindelwald was stopped at a standstill. Fronts only moved after heavy opposition, and Grindelwald needed to be there to make any significant impact. Wizards from America, England, France, Poland, Russia, and rebels and spies within Germany, Italy, and Balkans had allied together in the greatest show of force the light side had ever seen since the time of Merlin himself.
As the dark wizards committed more 'atrocities,' the rest of the world became more determined to end his reign of power.
Thankfully, the wards were holding in place, the last thing this battle needed was muggles on top of the burnt-out French countryside.
Sidestepping a particularly nasty spell, Grindelwald was pulled back to reality. The ash and sulfur smell rooted itself firmly into his senses, remnants of past explosions. Streaming lights flying back and forth lighting up the dark battlefield. The light wizards weren't holding back, it had been agreed upon that lethal spells were authorized to all aurors fighting in the war. One couldn't determine which side was which just based off of the spells flying from the end of their wands.
A line of wizards in black cloaks with beads of sweat trailing their foreheads were holding up shields as the wizards behind them flung a medley of spells in the general direction of the enemy. A particular dangerous burst of flame launched itself into the fray, morphing itself into a collection of dragons before crashing into the enemy ranks.
But as time wore on, slowly the shield wizards grew weary and had to reflect instead of blocking, opening up attack opportunities, and cutting down the wizards behind them.
Dispelling the disillusionment spell around him he calmly stepped up to his battle-line, not impressed with their strategy, nor their power to fall so easily to light wizards.
"Grindelwald!" "It's the Dark Lord!"
It was like as if his army had suddenly found a supply of pepper-up potions, able to recast their spells with more vigor. Instead of looking nearly hopeless as they had before, they looked assured of victory now, where it wasn't possible before. It seemed to have the opposite effect on the pitiful light side. Even over the sounds of continued battle, he could hear their screams. Their worry, and hopelessness. He thrived off of it like all dark lords before him did as well.
"Oh God, He's here!"
He took a step past the shield line. Then another, picking up his stride as he calmly walked across the battlefield, point-reflecting spells away when they came across his path.
"Lord! It isn't safe!"
"You will find that it does not matter."
The soft ridges of elder wood on his wand soothed his thoughts from the chaos of the path. There would always be order. A way through the path to enlightenment, to destiny. Even if the path was riddled with death and despair, he, Gellert Grindelwald, would find a way.
The battlefield quieted as his own troops stopped firing for chance that they hit their leader, as the light side looked on in awe, some even turning and running at his advance.
His black, military boots crunched on the burnt and blackened ground. Glass formed from the heat of fiendfyre cracked and shattered under his stature. The ash that fell from the sky coated the top of his hair like small flakes of snow, and wind blew dust across the ground.
"You will pay for your crimes!"
He seemed to be an American wizard, judging off of the Yank accent and the fact that he wore a suit into the middle of a battle like only the most arrogant of American Aurors would do. He had stepped forward past those who stood beside him, and had raised his wand pointed directly at Grindelwald.
A smooth voice responded, "And what crimes are those?" A small chuckle left his lips at the audacity of this man. In the middle of a battlefield, talking with the enemy as if he were playing chess.
"You've killed thousands! Exposed our society to muggles and threatened our way of life, the way we've lived since Merlin!"
It was convenient however to have a discussion with the enemy. It gave him time to observe them. Split into groups of 6, they seemed to have divided themselves into each country. Even when working together, they could do little more than claim the same side. Pathetic.
"And how do you suppose you will stop me?"
The man seemed to splutter at that. He was now standing just a small distance away now.
"I will duel you! No seconds, to the death. And when I take you down, you will pay for your crimes."
A smile spread across Grindelwald's face, striking fear into those that surrounded the audacious man. How could a smile so cold mean anything good?
Grindelwald stayed silent for a moment. "You have forgotten, this is war."
The wand was ready before he even began to fire it. The Deathstick, true to its name, was ready to reign hell on his enemies as he prepared himself to strike. This was the power only a dark lord could boast. The power that made his enemies cower in fear. The power that even Albus Dumbledore feared since the very beginning.
It took only a second and a thought and Grindelwald's magic shot out of the Elder Wand consuming where the outspoken man had once stood in hellish green fire that consumed all in its blast radius. Not even the ash was left as Grindelwald turned to another. Letting out another quick burst of energy he spun to his left, firing off curses and destructive magic at every opportunity. It was not nearly 20 seconds before he had fell what enemies had stood foolishly close to him.
Taking a single pause to assess the situation, he locked his eyes onto his next opponents, just as his army charged up from behind him. This was true power.
Snapping off another set of curses he quickly dispatched a pitiful excuse of French Battle-Aurors, moving onto another grouping of American wizards who barely put up a fight as they were burned alive. Skin melting off their bones as they screamed for the pain to stop.
Expelling the entrails of the closest Brit, then sawing in half a traitorous German. The enemies turned and ran. Noticing a detachment of his own that were suddenly brutally cut down. Quickly apparating to the bloody location, he noticed a man of legendary status, Henry Potter.
"Lord Potter, it seems your wish has finally come true."
The man looked tired already. His black hair ruffled up in nearly every direction as sweat dripped down his forehead and onto his nose. Blood smeared against his temple, while holding his left arm with his wand hand. This would be the perfect time to take out one of his powerful enemies. Most of the aurors were pitiful excuses for wizards when it came to defense and war. Not ready for simple combat. But Lord Potter? He was a legend of a man, using ancient Potter family spells that none could hope to understand to slay his enemies.
"Grindelwald. Your reign of terror ends today." The man truly seemed to believe it.
"I must, of course, decline. How's Fleamont?"
Suddenly, Lord Potter's eyes lit with burning fire as he looked upon Grindelwald in rage. Striking into a formidable stance, he drew back his wand and hurled curse after curse towards Grindelwald.
However, the wand was ready, slinging it with pinpoint accuracy, reflecting the spells into Lord Potter's hastily raised shield, nearly shattering it under assault. A quick burst of power flung towards Potter, but he swiftly side-stepped it, recieving a burn from the heat as it glanced him.
Cutting curses and powerful blasting curses were sent Grindelwald's way, yet his shield held true, absorbing any coming his way.
"I regret, Lord Potter, that I must end this, I have to return to the front line."
"It will not be that easy."
Dodging the most recent set of spells sent his way, Grindelwald arched his wand into the only movements he still needed after having power for so long.
"Avada Kedavra" The green spell left the wand rapidly heading towards where Lord Potter was dodging into to avoid an entrail-expelling curse at his previous location. Yet before reaching him, Potter suddenly disappeared into thin air, with anti-portkey and apparition wards still up. The Elder wand vibrated suddenly in his hand. As if excited or happy, almost as if it was waiting for something, or a purpose.
A gasp left Grindelwald's lips.
"Peverell... Potter."
So that is where the cloak has been all this time. It will not be long Lord Potter, I will soon have my hallow.
Spinning on the spot he returned to his front lines, where blood poured out into the broken ground and maimed and disfigured bodies lay the ground where light wizard after light wizard had fallen. Each body wearing a darkened cloak and the triumvirate of hallowed power on their shoulders.
If Lord Potter is here, then it is likely that the rest of The Order is as well. It is no matter, they will fall before the Elder Wand and my power.
"It is time to call in the my enforcers. Vollstrecker"
A series of cracks surrounded him as his most loyal appeared, donning battle-robes and suited for the most honorable for battles, ready to finally end The Order.
"Follow."
The French auror shook trembled with fear as the choking presence of the Dark Lord seemed to surround him.
"Oh God."
A single spell. Gone.
He only took but a single glance and they were all dead. Every last one of them. How could someone match such power? How could one kill such evil, such darkness, such taint? He was unstoppable.
They were all dead. And then Grindelwald would find him too. He had been drafted into it. He was only a Hitwizard, enough to stop a theft, but to face down dark wizards and lords? How were they even supposed to fight such power. He had trained his entire career to be the best, and still such power. How could one fight it all?
Peeking out of the ruins of a small shack, he watched as wizards in green and blue fall to curses he couldn't even identify, yet stunk of dark magic. An Empathic on a battlefield, feeling the horror and pain of every person he died. Feeling the pleasure as if he was striking down his own brothers. Gaining lust almost sexually from the power that came from darkness.
But suddenly, a glaring beacon of light appeared. Ripping itself through the wards, dispelling the anti-apparition and portkey wards, allowing light wizards to pour in as reinforcements.
"My boy, let me get you out of here." A wizened voice seemed come with the beacon of light that this French Auror could not understand.
"Portus" and he was gone.
Grindelwald could feel it coming before it even happened. Feel the unweaving of the wards before he could do a thing about it. The previously noxious battlefield, filled with darkness and horror, was replaced with a waring state of light and dark. In a second the tide of battle swiftly changed. The light wizards suddenly stood up straighter without their own accord, their magic grew stronger and replacing the desperation and despair with assuredness of survival.
His enforcers fell around him, killed by killing curses and other lethal spells. The Dark Army had fallen and he could not easily retreat.
The wand in his hand seemed to twitch of its own accord. Grindelwald knew what this meant. The next master of the hallow had been decided.
Albus Dumbledore was here.
A/N: If you guys liked it or want some more of it, just shoot me a review. I like the idea of a Grindelwald story, and I have a rough idea that I have sketched out for now.