And I guess this is where the fic starts for real. For all those who took interest in the premise and are reading up to this point, thank you very much and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Nothing else to say, but to say that this is the real start for Grindelwald's ascension as Marx. I hope you all like it and as always Leave review with your opinions since it helps an author to grow. Thank you and have a great read.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its characters belongs to J. K. Rowling and its respective publishers.

His name is Maximillian "Marx" Arcadia.

His mother is Nemesis Arcadia, a witch;

And his father is Rohan Jones, a muggle;

When he was born when his mother, a Hogwarts Dropout, was in the ripe age of 17 in 1998, the medics noticed that unlike other babies, he did not cry, he did not wailed, only stared into space, as if his existence itself has become an enigma…

At the age of 5, young boy Marx started to present signs of magic, and even after the reveal that his mother, a magical baker, was a witch, his father, a police officer, did not falter in the slightest and stayed by his wife's side. Marx had an uneventful, happy, wholesome childhood, even more after the Death of [You-Know-Who]…

By the age of 11, he received his Hogwarts admission letter and so, after his buys in Diagon Alley, among other things his newly acquired wand of beech wood and phoenix feather core and a new pet, a dark-coloured owl he nicknamed "Kikurage", he would embark at Platform 9¾ into the Hogwarts express, into his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Little did everyone know that boy od dark eyes and hair, who wouldn't cry, talked too politely for someone his age and with a strange obsession with the supernatural and occult, was in actuality the one and only Dark Lord…

~~x~~

Gellert Grindelwald, who for some reason got reincarnated as the son of a can't-spell and a witch…

I mean, I shouldn't be complaining. I can clench my hands, kick with my legs and move my neck without feeling excruciating pain or the weight of several cuffs and spells limiting my movements. I can see light and smell things better than my own excrements or the sickening moisture of moss and fungi and, above all else, I get to eat things better than the bare minimum. I specially appreciate the new sorts of confectionaries that have been made during my… Absence. Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, was it? I bet Albus loved those.

Here I am, in the Hogwarts Express, sitting one of the wagons leading to the eponymous school of Wizardry and Witchcraft, all alone on my own, lazily having my legs resting on the soft seat as I serve myself some of those lemon Sherbets, another candy I am almost certain that Albus enjoyed during his life. At last, I can have some 'me' time I here and think of all the things I shall accomplish during my time at Hogwarts, the school my dear Albus taught and ministered during his glory days. Now, how to do it, to become popular enough to draw some following, yet not enough to avoid getting unwanted attention from eagle-eyed joykillers. Maybe use my intellect from my previous life to exceed in academics, and maybe try a few times as a Quidditch player. Use my own charm to maybe attract a following and explore the castle which hides so many mysteries and secrets even someone like Albus had trouble keeping up. Wonder how I shall do the job myself. It's gonna be an adventure…

…

Curses, why did the One who reaps have chosen a half-blood child for me to be born from? Not only I had to be subjected to the process of growing up all over again with my mind intact, which I had to feed off the Woman's breast milk, defecate on the spot and learn to crawl, walk and talk, I had to grow up in a wholesome, united marriage in which the Man tried his best to become closer to me and the Woman despite being a can't-spell. He would take me to those… Film theater establishment and make me watch those motion pictures of cartoony animals, singing props and little people delivering cursed rings to volcanoes so much I almost had a seizure by the age of 7, not to mention take me to the 'happiest Place on earth' with the giant mouse and play those game consoles on his free days. I shall never understand those Can't-spells and their retrograde, revolting culture, yet… I admit, I have a newfound respect for their ability to at least try to replicate the magic that is not theirs. They are… Fascinating in some way.

But enough of that, I should try to emulate the behavior of someone my age to hang low for a while. In my previous life, causing so much trouble back in Durmstrang institute was a mistake that made people aware of Gellert Grindelwald, the genius anarchist. This time, I should stand lower and try to stand out while in my time as Maximillian Arcadia, both to try to find myself some "friends" and avoid the eye of the Hogwarts Staff. Albus might not be among them anymore, but to think he didn't prepare a worthy successor is a mistake, which means I'll have to take extra care this time. So I can't stand out too much yet make myself presentable for my peers. Like always, the best way to do so is to smile and offer a hand. Lend help for the weak, and boast the strong, this is how you manipulate thy neighbor…

"Oh…"

"Huh…?" And snapping me back from my little strategy-induced stupor, I turn my attention to a boy standing right on the door to the cabin, his robes indicating that he has been in quite an adventure to reach here. He sighs in relief once he looks inside the cabin I was oh so lonesome, and makes space for himself, sitting on the opposite seat in front of me.

"How lucky of me, I was starting to think the entire darn train was full. Now, if you excuse me…" He makes a yawning face and stretches his legs to rest his feet right on the seat by my side. I couldn't care less, I was too busy looking outside the beautiful British plains to even give him something akin to attention. He notices my lack of interest, and starts to talk: "And how do you do, fellow student? It looks like you're going to be a first-year, just like myself. The name's Deathtopia Lowell, by the way. You might not know, but my family is pretty famous, y'know?"

"Huh…" I sighed, still looking outside to sudden interesting to happen. What is this, showing some signs of pride in such a ripe age? I guess some things never change. I close one of my eyes to look at him. Let me see, blond rebellious hair, fair complexion and brown eyes. Nothing in the appearance department, that's for sure. Not enough to catch my interest at least. Even so, I should reciprocate the politeness in the same level. "Maximillian Arcadia. That's my name. Although people call me 'Marx'…"

"Arcadia, eh…?" The boy draws a smug grin on his lips, and for once I feel some hostility. "Wasn't Arcadia the same name of that girl who became a Hogwarts dropout because she got herself pregnant by a muggle? Don't tell me you're related to her, are you?"

"No, not at all." I responded quickly. The first rule to learn when trying to get yourself some acquaintances: always start with the right leg and respond with answers they'll like regardless of their veracity, otherwise they'll escape your grasp forever. There must not have too many people with the surname Arcadia in the present wizarding world, so I guess I'm safe for now. The answer seems to satisfy Deathtopia's curiosity, and he let the subject die down since he started one anew.

"I see, I see. Good then, to let herself be impregnated by a lowly muggle, that woman has no shame at all. That aside, you did say you are a first-year just like myself, right?" His smile becomes simpler and his stance, less hostile. I think this is a small opportunity to get myself some good acquaintances midway to Hogwarts and both gather some information regarding this school and get used to the usual British stuffiness. "What house do you hope to be selected into? Myself hope to be sorted into Slytherin. All of my ancestors and relatives have been selected to it, you can say it's almost a tradition."

"…" Oh right, once we get into Hogwarts, first-years are sorted into Four Houses in which they'll be for the rest of their school years. I was never fan of that system mainly because of what represented, chaos and diversion, neither was Durmstrang for that matter. But, oh well, it means I might have an easier time getting to know people who has the same ambitions as I do. I flash him a ghost of a smile. "Gryffindor. My mother was sorted into it during her years, so I guess it wouldn't be bad if I were to be sorted into it as well. Although Slytherin has a better ring to it."

"Heh, I see. Well, if you were to be sorted into Gryffindor, that it means we'd have a hard time being friends. As my father used to say: Gryffindors and Slytherins have sort of a bad blood between them." He snaps his lips and sticks his tongue out, and I arch an eyebrow for that. Posh, yet prideful, not unlike myself when I was Gellert Grindelwald. "At least I hope neither of us ends up in Hufflepuff, the guys who weren't good enough to any other of the Houses."

"HEY!"

"Huh…?"

"What the heck…?"

"Hufflepuffs are particular good finders, thank you very much!" And out of the sudden, this tall, dark-haired apparent upperclassman appeared from the door pushing it open and claiming such without a single moment to think. Once his presence and declaration were given, though, as fast as he appeared, he closed the door and disappeared from the cabin, no other words being said.

…

…

What the hell was that all about?

"Well, that was weird." Deathtopia said to be once the scare has settled down. I couldn't do much but to nod in response, as there was nothing else to be said in that situation. One, two minutes of silence, and I sighed to myself, crossing my legs a bit.

"Well, Mr. Lowell, I suggest that you don't underestimate Hufflepuffs that much. I got acquainted with a Hufflepuff that was… Quite a pebble in my shoe." I grimly smirked to myself, looking at the English fields as my mind drifted for a while remembering my past life as Gellert Grindelwald, and how a certain boy came down crashing my plans away and was the key to my previous downfall. And now, as Maximillian Arcadia, I am required to read his particular books for my education. Talk about a play from destiny, it seems Death himself has a dark sense of humour, all things considered. Mr. Lowell seems to laugh.

"A Hufflepuff, a threat for the likes of me? Laughable. Maybe you're the one who's susceptible in being so easily double-crossed, Mr. Arcadia." He laughs at my expenses, clearly not aware of who or what I am. In my early days, I'd be sure to explode in his face with a good curse, but for now a smile will do, so I do just that: a smile, and a small can of candy.

"Would you like some lemon sherbet?" I offer him, a can at hand. He stops laughing and looks at the offered candy. He turns to me, to the candy, to me, to the candy. After a second or two, he reaches for the hardy confectionary and takes one, unwrapping the plastic and putting it in his mouth. He made a face.

"Lemon… Sherbet, eh?" He makes a sour face, but in the end didn't spit it out like I was expecting. On the contrary, he even picked another handful out of the can and started to delight himself on the taste, despite always starting with a frown. Like the Woman always say, 'sweets they always help you make friends' or something. Of course she would think that, considering her work as a baker. "They are not bad. I mean, for muggle confectionaries. I guess even they are good for something other than being stock…"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." I said to myself and him as I snacked on another piece of candy. Can't-spells and their own forms of wonders, specially in candy and those things they call 'films'. To think they could do something so similar to us despite our differences, specially this Walt Disney fella, I do have some respect for him and Tarantino. Nothing else came from his mouth as we munched on this sour candy, so better start a conversation from my own so we don't come to a halt in our companionship. Let's see, what do young boys like to talk about?: "So, Mr. Lowell, what's your favorite Shounen Jump manga?"

"Huh? Are you mad, Mr. Arcadia?" Deathtopia lifts a hand and makes a sour hand in disapproval. "Do you still reads Jump at your age? I don't read any of those, that magazine is for babies. Although I do pick one or two volumes from my little brother from time to time."

Ah, I knew it was a bad idea: people like him are the type who hate Jump…

I wonder if he does like Tarantino films though. Then maybe we have something to talk about the rest of the trip…

*DING! DING! DING!*

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" And appearing from the door leading to the cabin, we both turned to that soft voice coming from a fragile-looking, smiling old lady pushing a trolley filled with confectionaries, both magical and muggle-related. I politely shook my head negatively, but my partner reached for his pockets and from there picked some galleon and sickle coins, all shining in bright gold and silver.

"Yes, I'd like at least half of your lot, thank you very much." He declared, and without losing her calm smile, the witch pushing the trolley took the coins and shared half of her content with us right on the vacant seats by our sides. So, he's wealthy as well, I guess I hit the jackpot with this young man. He turned a smug smile at me once again taking a bit off a pumpkin pasty. "Surprised? Of course you wouldn't. If you know the Lowell family, you do know how well-off we are regarding finances. I could've bought the entire trolley if I wanted to."

"You know, too much sweets is not healthy for a young man such as yourself." I said. In response, he tosses me a small pack of jelly slugs. I picked it in midair to open it and started to munch on some of its contents. The Woman would always buy me some sweets from Hogsmeade, but I never thought they would be this good. Maybe years of imprisonment were too harsh on my sanity. Deathtopia stuck her tongue out.

"Idiot, as if I'm going to eat all of those." He responds with a smile as he picks a helpless chocolate frog and decapitates it with a single bite. I saw the struggling chocolate legs kick and swim as the rest of the headless body trembled, until it gave one last twitch and went limp. "However, it does feel good knowing that until the last wagon, there won't be enough candy for everyone in the train, and if they want anything, they'll have to turn to me, and me only. This is how it works on this world, my dear Mr. Arcadia. However, I see a similar glimpse in your eyes, so I consider you my associate to the point I am willing to share some with you. Be grateful."

"Alright. And grateful I am." I said, picking a box of Beatie Bott's every flavour beans. I guess I found myself a new friend. Sweet, literally.

"Hey, look! So this is where all the candy went!" And we turned once again to the door leading to this cabin and saw a bunch of kids lining on it, all led by a single boy in the front with a smile and a strange hair coloured pink. He opens a smile for us and signed with a hand. "Hey guys, do you mind sharing some of those sweets with us? My gang and I wanted to buy some, but the trolley witch ran out of it."

"Oh, of course you we could share some… I mean, for 1 galleon each, of course." Deathtopia said with a smug smile as I munched on a caldron cake. The smile from the front boy sudden went sour and he widened his eyes, which I swear changed colorations from one moment to another.

"1 galleon?! For each candy?! Aren't you asking for too much for just candy?" The boy inquired with an exasperated and confused expression. Deathtopia on the other hand passed a hand to comb his blond hair and stuck his tongue out.

"The sweets are mine, and I sell them for the price I want. If you're too poor to afford them, then it's not my problem. Go starve for what I care." And the blond boy laughed under his breath, making the other one frown in rage. There was no mistake, his hair changed colors from one moment to another. So it wasn't just my imagination, he's one of those kind: a metamorphmagus. How… interesting. So he might be useful. I turn to the boy and offer him a bar of chocolate.

"I'm so sorry about my associate, but please, accept this chocolate bar as a token of interest." I said with the best smile I could muster. The metamorphmagus was still frowning, but even so took the bar from my hands, his fiery red hair adopting a calmer blue tone. "Unfortunately, my associate here has all control over the confectionaries, so this is all I can do."

"Tch… At least someone here has some shades of decency…" The boy said, turning to Deathtopia with a dead serious look despite the latter's shrug of disinterest. Nice, I was able to get on his good side, so he's willing to cooperate with him in a near future. Deathtopia then tosses the metamorphmagus a piece of caldron cake, which exploded right on his scalp, covering his whole hair in sugary mess.

"oh look, I can be decent enough too. Ain't that nice, freak?" Deathtopia laughed. The metamorphmagus was ready to lunge himself at my partner, but his little gang was fast enough to hold him place and pull him outside the cabin.

"Hey, hey there! Ted, calm down! That guy is not worthy! Calm down, let's go!" The said gang pull the metamorphmagus named Ted away, and spitting to Deathtopia's direction one more time, Ted and his group left the place, leaving my associate and me to fend for ourselves.

"What a freak… Did you see how his hair changed colors? What a freak." Deathtopia laughed, and I let a chuckle myself. He calls him a freak, but maybe he can be of use for me in the near future. My fellow in front of me has wealth, but maybe a Metamorphmagus will be even more useful…

Ted the metamorphmagus. I wonder what I can do to have him on my side…