BIG FAT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again, finally! So, I know I said I would post two chapters at once, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm actually just starting to write the second chapter to this part, so obviously, I have been a little preoccupied recently. I quit my job, I got a new one, I moved to a new city, my husband came home, etc etc the list goes on. So, I am so glad you guys have been patient with me.
Second, this chapter and the next couple after are going to be a whammy. Please read through the whole chapter before making assumptions. It introduces the main antagonist (about time).
Now because of this, I have been very nervous about posting. Like, anxiety ridden, non-stop-worrying/thinking about this reveal kind of nervousness. I have finally come to the point where I think, fuck it, it's my story and I'll write it how I want. I just ask that you give the rest of it a chance. There are a few chapters that make me nervous about posting and this is definitely one of them.
If you read through and you feel the urge to curse my very name because you don't like the direction I am taking with this story, please just stop reading. There really is no need to tell me or criticize my decisions unless it is constructive, and even so, this has been the plan the whole time. Please no hate. If you don't like what I do, write a story you would want to read.
I hope you enjoy! Please review or DM me! I am not opposed to answering questions and remember that I will not ever abandon this story, however I may take a bit longer in posting chapters from now on. Basically, whenever I get to writing is when I will post.
I appreciate you all, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm still fifty shades of broke.
~ Gellert Grindelwald - 1946~
So, it has come to this. Gellert thought as he stared across the clearing at Albus. The man was flanked by all members of every ministry there was: Most notably, The Ministry of Magic and MACUSA, but also aurors were everywhere, the Scamander boy somewhere in the mix, Nicholas Flamel as well, and most of his own followers had stayed back or fled. But the only person in attendance he really had eyes for was Albus Dumbledore.
Despite what everyone would think, by the end of today, he would come out winning.
"Albus!" Gellert shouted across the clearing. Albus was already standing at attention with his wand drawn on him, ready for the ultimate fight. But Gellert knew that the other side would sorely lose. He had the Elder Wand after all. Not that they knew that yet.
"This is your last chance, Grindelwald." Albus said sternly. "Drop your wand and come forward."
A command I see. He thought, barely moving before making a show of inching his wand back into the breast pocket of his robes. Gellert held his hands up slowly, feigning surrender.
Taking a step forward, he stared directly to Albus. "I just want to have a word."
Albus squared his shoulders and stood his ground as Gellert inched forward with his hands still up, away from his pockets. If there was one quality about Albus that he had always admired and often missed about him, it was the fact that he stood for what he believed in the face of adversity. That, and those piercing blue eyes that now stared at him with a loathing he never thought he'd see.
The all the onlookers were held behind a protective shield of his own making. More so they couldn't interrupt their little fight they were about to have. Even still, the entirety of the people surrounding them held their breath as he stepped forward.
Gellert finally reached the last few steps to reach Albus before he said, "That's close enough. If you think you can talk yourself out of going to prison—"
"That's not what I want to talk about, Albus."
"The spit it out, Grindelwald." Albus spat, his wand held steady to his chest.
Gellert chuckled darkly. "No longer on a first name basis, Albus?"
Albus said nothing, but held his ground. Amused by the man's frustration, Gellert decided to stop wasting time. "I just wanted to let you know that any efforts you and your friends put forth today will be for naught."
"What are you talking about?" Albus asked, eyeing Gellert's unwavering hands.
"What I mean," Gellert began. "is that I found it, Albus…The Death Stick. I have it right now in my robes. I could wipe the floor with you and your friends standing behind you."
Fighting a chuckle at the immediate paling of Albus's face, Gellert still made no move to showcase the wand so blatantly in front of him and the others around them.
Unwavering still, Albus's features stole over to show one of growing impatience. "I don't believe you." He growled, leaning into his wand for emphasis.
"You don't have to, love." He lowered his hands just a fraction and watched as a brief look of pain flitted across Albus's features. "Because I have a proposition for you."
Albus genuinely looked surprised, yet white-hot fury lay just beneath the surface. The movements on his face were so miniscule, no one else in the clearing would recognize it. Only those closest to him. "You should be the one begging us for mercy."
"On the contrary." Gellert began, his words slithering out in a hiss. "I have the Elder Wand. I am therefore, undefeatable. You don't stand a chance. And unfortunately for you, that ultimately means that most of your friends here would die. And that is something I would absolutely regret to take place, however necessary it may be."
Albus remained silent, glaring with as much hate the man could muster. Instead of dwelling on that fact, Gellert continued. "I know you, Albus. I know everything about you, including your heart's desire. You crave power, just like me. We are one in the same in that regard. It would be impossible for you to defeat me today unless I purposefully let you win. Unfortunately, defeating you means killing your friends and…you."
Swallowing thickly, Gellert briefly looked down, his chest clenching at the thought of having to kill him. When their eyes met again, Albus was almost visibly shaking with anger.
Stealing himself with a breath, Gellert said, "My proposition is simple. We fight. And give one hell of a show." He glanced around for emphasis, smirking at the fact that he knew everyone around them was dying to hear what they were saying. He had cast a silencing charm so they wouldn't be heard before their little altercation. "We fight, and I'll allow you to win."
Albus cocked his head back in confusion. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I'm stepping down. Look at how much traction I have. 'The Darkest Wizard of the age' is what they're calling me. If you take me down, there's no doubt in my mind that you will become one of the most powerful wizards known to wizard kind."
Gellert completely lowered his hands now, and now stood squarely in front of Albus. "This is me, showing you how much I value you. And to officially apologize for your sister, I guess." The last part came out as a grumble, but he continued on. "You will take my place as the most powerful wizard in the world, and you will throw me into prison for the "crimes" I have committed For the Greater Good.
But part of the deal is knowing that as soon as you die, I will step forward again. I know you have the Elder wand, and as soon as you have passed on and lived your life, I will continue my work where I left off."
Albus scoffed. "You don't know how long I'll live or how long you will live. And let's say we live to the fullest extent of our lives. You will be too old or dead before me before you can even get out of prison. You plan is flawed and you lie. Just like you always have. Your words are like poisoned honey and they contain no substance."
"Let me worry about that, Love." Gellert tisked.
A short tempered, "Stop calling me that," tore from Albus's throat, but Gellert ignored him and persisted.
"The choice is yours: either you and everyone here dies today, or I willingly give up the wand in a fight against you, you throw me into Nurmengard Prison, and you will live out your days before I step in to finish what I've started." He stepped back in a show of finality.
"And why in the bloody hell would I put you in your own prison? One that you built and know every secret passageway?" Albus countered in disgust.
Gellert smirked in reply. "Because that is all I ask of you. And I hope that one day, when You're Minister For Magic, you'll be kind enough to pay me a visit wherever I am."
"You will sit and rot wherever I put you and be glad for it." Albus snarled. He was getting impatient.
Choosing a different tactic, Gellert countered, "Then if you ever had an ounce of love for me, whether now or in the past, please do me this one favor—send me to Nurmengard. That's all I ask."
Slowly, Gellert began to step away, reaching for his wand as he did so and canceling the silencing charm. He knew the time for talking was at an end, and he quickly made up his mind: he would follow through with his plan.
What he hadn't told Albus, was that he had a vision of Albus's early demise at the hands of a new Dark Lord. No way was he getting in the middle of that psycho. He also didn't really feel like killing the man he was still deeply in love with. He would wait for his time, and let Albus essentially rule the world the way he wanted.
He would have his power in due time.
~1947~
A year had passed since his fight with Albus and the rest of the Wizarding World. Gellert made true with his promise, showing off his raw power with the Elder Wand by holding off every other witch and wizard in attendance that day, while simultaneously battling Albus.
The official battle had been brutal and destroyed nearly everything in its wake. The journalists were calling it the "fight of the century." But that only meant that Gellert had succeeded. He meant to give them a show, and a show he gave them.
He remembered the look on Albus's face when the wand was finally detained and he was bound by invisible ropes, his face in the dirt.
Albus stepped forward, sweat and blood covering his face. His normally steady hand was finally shaking with the raw power of the Elder Wand in his grasp. Gellert was defenseless. Not that it worried him at all. It was all a part of the plan.
The moment his wand was in Albus's palm, the barrier keeping the others out finally broke. His wards came crashing down and he was immediately accosted by Aurors at wand-point.
But all he could do as they began discussing his fate was stare at his love, because he knew it would be his last. He could hope for a visit or two, but who was he kidding? This would be the last time he would be able to look into Albus's face.
And so, he stared at him unabashedly, hoping for one ounce of it to be returned. He knew Albus thought his actions were abhorrent, but the very same thing that attracted him to Albus in the first place was something he found within himself: he would fight to the end for what he believed in. And that was The Greater Good.
Albus could feel his gaze upon him if his determination to not look at him was anything to go by. Gellert was sitting up now, roughly pulled up by the hem of his robes and forced to face the men and women that wanted him dead.
Fortunately, he was hearing that they weren't going to kill him. What surprised him even more was the Scamander boy standing up for him.
"He shouldn't die." Newt had said. Gellert had to stifle a smirk at the boy's foolishness. But he was too intent on staring at Albus.
"Even the most temperamental creatures that exist should be saved and protected. If we kill him, we're no better than he is. We would be following his ideology For the Greater Good by showing everyone else in this world that we think we know what's best. He believes he knows what's best for this world too. That would make us no different from the other." Scamander finished his speech passionately, in the name of his creatures, no less.
The entire committee turned to Albus. One he recognized as Madam President of MACUSA, President Picquery. It seems his appearance and subsequent capture was a world uniting affair. How sweet. "Even so Mister Scamander. He must be dealt with immediately. He was in our tightest security ward back at our headquarters and he still managed to get away. There is no time for a trial, we already know the crimes of which he is guilty."
Leonard Spencer-Moon stepped forward. What a pathetic excuse for a Minister of Magic. Gellert thought. At least Albus will be better than that old wanker.
"I agree with Madam Picquery." Spencer-Moon interrupted. "The whole history of the world is summed up in the fact that, when nations are strong, they are not always just, and when they wish to be just, they are no longer strong. I say we put Grindelwald in his place. Now. This is not a question of giving a man a fair shot at a trial. This is protecting our people."
There were murmurs of agreement. Albus still looked away.
Finally, one of the men Gellert didn't recognize turned to Albus and said, "What should we do?"
Silence filled the space and everything became very tense as every witch and wizard listened intently to Albus's next words.
He was warring within himself. He glanced around at the stares of the people surrounding him, realizing that his opinion mattered more than both the president of MACUSA and the Minister of Magic. Eventually, his wandering eyes landed on Gellert's and became a steely greyish-blue. No longer the color of newly formed ice. Determined. Angry. Sad.
However, there was hesitation in the way he held his hands to his side. Yet none of that mattered. All that mattered was hoping that Gellert knew Albus enough to trust that he would be sent to Nurmengard. And to look into his eyes one last time, if only to memorize their shape and color. Gellert tried to convey every feeling and unspoken word between them with that one look.
After a moment's hesitation, Albus cleared his throat. He turned to address the crowd. "Send him to Nurmengard."
A collective gasp left the ministry officials and patrons alike before they were shouting into the air. "Why in the blazes would we do that?" One man shouted. "That's asking for another breakout!" A woman screeched off to the side.
The chatter died down almost immediately when Albus raised his hands for silence. "We will add insult to injury. Trap him and detain him in his own prison. He will be the only prisoner in the entire fortress and we will fortify the building with our own guards and aurors from each ministry throughout the world. Not to mention I will apply my own wards and protections to make sure he will never get out."
A few sighs of relief sounded through the clearing. He could tell the people watching were anxious to get the whole ordeal over with and move him to the location. The Minister said, "Very well," with an air of finality, not wanting to brook an argument, itching to move ahead with the plan.
Much to Gellert's delight, while the rest of the crowd were murmuring their agreements and satisfaction at Albus's declaration, they made eye contact one last time.
Albus's crystal blue eyes didn't have the normal twinkle that he had grown to love, but they did communicate much more than that. I did what you asked, they said.
Unmoving, Gellert mouthed a silent, "Thank you, Love." Seen only by Albus. Whether the bob in his Addams apple was from emotion or a simple swallow, he would never know, but he was immediately whisked away to meet his fate, wandless and at everyone's mercy. Just like he planned.
Looking back on that interaction proved to be quite amusing if he wanted it to be. He decided to be the perfect model prisoner. Eat his one meal a day, two if he was lucky; go to bed at the same time every day; and rarely ask for anything to accommodate him.
Gellert still sat in the same room upon his first arrival. It was cold and dark. One window gave him access to the view of another wall and the floor was stone. One stone bench meant as a bed sat at the other end of the small room.
Funny, how he had meant for this room to be a holding cell, turned eventual torture chamber for those who feared isolation.
But if waiting in this cell meant he didn't have to deal with the man, 21 years old and already seen with a fierce following, who would become the eventual Dark Lord as was seen in Gellert's vision, then it would be worth the wait.
The year kept in this isolated cell was focused on trying to See something else about this Dark Lord. Because apparently this 21-year-old was more powerful and dark than even Gellert himself. Something Albus would have to deal with. But not him, being safely locked away in his cell at Nurmengard.
The only other thing Gellert was able to garner from his visions was that he would be destroyed. By whom, he didn't know, but he hoped over time it would become clearer.
For now, his plan was this: He didn't have a wand, and therefore needed to learn wandless magic. Also, Albus had made a fair point. He wouldn't live forever.
Which led to the other part of his plan: find a way to live past a normal wizarding life. Maybe figure out a way to de-age himself. Potions existed, and he could always dabble into the art of Alchemy. Given he had the supplies.
Next, would be to sweeten up his guards. Maybe that could come first. Get him a new living quarters that were more comfortable. Then start adding things like three square meals a day or a potions lab. Not to mention start to gather his followers again. Years of guarding him could lead to his ideals being passed down from guard to guard and even their family and children, trickling down through the seeds he plants into their minds early on. Maybe even to other guards. Yes, that would do.
He hoped the guards would be able to be manipulated. It could take years in all honesty. And to be honest, he was a little hesitant about trusting his fellow witches and wizards after the display of the battle and almost every single Acolyte fled or changed sides.
In order to fully achieve The Greater Good, his original views needed amending. He could not trust others to fully bring forth his ideals in the way he envisioned. Therefore, he needed to become the most powerful wizard known to mankind. By followers, pure strength, knowledge, and most importantly, strength of magic. Everyone needs to be in their rightful place: beneath him.
Which led to his next bit of business: continuing the work that originally got him expelled from Durmstrang.
His experiments were nearly fatal to the students he was unknowingly working on. When his professors found out what he had been doing, he was nearly thrown in prison, not just expelled. He didn't view his experiments as dark despite the dark means to achieve his purpose, simply something that would make him the most powerful wizard in the world, and rightfully so.
Before exiting the school, he had blasted the Deathly Hallows sign into the wall and placed unbreakable charms over the engraved stone, just to show his true power and let anyone who look upon it to remember him.
Experimenting on fellow classmates was nothing compared to what he was prepared to do now: to take those experiments to new heights.
The idea in itself was rather easy, except the execution was the difficult part, especially without a wand.
The idea was to harness the core magic of another witch or wizard, basically stealing it and using it for himself. He had learned over his research that a wizard's magical core was directly linked to the soul. The stronger the magical core, the longer one lived and the more powerful the magic. He knew he and Albus would live abnormally long lives, simply by how powerful their magic was.
So, if he could steal other people's magic for a time, at least until their magic restored itself, then he could have a running line of magic making him stronger and stronger as time went on.
What he didn't anticipate, was the fact that those students nearly died from magical core depletion. A silly error on his part by pushing the limits. But the Greater Good was important enough to test those boundaries.
And tested they would be. Once he got a hold of wandless magic, his first test subjects would be his guards. Since he knew the effects would mentally and physically drain them, persuading them to be a part of his Acolytes again wouldn't be an issue.
But for the time being, he had a lot to work on.
~1957~
For the better part of the century, Gellert had managed to completely master wandless magic. It was something he was definitely proud of, considering he still hadn't been able to convince his guards to give him some type of wand.
Even after studying the Elder Wand, he still wasn't versed enough in wand lore to craft his own. But that wouldn't be an issue now. Even powerful spells, both light and dark worked wonderfully for him, flowing down his arm and through the tips of his fingers as though he had five tiny wands at the end of his hand.
During this time, he had even managed to befriend one of his guards. It was a relief to finally have someone willing to speak with him, and he began making small requests.
The past ten years were filled with lonely wonderings of the outside world, and the one favor he asked was to be given at least something to keep him connected: in the form of a wizarding newspaper of his choice.
Knowing Albus was stationed at Hogwarts, he specifically requested the Daily Prophet.
A smirk flitted across his face at the sight of Albus, declining the position for Minister of Magic. You bastard. Gellert thought, amused at his findings. It seems you have proven me wrong again, love.
~27 March 1960~
Gellert woke with a start.
Sweat was beading down the side of his face and his head rushed from his sudden movement into the sitting position he now found himself in.
The bed he was in betrayed his discomfort as the sheets were soaking wet.
Gasping for breath, he was startled when one of his guards rattled on the bars. "What's going on in there?" he asked.
Gellert sighed in relief, but it didn't bring much satisfaction. "Bad dream." He grumbled out.
His guard sent him a look of pity and turned away again. Gellert was thankful for that particular guard. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be allowed to sleep in a real bed at least twice a week. He made sure to practice his experiments on the other guards for that very reason.
But as the guard turned around, Gellert felt nervous for the first time in years. His dream wasn't just a bad dream, it was a vision.
This vision took on a much more palatable form that manifested itself in him physically. He saw one thing and felt the other. First, he saw a young man with long black hair and glasses, glaring at him from afar. The second premonition he felt deep within his body, and that was the inescapable feeling of blood-filled lungs and punctured ribs.
It had shaken him to his core, and he could only garner an idea of what it could mean. His visions had gotten him into trouble before, so he decided to remain patient and carry out his original plan.
~1978~
Over the many years in Nurmengard, Gellert was happy to say that, not only was he extremely proficient at wandless magic, but his experiments were also going very well. He had learned quickly that in order to harness the magic successfully, he needed some sort of vessel to store it in.
The magic itself wouldn't seep into his own magical core, as his was already full. At least that was his guess anyway. He needed something solid that he could use outside of his body. But what sort of artifact would be powerful enough to harness other witches and wizard's magical cores?
This was something he had been contemplating for years, ensuring that he continued his experiments on the guards. Especially with Voldemort on the rise.
He had kept a close eye on the boy turned Dark Lord since he himself was imprisoned. His own curiosity driven by his visions thrust him forward into research about him. At first, the black, midnight colored hair made him believe that this was the man he had seen in his visions.
Quickly dismissing that idea, since Tom Riddle didn't wear glasses and the length of his hair was all wrong. No. Something else was going to happen, he just didn't know what.
Just then, a loud BANG echoed throughout the halls of his cell. Three of his guards were propelled forward and knocked clean out by the force of what appeared to be a stray spell.
Gellert shuffled forward to the cell door and tried see what had happened.
A solitary guard, one that he had been experimenting on extensively without their knowledge, was huddled on the floor and barely conscious. The man was shaking. There was a woman guard next to him, cradling a broken arm. Miraculously, she wasn't knocked out from the blow.
"What did you do? Why did you attack us?!" She hissed at her fellow guard.
"I didn't attack anyone!" The guard practically yelled in his panic. "I recast the ward like we've done a million times before and it backfired."
The woman scoffed angrily. "Then you should have stayed home if you knew you were still too ill to perform magic!"
"I've been gone for three weeks! What was I supposed to do?"
Interesting…Gellert thought, mentally taking note of what had happened.
Tuning out the rest of the conversation, Gellert came to a realization: depletion of the magical core also depleted one's health and made their magic erratic, as if the two were one in the same. Interesting indeed.
~1980~
The guards were making their rounds again. Gellert could tell they were growing more and more anxious as the days went on, wondering who the next victim would be that befell the Dark Lord. Or if there was anyone within their ranks that were a part of that crowd.
Luckily for Gellert, he had managed to befriend all the guards and even considered them allies. Another check mark in his plan.
On this particular evening, he was seated at the front end of his cell in a noticeably comfortable chair. The guard next to his cell was chatting him up. He was glad for the company of this one. He was afraid that he would end up like the others he was experimenting on. Though those experiments were slowing down considerably so it wasn't too obvious that those guards were falling ill because of his work.
They laughed briefly at an inside joke of theirs when Gellert suddenly wrenched forward. He pulled in such a deep breath it hurt his lungs and his hands gripped the bars that confined him so hard, he felt a nail split.
His guard stood up immediately, calling for backup. Gellert's head lurched back unnaturally, and a guttural voice forced itself out. Gellert felt everything happen, yet felt like he was drifting away and watching from afar. "Born to those who have thrice defied him—Born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives – the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Gellert released the bars of his cell, gasping desperately for clean air. What the fuck!
The guards all had their wands loosely trained on him, looking more concerned than anything. They were his followers after all.
"Are you alright, sir?" One of the females questioned tentatively.
Breathing heavily still, Gellert addressed them. "How many of you heard that?"
They all looked at each other, fleeting glances of worry and uncertainty. "We all did, sir."
Nodding, Gellert looked up at them gravely. "Very well." A flick of his fingers and every guard was standing before him with a happily blank look on their faces.
Gellert sat back in his comfortable chair and waited. Moments passed before they came to, laughed nervously as they wondered how they got there, and turned back around to their stations unsuspecting of anything.
Satisfied that their memories were erased, he contemplated the meaning of what he just heard. He had seen flashes of his previous vision, of that young man with jet black hair and glasses again. It can't be a coincidence.
Only one thought permeated his mind. Is the Dark Lord of my vision Voldemort, or me?
~01 November 1981~
There were sounds of celebrations, clinking glasses, laughter, tears, and round after round of fireworks outside his cell. The sounds were enough to wake Gellert from his slumber. Cautiously, he stepped forward and signaled one of the guards.
"What's happening, dear Nora?" His hands wrapped gingerly around the bars of his cell, and he watched with amusement as Nora's face lit up brightly, signaling the other guards to come join her in the explanation. There were seven guards altogether, like usual.
"Gellert, today is a very special occasion indeed!" Her words were met with many exclamations of "Hoorah!" and "Here!" They all took another drink from their pints and began laughing away without a care in the world.
Nora shoved a newspaper through the bars while another of the guards, motioned for a new, clean pint. "He-who-must-not-be-named is dead!" Nora exclaimed. "Killed by a wee infant! Some boy named Harry Potter."
"Is that so?" Gellert replied, surprised that the downfall of the so-called darkest wizard of the age was a small child.
There was a pitcher floating around, refilling each drink and Gellert focused on it as he saw Liam and Sophie kiss out of the corner of his eye.
Luca spoke up. "Unfortunately, You-Know-Who already killed his parents. Nasty bit of business, that is. The savior of the Wizarding World now an orphan."
The group sobered at his comments a bit, before Jane asked, "Wasn't Albus Dumbledore rumored to have taken the child to a new home?"
"Albus?" Gellert asked. "Why is Albus involved?"
"Well, young Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter, were former students, weren't they?" The rest of them confirmed their suspicions and Jane eyed the paper in Gellert's hand with malice. "No one knows why the Potter's were targeted. Do you?"
A resounding no echoed through his guards, and Gellert began listening even more intently.
"I think the worst bit of business in this whole thing was that they were betrayed by some bloke named Sirius Black. The whole lot of that family delves into dark magic. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they snapped." Jane said fervently. "They're shipping him off to Azkaban as we speak. And good riddance." They drank to that and Gellert nodded his head in agreement.
While their conversations lifted again, Gellert glanced down to the paper folded in his hands. There were no pictures. Only one headline and the articles that read in all bold "YOU-KNOW-WHO DEAD" and "SIRIUS BLACK SENTANCED TO AZKABAN FOR POTTER MURDER."
The news should have made Gellert happy, but it actually sent him further into a state of unease. The vision he made a year before had apparently come true. And so quickly. It made him wonder if his other visions would come true as well. The one about the faceless man with the jet-black hair and the pain in his chest and ribs.
The thought was pushed away as a pint of firewhiskey was shoved through the bars of his cell.
Smiling, he gratefully took the proffered drink, being that alcohol was a luxury for him in his prison.
For now, he would celebrate. He had almost every guard on his side as it was, and his plan was running along smoothly. The good side of this, was now he had one less pest to deal with.
~1992~
Gellert held the paper out in front of him, scanning over the articles quickly. His guard had brought him the issue of the Daily Prophet, hoping to shed a small little light on the outside world for his leader.
"I thought the inner article on page three would be of interest to you." His guard, Luca, pointed out. Luca in particular held a softer spot for Gellert during these times. He and Jane were one of the few of his guards that he let in on a few of his secrets.
He could immediately sense that Luca had a similar thirst for power that he knew quite well. They shared their commonalities together and bonded over the few years they had known each other. But he could also see his thirst for power becoming problematic later on.
Their relationship reached the point that Luca and the others were actually beginning to help him with his research. They, of course, didn't know he could do wandless magic or that he was using them as guinea pigs, but they trusted him and answered his 'hypothetical' questions. They often brought him materials to read, because what harm would a book do, really?
Jane was incredibly smart and had an innate talent for potions. Staying on guard duty was a waste on her, and he prided himself in using people to the best of their abilities.
Returning to the present, Gellert read the article.
Philosopher's Stone Destroyed: Flamel Set to Die
It is a sad day in the wizarding world as the prophet sets to write about one of the most esteemed wizards of the age.
Nicolas Flamel: A master of potions and Alchemy and the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone has died at the age of six hundred and sixty-five. His wife, Perenelle, precedes him in death.
While he could keep living in our world with the help of the philosopher's stone, he and his long-standing friend, Albus Dumbledore (Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengomet, Grand Sorcerer, and Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) have banded together to destroy the stone.
Flamel has not passed on his knowledge on how to create the philosopher's stone. The artifact in itself would render the correct conditions to create the elixir of life.
Perhaps it is for the best. The wizarding world will truly miss the Alchemist known as Nicolas Flamel.
Absentmindedly, Gellert caught himself almost caressing Albus's name and his many titles. A small smirk barely pulled at his lips before he stopped his ministrations.
Eyes widened, he sat forward quickly. An idea had struck him when his eyes landed on a particular set of words. He read the article over again before looking back up to his guard with approval radiating from him. How could I have not thought of this before?
"You were quite right that I would enjoy this article very much. Thank you, Luca."
The man preened at his praise and Gellert watched carefully as his guard left him to his own devises once again.
The philosopher's Stone…. His alchemical studies were very brief and incomplete. But if he could somehow manage to create an artifact similar to the Philosopher's Stone, he could use that object to harness the magic he was attempting to collect.
Oh yes, Gellert thought. That could work quite nicely.
~1995~
"Jane, my dear." Gellert crooned from his chair. "What has everyone in this building so agitated?"
As though uttering the very words were a sin, Jane glanced around nervously, clutching onto her wand. "He's back, sir."
A beat of silence filled the air. "I assume you mean…"
"You-know-who."
"Ah." Gellert leaned back into his chair and contemplated the situation. "That does complicate things a bit."
"I brought this for you." Jane said, extracting a rolled up Daily Prophet from her robes.
Gellert quickly scanned the article, reading about how the famous Harry Potter boy brought back the dead body of Cedric Diggory during the third Triwizard task. The only mention of what happened was the fact that the task itself was dangerous enough to kill a student, and how barmy Albus was for allowing such a tournament to take place.
Reading the article made him feel uneasy, but he knew that his plan was slowly being set in motion. He didn't know how much truth was in that article, because the others throughout that year were all but horrible attempts at creating an overexaggerated story. It was ridiculous and incredibly childish, something his guards agreed with wholeheartedly.
Over the years of watching Harry Potter grow up, he noticed his guards had a strange awe and respect when it came to the young wizard boy. A respect that he was sure reflected in the rest of the wizarding world.
But now, with this same wizard clutching the body of a dead classmate, he could see the miniscule flashes of doubt flit across her face as her eyes hardened at the paper.
"Do you believe this, Jane?" Gellert asked conversationally.
Jane pondered her answer for a moment, her wand sheathed. She no longer held it on him anymore. At least not for the past decade or so. "I don't know. I have some acquaintances that have confirmed that You-Know-Who is back. Which is why I told you so before." Her severe face darkened. "But every news print says otherwise. I'm not sure what to believe, sir."
Gellert nodded his head understandably. He reached out for her through the bars and she knelt to him on her knees. His rough palm gripped her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry child." Gellert said softly. "We all here have each other to lean on. Whatever happens, I promise to protect you all. Despite these bars that hold me."
Jane paused, and looked imploringly into his eyes. "Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask a personal question?"
"What is it you wonder about, my dear?" his voice took on the same honeyed tone he always used on his Acolytes. A talent that only intensified over the years. One he used often on his guards.
Jane hesitated. "I've always had the feeling that you could break out of here. That it wouldn't be an issue for you…" Her brows knit together. "Why haven't you?"
Gellert sighed heavily and leaned back. Her acute sense of awareness always astounded him. "Once again, your attention to detail is impeccable, my dear."
Her harsh expression didn't change. Instead, he leaned in carefully. "All will be revealed in due time. Just know that I am trying to be a good man. For the Greater Good. For something I am so passionate about that there is nothing in this world that can force me to change. It is a part of me."
At his words, Jane glanced around and cast a silencing charm on the pair of them. Gellert patiently waited, acting very much the elderly grandfather that gave his approval seldomly, but was the sweetest reward. When they made eye contact, she said, "I know you have plans, sir. I've helped you as much as I could."
He took a gamble. This could very well be a turning point for me. "I know, my dear. And you have done wonderfully." Gellert crooned.
Jane's hand tightened around her wand. For a split second, he thought he misjudged the situation, and very carefully slipped into her mind with legilimency. Just the slightest touch revealed her most basic emotions to him, relief being the strongest, amongst joy, nervousness, and a longing to please.
Satisfied, he withdrew without her any wiser and she continued. "I have studied you, you know? Your battle against Albus Dumbledore. Your agenda for The Greater Good."
She swallowed, a nervous tick that Gellert had picked up on over the decades, all the pausing and looking around. "Over the many years I have been your guard and gotten to know you, I have come to realize just how wrong the world is.
There's this shite that the papers spew. It's not just The Daily Prophet, it's all of them. I am treated different because I wish to learn all forms of magic. Like trying to prove myself is a burden upon other people, and I should just bow my head and stay hidden. You however..."
She paused and glanced back up. Gellert nodded encouragingly, holding his breath and allowing her to talk herself into realizing her toiling thoughts.
"You have never treated me as inferior. You actually seem delighted when I come to you with my accomplishments. All of us guards feel it. But back at the ministry, we're treated like dogs."
Suddenly, her nervousness seemed to dissipate, and a sudden calmness stole over her. "Whatever it is you're doing…I want to help."
Gellert feigned his surprise. "My sweet girl, what are you saying?" He knew exactly what she was going to say. He was purposefully sloppy in front of her for the past year. As soon as he knew he could trust her, he began performing bits of his experiments in front of her. Only on the guards he didn't like, however. It was an easy way to get rid of them. But it certainly left his test subjects few and far between.
"I've seen what you've been doing. It's the reason we can never keep our new people." Jane said testily. "It's the reason their magic backfires and the reason they're fired for attacking fellow guards. The Ministry is running out of grunts to send. And you've kept the ones who agree with you close.
I want to help you, because after studying your history, and then learning more about you and speaking with you…one would be a fool not to follow."
Allowing her words to float in the air for a second, Gellert appraised her wonderingly. He wanted to keep her talking, only to further solidify her thoughts into spoken word. It was much harder for someone to talk themselves out of a situation that way. "My dear, would you like to know?"
She nodded enthusiastically. Gellert slyly delved back into her mind, searching a little deeper, just to triple check that she was being genuine. He was satisfied when he saw glimpses of her doubt when it came to her superiors at the Ministry. Her apparation points between the British Ministry and the Austrian ministry and her underlying frustrations, doubts, arguments, research, tears—
"I will tell you." Gellert said. "But only if I can assure that you will pledge yourself to me completely, and willingly."
Jane appeared nervous again. The fear of You-Know-Who and his followers made his words sound no better than the monster trying to eradicate muggles and muggle-borns. A few sweet words would put her straight. He could feel her longing to be accepted overpower every other need within her body.
"I am not going to force you, my dear." The night induced light that seeped through the bars of his cell illuminated his sickly pallor more than usual. The spring tinted breeze was rejuvenating, and he saw Jane shiver. Maybe it was because of his voice. He didn't know.
"I am no monster. Not like You-Know-Who, who forces his followers with fear and terror. I've Seen it all, my dear." He pointed one long, wrinkled finger to his temple and closed his eyes for effect. "The Inferi, the mass murders, the revels, the Dark Mark. All of it. I would never do that to you, sweet girl." Gellert ended, gripping the bars just as intensely as Jane was. "I admire you Jane."
At his declaration, her eyes widened a fraction at the compliment, and she leaned in further, eager for more as if his very words would give her life sustaining breath.
"I admire you, because despite what those imbeciles at the ministry say and do to you, you still push on and pursue your passions. You are incredibly gifted. In potions especially. I couldn't think of anyone better than you, to be by my side."
He paused and let his words sink in. She exhaled a gratified sigh, as if that were all she wanted to hear. As if she had never heard those words from a superior.
"I know I am an imprisoned man and must pay for my crimes." Gellert continued, voice hushed and full of regret. "But make no mistake. There will come a time when this world needs me again."
Jane reached in and grasped onto his frail hand. Gellert was surprised because no one had really touched him that way since he was imprisoned. The silence stretched on before Jane quietly uttered, "You still love him, don't you?"
She was looking at the paper. And Gellert only realized he was holding his breath when she squeezed his hand.
"Very much so." He whispered. "I gave him my word."
Jane let go of his hand. "Is it true you made a Blood Pact with him?"
"Yes, it is true." Gellert sighed. "I admit, I made him take that Blood Pact so I could continue my work and protect him at the same time. It was manipulative, I admit. But it protected me from him as well when our paths diverged."
"You love him," She stated. "Yet while he is looking every bit of his 114 years, you look no older than a 70-year-old man. How is that possible?"
Gellert smirked. "Remember all the times your fellow guards couldn't control their magic?" His theory had proven true. The more core magic he stole form his guards, the younger he appeared. Though he seemed to be stuck around 70 years old according to Jane. He needed a place to store the extra magic if he were to progress further.
"I have a favor to ask of you."
~1 July 1997~
The year before last had been interesting. His one source of information linking him to Albus was full of slandering articles about him and The-Boy-Who-Lived. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't had a proper vision for at least three years. Those he did have consisted of the same things: inferi, hooded figures, werewolves, giants, and blood. None of it made sense. However, very recently, You-Know-Who had made an appearance at the British Ministry, sending the world into a frenzied panic.
Gellert had to admit that the fighting excited him. It meant one step closer to You-Know-Who being defeated and finally taking his rightful place within the world. He could feel the panic from where he was, and it only solidified his self-righteousness.
But his lack of visions was making him stir crazy, and he was frequently seen pacing the length of his cell.
On a particularly calm evening, in the sky and Gellert's mind, Jane came by with another of his guards, Christophe Barreau, to deliver his daily change of clothes and a copy of The Daily Prophet.
Gellert was glad to see that his two favorite guards got on so well. He actually hoped they would stay together, possibly date. It would make his plan a hell of a lot easier.
Christophe was let in on the plan of his experiments, and proved to be quite useful, despite only having only been his guard for the past 5 years or so. He had studied Alchemy at Beauxbatons and had ideas of how to create an artificial stone for him. Everything failed miserably, but at least they were ideas, and at least he had access to those items.
He was also happy to know that both Christophe and Jane wanted bigger and better things. They did not want to remain pawns of their respective ministries, yet remained so to stay close and learn from Gellert.
Therefore, when his two favorites came in, sharing grim looks of sadness and nervousness, his heart clenched. It wouldn't be good news.
They said nothing. Simply looked at him gravely. Jane especially.
Without a word, Christophe handed him his clothes, and promptly looked to the ground. Jane followed suite, but with the paper.
The headline read: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD. DEATH EATERS ATTACK HOGWARTS
Gellert barely registered that Jane and Christophe had stepped back into the shadows. He barely registered that he sank down to his knees. And be barely registered his quiet sobs echoing in the chamber as he mourned the death of the only man he ever loved.
~5 July 1997~
A few days had passed since the death of Albus, and Gellert still felt hallow. He should have been triumphant. He had been right after all, knowing he would live well past Albus, and was simply biding his time till he died. However, he wasn't prepared for the pain of it all.
Not once had Albus visited. Not once did he send one letter. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and only fueled his anger and depression.
He didn't even want to look at pictures of the funeral for closure. He was just angry.
But he was patient. And he'd waited this long already.
It was Christophe at his door today. Gellert had noticed right away that he had a knack for speaking and convincing the other guards to do his bidding. He was as nearly silver tongued as Gellert himself was, and given the right opportunities, he would do well in a powerful position.
His position in France was most peculiar, because he was almost ready to take an internship as the Minister's assistant at the French Ministry. That made him precious, and thank Merlin he got to the young man when he did.
Gellert decided last second that he would not let Christophe leave his food silently like the past few days. The Time for grieving was over.
"Christophe." Gellert softly beckoned. "A word, please."
The man turned and poised himself to listen intently. Gellert thumbed the small magical receptacle around his neck.
"Tell the others to begin the preparations for Phase Two."
~oOo~
Jane came tearing up the many steps, eyes wild. Her breathing was labored as she confronted Gellert in his cell.
"Phase Two?" She breathed heavily, her chest heaving. "You were waiting for him to die to begin Phase Two?"
"I implore you to trust me, my dear." Gellert said calmly. "But yes. That was the trigger. With Albus out of the way, the only one who can stop us is—"
"You-Know-Who."
"Precisely. Which is why we will wait. Wait until he is taken care of. Then we will officially begin Phase Two."
Jane nodded slowly and sank back into the shadows.
~15 March 1997~
Gellert gasped and choked loudly, landing on all fours. A series of powerful images flashed through his mind all at once.
A serpent infused man with glowing red eyes, speaking with Gregorovitch, hissing guttural sounds echoing around the wand shop, memories from another man, the killing curse, his great aunt and a snake, a picture of himself and Albus, You-know-Who flying – And he knew where he was flying to. And a young man with black hair and glasses, holding the Elder Wand.
Gasping as though he had been holding his breath for the past three minutes, Gellert gulped in the air around him like his life depended on it.
His guards were kneeling down at his feet, most notably, Jane, Christophe, and Luka. The others were standing outside the cell.
Controlled panic settled in. "Change of plans." He said, sitting up. He grabbed onto Jane, who helped him sit up.
"Sir, what happened?"
"Phase two begins immediately." Gellert ground out. The other guards tensed at his words before Gellert whispered, "Voldemort is coming. Now."
A few of them gasped and began looking around them wildly.
Holding up his hands, Gellert said, "Fear not, my friends. I will protect you. Please, follow exactly as I say and you will be spared."
Some of them appeared skeptical, but Gellert continued. "Meet me back at the gates of this Castle in three days' time. If you truly believe in me, I implore you to trust me. I promise no harm will come to you."
Without thinking, the guards standing at his immediate cell door except for Jane, Christophe, and Luka ran to the others stationed around the castle to warn them to flee. Those who were not entirely friendly with Gellert refused and remained at their station. So be it.
Turning around as he watched the other guards leave, Gellert wandlessly vanished all comforts from his cell. His bed, chair, papers, food, everything. The only item left was a cold stone bench and a moth-eaten blanket.
The three guards looked on in astonishment and awe that was tinged with fear and panic. His one display of wandless magic solidified their trust in him.
"Go, dear friends!" Gellert said. "Jane. Christophe. Three days." He addressed them both and hurried them on their way. "Luka, please stay behind. I need some help with something, quick."
"But, sir!" Jane glanced around, twiddling with her wand. "Come with us!"
"I can't, my dear. It's me he wants." Gellert answered. "Not to worry. I will take care of him."
Jane appeared fearful, and Christophe grave, but they left without further argument.
Another flash of a vision filled Gellert's mind. Voldemort was almost there.
"What should I do?" Luka shouted fearfully as he gripped Gellert's arm to keep him upright.
Gellert turned to face him. Oh, how he was going to regret this. But sometimes, sacrifices were necessary for the Greater Good.
The footsteps of the others no longer echoed throughout the hallways of Nurmengard, and that's when he sprang forward.
Gellert clutched onto Luka's face, magic threading itself through every pore of the man's body. Swirling vines of black magic wove through Luka's hair, eyes, pores, mouth, ears. Gellert felt the magic receptacle on his chest grow hot as Luka aged beyond his years, his hair greying and his face turning ashen and hallow.
Luka screamed, struggling against the binding Dark Magic that flowed through his body and Gellert's lips turned back into a furious snarl as he drained Luka's magic, hands and arms shaking as he gripped the boy's head with all his strength.
When Gellert couldn't take the heat any longer, he threw Luka to the ground and immediately cast an Imperious on him. The force of the spell was stronger than what he was used to, and the boy immediately obeyed. From there, he changed Luka's appearance.
He now looked to be a man in his hundreds, with one blue eye and one brown eye, wiry silver hair, and emaciated. He was stick thin and grotesque, large sunken in eyes and half his teeth fell out to the floor. An exact replica of himself, had he looked older. His charms work hadn't waned over the years much to his relief.
The imperious held strong and Gellert hid, vanishing the teeth on the ground as he did so. Not that Luka would be able to fight off the imperious with his magic drained in the first place. The man was inches from death, but it was enough to fulfil what he needed. By the effects of the Imperious curse, Luka climbed beneath the blanket and curled into a ball.
Indeed, Voldemort showed up. Gellert had to agree that the man before him seemed formidable. Not one to be messed with. He brought with him a cold fury that chilled even his own heart. Perhaps he had underestimated this man, being in prison for so long.
What truly terrified him about this disfigured Dark Lord, was that he flew. He was flying without the aid of a broom or creature. He slithered through the bars of the window and landed lightly, dark smoke-like vapor billowing out around him as he landed with barely a whisper.
"Grindelwald…" Voldemort hissed, addressing Luka.
The Dark Lord was so blinded by his goal, his plan, and his fury that he never noticed Gellert slip into his mind, however brief. There he saw in blinding clarity what the man was looking for, and actual fear seeped into his bones.
Gellert implored Luka to sit up through the imperious and repeat the words running through his head, praying the ruse worked. Luka smiled devilishly, "So, you have come. I thought you would. . .one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."
Blind rage emanated from Voldemort. "You lie!" Gellert felt Voldemort invade Luka's mind through the imperious. Taking a calculated risk, Gellert forced his own memories through into Luka's mind, showing nothing of interest and a lifetime of sitting quietly in his prison cell. He even threw in a memory of him and Albus sharing a passionate night together. A furious shout that shook the stone walls, a flash of green, and Luka was dead. Voldemort was sloppy, but his rage broke every single window pane throughout Nurmengard Prison as he promptly flew out the way he had come in his black vapored flight.
Gellert waited for what felt like an eternity, relief flooding his veins. At least he could say he had tried to protect Albus in his grave. The past slowly coming back to haunt him, he remembered one of the last times they had spoken to one another. He never meant to kill Ariana, but pretended to not know who had cast the fatal spell to the young girl. His remorse over the situation was real, and he knew his great aunt saw it in his eyes while he vowed to keep his distance from the Dumbledores because of it. But she was holding Albus back from traveling with him and starting their journey for the Greater Good. At least now he could say he truly tried to repay him.
Now debt and regret free, Gellert felt wonderfully refreshed to start anew. He walked over to Luka, made sure his eyes were shut, and bade his time for the next three days. What were three more days in his cell…
~oOo~