Chapter Two

In which a young Auror trainee and an old war criminal pass an exam in physics

Terrified, Riddle was fighting against his constraints, furiously hissing incantations.

'Widerstand is zwecklos,' laughed Gellert 'That is, resistance is pointless. Horcruxes disturb the flow of the power inside the body, no wandless magic will work for you.' he sneered, seeing Riddle's surprise. 'Or course I know you have created them, I may be missing an eye but I am not blind yet, the horcruxes deform not only the soul but the body as well, you can easily spot a horcrux-maker if you know what to look for. How many, Tommy, have you created? Seven?'

It was just a guess but Riddle's shocked expression spoke volumes.

'It would be a interesting to slice you open and see what all that necromancy has done with your internal organs' continued Gellert with an enthusiastic tone 'I wonder whether it has THE side effect everyone gossips about...'

Riddle was both horrified and livid.

'What is a point of immortality in such a body, I wonder' smiled Gellert 'But back to business... Ulm. A lovely town in Swabia. Ulm, Ulmen, ulmus in Latin. It means an "'elm"', the tree of death and revolution, you see. Three boys were born there, all deadly. I am the first one. The second, a Muggle, was called Heriwini, Erwin in contemporary German. 'Heer' means an 'army', you must know that, your German is pretty good I must admit, though your accent is an insult to my ears... 'Winni' is an old word for a friend. 'Friend of the army`, what a lovely name, don`'t you think? And how well chosen, there must have been a Seer at his birth. No, I don`t mean Erwin the professor with his dead-yet-alive cat` he laughed `I mean the Erwin who shredded thousands of Tommys to pieces. I will shred just one.`

Riddle howled in rage, pulling at his chains, but they held.

Gellert would have loved to tease Riddle for hours but a good Swabian warrior did not torture prisoners and did not torment animals for fun and this 'lord' was something in between. Anyhow, Albus would not like a bloody show to honour him and, last but not least, Gellert should be careful with his magic, he needed it for the third boy from Ulm; it would be reckless to waste it for fleeting pleasure.

He conjured a green fire snake that slowly coiled around Riddle. The prisoner jerked in fear but the flames were not meant to inflict pain; the suffering of an already defeated enemy wins no battle and only an idiot would lose his first and last war for a moment of sadistic satisfaction.

The snake broke into green spheres, hovering in the air. Gellert smiled, pleased with the result. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, he could nearly smell the aroma of trampled grass, air electrified with curses, the stench of human and animal sweat... No, the reek of burning fuel, hot metal and scorched flesh.

'FEUER FREI!' he roaded. The spheres whizzed and bolted through the windows.

Riddle turned even paler.

'They... are looking...'

'They know already where to go.'

The prisoner was trembling uncontrollably.

Albus was right, the man had no heart and no guts. Gellert had learnt quite a lot about Riddle, Dumbledore had sent him letters sometimes, discussing his problems with the 'lord', knowing well that Grindelwald hated deeply anything that even remotely resembled Hitler... or rather Himmler and was thus ready to share his ideas regarding the ways Riddle could be subdued. Not that it brought much, Albus was dead and Riddle was rampaging through wizarding Britain. But he would not do that anymore.

'Tommy, by all brats of Loki, are you a dark lord or not?' snapped Grindelwald impatiently 'If you usurp the right to kill, accept that others usurp it as well. You are Angsthase, coward, like all sadists. You could follow the example of your compatriots...'

`We win wars, unlike you, Krauts`.

'And how many have you won, oh lord?' jeered Grindelwald. He could have cursed Riddle brutally for those words but a man sentenced to death had the right to say whatever he wanted, it was his last freedom. 'When our Muggles went to war, the ocean turned red, I have seen in with my very eyes. When the Heir of Slytherin went to kill a baby, a single Muggleborn was enough to stop him and she had no wand in her hand, I have heard. A Muggleborn, Tommy, she had no ancient artefacts to protect her son, she kept no Roman demons in the basement. She just refused to get out of your way and that sufficed. You see, Tommy, Muggle hearts are filled with such Inbrunst... fiery zeal. They fight like gods of war. I can hardly imagine a wizard carrying fifty pounds of ammunition on his back all night long... They keep fighting in Kugelhagel, when the sky rains fire and steel. With their primitive medicine, how can you even think of going to war? They are so defenceless against the machines they themselves created and yet they face them as if life were of no value. If they had put all that energy into something useful, they would be our equals by now. Oh, Tommy, don't look so offended. If we had joined forces for the greater good of us all, instead of avadaing one another down, we would be gods by now.'

.

Riddle began to quiver, the magical fire having reached his horcruxes and slowly consuming them. His personality started to crumble, showing deeper and deeper layers.

Grindelwald knew what he would see. Albus had discussed 'Voldemort' in his letters, expressing the opinion that Riddle was a psychopath, incapable of most feelings.

That could be but Gellert rather believed that Riddle, and his mother, were merely consequences of the social order they lived in.

Riddle, a low class kid, watching elegant automobiles with envy and knowing he can at best clean them one day. A ragged orphan, staring though shop windows to toys and sweets he could never afford.

Riddle with no father, a bastard, whose very existence was a shame, whose bloodline – or rather the lack of it – forced him to stay at the bottom of the social ladder for ever.

Was it so strange that he hated the world that condemned him to poverty, that humiliated him for what he had no influence on? If he were weak, he would use laudanum and gin to stone himself. But he was strong, he had magic, he wanted power and the world taught him that power is just the abuse of power and whims of a tyrant. The chauvinistic, fascistic, rigidly hierarchic and brutal Muggle world... The magical world was not much better, to be honest. An orphan with no name, no bloodline, no money and no idea about wizarding traditions could at best end up in a MoM office with no windows.

But Riddle was tough and cunning, and vindictive. He hated Muggles for their disdain. He hated Muggleborns because they reminded him of what he once was. And he wiped his boots with Purebloods because they had wanted to do exactly that to him.

And all that Muggle upbringing! Gellert had Muggleborn followers who told him how difficult it was to discover magic blindly, without being aware what it could be, what Muggles considered an aberration, a sin, a mental problem you could cure with a whip or a sedative. How horrible it was to be a mad freak.

And the wizarding world saw that and did nothing!

To add insult to injury, that Gaunt girl was really a joke of a mother. She preferred to die out of love for a man who disdained her than to take care of her son. By all wolves of Ragnarök, she was not a penniless squib with no name and no bloodline; many a rich wizard – Grindelwald as well - would finance her and her son if she agreed to marry him so that his bloodline would merge with the one of the great Salazar.

Riddle was no Voldemort anymore, this part of him had already burnt in the magical fire. He was just a toddler with sad eyes, seeing watching another set of potential parents choose another, normal child. This Riddle disappeared as well after a while, uncovering a baby that would not cry even if he was hungry and felt abandoned. Nobody would come and hug him anyhow, the employees of the orphanage would not take time for the kids;, they were always busy, always bustling. There were always too many unwanted children, there was never enough bread and coal.

And nobody cared. Albus came too late and tried to intimidate the boy. Dumbledore could encourage people to join him but only if they shared his views. He was either unable or unwilling to persuade the others. He could have won Merope, Tom and a half the British gentry – he had spent more time with the British wizarding teens than their own families! What a possibility to influence their mindset… Wasted.

Grindelwald stepped closer to Riddle, looking straight into the sad eyes of the baby.

'Thomas' he whispered 'That will not happen again, I swear. Thanks to the third boy from Ulm, it will never ever happen again. The prophecy about the boy born on the last day of July can be interpreted differently, less literarily. It was… It will be the last day of July. And then we will do the twentieth of July… We will blow that rotten world up, again and again, till we set it right. And if it does not help, we will nuke it, Thomas.'

Magic quivered, as the spheres returned, carrying the power they had ripped from the horcruxes. Gellert touched them one by one with the tip of the yew wand, sucking the magic in.

'Horcruxes disrupt the magical core' he whispered 'So that one can remove the magic from the body, when the maker is dying'.

The eyes of the Englishman went glassy. Grindelwald bowed his head and clicked with his heels the Muggle way, not to show his respect to Voldemort but to death, to little Tom…And what he could – still can – become.

Sure, he would love to chop his head off now and bring it to the grave of Albus. Dissecting the body would also be fascinating. Yet there was no time to lose and no unnecessary risk was to be taken.

As to blood-drinking… That would be foolish, who knew what elixirs Riddle had ingested to stay alive.

No, it was not the day for war pleasures; it was the day of duty.

'Azadeh' said Grindelwald 'It's time, let's go'.

'You have to do it alone' she replied 'But you must change your clothes, if you want to pretend to be a Muggle.'

'I have no idea about their contemporary fashion.'

'This is my job, Almani. Take a look.'

He had no idea that the library of Nurmengard could conjure Muggle fashion catalogues.

'Hugo Boss?' he raised his eyebrows 'Disguising as an officer is tricky unless you know in depth how their army...'

'Nowadays he dresses civilians' she explained curtly 'No, this colour does not suit you… Do you remember how to make a tie knot or should I do it for you?'

He managed a nice Windsor knot in just three tries which was not a bad result after so many decades.

'But, Almani, do not roam around as a Wehrmacht colonel when those Americans do the Barbarossa thing again. You got shot…'

'Oh, it was just a scratch' he smiled 'And it was a great place to hide, no Auror dared even look at Caen in those days.'

'But they could have killed you!'

'And what do you suggest? That next time I dress up as a cancan dancer? I could do the splits when I was young but…'

'But a colonel is…'

'A too low rank for me? Should I tell them next time I am the Desert Fox in person? Do you think they would then lower their guns and politely ask for an autograph?'

'Well, I assume they would try to capture him alive, Almani...'

Gellert rolled his eyes though Azadeh had a point. The higher your rank, the higher your chance of survival, unless you enrage your own superior...

'I will prepare something to eat for you. You should not Apparate with all that magic that is not really yours and the road is long. And, Almani, please, avoid Frankfurt, the airport there is giant and their aeroplanes are mighty. And leave the Auror Bureau alone…'

'And whom should I attack? The great-grandchildren of my enemies? I have not fallen that low yet.'

'And take a scarf. And do not fly too high, the air traffic nowadays…'

'Azadeh! I am over a hundred years old, not a toddler! I can even pilot a Muggle plane.'

It was a Doppledecker, a beplane,and he was no Red Baron, but he was a quite skilled indeed.

'The money is already in the car…'

'Money?'

'Muggle money. Your old dollars and Reichsmarks are not valid anymore, I assume. And please, do not talk to strangers, you never know whether the Aurors…'

'Azadeh…'

'And please don't…'

'Azadeh!'

'Let's go' she sighed 'You have to check the automobile, I have no idea about those Muggle machines'.

He smiled. The automobile, his lush, splendid cabriolet BMW 337. He sighed with nostalgia, thinking of the times when he had not bothered to open the door but simply jumped inside. The BMW smelled of leather, polish and freedom.

'And your violin' Azadeh reminded him 'But you should not draw anyone`s attention to you.'

'I will play only if they poke their wands up my nose' he promised.

He caressed the cold steel of the 'violin', smiling. Hitlergeige, the Hitler`s violin, on which he could play the infernal csárdás. The Muggle machine gun was bulky, heavy and clumsy compared to a wand but had a longer range than most spells and spat out a hundred bullets before the opponent could cast a single spell.

Grindelwald opened the door of his BMW and hesitated for a moment.

'Azadeh' he whispered 'If I fail, take the gold.'

'You will not fail, Almani.'

'But then… We may never meet… again. We may even become enemies.'

'Never.' she said firmly.

'I am not going to punch History in the face, I will show it what Blitzkrieg means' he hissed through clenched teeth 'Everything may… will change. But… You have always been my Azadeh, my Freedom. Even in 1945.'

.

The automobile slowly rose into the air; Grindelwald flew over the Lake Constance and followed the Rhine.

Everyday spells could be cast anywhere but the most potent rituals required more than wand-waving, they had to be performed where the lines of the magic field crossed. The pyramids were an obvious choice and so was Stonehenge but Grindelwald decided to restart where it all had begun.

The new Germany surprised him. The ruins and smoke were gone, the cities were bigger and rose higher than ever before. Grindelwald shook his head in disbelief, seeing highways full of colourful cars, big mansions, shining planes. Though he had read the Muggle press regularly, he had not imagined such an improvement. Germany was doing well, better. For a moment he thought to dump his plans down the Rhine and just fly, fly and enjoy the rest of his life, forgetting all the politics. After all, it all had ended well. It was the brave new world, it did not need Grindelwald anymore, it was splendid.

No. He still had some debts to pay.

He flew over Basel, then Strasbourg, then Karlsruhe. The Rhine meandered along steep slopes covered with wine farms – this had not changed – flowing past little cities and castle ruins. At Bingen Gellert rested for a while. He had to calm down his pounding heart, relax his tensed muscles. Ruhig Blut, easy does it.

Yet he feared the third boy from Ulm, he quivered thinking of the physics exam he had to pass. And Physics, unlike generals and kings, could not be fooled and knew no mercy.

He passed Koblenz, where the Rhine and Mosel merged; the last time he had seen it, the city was a sea of flames. Now huge bridges spanned the rivers, Muggle cars buzzed along streets and the horrors of the past seemed forgotten for ever.

He passed Bonn. The lights, car lights, street lights, city lights were irritating him. The nights he remembered could shine only with city fires and explosions. How could Muggles live in that flood of light? Could they still see the stars?

Finally, he saw his destination, der Dom zu Kölle, the black cathedral of Cologne, he braked so hard that he nearly hit the steering wheel with his nose – the church was shining like a giant Avada Kedavra. Only after a while he realised it was just green illumination, and laughed loudly, relived.

Five minutes later an elegant Muggle gentleman strode over the Hohenzollern bridge, heading towards the church. The violin, transfigured into a pen, was stuck in his breast pocket, just in case.

The square at the foot of the cathedral was bustling with tourists, commuters, protesters and performers.

Gellert passed by a group of Muggles protesting against fur industry. He was not in the mood to study the details but twisted his face in disgust catching the glimpse of the photos they showed. He had killed and skinned quite a few animals in his life, both with the wand and with the knife and he knew you did not have to inflict so much pain. And, by Hela and her kingdom, one did not have to make them smell the blood and hear the screams of other ones. He understood that one had to kill to live but such a cruelty, unnecessary cruelty… The world was not that beautiful, after all.

Another group protested against a dictator Gellert had never heard about, yet another one against a war… somewhere, he did not even stop to read their banners. Did it matter, anyhow? Prisons and chains, death and flames, they were still there, ravaging the planet. The world clearly still needed some improvements.

Next, he had to pass by a long, long queue, where people were waiting patiently though it was cold and windy.

Gellert became curious.

'What are you waiting for?' he asked an elderly Muggle in a cheap, worn-out jacket. The man eyed him wearily, noticing his expensive coat.

'This is not a place for such… dandy gentleman like you, sir' he sneered.

A young girl with a can for donations approached him and explained it was a foodbank for the poor. Grindelwald squeezed a yellow banknote into the can, earning enthusiastic thanks. Two hundred euro must have been quite a lot of money, he mused.

Suddenly, all that he had seen during the flight came back to his mind. All those cars, all those houses, all those machines, highways, ships, planes. Who possessed all riches, unimaginable for the man who had seen Germany in 1945 for the last time if people were still so poor that they patiently waited in the icy wind for a meal?

The world was not splendid at all. If he had been wiser, if he had not been an arrogant fool, it would have never happened.

'It will never happen again' he said with the voice that made people march into their deaths, singing loud, trusting him blindly, even if he had lost trust in himself long before.

He hesitated. Could he really undo the tragedy that had happened? Only fools would believe History can be bridled and tamed.

Controlling Muggles in a discreet way was out of question, he had no delusions regarding magical reign from the shadows anymore. The Nazi Germany alone had up to sixteen field marshals; he could not even imagine subduing that belligerent wolves-of-Ragnarök pack without enormous effort.

And that was just the marshals, what about all the other figures roaming the chessboard of life? A supposedly meaningless pawn can be promoted to a queen and strike from the shadows and no wizard, even a Seer, could predict every move of the game called History.

Moreover, he still had a Muggle problem to solve, here and now. The square at the feet of the cathedral was crowded, the neighbouring central train station unceasingly belched further people out and Grindelwald did not want to read an open air lecture in practical cosmology to thousands of bystanders. Sure, he was a hardened criminal but there were limits he still did not want to cross. If he failed, the church could explode which would mean…

`For the greater good, Gellert` she sighed, taking a toy tank out of the coat pocket.

The greater good had turned into lesser evil long ago but he could still avoid making the same mistakes. Gently, he put the toy on the cobblestones.

`Gespensterdivision` he whispered. The tank pulled away, joyfully buzzing and swinging it turret. Grindelwald smiled and headed for the stairs leading to the top of one of the cathedral towers.

He started to climb, holding the wand in one hand and his Luger gun in the other. He had to walk on foot, without magic. He had been exercising diligently, climbing the stairs of Nurmengard but still it felt like an eternity to reach the top of the tower. He kept his wand ready to curse, because the enemy could already be waiting for him, hiding just a few steps above on the narrow, winding staircase.

He might have been fooling the Aurors for decades in Nurmengard regarding his activities, but once he had escaped there was nobody else to hold the subtle illusions, so his captors were almost certainly aware of his absence already.. If the Aurors still had brains, they would definitely think about searching for him in Cologne.

Panicked screams penetrated the stone walls; the Muggles must have noticed his tank. He peered out of the window and snorted. The tank was enormous now, much bigger than any true tank could ever be. It stood in the middle of the square, ominously rotating its overgrown turret, then slowly crawled forward, its engine roaring and howling.

He noticed a flash of a charm. Splendid. The Aurors would be busy with the tank, the harmless decoy, and it would take them some time to stop it.

Time. There was not time to lose, he sped up. Ninety eight, ninety nine… This staircase was endless.

Taking the last turn he sensed a subtle magic wave, marking the presence of wizards and the curse run down his fingers instinctively.

'Fenriswolf!' he barked; a cloud of black smoke billowed out of the yew wand, twirled and stretched, taking the shape of a giant dog which bounded at his enemies.

It was a group of four teens, Auror trainees, judging from their cloaks. Strictly speaking they were not enemies; they were taken completely by surprise, obviously unaware of his little excursion from Nurmengard.

He smiled. This had not changed – magical youth still climbed the tower to play with half-legal spells, taking advantage of the specific magic field on the top. He was more amused than annoyed; after all, he had done it as well…

Still, he had to get rid of them but the wolf was certainly enough to make them run. They had no chance against the animal but they had the brains to realise it quickly and escape on the broomsticks they must have used to reach the top of the tower.

Gellert observed them quietly from the shadows, curious to see whether the Auror training was still on the level it had been in his youth.

Well, the kids were reasonably brave and clever; he would let them escape but…

Three of them had already flown away, the last one, in the blue cloak (Which would have marked him as a second year trainee when Gellert was young, ) kept the dog at bay, letting his friends escape.

Gellert had a clear shot, but lowered his wand. If he failed, it would be a waste to kill such a fighter. If he succeeded there was no point to murdering him anyhow. The young man cast a fire ball at the dog, jumped high, grabbing a stone pinnacle, pulled himself up, his fingers were about to close on his broomstick, that must have been that new model of the Firebo…

CRACK!

For a moment, Gellert could not believe what he had seen. The trainee in the grey cloak, already on his broomstick, had broken the Firebolt. The kid in blue, dazzled with the flash of the spell, loosened his grip, hit the floor and rolled right under Grindelwald`s feet.

The old warlock reacted immediately, or rather his magic flew by itself from his heart to the core of the yew wand, his lips shouting the Cruciatus curse out before he had realised what he was doing. The bolt of light hit the grey-cloaked trainee and he fell with an almost inaudible scream.

't equals the square root of two times s divided by g' he said calmly, looking at the young man, who, confused by the fall, clearly in pain, slowly kneeled up, supporting his weight with his left hand. It seemed he had broken his right arm. 'Now we will see how much you are worth, injured, betrayed, defenceless and alone.'

The trainee looked around trying to find the wand he had dropped when hitting the floor. Grindelwald was faster and stepped on it, not with the intention to break it, but slowly, with ostentation, demonstrating his power. Then he put up a few wards and ignited some magical lights.

For a moment, they eyed one another, the trainee in sheer shock, Grindelwald with a shrewd, cold glance of a general.

Gellert raised his wand slowly, theatrically, twisting his lips into a cruel smile. The young man was breathing nervously, shallowly, his healthy fist was clenched, but he kept silent.

't equals the square root of two times s divided by g' repeated Gellert calmly 'A simple equation to calculate the time of the fall. Assuming that Arschloch that had broken your broom got hit when he was hovering a hundred and fifty meters above the ground, as this is the height of the tower… That would be the square root of thirty… How much is it, my dear Auror trainee?'

The young man gaped at him in sheer disbelief.

'I have asked you a question' barked Gellert 'When I was young Aurors studied basic arithmancy and numerology. And old Grindelwald still can enforce… a lively dialogue, if he wishes so.'

His prisoner jerked.

`A bit more than five seconds… Herr Grindelwald. `

Gellert raised his eyebrows as the answer was correct and the trainee had not forgotten to specify the correct physical unit. Grindelwald knew how hard it was to think coherently under the boots of an enemy so he had not expected the ambushed and shocked teen to cope.

`So he stood no chance to survive` he said joyfully `Serves him right, in my humble opinion… And… By the way, what is your name?`

`Meçut.` His prisoner stared at him defiantly, as if expecting a blow. This surprised Grindelwald; for him there was nothing unusual in the name that could incite his wrath. It was a Turkish name, he supposed, though the young man looked rather like a Mulatto. Why should he cast a curse?

`Why did he do that?` he asked.

The cadet lowered his gaze and did not reply.

`A woman? No? Oh, don`t be shy, was the reason for your… argument, a man? Well, I have seen wilder affairs than that in the twenties in Berlin.`

The trainee was still silent.

`I am no Beria and Nurmengard has never come close to Lubyanka but still I am no pink Pygmy Puff.` continued Gellert. The young man turned even paler, he must have been a Muggleborn, a Pureblood would not understand what he was talking about ` You saved his life and he served you to me on a silver platter. Why?`

The prisoner sighed.

`You can see the reason, sir. You have been around not only in the twenties but also in the forties, right?`

`Oh, you mean you are not 'purely' white?' he sneered. `Neither am I, though hardly anyone believes it, looking at me. And I assume you are a Muggleborn to boot.`

The young man nodded. He was obviously too confused to lie and why should he try to conceal obvious facts, anyhow?

The new world was as mean, filthy and worthless as the old one, only Ragnarök could set things right. Mean, filthy, low! Grindelwald was not innocent but to stab someone in the back like that… To betray the man who risked his own life to protect you… To still consider him worthless, after what he had done… The world was ready to burn.

`Where are you from, Meçut?`

`Düsseldorf.`

`That was not what I meant.`

`My grandma was from Anatolia, my grandad from Texas. He was an American soldier, she worked in a factory in Cologne… He stayed here for her.`

`And he was black, I assume. No wonder he preferred to stay here` snorted Grindelwald. `And the other grandparents?`

` Russdeutschen, Herr Grindelwald.`

That explained his reaction to Lubyanka.

Grindelwald knew that time was running away but the trainee was rather interesting. There was still time for one more little… test.

` Meçut, will you duel me if I give you your wand back?`

`I will.` The answer came quickly, which Grindelwald liked. He enjoyed hunting big game, not rabbits.

`But I give you a fair warning; if you lose I will wipe my boots with you the hard Prussian way. I wonder whether you will beg mercy then. Or maybe… You will start crying right now?`

The prisoner was shaking. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and looked straight into Gellert`s eyes.

`I will lose; this is obvious` he whispered hoarsely `I am no match for you, Herr Grindelwald. And I know you can force me… to scream… to beg. But. Not. Yet.`

Gellert shook his head.

`I have posed this question to quite a few people` he stated `Out of pure scientific curiosity. But the answer you have given me was the wisest and the most sincere of them all. Usually I get a variety of insults regarding my… alluded personal preferences. Meçut, I am bored to death, maybe you will come up with some modern, creative invectives? Please? I am always keen to learn` he joked.

`Will you set me free if I do?`

Grindelwald roared with laughter. This is how a German warrior should be. This world still deserved a chance.

`Meçut, either you will be sentenced to a Kiss, or you will become a Minister` he smiled 'If I had a granddaughter, I would insist you marry her.'

With a few swift movements of the wand he repaired the shattered broomstick and the broken arm of his prisoner and then kicked Meçut's wand towards its owner.

`Verschwinde` he said `Get out of here and may the Norns spin the thread of fame and fortune for you.`

The young man stared at him, perplexed. Then, slowly, cautiously, he picked up his wand and, still eyeing Gellert suspiciously, grabbed his broomstick.

'Sir, you could…'

'Sure I can' hissed Grindelwald 'Keep our little… encounter in mind and think of it the moment you press someone with your boot against the floor. Get out of here, hold your mouth shut and do not try to play any tricks. Einmal ist keinmal, aber zweimal is einmal zu viel. I give the second chance but not the third, remember.'

Meçut bowed elegantly, jumped on the broom and left.

Grindelwald, satisfied, smiled. They would meet again, in a different time, a different place but this encounter would be repeated, over and over again.

But now it was time to pass his own exam. Carefully, as the examiner was Physics itself.

He treated physics with deep wonder and awe. Magic could be bent by pure willpower, sacrifice, love and passion. Physics calculated the Universe regardless of right and wrong, virtue and crime, love and hate. The Muggle world was cold, terrifying, merciless. And so he should act, blending out his hubris, his love, his remorse, his anger, his despair.

Nature cannot be fooled, it is only numbers that count.

He knew the equations by heart, all those tensors, imaginary numbers, elliptic functions… If he succeeded, all wrong could be undone, if he failed, may Einstein und Minkowski have mercy upon him.

The yew wand quivered in his hand, magic twirled and roared inside him, ready to explode. He pointed the wand at the window, covered his eyes with his hand and…

'Raumzeit!'

.

So, some history and language again.

The physicists:

The third boy is of course Einstein, born in Ulm.

Erwin with his undead cat is Schrödinger, ask Google if you want to know more.

And Mr Minkowski also messed up with space and time, but he never got as famous as Einstein.

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The war:

The second boy of Ulm, with poor dead Tommys... Rommel again.

The 20th of July (1944) – the date of the most famous attempt to send Hitler to hell. Yet the man was amazingly bomb-proof, he survived like a dozen of attacks.

Blitzkrieg. The English language uses the short form `blitz` but it would make no sense to Grindelwald. `Blitz` alone means `flash` or `lightning`. `Krieg` is `war`. So, altogether it was the `flash war` as it was based on speed and surprise.

`Gespensterdivision` or the `Spirit Division` (though `Wraith Division` would be more exact IMHO), the 7th Tank Division really existed… and was accused of using magic (Rommel again), due to its exceptional speed. As far as I know it still keeps the record of the distance tanks covered in one day under war conditions, so that the tanks popped up where no one expected them – like ghosts.

`Barbarossa` plan was also real but involved no Americans in France, ask Uncle Google for more.

Lubyanka was the infamous Soviet prison in Moscow and Beria was one of its most infamous interrogators. Not someone to read about in detail if you have kids.

Last but not least, Hitlergeige, 'Hitler's violin' was a machine gun.

.

And all the rest:

'Ulmen' means really an 'elm tree', and the city of Ulm exists.

'Raumzeit` is `spacetime` as Einstein named it.

`Tommy` was a 'Brit'.

The goddess Hela /Heli / Hell ruled the kingdom of the dead. And she was a daughter of Loki, not a sister of Thor, no matter what Marvel claims

`Azadeh` is a Persian female name and indeed means `freedom`.

`Russdeutschen` - `Russian Germans` are people of German origin who lived in the ex-USSR and moved back to Germany. Lots of people did that after the USSR dismantling.

Both they and the Turks are huge minorities in Germany and, to say it openly, not the most respected ones.

Thus Meçut would be used to the fact he is considered an unwelcome stranger, even if he was born in Germany and, if asked where he is from, he answers simply 'Düsseldorf'.

Meçut's origin makes him a perfect target for all racial prejudice existing in Germany. Grindelwald does not really FEEL that, though he may guess why it is so. Sure, he can follow why a descendant of an American soldier, black to boot, is not considered a real German, though the resentment against occupation forces was not that strong anymore in the time he met Meçut.

Yet the Turkish minority appeared in Germany after the WW2, when Grindelwald was not out there anymore, so that the clichés against Turks are not familiar to him and same applies to Russdeutschen. Thus Gellert does not realize immediately why Meçut thinks he will be cursed just for his name.