A tea kettle just began to whistle and old Ned Salister awoke. He was napping in his armchair, wrapped in a warm, quilted blanket his grandmother once made for him long, long ago. He got up slowly and walked to the kettle, gently removing it from the stove and pouring the boiling water into a cup. There was a window right above the stove which Salister looked out of every time he approached the stove. It was almost like a ritual for him. Not once would he allow himself to ignore what the window had to show him.

This time, it presented a clear blue sky, with warm rays of August sunlight bearing down upon his small yard clad in young apple trees reaching towards the source of warmth. Salister smiled a kind, wrinkled smile and sat down at his small kitchen table, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He knew that the beauty outside his house was an illusion, oh he knew.

He knew that far away, in Europe, an atrocious war had raged, mowing lives like a sickle cuts wheat. He knew that in Germany, millions of innocent lives were thrown into pits and chambers filled with poisonous gas. His eyes closed shut and he tried to block it out, but he knew, he knew. A gentle breeze snuck through the small crack in his window and Salister shuddered.

"Hello Ned."

Sallister's coffee flew to the floor. As fast as he could, Salister rose up out of his chair and turned around, eyebrows raised in panicked furor, and lips violently quivering.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" his mouth spoke for him. He knew these questions were pointless and needed no answer.

"I've looked too long for you Ned. You have a book, you see, a book that I have been looking for for a very long time."

The man who spoke was tall and very handsome, though clearly in his late 40s, as it seemed to Ned. He was clothed in a handsome black long coat, a black velvet vest and a black necktie. His collar was raised, giving him a very ominous but powerful air. He had on odd shoes: black velvet with ornate designs, but silver plated at their nose. The tall man stood with his arms behind his back, calmly looking at Ned with bright orange eyes, his long golden hair, with streaks of grey, calmly resting on his shoulders. His voice was deceivingly soothing.

"I.. I don't know what you want from me. Please, please I am an old man, I do not want any trouble, please leave my house."

"My dear Ned, do have a seat and try to relax your nerves. I do not wish any harm upon you. I simply wish to find that book. You know which book."

Ned did know which book. An old rusty tome he found locked deep inside a small, odd-looking chest in the cellar when he was a small boy. He brought the book to his mother and her expression upon seeing the book was forever embedded into his memory. She delivered a sharp blow to his curious little face and snatched the book away. As the tears flooded his eyes, his mother shook him violently forbidding him from ever coming near the book again. He kept it there, in the cellar. When his mother died, he ventured towards it once more. Inside he found the most unusual markings, drawings, letters and descriptions. All of them were of a language he didn't understand. But the book gave him strange abilities. He could sense things he normally never noticed, like the sun rising over the horizon, the water just before it began to boil, the first drop of rain to hit the Earth. It was magic, he knew it from the moment he laid eyes upon it. But he feared to ever come near it again.

He had nightmares, terrible nightmares about dark magic and a dark wizard wielding a terrible weapon laying waste to his home, to the homes of his friends and family, and to the world in its entirety. It was a tall, evil but handsome and compelling wizard with flowing golden hair. This nightmare, that Salister had been running from his entire life, now stood before him.

Upon the realization, Salister's lips stopped quivering, and his heart-rate slowed. He stared in awe at what was before him. It was real. He knew all along it was real, that somewhere out there there was a dark and terrible man with an evil plot but he ran from it, shielded himself from it. He rain from the pain it caused him, from the pain the memories of his mother's manic reaction brought him. But he couldn't run anymore. Now there was nowhere left as he stared into the fiery orange eyes of Gellert Grindelwald.

"I.. I know who you are."

The man's lips slowly curled into a smile.

"I've seen you in my dreams! You are a dark, dark man."

"Yes Ned. I know you have. I have wandered your dreams and memories quite often. I've seen what troubles your sleep."

Grindelwald's voice soothed itself into Salister's mind. His muscles weakened, his senses dulled. The poor old man feebly grasped for something to hold onto as he felt his body giving way to uncontrollable weakness and fatigue. But Grindelwald did not cease his descent into the man's mind. His volcanic glare burned Salister's skull, blinding his vision. Salister slid slowly to the floor, shielding himself from the bright light visible only in his own eyes.

"Where is the book Salister? Where is it?"

The soothing voice now grew louder and angrier inside Ned's skull. The fire grew hotter and the light brighter. He felt as if his skull was split in two. There was no resisting this. How could he resist such pain? And that voice.. it ran across his burning skull like an insect, whispering and demanding.

"It's.. it's.." Salister could barely speak. He knew he was breathing his last gasps of air.

"Where? Where?! Where is the book Salister?"

The voice was now a loud growl. The fire spread to Ned's entire body. His lungs heaved desperately but each breath drew only steaming, ashy air. His stomach churned and his legs shook.

"Down.. below.. inside the.." Salister thought of the young apple trees outside his window and such an intense feeling of sadness overcame him that he momentarily forgot the pain. He didn't want them to perish. He wanted them to live and to bear fruit and to make the sunlight happy, letting it know that it didn't shine in vain. But now, all he saw were ashes. His tongue was not his own anymore, and he was master of his mind no longer.

"It is below the cellar, dug deep into the ground. The key to the chest is in my pocket." and then he drew his final breath and everything halted.

In a puff of light, the old man's body burst into flame. Slowly it burned in wide proud flames, giving a final farewell to the world that let him trod on it for 78 years, then withered into ashes.

Grindelwald watched on without moving a muscle. Then he walked over the to the pile of ash and reached into it, retrieving a small, rusty key. Turning, he made his way down to the cellar, key in hand. Reaching the very bottom, Grindelwald approached the center of the tight, damp area. Muttering under his breath, Grindelwald's eyes glowed for a moment then ceased. He took out his wand and pointed at the ground. Slowly parting the earth, a small chest rose from the ground and halted a few feet above the ground. Grindelwald inserted the key and turned three times. The lock clicked open and the lid flew back. His hands trembling, Grindelwald reached into the chest and withdrew a tattered old book.

"So many years.. so many. Can it be true? Have I finally found it?"

His heart was racing as he slowly opened and began to read the first words of the Finite Enchantment.