They say that there is an infinite number of parallel universes, each corresponding to a divergence caused by a decision or coin toss. Of course, those divergences rack up a heavy toll: where in one universe Brian Killian Robinson's coin comes up heads, in another the coin comes up tails, and in yet another he loses the coin down a drain. If it came up heads, in one universe that leads to him plucking up the courage to ask Johanna Bruce out on a date, whilst in another it can so happen that she decides to join an elite military unit and is sent off to war before he gets a chance to ask. Chaos theory, the infamous Butterfly Effect. Every time something happens, Fate tosses that damned coin, and anything can happen.
Tuesday, 8th of July.
Military base, somewhere near Osnabrück.
Rutger van der Linden runs down a dark corridor, throwing himself into a doorway alcove to avoid a gunshot. He pulls a thin stick from his trouser pocket, and taps it on the lock, which clicks open, and he slips inside, tapping the lock again. On the other side, a soldier grabs the handle and twists, but the door is locked. The Dutchman clearly can't have escaped that way, so the squad moves on.
Rutger sighs, happy to be alive. Then he takes a fist to the face and finds himself on the floor.
The heavily-built Sonderfeldwebel laughs deeply, cracking his knuckles. Rutger grabs onto the wall, and pulls himself to his feet. He can't let this upstart stop him. He jumps at the soldier, swinging for his face, but the German officer grabs the fist and throws Rutger to the floor, sending pain sparking through the young man's back. A glance around the room tells him that it's the sergeant's quarters: bedside table, lamp, bed, and a wardrobe. He sees his wand at the other end of the room, beyond the two metre mass of muscle that is currently destroying him bone by bone, then his eyes settle on a bayonet lying on the bedside table. He spits out a mouthful of blood and lunges for the bayonet, dropping into a roll and getting back on his feet.
"Das wird Spaß machen ..." the Sonderfeldwebel chuckles. Rutger slashes across him the chest with the rusted implement and his target stumbles backwards, then swings once again for the young Dutchman's head.
Fate tosses a coin.
In most universes, it comes up heads. In this one, it comes up tails.
Rutger instinctively dives left, and lands on the bed. His eyes shoot sideways, and he sees the officer's wand lying under the pillow. He grabs it and conjures an enormous rock, which causes the Sonderfeldwebel's head to cave in. He sighs heavily once again, having escaped defeat by a narrow margin.
Wednesday, 23rd of July.
Woodland, somewhere near Metz.
A black-clad figure grins devilishly. He knows that both sides are searching high and low for him. His mind wanders to the two operations, and he sniggers as he imagines the two leaders' faces as they realised what had disappeared from under their noses.
It was a simple plan really. Steal their stuff, leave a destination, and offer his services to the side that got there first. It was like a coin toss, but funnier.
The echo of Apparition alerts Lev Ivanov to his pursuers' arrival. He draws his wand elegantly from a pocket inside his trenchcoat, and sits down on a log, listening with amusement to the sounds of cracking twigs.
Butterfly Effect. In most universes, Sonderfeldwebel Hinrich Lancken arrives first and kills his less-prepared British counterpart.
In this universe, Sonderfeldwebel Hinrich Lancken's skull is crushed, three weeks beforehand.
A German soldier steps into the clearing, wand in hand, but just as quickly exits the clearing as a fallen log forcibly evicts him, sending him screaming into the forest.
A British soldier steps into the clearing, lowering his wand, and bows to Lev.
"Bonjour, my good man. How're things?"
Lev likes him already. His visitor isn't taking himself seriously. He replies in flawless English. "Better than the man you just killed, yourself?"
The soldier shrugs. "He had it coming to him. Nazi git," he then grins, bowing once again, "Corporal Lewis Clay, 8th Battlemages. And you are?"
The Russian sniggers. The corporal knows exactly who he is. "King George, of course."
"Ah, well, sorry to cut this whole meeting short, Your Highness, but the War Council wants to see you at your convenience."
Lev nods, and Disapparates silently. Lewis Clay rolls his eyes and activates his return Portkey.
Wednesday, 23rd of July.
Military base, somewhere near Buxton.
Lev Ivanov arrives in the room absolutely silently, the occupants not noticing his presence. They continue their discussion, staring at a table. On the table there is a map, littered with flags, pins and counters. The room is cold, with no decorations and only one door. The people, however, are a strange mix to be sure.
Two armed guards cover the door. There is a young, bespectacled woman wearing battle dress, a strangely curved dagger at her belt, shouting animatedly at an eminent looking man wearing the most ridiculous purple and pink robes. There is another woman, a good few years older, frowning at the map. The fourth is a man in full parade dress, medals on both shoulders and chest.
Lev analyses their appearance, and makes careful note of apparent weaknesses, before coughing lightly.
The guards yell and aim their rifles for his head. The younger woman draws her dagger and drops into a low stance, whilst the robed man simply turns, his wand having appeared in his hand without a movement. The older woman doesn't interrupt her map staring, whilst the heavily decorated man starts huffing and puffing most hilariously.
"Ah, Elbert Jenkins. We were wondering when you would finally show yourself," the map-reading woman mutters, "Elbert Jenkins. Sounds authentic. I'm sure the Germans have another name for you."
Lev grins, "You can call me Grindelwald. Gellert Grindelwald. And you are?"
"Lieutenant General Fiona South of the 3rd Battlemages. My companions are General George Washburn of some regiment or other, Sergeant Molly Pankhurst of the 8th, and Professor Albus Dumbledore."
"8th, Sergeant? The Corporal you sent after me wasn't too bad."
"Lewis? He's a promising young chap," Pankhurst nods, "We need more like him."
"Business, people," Lieutenant General South reminds them, "You've got our attention, Grindelwald; now give us back St Edward's Crown."
Lev reaches into a small pocket in his trenchcoat and pulls out the crown. He hands it to a guard, who just stares at it until South clicks her fingers. The guard leaves the room, whilst his companion lowers his rifle.
"So, what do you want?" South turns finally to look at him. The brown eyes hold frustration and anger.
"To help beat the Nazis."
Jaws drop around the room. South crumples to the floor with laughter, but Lev doesn't laugh.
"Bloody hell, he's serious," Pankhurst murmurs.
"Why? No, really, why?" the Lieutenant General asks.
General Washburn adds, "Thought you were all Nazi yourself."
Lev shrugs. "I'm too important to sit out. If I don't step in, this war will last at least another ten years. I want it to end sooner, so that society can become stable once again, for the greater good of all. I tossed a proverbial coin, and it came up Allies. You're in luck, ladies and gentlemen."
Dumbledore's eyebrow raises at that statement, but he says nothing. South nods, then turns back to her map.
"Alright, you're in. Welcome to the Allies. What do yo-"
"What, he's in, just like that?!" Washburn yells, pulling out his wand, "Why I could take the little bastard anyti-"
In about a heartbeat the man is separated from his wand, flattened against the wall and feeling a lot more sheepish than previously. Lev lowers his wand and pockets it once again.
"As I was saying before Washburn got his knickers in a twist," South smirks, "What do you need, Grindelwald?"
"I need a safehouse. Well, any location will do, as I can make it safe enough for my purposes, but preferably not too comfy. Oh, and with a good amount of space."
"There's an old munitions warehouse down in Dagenham that's currently free. Not comfy, but there's space. Will that do?"
"Perfect. I need a team of competent warriors. Not necessarily soldiers, I need people who can think on their feet and disobey orders if needed."
Pankhurst raises an eyebrow, "How many?"
"No more than ten. Enough for a proper assault."
"You are aware that our Battlemage divisions amount to approximately three hundred soldiers. Asking for ten is a tad extreme."
"In that case I may have to remove some people from prison, and recruit people from off the street," Lev grins.
South sighs, and nods, "Fine with me. What else?"
"Can I have Corporal Clay?"
"I hope you're not planning on pillaging my division, Grindelwald," Pankhurst frowns.
"Unless you want to join the Wondrous Organised Liberation Force too, he's the only one."
The Sergeant sniggers, "Wondrous Organised Liberation Force?"
"WOLF for short. Snappy, aye?"
Washburn rolls his eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."
Dumbledore gazes at Lev, and offers, "Would you have any need for a professor?"
Lev looks him up and down once again, then nods, "You are much more than a professor and you know it, Professor. Dressed more fashionably, you would make quite the hero."
There is a brief silence.
"What are your plans, Grindelwald?" South asks.
"You'll see soon enough, Lieutenant General. Keep your eyes open, and you'll see."
Wednesday, 23rd of July.
Warehouse in Dagenham, future WOLF headquarters.
There is much dust and debris in this dilapidated warehouse, but it is no match for the four mages clearing it out.
Lev Ivanov, Albus Dumbledore, Molly Pankhurst and Lewis Clay sweep the place clean and spotless within five minutes. Another ten minutes sees them transform one end of the huge structure into a set of small accommodations: there is a large messhall, a bathroom, twenty bedrooms and a library. Once the construction is complete and Lev has handed out instructions to each member of the newly created WOLF, he begins casting the multiple wards required for the complete security of the building.
Albus stares at the list of books for a minute, before Apparating off in search of the more or less common tomes. On the list are books as commonplace – though unpopular – as Wardbreaking Introduction or Combat Hexes, but also grimoires as rare as Breaking the Unbreakable: the guide to powerful curses. His mind wanders to the words the man had said: for the greater good of all. Could it be true that this strange and powerful man had the same thoughts as he?
Lewis wonders why he is being sent to remove a Squib from a Muggle prison in Manchester. He obeys the order, and returns later that evening with Kelly Hancock. They talk whilst they escape effortlessly, and after much goading he eventually discovers why Gellert needs her onboard. She gives him a saucy smile and he realises just how outclassed he will be as part of WOLF.
Molly Pankhurst is given the task of finding recruits that fit Gellert's strict criteria: tough, and capable of thinking on their feet. She pays a visit to an old school friend of hers. Brian Killian Robinson becomes depressed as Johanna Bruce, his several-year crush, decides to leave her job as a secretary to join WOLF at Molly's urging. Also joining the team are Lance Corporal Duncan Stuart and Victor Gautreau.
The eight of them meet up that evening for a briefing. Lev sits them down in a row of chairs in front of a blackboard, and smiles.
"Alright, welcome to WOLF. Some of you know each other already, but let's go round the table and make sure we all know who we are. I am known as Gellert Grindelwald, Elbert Jenkins, Louis Dupont, and many other names, but the one you shall use is my birth name: Lev Nikolaevich Ivanov. I graduated from Durmstrang Institute a good few years ago and – not wanting to boast – am the greatest wizard of the century.
"This rather bashful looking Corporal is Lewis Clay, previously of the 8th Battlemages, who has quite the proficiency when it comes to throwing trees at people," Lev chuckled, "And I'm looking forward to seeing what innovations he can come up with in armament. Will it be benches next, or armchairs?"
"Don't tempt me," Lewis sniggered.
"Next to him we have Kelly Hancock, our resident non-magician, who has a curious aptitude. Our dear Kelly is capable of punching you to the ground before you can even think of a spell. I would suggest than any of you doubting her capability run for the hills whilst you can, because this girl has reflexes and instinct to make me jealous.
"Sergeant Molly Pankhurst of the 8th. I'm wondering if she'll get through the war without demanding that Lewis call her 'ma'am'. I suspect she has had some training with the Ghurkhas, judging by the kukri she never seems to let go of, and she is a combatant to be reckoned with.
"Johanna Bruce. Johanna Bruce. Now this young woman, despite appearances, redefines the term 'ingenuity'. When researching her in the Ministry Archives, I came across a most curious Auror case involving her. She was accused of murdering a colleague who had sexually harassed her, but the Aurors were unable to convict her due to the lack of offensive spells revealed when they checked her wand. They only found a Protean Charm. One day you'll have to explain how you managed that, Johanna," the woman in question grins but remains silent, so Lev continues.
"The story of the next member of WOLF is rather simple, if my research has proven adequate. Lance Corporal Duncan Stuart is simply good at what he does. He was sent into battle as a one-man-squad. I'm happy to have him with us, because hey, I wouldn't want to fight this guy.
"Ensuite, nous avons Victor Gautreau. Architectural engineer by trade, he will be vital for most of our operations. I heard he has a history in architecture, but also in explosives. I mean, I can tear a building to the ground if I try hard enough, but this man knows how to tear the Houses of Parliament to the ground with nothing more than a silver spoon, a decoction of aconite and bezoar, and a graphite pencil.
"Last, but not least, we have Professor Albus Brian Wulfric Dumbledore. Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, this man is as dangerous as me, if not more."
"What do you mean?" Albus wonders aloud.
"The way you carry yourself, the aura you exude. You are power embodied, my good man," Lev smiles, "Now, our first operation concerns Fürstenfeldbruck. Does the name ring any bells?"
A/N: plot bunnies, which are delicious when roasted with lemon and rosemary. Apologies to any German speakers offended by my use of Google Translate. I'd promise to stop but I probably won't :)