Hermione Granger did not feel like she was very special. Before she knew she was a witch, she was a gawky creature, scorned by peers for her love of books. Years of mistreatment by Umbridge and the Society had worn her down. In one thing though, Hermione knew she had a superpower : research. She loved reading and when she was on mission to investigate some obscure detail, she was relentless. After many hours of searching in the Hogwarts Library, she found the one and only reference to an obscurial. She needed to tell Harry.

He was nowhere to be found. Besides that Sunday morning, Harry Potter was rarely seen in the library. At mealtimes, he did not eat in the Great Hall, sneaking food from the house elves. Harry taught Defense Against Dark Arts to the fifteen muggleborns and a growing number of Hogwarts and pureblood and foreign students. That was three times a week, but Hermione didn't want to wait until the next class. She walked up to the Gryffindor Tower and a kindly portrait of the Fat Lady let her in.

The Gryffindor Common Room was a tall airy room at the very top of the tower. There were many large windows and even early in the night, you could see the stars shining. Next to a cozy fireplace, there were several comfortable chairs, perfect for reading. Nobody was reading though on Friday night. Students were playing Gobstones or Exploding Snap while others were arguing over quidditch. Hermione asked around but nobody, wizard or witches, had seen Harry Potter. Two redheaded twins told her that Harry had been annoyed at the constant attention and went somewhere private. Where that was, no one knew.


Hermione was frustrated. She had found a clue but no Harry. She went back to her room, and complained of her troubles to Crookshanks. The half kneazle looked at her, and realizing that he was not going to get either sleep or food, snorted, and got up. Crookshanks led Hermione to the Owlery where he promptly woke a sleeping Hedwig. After quite a bit of squawking, Hedwig seemed to sigh and flew out of the room. Crookshanks with Hermione trailing behind followed the owl to a wall on the seventh floor with a large tapestry of dancing trolls. Hedwig stopped there, and both the owl and Crookshanks looked at Hermione expectantly. She had no idea what to do. All she wanted was to find Harry, and suddenly a door appeared in the wall.

Hermione opened the door. It was a large room, filled with cushions, bookcases, and a desk. There was a single hammock decorated with Gryffindor colors. In one corner, there were training dummies and some muggle exercise equipment.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" asked a sweaty Harry Potter, stripped bare to the waist.

"Eeek" said Hermione, as she turned her eyes away. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing magic. Advanced curses on the dummies."

"Do you always do it half naked?"

"I was alone. No one has found the room before. At least not when I am here." Hermione peeked through her hands. Harry had put on a shirt and applied a few grooming charms. "I have covered myself." said Harry with a chuckle.

Now that his chest was no longer distracting her, she found her purpose. "I found something, on obscurials."

"Really? That's great."

"In 1927, there was an interview in the Prophet. Newt Scamander claimed he saw an obscurial in New York City."

"Newt Scamander. Didn't he write Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? But there is no mention of obscurials in that book."

"Your mother told me sometimes the Ministry forces newer editions to censor ideas."

Harry scratched his head. "What edition of Fantastic Beasts do you have?"

"The Fifty Second Edition, published in 1991."

Harry turned to his book case. "I have several early editions of books. They were given to me by my grandparents and Uncle Arcturus." Hermione perused the shelves. Harry had a first edition copy of Hogwarts: A History! She would have to borrow that immediately. "Ah, here. First Edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,1927."

Harry and Hermione eagerly opened up the beautiful leather bound copy. Hermione noticed the publisher. "Obscurus Books. He named his publisher Obscurus."

"So he did. That's odd. The publisher in the later books is Hogwarts Press." Harry continued. "Look, the original copy does have an obscurial. Right between Nundu and Occamy."

Hermione read the description. "Obscurials are misunderstood. They should be pitied, and not feared. Young witches and wizards subject to persecution and magic suppression can develop an obscurus."

"So this Newt person encountered an obscurial, but then was forced to cut the entry. Hermione, this is brilliant." Harry hugged the shocked muggleborn. "Let's talk to Newt Scamander."


The next morning, Harry and Hermione took a port key to a magical village in Dorset, England. The latest edition had said Scamander had retired here. They had both editions of the Fantastic Beasts so they could confront the magizoologist about his knowledge of obscurials. They only knew which village he lived in though and not his address.

"Do we know anything more about this Newt Scamander?"

"Not really. He attended school with my grandfather, Charlus, but they were in different houses."

"So, how are we going to find him?"

"Simple. we just need to find the largest concentration of fantastic beasts. He loves magical creatures." Harry took out a money pouch as they walked. He threw silver stags on the ground as they walked.

"Harry, I know you are rich but…"

"Just wait." Harry hushed.

After a minute, a black haired fluffy creature with a long snout popped up, and greedily placed the stags in its belly pouch.

"It looks exactly like a platypus." Hermione said.

"It is a niffler. People use them to locate treasure." Harry quickly cast a tracking charm. He then showed his empty pouch, and the niffler harrumphed and disappeared. "Once a niffler gets treasure, they rush to bury it back in their burrow." "So we will just follow the charm to Newt."


Harry and Hermione tracked the beast to a ramshackle house on the water. While it had a lovely view, it was quite old and small.

"That's odd. The trail has disappeared. The last signal is from the house." said Harry.

The two knocked on the door. An elderly wizard, tall, thin with tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes answered. "Yes?"

"Newt Scamander?"

"Yes?" he said.

"I am Harry Potter and this is Hermione Granger. May we come in?"

Newt offered both kids a cup of tea. The house was much nicer insider, although it was still small. There were many wizardling photos of fantastic beasts scattered around the kitchen and a desk with copious amounts of notes. It was clear that Newt was still a practicing magi-zoologist.

"Mr. Scamander?" asked Hermione.

"Call me Newt."

"Where do you keep the fantastic beasts? This house is too small to hold them."

Newt looked at the two young students. They didn't look like representatives of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures so he decided to trust them. He pointed to an old fashioned leather suitcase with metal buckles.

"You are the boy who fought the obscurial." said Newt.

"I didn't fight it. I tried to talk to the boy." said Harry.

"What boy?" asked Hermione.

"There was a boy in the obscurial. Brown hair. Didn't you see him?"

Hermione looked gobsmacked. "No. All we saw was a dark cloud."

Newt got excited. "Are you saying you saw the boy in the cloud? That's remarkable. Usually it takes one form or the other."

Harry replied. "Yes. He looked quite unhappy."

Hermione interjected. "Mr. Scaman — Newt. Can you tell us more about obscurials? You met one in 1926, and you describe it in your first edition."

"And you are wondering why it disappeared in the other editions?" Newt said astutely.

"Yes, sir." replied Harry.

Newt got up from the table and paced. "The Department of Magical Creatures didn't want me to mention obscurials at all, but if I did, they demanded it would be a Class 5 Creature, a known wizard killer, like a basilisk. I argued that obscurials could be treated more kindly, and then they might not be harmful. The Department refused to accept that."

Newt continued. "In 1926, I went to New York to run an errand. There was a no-maj, a muggle, running The New Salem Philanthropic Society. She hated wizards. There was a boy who was adopted by this no Maj. She abused him. He became an obscurial."

"What happened to the boy?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. I tried to help him, but there was a terrible attack. And then he disappeared."

Harry thought about Nurse Dumbledore and the vision of his own beatings. He asked. "Sir, what makes wizards into obscurials? For 70 years, there have been no other sightings."

Newt sighed, "It is a difficult topic, one that many wizards refuse to talk about. Some of this is guesswork. First, there must be real abuse - physical and mental. Second, the wizard or witch must have be somewhat powerful. A weak wizard can't create a strong obscurus. And finally — the Department refused to let me publish this. — I believe the obscurus is a magical infection. It uses the wizard's magic as fuel to grow."

Hermione gasped. "But if it is an infection, that means it can spread?"

Newt replied. "Yes, that's why wizards don't speak about it. I think an obscurial can infect another wizards. Anyone who suffers could develop an obscurial."

It was a stunning explanation. Magical illness was often considered easy to cure, and really quite a joke. "How do you know so much, sir?" asked Harry. "You only saw this obscurial briefly."

Newt decided to trust the two kids with his dark secret. "Come with me." He opened up the extraordinary world of his suitcase. Even Harry, who had grown up immersed in magic, was astonished by the herd of graphorns, the half a dozen of grown occamies, and a pair of huge erumpents. Hermione was awe struck by all the creatures, large and small.

"This way." Newt led them to a barren cold area of his suitcase.

Harry and Hermione saw a small dark cloud, pulsating in a sac of clear air. "Is that an obscurus?" Hermione asked.

"Yes." Newt gingerly stroked the bubble, and then cast an Atmospheric charm, and snow fell gently on the creature. "She likes the cold better. It is strange because I found her in Sudan. A young girl beaten by her village because she was a witch. I couldn't save her — she died when she was 8 but I preserved the obscurus. I think she is happier now."

"So obscurials can be saved?" Harry said.

"We can only hope, Harry."

—-


Seven hundred miles away, a very different wizard worked at what his life's project had been - dark rituals that affected the soul. There were no photos of playful or misunderstood beasts but tomes of ancient magic, alchemical apparatuses, and summoning circles carved in cold iron dust. Here and there, a few creatures writhed and whimpered, hoping to escape the fate of being rendered into potion components. They were silent though because they did not want to attract his attention.

The wizard was building a cage, the size of a crystal ball, of silver and iron. The structure was finished but he had not finished carving runes on the bars forming the latticework. There was no door on the cage, for the wizard expected that anything trapped in the cage, would never escape - certainly not before it served his desires. He was using a wand of ash and basilisk tooth but he did not hold the wand nor did his feet touch the earth. The wizard was a ghost and any physical object would pass through this spectral form. It would took an immense amount of concentration and magical ability to manipulate wands and other objects through sheer willpower. It had taken the better part of a year to forge the cage. But Gellert Grindelwald was a patient man, fueled by decades of hate, after his untimely death at the age of 19.

At Durmstrang, Grindelwald had created a horcrux, using an ancient Book of the Dead, after he had murdered a pureblood wizard that had challenged him. He claimed it had been a spell duel but many were suspicious. Even then, his reputation evoked fear in teachers and students alike. After he died at Godric's Hollow, Grindelwald had slowly returned but as an ironic jape to his necromantic horcrux, not as a corporal body, but an undead spirit, unable to fully harness his magic. Even worse, he had foolishly stored the horcrux at his school, and the wards prevented him from accessing it. He was condemned to a shadow life, stalking the school that expelled him. Only recently, in the past decade, with the help of accomplices, had he managed to free his horcrux, and study the rituals and sacrifices needed to give him his full power.

None of this was known to the other denizen in the magical laboratory. Credence Bones was shaking, suffering from the horrid pain of being an obscurial and the ripping of time that had transported him to a world seventy years in the future. The troubled boy was confused and had no idea where he was or how the wizard, robed in black and red, controlled him. He only knew that this Grindelwald could reduce the pain, even if temporarily.

"Please." he begged.

The wizard summoned a bubbling elixir that his follower had brewed. The potion was beyond his ability but it would deaden Credence's agony for a few hours. It also made the obscurial more susceptible to his influence. After the boy drank, Grindelwald continued his education.

"Do you know why you are in pain?"

The boy shook his dead.

"You were beaten and abused by muggles. They hated you for your magic because you are a wizard, Credence. A powerful wizard meant to rule your lessers. And do you know why they could beat you?"

Credence Barebone again shook his head, mesmerized.

"The wizards abandoned you, Credence. They were fearful, kneeling down to hateful muggles. They would rather scurry in the dark, hidden to the world, refusing to confront weaklings that know no magic. We can change that Credence. We will get revenge on both the wizards and the no Maj scum."

"Will I learn magic?" The boy asked eagerly.

"Not yet. Have you practiced your mental exercises?"

""It hurts." the boy whined.

"Show it to me."

Credence reached inside his mind and projected. Even as a ghost, Gellert could feel the pain and suffering. He could feel being kicked, and whipped, and starved. He could feel the ferror as the boy heard his mother walk up the stairs, the fear the boy had that his siblings would be abused, the desire to die. Gellert laughed inside. Perfect. If this could disturb him, what would it do to the living? And particularly to the children of blood traitors.

Gellert reached his hands out to Credence, like a prophet to his followers. "The greater the suffering, the greater the magic. And you have suffered so very much, my friend. All greatness is born from pain."

"We have to go Credence. It begins today." Gellert Grindelwald picked up the cage.


In the forest next to Durmstrang, a line of six young boys hiked behind their strict but fair teacher. They were ten years old, and in the next year, they would attend Durmstrang like their brothers and fathers before them. Even in the cold, for it was nearly winter, they wore thin red shirts, brown hiking shorts and long red socks, following the proud tradition of roughing it in the great Norwegian outdoors. They used warming charms so roughing it was a relative term.

"Let us sit down to eat our snack."

"Yes, Mrs. Solberg."

As they ate and drank, the children gossiped about quidditch and school, but returned back to the favorite topic - the Triwizard Tournament. The center of attention was a younger boy, broad for his age, with brown hair and brown eyes, who insisted that Durmstrang would win. After all, his brother was the Durmstrang champion.

"But what of the other schools?" jested his friends.

"Victor is the best dueler and flier at Durmstrang. There is no way he can lose." Magnus Krum said confidently. Clearly, reports of the first muggleborn class had not filtered back to Norway.

"I hear the champion from France is a veela. Perhaps she will mesmerize your brother." Magnus knew his friends were merely ribbing him. They all liked his older brother, who despite appearing surly, was friendly, or at least as friendly as a international quidditch star could be.

Magnus rose to the bait. "Impossible. Victor will be the victor!"

They laughed at the juvenile play on words. Just then as Madame Signy Solberg gathered the picnic blanket, the temperature dropped sharply. Solberg took out her wand with caution and ordered the boys up.

A foul black cloud descended on them, whipping the wind into such a frenzy that it was difficult to hear anything. Mrs. Solberg cast a Protego to protect her charges but the obscurial shattered it, sending her reeling. She cast more hexes at the cloud, but either her aim was poor or the obscurial shrugged off the spells. She was about to order the boys to run back to the castle, but many were petrified with fear. She had to make a stand here. She faced the obscurial about to cast her most powerful hex when she was hit in the back with a reductor curse. As she fell dying to the ground, a wizard encased in black strode up to her. He took off his dark hood, and she saw his gleeful face. He levitated the cage over her and aimed his wand at her broken body.

"Leave the children alone. Who are you?" she asked.

"Gellert Grindelwald. You should be happy, Madame. Your death will be the first to serve a new world." He killed her with a green curse. The soul of Signy Solberg rose, and instead of departing to a deserved rest, was drawn shrieking into the silver and iron soul cage.

The cage glowed a happy red. The energy built up as it devoured Signy's soul and magic.

"Credence, project your memories."

The obscurial stood among 6 frightened boys, huddling in the shadow of their teacher. Credence touched his fingers to his head, and then, all his ghastly experiences flooded out, and the boys witnessed the agony of the obscurial's life. A screaming shrew of a woman beat them without mercy, for hours on end, day after day. Any positive association with magic was replaced by fear and dread. The boys passed out from the pain with Magnus Krum being the last to fall.

The soul cage sent ripples of energy into its creator. Signy Solberg was not a powerful witch but even a few morsels of magic pleased Grindelwald. After all, she would only be the first of many. His face was flush with blood, and with a little difficulty, he gripped his wand in a now semi solid hand. He was still a shadow but one with substance. The cage would need to consume more wizards and more powerful ones before he fully returned.

He turned to the six boys lying on the ground. Grindelwald had many gifts, and one was the ability to see magic more clearly than others. He could see the darkness forming inside them, the faint traces of the obscurus spreading in their bodies. It was a beautiful sight.

Grindelwald thought about the energy trapped in the six boys and developing dark blots in their magic. They were still too young and innocent to provide much sustenance for the soul cage. Older students and adult wizards, skilled in Dark Magic, would provide more fuel for his return. The ten year old boys would serve better as obscurials, terrifying muggles and magicals alike. Perhaps he would harvest them after they served their purpose in the tournament.