Odyssey of a Mage Part II

by mootjeman7

Part II of Odyssey of a Mage. Begins in the Grindelwald War Era. Atticus Sayre, reincarnated soul navigates the perils of life. War and Peace, Life and Death, Love and Hate, all of these Atticus Sayre must contend with if he is to shoulder the responsibilities he's taken on for the Magical World. Ruthless, Determined SI-OC. Fem Riddle. Pre-Halo Crossover.

16. Chapter 64 Part I

Hello All, welcome back to the story, to the penultimate chapter of Arc 2 (There will be three more posts, Part 2, 65 Part 1 and 2).

There is a lot of assumptions being made like how I am stretching the story which I find a little funny given the scope of what is being written and how fleshed out it is being made.

Stretching the story for the sake stretching it is far from what I aim on doing and it makes for a worse story. But what it is even worse is a hasty conclusion.

It is my writing style, I suppose, to weave and introduce a multitude of threads to culminate to an ending, an ending that is satisfying rather than one that happens all too often FF, TV series or even movies.

But that is your right to make such a comment just as it is your right to give negative reviews.

Without further adieu, please enjoy the post!

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117

The discord channel is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/^v^r^8^8^t^6^4^Y^e^7

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28th of March 1943

Arcturus Black POV

A putrid hue of purple crackled from his wand, felling the last of the enemy before him, the body falling into two pieces into a pile of rotting flesh.

He spun around, his elbow close to his chest with his feet ready to shift into any direction, his eyes coldly surveying the surroundings.

Ancient black stone spires laid broken in the main square of the castle, most of it having been reduced to rubble as battles had been fought around it and atop of it.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw movement and he swivelled around, a curse crackling with menace at the tip of his wand.

As he turned around, he saw the spell come towards him and he twisted his body around, letting the spell pass before he whipped his wand arm around like a whip and the crackling spell that had rested impatiently at the tip streamed forward.

The man raised a shield and his spell crashed against it but Arcturus had not remained idle and unleashed a rapid spell chain, one that was instinctual and eventually tore down the man's shield and eventually through him.

His eyes caught the black haired Russian who combatted several men on his own, a mad grin on his face even in the face of killing curses and spells that would kill him with ease.

He dispatched with all but one with astounding ease, the swift and efficient nature of his movement held an almost graceful nature to it, a dance he perfected again and again.

The man danced and pirouetted out of the way before he did the unthinkable, re-holstering his wand as he closed the gap between himself and the last man. He slammed his fists into the man's mid rift before he had dispossessed the man of his wand through a muggle like technique, an insult Arcturus would have killed him on the spot for had it been done to him, and the man crashed into the floor.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the Russian took his wand again and after a series of wand movements, he re-holstered his wand, all of it taking less than two seconds.

The air around Dachemov grew turbulent, the dust and ash around him picked up and began to swirl around him as he brought his hands together, an intense look of concentration on his face.

A dark light with blue glowing wisps began to form in between his hands, his right hand above his head and his left hand below it and his arms trembling from the effort seemingly. The dark light grew to a black orb that seemed to swirl in on itself and just as the man seemed to pick himself up, Dachemov straightened up, his arms still in front of him before he twisted them around and pushed the wandless spell towards the rapidly panicking man who could not outrun or out dodge the spell and was sent flying backwards and fell onto his back.

It did not stop there as his skin began to glow with spidery blue black veins and his face contorted into a silent scream of agony before small amount of smoke erupted from his mouth and soon enough he was died, seemingly having been burnt inside out by the spell.

Dachemov re-palmed his wand and though he seemed to have no real indication of tiredness, Arcturus spotted the forming of sweat and the slight quickening of his chest that indicated that it took much from him.

Dachemov turned to him, his neatly kept beard almost seemed like the underside of a knight's helmet formed onto his face, and their eyes met.

Dachemov's face morphed into a slow grin before he raised his wand and twisted around, looking for the next enemy to destroy.

Arcturus' lips thinned for a moment before he too continued on to bring an end to this battle.

He fought side by side with his cousin-in-law, Lord Casper Crouch and resistance whittled down as he fought and killed several more men. The battle had died out not long after he took down his last man, the remaining enemy fighters have fled or captured.

He looked around the square and saw the damage their battle had caused. It was unfortunate but nothing that could not be repaired.

The battle had been hard fought but it had been shorter than the ones he had fought lately. This was the last battle after a series of battles that had taken over the course of only four days. There had been heavy resistance at first, word of Grindelwald's defeat had not been believed by the most ardent of followers.

By the time of this battle, he could visibly see that more of them had begun to believe the news but spite and anger was still high.

"Shame about the damage" Casper said to him before he shook his head "They did not hold back doing as much damage as they could to the school."

Arcturus glanced at him "Likely from foolish hope their Lord will come back and praise them for continuing to deny us prizes." Or more likely out of spite and anger.

Casper smiled thinly "Grindelwald would not remain this long hidden if it didn't mean he was dead. Even showing himself as injured but still surviving Grindelwald would be enough to drag out this war for years to come"

"Perhaps" Arcturus allowed "Doesn't change the fact that the ones that are continuing to fight are mostly those who he elevated beyond their station."

"They have the most to lose regardless of Grindelwald's final insane and suicidal intentions. They'll get what is coming for them, even if they have escaped. Their names are known as are their deeds and bar a few, the majority of them will not have a spickle of influence they had in the last few years." Casper surmised.

Arcturus inclined his head before he mused "It'll take decades for tensions to whittle down." Not that he cared. They were unimportant in the grand scheme of things. They had nothing he wanted beyond perhaps their skill with their wands which he would possibly employ once they settled into the underbelly of Magical Society where most of them would go into hiding in.

"My Lords" he heard and turned around. The man was a tall bulky man with strawberry blonde hair that fell past his shoulders. He wore a no nonsense expression that fitted his face like a glove and had a voice to match.

"Director Sodesgaard" Arcturus nodded to the man. He was the recently appointed Director of the Norwegian DMLE after Arcturus and the coalition of forces, one that consisted of British Aurors, his allies and their allies, and lastly Mercenaries his family had a…close relationship with, liberated the Norwegian Ministry and driven away the Grindelwald loyalists.

The Black family had friendly relations with several Scandinavian families, mostly because every few generations, several Black family members would go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts with the purpose of building alliances. Several of those members would end up marrying into influential families allowing the Blacks to keep a foot into the politics of Norway, Sweden and Denmark where the highest population of Magicals were in Northern Europe, outside of Russia.

Though…given the atrocities against the Russians, it may no longer be that the Russians had the population advantage.

Cassiopeia had kept a close eye on the affairs of Norway and Sweden, ensuring that if an opportunity had presented itself, they could capitalise on it. As such, they kept close contact with the disenfranchised nobles who had resisted Grindelwald's pull for decades previously and had thus been punished, severely, by nobles who had taken the opportunity to weaken if not destroy their enemies.

When the news of Grindelwald's defeat had reached his ears, twelve hours before IMP had been released, he'd begun to organise what he and Cassie had planned; to profit from the chaos that the beheaded movement would wrought upon Europe.

After obtaining the best Aurors from the British Ministry who were all too keen to fight now that Grindelwald was dead, they'd acted quickly and liberated the Norwegian Ministry first.

The Norwegians held some of the strongest magical bloodlines in Europe as a result of being descendants of ancient Norse Mages, often spawning some of the strongest magicals in the world and he knew that many of those families who had been suppressed by their fellow countrymen and foreign invaders were but waiting for a moment to take revenge…something he offered and many took especially in the wake of Grindelwald's death.

They'd cut a bloody path through Scandinavia, one that he no longer had much control over now that the rebellions were springing in every little enclave, something that was happening all over Europe.

But that was fine, it left Cassie to secure what they wanted hidden in the chaos.

After all, there were many Grindelwald sympathisers that would not be missed if all of their possessions and members were dead…

"We've secured the school, most of the students are fine though there were casualties" the man told him before his eyes darkened "There are several students unaccounted for, many of whom will be problematic"

"Anyone in particular?" he questioned.

"Out of the notable deaths and absences, only the Lamskjaer Heir is dead whilst the Hiilmaesk, Gunnarson and Haelaand Heirs and daughters are missing"

"Do you think they took them when they escaped?" Arcturus questioned seriously "If so, we can chase them, my friend" he offered to Sodesgaard.

Sodesgaard smiled briefly before he grew serious "I cannot ask it of you and unfortunately, we need your men to secure the castle whilst we go and deal the remnants still in the country. The children will have to wait."

Arcturus nodded. "A shame. There's been enough noble bloodshed to last generations"

Sodesgaard's eyes darkened "Just so. With the fall of the last significant resistance in Norway, we can finally put the rest of the country in order." Sodesgaard extended his hand to Arcturus and looked at him meaningfully "Norway is…grateful…of House Black's assistance and will always be welcome to receive members of your House" he told Arcturus.

Arcturus smiled thinly and took the man's hand. He'd arranged for Sodesgaard to be elevated to Interim Director and he doubted that the man wouldn't be able to make it his own.

Sodesgaard was not the only man who would receive the Blacks warmly, not after the way his House had 'helped' the Norwegians and with careful cultivation, the Norwegian Ministry would be receptive many of his ideas and suggestions.

Just as he and Cassie wanted.

"The ICW should not poke their noses in Norwegian affairs now with the liberation of Durmstrang and the restoration of the Ministry." Arcturus commented.

Sodesgaard's beard almost twitched in annoyance "Hail to Frigga for small mercies. The last thing anyone needs is their overbearing presence"

With the Scandinavian nations putting their countries back in order, the ICW would not have the opportunity to make them effectively client states under the umbrella of the ICW like they had done in several Central, South American nations and in South East Asia.

They parted ways and he walked away with Casper Crouch until one of his family's vassals came to him.

Casper bowed his head and left him with his vassal. Arcturus threw up a privacy charm and stared sharply at the young man who began at the cue "They're secured, My Lord" he said quickly. He glanced around for a moment before he continued.

"Unfortunately, Damsgaard's granddaughter died in the fighting" the young man grimaced "We were unable to heal her wounds in time"

Arcturus' lips thinned to an imperceptive line before he spoke "We will have to make do." Arcturus paused for a moment "Witnesses?" Arcturus inquired.

The young man gulped but nodded "No witnesses were left alive" he told Arcturus.

Arcturus stared at the man for a few seconds before he nodded slightly "Good. I want them moved within the hour."

"It will be done my Lord" the young man bowed and left, leaving Arcturus to his thoughts before he shook it off and walked towards the far side of the castle.

It was a messy business what he was doing. It was unsavoury, that was undeniable but if he did not, he would never have another opportunity like this again.

He came across Dachemov who seemed to wait on him and Arcturus met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Dachemov" Arcturus acknowledged coolly.

"My Lord" Dachemov said with a mocking smile. Arcturus wished to wipe out that smile of his face.

Dachemov was powerful, certainly but Arcturus was no slouch. It would be narrow win if they fought. Dachemov's wandless capability were irrelevant when Arcturus was faster and more powerful, only his unpredictability and reckless behaviour made it a much tighter prospect than it should likely be.

He had hired Dachemov to assist in his endeavours. The man had taken upon himself to raid in Grindelwald held territories on his own, a death sentence for most but given the man's background as little more than an assassin, it was to be expected. Even so though he was effective, it was a waste of the man's talent as he could be far more of use in an assault with a large force…as evidenced tonight.

Dachemov's smile fell off, a hard expression replacing it "My tasks have all been completed. Tell me what I am owed."

Arcturus stared at him for a moment before he looked past him, towards the frigid mountains in the near distance.

He kept quiet for a few moments before he spoke up "She is in Grenada." He glanced at Dachemov. "Alone. She believes Grindelwald to be dead and no longer sees any point in this war"

Dachemov chuckled and it was far from joyous. It was one of bitterness.

He walked away from Arcturus but not before leaving a final word. "War for those like me and her don't end. Not really" the sounds of his boots marked his retreating form, leaving Arcturus alone as he gazed out into the distance.

He betrothed Druella Rosier to Cygnus, garnering an alliance of mutual interests. His payment however had not been a substantial dowry but rather the continued whereabouts of Vinda Rosier, a French cousin of the English Rosiers.

Lord Rosier had not been keen on betraying blood but Arcturus could be…persuasive.

He doubted Rosier would look at him the same way again.

He held Vinda Rosier partly responsible for what had happened to his father and brother and would lose no sleep at what Dachemov would do if he prevailed over Rosier.

Many had thought him to be soft, unknown to the finer nuances needed in a Lord Black. He'd allowed many to think that whilst he gave those in the Traditionalist Faction the green light to vote as they pleased.

They were wrong.

His own desires had come second to the House as it should.

House Black never allowed a threat to their power to exist, at the very least unimpeded yet the lack of adult Blacks in his generation would have made it too risky a prospect to get directly involved.

A line of thinking that proved to be correct from the memories he'd seen of the battle between Sayre and Grindelwald, a battle where it truly showed him the stark differences between Sorcerers and Archmages.

Grindelwald's death and the near immediate disgrace of Albus Dumbledore finally freed him to act with totality. He had already planned to liberate Durmstrang prior to the defeat of Grindelwald but now they could operate without any true concern…bar one.

He narrowed his eyes.

Atticus Sayre proved to be far greater than he had imagined, the near unbelievable powers he displayed against Grindelwald proved that.

Atticus Sayre was a different threat to House Black's power, one that was still undetermined as to what his plans were but he could see that the typical method of subduing or eliminating him would not work, should it become necessary.

He was neither a benevolent Archmage nor was he a Dark Lord to be.

His lips curled in a grimace.

And with his possible abilities as a Seer, he would see betrayal coming should it be anywhere near as effective as Cassiopeia thinks it might be.

In all likelihood, if the boy was a Seer, then the best chance to eliminate the threat he may possess may be now, before he grew up to harness the full extent of his powers.

Family tradition dictated that he act against Sayre lest House's Black position is threatened, age old history demanded that ruthlessness of him.

The Lord Sayre was still a boy, no matter how unbelievably strong he was at the age of eighteen.

The problem was…

There was the bond of blood and there was a millennia old pact between the families that he was loathed to destroy.

Atticus Sayre may not be a threat, in the conventional sense, to their power.

Cassie believed that his entreaties to the mudbloods was one of necessity, to stave away the destruction of their ways.

That his infamous beliefs, about magic, purity of blood, science…Cassie believed that he had a plan that he was working on with the Slytherin girl, one that meant great change for their world.

Above all, the boy seemed to promote harmony amongst wizards and witches, to bind them all into one singular people.

He was not a fool to believe that the boy was magnanimous but he could not see any immediate dividends unless it was a long term plan.

A long term plan for what though, he did not know.

The boy loved magic, that was clear and from all of his interactions, he had seemed to dislike politics.

But then again, it could have been a mere façade, something he would not discount despite the years of conversing with the boy before he rose to prominence.

The boy had proven to be a snake in raven clothing and Arcturus did not doubt there was a deep cunning in the boy…a son of the Sayres never was a dullard.

Chances were the boy Saw something that made him change his mind, starting when his father had changed his approach and informed the Ministry and himself about what the muggles would do and were capable of.

What was he trying to achieve?

Arcturus shook his head.

He was a patient man. He would unravel the boy's secrets and determine then his course of action.

Should it prove that the boy was someone who was truly a threat to House Black, he would act, blood ties and ancient alliances be damned.

A few days later, he met up with his sister on an island in the Ionian Sea, one that had been in their family for centuries and was unknown to both muggle and magical society.

They had several such locations, even in the Caribbean, that allowed them complete privacy.

"Sister" he greeted as he walked into the balcony who was looking over the guardrail towards the men wo were working on completing a building.

They would not remember working here once they left the wards, the contracts and oaths they swore would ensure the secrecy. They would only remember being paid and would be several thousand galleons richer.

For many, this wasn't their first job for them. Out of those who worked for them the first time, a surprising fourth of the number repeated working for them again, not caring that they did not remember when the pay was so good.

"Archie" his sister said as she turned to him.

"How are things progressing?" he asked of her before he offered her a glass of wine.

She took it from him and met his gaze "Just fine" she smiled devilishly. She swirled around and looked down again "The families are aware that someone holds their members and heirs. The hints that I have added have made them think that they were betrayed by some of Grindelwald's followers, namely Dukesvky"

Arcturus hummed as he stood next to her, watching the work unfold. "They don't suspect?"

She glanced at him "Some suspect there might be more to it but my work is solid and without a hint of evidence that suggests otherwise." He looked at her and saw a ghost of a smirk on her face "It helps that we have Dukevsky in our custody. Makes it a lot easier to stage our play"

He smiled triumphantly. Dukevsky had not been an easy man to capture, let alone find. It was only the fact that they had kept an eye on him before Grindelwald had been defeated that allowed them the time they needed to take him before he disappeared for good.

"When will we begin to approach them?" Arcturus asked.

"Not for a few weeks at least." She pursed her lips before she drank of her wine. She smiled in contentment. He could understand, it was a good glass of wine.

She turned to him "We'll have to be careful not to allow any thoughts to emerge that can make us seem…complicit."

"Naturally" he drawled with a raised eyebrow "How do you expect us to get involved then? From their perspective?"

His sister liked plots upon plots, likening herself to a spider weaving her prey into her webs. She rarely involved him in the finer details in her plots though she ensured that he was kept informed of all major decisions affecting the House but generally, she had the freedom to do as she pleased, in the name of House Black.

Some may be aghast at the freedom he was giving her but he knew that this was the best he could expect from Cassie.

Plus…

He did not want that mind of hers turned against him. Being siblings certainly did not mean as much to her as it should.

"Well, it's not a secret their children are gone and no doubt the news will leak" she smirked before she grew serious. "They are Grindelwald sympathisers even if they did not pick up a wand and bear his symbol, something that will protect them from the ruinous fines that other families will no doubt receive but it will not be forgotten. Help will not be given to them, not without destroying much of the remaining of their disgraced standing and wealth and that is where we will come in"

The families they'd taken children from were those that they could not so easily remove or coerce.

Those who had been deeply involved in Grindelwald's plots and had wealth were either eliminated root and stem or would be eventually and their assets absorbed into the House.

These families fell into the category of being Ancient families with substantial wealth but never committed to Grindelwald in any particular way.

It meant that they needed to approach things in a different way to gain their allegiance, one that they would replicate in Britain though with different means.

He had plans for those who they had proof on that collaborated with Grindelwald.

There were only two Most Ancient families that were chief collaborators, only one of whom that he could squeeze in the future whilst the rest were Noble families who wished to secure a higher position than they were currently at.

The Selwyn's likely were annihilated likely by the Sayres, who had been the chief conspirators of the Godric's Hollow plot that were British, which allowed them to effectively vassalise them and that only left the Greengrasses alone who the ministry suspected were involved.

With the disgrace of Dumbledore, all those who were associated with him had lost substantial political capital. The McKinnon's, the Browns and so on did not look good in the view of the public and the IMP was capitalising on that.

Much to the benefit of his House.

Those who had supported Grindelwald, even tacitly, were looking nervous and it left him the opportunity to force them under his banner in the Traditionalist Faction, the only faction he knew would be able to counter Sayre and Slytherin for years to come in the Wizengamot.

Even if the boy was not interested in Politics, his betrothed was and that he knew would mean that he would have to act fast to be able to ensure that they would find opposition in him.

He knew that Sayre's ideas would not be received well by the majority of the old guard, who would see their powerbase dwindle into irrelevance should the boy's ideas of meritocracy flourish.

He had no doubts the years ahead would see many flock to his banner in anger and fear.

The political landscape of Magical Britain was a monolith that would move for no one and many idealistic Lords and Ladies were defeated, beaten down by the rampant corruption, a facet of the Ministry his House was guilty of encouraging to prevent it growing beyond the remits, beyond the limited authority the Nobles gave the Ministry, and eventually consigned to a long list failures unable to recognise that not even power or money could untangle the web of deceit, corruption and flagrant self interest that was the Ministry.

And it would be something he would encourage to hamstring whatever plans the two of them had.

He would lean on Spencer-Moon to aid him in his plans.

Arcturus brought his mind back to the matter at hand "Is there not a better way" he glanced at her "If I were them, I would suspicious at this offer of aid"

She smiled "Of course and they will be as well. There is no getting around that." She sipped on her wine "It is why we will have to be as mercenary as we can be."

"They might become bitter" Arcturus grunted. "Which would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise…to gain the allegiance of both sides of Norwegian and Danish nobility"

"Something they will lose when they're reunited by their children" she spied at him "We'll have to make sure the children's stay is…unpleasant" she sipped once more on her wine. "The trauma of their stay and the 'extraction' will linger in their minds and that of their parents for a long time which will only aid us in the long run" she smiled thinly at him.

"We'll be their 'heroes' and that is something we will continue to cultivate down the years."

They remained silent for a moment.

"How certain do you believe their plans extend globally?" he asked of her.

She turned to him, her eyes dark "With total certainty." She declared "I know for certain that they are building their influence, the IMP is only the beginning. Their radios are used all across the world and they have a channel reserved for their own purposes." She turned away from, clenching her wine glass.

"I've heard that they were also heavily involved in the extraction of mudbloods from German muggle camps meant to exterminate them" she continued "The only benefit I could see from him doing so was to ingratiate himself even more with the blood traitors and mudbloods when the news is made public of his acts. MACUSA will undeniably make certain it will become public soon now that Grindelwald was dead and his movement destroyed."

"Something that once more will get him seen as a saviour in the eyes of the public" Arcturus grimaced.

She hummed in an irritating tone "Indeed. He's fattening up his public image to gargantuan proportions…and we have no idea why. He's a Sayre…what does it matter what the public thinks of him?" she shook her head.

"It's infuriating." She finally said after a moment's pause. "To not be able to completely understand what they're doing…what they're hoping to achieve with all of these moves."

They looked onto the building site in uneasy silence.

"At least we know for certain he won't wage a war like Grindelwald did" Arcturus broke the silence with his musings.

"Hmm. Perhaps. But it would have been easier to fight than whatever this is they're preparing to wage." She pursed her lips "We'll have to be smart back home. The population adore him and from what we know, he will be looking out for any signs of anyone disparaging him or his betrothed in the public forum"

"Hmm." Arcturus merely sounded out.

She looked at him curiously "What is our end game with them anyway. I know we need to oppose them, lest they completely dominate everything, but what will we do when we find out what their plans are? Join them if they prove to us they are preparing for a war with muggles or worse a civil war based on blood purity?"

"You're not thinking of it being neither of those things?" he asked her.

She grimaced "I can't see a reason to position himself as a saviour in the eyes of the public without it being something that appeals to everyone. I would have thought he might want to become a ruler but that doesn't fit with what we know of him"

Arcturus twisted his face in distaste. "There are too many unknowns. Let's just secure ourselves with alliances and we'll deal with it when it comes up" he told his sister.

She hummed neither approvingly or disapprovingly.

"You're going to have to do something about Orion" she said suddenly.

He growled "I know"

She spied at him from the corner of her eyes. "Either get him back into the fold, away from her or disinherit him and try again with Cygnus."

He gritted his teeth. Cygnus was a good son, a worthy son of the Blacks but Orion was the more magically powerful...and one who was currently wholly in the half blood's pocket.

"All our efforts will mean nothing if at the end it all falls into their hands." She said before she walked back into the cool shade the interior of the beach manor offered.

He knew what he had to do to Orion unless he wanted to let him go and disinherit him.

That would only break whatever remaining ties Orion had with him and give her his son.

He put the glass of wine to his lip and with a smooth action, drank the remaining liquid in one gulp.

He scowled. He had promised to himself he would not do what grandfather Phineas had done to the family…

But what choice did he have?

The sour expression fell off his face, replaced by a hard, stony look that signified to the world of the decision he'd come to.

Arcturus always did what was best for the House…even if it meant that he betrayed himself and his family.

-Break-

28th of March 1943

Albus Dumbledore POV

He opened his eyes wearily. His eyes squinted against the influx of bright light and he felt his mouth to be drier than he'd ever remembered.

"You're awake" he heard grumbled out.

His eyes readjusted and saw his brother Aberforth sitting there in a chair across from him.

"Wa-Water" he croaked out.

His brother stared at him for a moment before he conjured a glass with water which he floated to him.

When it arrived near Albus' face, he seized it and drank greedily, the cold taste of water had never felt so pleasant, to the point his eyes were closed in contentment.

He reopened them and began to utter "Thank y-" his eyes fell onto his right hand and he dropped the glass onto himself but he did not care.

His right hand was a decrepit deformed blackened form that he only now realised he could not feel. He brushed his sleeve upward and saw that it extended past his elbow, stopping just before the bulk of his bicep.

He tried to clench his fist but at most he could only close it with almost no strength.

"It's permanent" his brother spoke up, causing Albus to break from the horrified daze he was in.

He sat up in his bed, leaning on his good arm.

"Nothing can be done?" he asked as he turned to his brother.

His brother looked much like him, only he wore his hair and beard longer to the point that no one could make the easy connection that they were siblings.

He also looked older despite being his younger brother.

"No." His brother said flatly, his expression completely neutral.

Albus' mind whirled. It must not have been a true withering curse then. They were abhorrent pieces of magic that were astoundingly difficult to counter. The nastiest had their bases in Ancient Egyptian origin, who were famous in their necromancy and deep understanding of the soul and magic.

He had never been interested in that particular branch of magic, always having considered it to be a brutish way of cursing people when there were far more eloquent magic available that could do the same job but without the painful death it guaranteed.

Albus sighed before he stared at his hand again. "At least I'll live. I thought I was going to die"

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet" his brother interjected.

Albus turned to his brother who wore a neutral expression. Dread began to fill him.

"Why?"

"The curse…it's still going to kill you" His brother told him. "It's a nasty withering curse. I had to look up where it came from. It's Egyptian in nature. It has latched onto your magic and unless you find the person who placed the curse, it's permanent. I've managed to halt its progression but you don't have much more than a month. Two tops."

Albus closed his eyes.

"I know who it is…" If it not Ms Riddle then it is certainly Sayre.

Once more he rued not dealing with them when he had the chance.

"Who did this to you?" His brother enquired.

Albus shook his head. It would be best for his brother not to be involved in this. "It doesn't matter. They won't lift the curse." Not without forcing them to do it. And in this state…

He could feel his magic aiding whatever Aberforth had him drink in his unconscious state. It felt weaker than he could remember.

"Always with your secrets, even as you lay dying" His brother said scathingly before he audibly breathed out "Well, not that it matters much anyway."

Albus turned to him and met his angry look. "It looks like all of your dirty little secrets are being outed anyway." He turned and picked up a paper and threw onto Albus' lap.

He frowned deeply as he read the headline.

'How did they find out?'

He'd been careful in his actions. He'd created an alchemic potion with the 'Borrachero' shrub, from a flower native to Colombia.

The seeds, when powdered and extracted, contains a chemical that destroys free will utterly and completely, in a way the imperius curse could not manage.

The individual would not recall events during the state they were in or be able to recall sometimes even days prior to the potioning.

The alchemic potion enhanced that and allowed for him to control every facet of the individual's psyche.

Because it was his own creation, there were none who could tell the symptoms that they would display and Goblins cared not about the odd behaviour of humans when he brought muggleborns into their banks in this state.

He'd allow them alone with the goblins who would test them and arrange meetings with them to discuss their accounts. Without fail, he would know of it and give him time to dose them again once it was time.

IT helped that he had a complicit goblin at Gringotts who kept their involvement out of it. 20% share of the wealth went to the Goblin he imagined likely was dead now.

He had them transfer the galleons and other valuable artefacts and books out of Gringotts and into the Dwarves of Switzerland and close the Gringotts account, ending any further Goblin interest. As their legal magical guardian, he could sign it off and allow them to make this decision despite being underage.

"Is it true? Did you swindle poor kids of their rightful inheritance?" Aberforth asked accusatory.

Albus did not dignify that with an answer "How long have I been out for?" He looked at the paper and saw that it was dated 25th of March. He was at least unconscious for a day.

His brother scoffed "I'm not telling until you answer my damn question!" he slammed the table and gave him a withering glare.

Albus was tempted to leverage his condition against his brother but the look in his brother's gaze made him realise perhaps he would not find much success if he went that route.

"I did not swindle those children" Albus told his brother "They left it to me in safekeeping until they were of age. By the time they were of age, they were discontent with the magical world and cared not to use their wealth to partake in what they saw as an 'unjust' society. They only asked that I use it to change things for the better which I had planned to" he sighed before he looked at his arm "It seems like I might not be able to" he said bitterly.

Aberforth barked out a laugh "Pull the other one" he shook his head before he loathingly looked at him "Don't forget I was there when mother taught you how to lie."

Albus looked coldly at his brother "It is the truth as I know it"

Aberforth let a poisonous smile creep onto his face "And that doesn't make any less of a lie"

The tension between them was fraught with hidden meaning and broken ties.

"It's been four days." Aberforth finally said. "Four days since your pet weasel came rushing to me about you almost being dead." He glanced at Albus' hand. "Had I arrived ten minutes later, you would be dead."

Four days.

With how weak Gellert was, could he still be alive?

"Where is Septimus?"

"Weasley? I've obliviated him. The poor lad doesn't deserve to be involved any further with your mess" his brother grunted.

It was left unsaid that Aberforth didn't either.

Albus looked at his brother "Thank you brother, for saving my life." His brother looked away from him disgusted.

"Don't thank me. Thank our parents. I could not give a single damn about what happens to you, not after finding out how much you have shamed our family more than people believed father ever did. You've swindled children for God's sake." He shook his head before looked at Albus with betrayed eyes "and after all this time, you still love that man after all that happened with Ariana to the point you lost your damn mind and attacked Hogwarts students!"

"I did not attack Hogwarts students" Albus said offended. "If I had, no one could have stopped me"

Aberforth scoffed "Dippet managed to easily enough"

Albus resisted the urge to wince. It had not been his proudest day…to lose all sense in such a way. Had he kept his marbles, he would have made Dippet unconscious and extracted Riddle on his way out of the castle.

"And I don't hear you denying you don't care for the bastard either" A harsh look in his brother's eyes made him turn away.

"I do not love him" Albus denied but even to him, it sounded weak.

Aberforth laughed bitterly. "I curse the day he came to Britain. I lost more than one sibling to him"

"You have not lost me yet." Albus said quietly.

They remained in silence for a brief few minutes, intently gazing at each other.

Their relationship was a broken one but they were still brothers…they were all they had left of their family.

"Despite everything, you still came to my rescue" Albus said softly but his brother looked away disgusted "Beyond saving my life, I am grateful to know that you still care enough to not let me die."

Aberforth turned to him, an inscrutable look on his face before his eyes fell onto his dead arm "Was it worth it? Whatever you tried to find?"

Albus closed his eyes, the cruelty he suffered from his former students was beyond what he could have imagined from anyone. To dangle such a hope in front of him, only to lure him to his death…

It was evil.

"It would have been worth suffering a thousand times the pain I felt" he answered truthfully.

He wanted to bring about his vision for the future but equally, he wanted to beg his sister for her forgiveness…to know she did not hold him responsible.

Aberforth's eyes flickered with emotion as he began to understand. There was only one thing they truly regretted more than anything in life…one of the few things they had in common.

"Do you mean it?" Aberforth asked him. "Do you truly mean that you are not lost to me?" Aberforth was uncharacteristically sullen.

It was hard to reconcile this version of him to the bitter man he'd grown to become.

It was said death brought families together just as easily as it shattered them.

Perhaps his near death could do what he could not in health.

"Yes" Albus answered honestly.

His brother looked away, gazing out of the window, seemingly mulling something over in his mind.

"Then forget about him now that he's dead." His brother finally said, his voice slightly more fragile, something he had not heard in his voice since the day he broke his nose at Ariana's funeral.

Aberforth did not look at him as he spoke, his eyes remaining fixed onto something outside of the home through the window.

"There is still time for you to make amends." He remained silent for a few minutes, a silence that seemed to stretch until he finally met Albus' gaze again.

"Give those poor people their money back and let them all know that you're dying. They're not going to stick you in Azkaban when you only got a few months left to live. Come back with me and we'll figure it out." His brother tried.

Albus met his gaze and saw the genuine attempt of reconciliation.

He almost said yes in that moment.

He had wanted little more in the wake of his sister's death. But he had kept his distance.

Not only to give him space but he had been fearful that Aberforth would tell the world about his secret relationship with Gellert. Something that passed as time went by but nonetheless he had always thought that perhaps one day he would destroy his life out of spite.

"I…" Albus began.

Could he really go quietly into the night, surrounded by the last of his family?

No.

He could not accept his death. Not when he had barely lived. Not when there was much he had to do.

"I cannot" Albus said with guilt and weariness, his eyes closing.

The tension in the room grew and Albus felt Aberforth's gaze burning into him.

"…I see." His brother finally said, a tone of ice and betrayal mixed like an unholy concoction of bitterness.

There would be no further entreaties from his brother ever again.

Albus knew this in his very soul.

"Not even his death is enough to pry you away from him and his poisonous Greater Good." His brother's voice was dead, no emotion in it. He felt something crash into his lap and saw that it was his necklace.

It still showed Gellert as alive, thankfully.

Gellert had always been supremely talented in dark curses. If anyone could break this withering curse, it would be him.

Aberforth got up. "This place belonged to a friend of mine" Aberforth lips thinned. "He's been dead for a few years. It's not registered in the Ministry so as long as you don't do any magic, you'll be fine." Aberforth made his way to the door, his steps on the creaking wooden floor rang prominently in the air.

"You're leaving?" Albus couldn't help but ask.

Aberforth glanced over his shoulder "There's food for a few days and your wand is on the table downstairs." Aberforth looked forward "Don't come looking for me. The next time I see you, I'll let the Aurors know." He opened the door and left, leaving Albus alone with his thoughts.

Albus clung onto the necklace with his left hand. There were several Divination spells that he could use to divine Gellert's location.

He had little else to live for now.

There were few wards that could stop him from finding him and should he be desperate, he could always use the darker variety.

Albus looked once more at the paper, all of his dirty secrets revealed to the world with bitterness and anger.

It would become difficult to come back from this…even if he brought Gellert in chains.

At most he would retain his freedom but never again would he be looked at as anything but a cheat and a liar.

He stared at his cursed hand.

He had little choices available to him. He could betray Gellert once they were both healed, attempt to rebuild a semblance of a quiet life or…

He closed his eyes. Could he truly betray his ideals, to use power to rule over everyone in the name of the Greater Good?

For once, Albus did not have a clear answer to his own question.

-Break-

Drakul POV

The ancient stronghold shook again, dust and small parts of old stone broke away from the ceiling raining down onto the great hall like a mild winter snowfall.

The doors to the great hall opened and a blur past through before it stopped in front of him, revealing Carolina who he had tasked to discover how many were attacking.

It hadn't been noticeable they were under attack, not at first.

It started with nearby hubs of vampires, those who were too weak to be in his coven but were under his control, which went quiet within hours of each other. It had been suspicious but he had marked it as largely irrelevant even as he dispatched several of his stronger subjects to investigate, thinking they would be able to deal with whatever they faced.

They all went missing which caught his attention and heightened their state of readiness, believing that they were under attack from one of the rival covens that hated him and decided to take advantage of his current depleted numbers.

Until he saw the bodies of his vampires.

Their mangled decapitated bodies that showed clearly that there was some kind of magic involved…making it impossible for Vampires to have done this.

He knew then his failed gambit with Grindelwald had come home to roost, not entirely unexpected given his attack on the French but he did not expect it to come this soon.

Oh…he mused to himself, the incandescent rage he imitated simmered underneath his dead flesh even as he marvelled and wondered at how terribly wrong it all went.

When Grindelwald came to him with the gift that all vampires craved but only few could understand, he could finally have what he had achingly yearned for.

The return of their souls…

Drakul was old…perhaps the oldest Vampire still alive.

He'd been born in 322 A.D. near the coast of the Black Sea to a small tribe within a large nomadic kinfolk many had now taken to call the Huns.

He did not remember too much of his human years, his perfect memory gifted by his Vampiric nature did not allow him to recall that period of his life with the same clarity as it did the fifteen centuries after – a factor that aided him to understand the depth of his loss – but he remembered enough.

He remembered riding his first horse as a child likely no older than six, he remembered the first time he killed another human as a teenager, he could recall being part of conquests that sieged and burnt down villages, towns and even a city…

And he remembered having magic.

He had been a mage…once upon a time. Not like those old Roman warmages who wielded wands in destructive ways or present day mages who could perform greater variety of magic than had been possible in his day but old wiccan magic that was primitive and limited. Nonetheless he had magic and he remembered using it.

It was that fact about him that had attracted the attentions from a Vampire of Gothic nature, who he learnt centuries later likely could have been amongst the first of Vampires…a consequence of a Roman mage dabbling in Black Magic at the behest of a powerful Roman Senator, and so he was turned into a Vampire.

Vampires of weaker constitution turned into little more than animals, hunting and killing until they were disposed of by muggles, magicals or vampires themselves.

He remembered the overwhelming hunger he felt, a hunger he did not understand nor ever satiate completely, even if he drank rivers of blood.

He had been close to losing himself to his hunger in those early days but rage, which had been growing dull though he had not realised at the time, had kept him focused. He had felt the loss of his magic keenly, a phantom limb that ached.

A loss brought to him by a Vampire who had amused himself in turning mages and seeing them lose their sanity. Drakul however had not lost his sanity, his Hun heritage had played to his advantage when it came to hardship…to death and loss.

Eventually he killed that Vampire and roamed the world, hunting for answers that give him a reprieve of the craving that grew duller with time but always present, always within every fibre of his being.

Emotions became something that he vaguely remembered and tried to imitate though it was nothing but empty, not unlike a starving man would imagine the smell of spices and perfectly roasted lamb as he ate the rotting bark of a tree.

He had learnt that the craving and the need for blood to sustain oneself was a consequence of a shattered trinity…an outcome of a ritual conducted in the night that wished to create an immortal and obedient being, stronger and faster than normal humans or mages, but went wrong somehow.

The Mind, the Body and the Soul combined to form the Self, who you were. The ritual had destroyed that by violating nature in ways he still did not know, the name of the Mage who had done this was lost to history.

He no longer possessed his own soul and his body, though strengthened and faster, always sought to reconnect with the piece that was missing and human blood was the closest thing in existence.

Magic and blood were deeply tied into one another. Blood held special power in Magic, all magical beings knew this. Blood could be considered to be liquid representation of life…the nectar that coursed through the veins of living beings.

Was it any wonder that shattered imbalanced creatures such as he needed that nectar to sustain themselves whilst the life giving touch of the sun turned poisonous?

Magic always required balance, a balance that would be forced if it did not exist.

Without the trinity, he was not truly alive but with his mind and body intact though changed, he was not dead either.

Without his soul, he was akin to a shell without a host, immortal by a fluke of Magic that required blood of humans to sustain itself, feeding from the life of others to have a facsimile of life himself.

It was a cruelty that was unbearable to many Vampires when they are turned, especially former mages who all have a greater connection to their souls because of their magic. They tended to be the most vicious of the recently turned Vampires, losing their sanity and reason and rarely did any survive the early months when their emotions still lingered.

It was why there rarely were Vampires of magical descent.

When Grindelwald had come to him with the offer to return their souls to them and proved that it was possible…

To refuse would have been to accept existing as he was now for eternity, always remaining shattered…

He'd known that Grindelwald would have rescinded the offer upon his victory and likely attempted to destroy them all but he'd been confident enough to plan for such an eventuality and would have set things in motion to forcibly make Grindelwald to carry out their agreement.

He was not a stranger to backstabbing and manipulation.

The risk of all-out war with the mages should Grindelwald fail had been more than acceptable.

Anything was more acceptable for the chance to have his own soul again…to possibly even feel again.

The news of Grindelwald's defeat and death had reached them almost a week ago and for the first time in over a millennium, he imagined Grindelwald's death as impactful as the loss of his magic and soul would have felt to him when he'd just been turned all those centuries ago.

All of his efforts and the deaths of the Vampires under his control had been in vain.

France had been a failure despite the high death toll they'd caused.

A full two thirds of his strength had attacked France and by the end, only a tenth of that number returned to him, speaking tales of a man wielding a seemingly indestructible sword that could cut down any of them with ease and speed rivalling any of them, leaving them weaker than they'd been in since the Vampire Wars of Dominance six hundred years ago.

"My Lord" Carolina whispered, her words carrying an undertone of urgency "There are only two as far as I can tell."

Drakul narrowed his eyes.

"You're saying that two mages are all that are killing all of our fellow vampires" Drakul's voice was low and an icy coldness washed over the room.

She dipped her head, trembling before his terrifying gaze. "Yes." She whispered. "The Sayre boy is wielding some kind of spear and enchanted machinery that can spew fires hotter than I have witnessed before…possibly worse than even cursed fire. But he isn't doing much himself"

This wasn't good, Drakul mused inwardly. If Sayre was here…

She looked up, her blood red eyes showing a hint of fear.

Vampires had a sense of self preservation, one that could be mistaken for fear and anger when it was in reality akin to what an injured lion would feel in its bid to survive.

She hesitated for a moment "The young girl is the one responsible for killing the most of us when the enchanted machinery isn't. She fights like a dark mage with cruel brutality. We can't seem to get close either."

Drakul clenched his jaw though the expression on his face did not change.

Before, he'd sent Vampires out to seek out aid from other friendly covens who he'd informed of the possibility of their souls returning to them and none had managed to get far from the ancient castle.

Somehow they were trapped here and their enemy possessed means to kill any that escaped.

That meant the only way to survive was to find and kill most of them which was why he had sent out groups of Vampires to hunt down and thin the group assailing them before he'd speak with the survivors, determine how they were accomplishing these feats and if an end to hostilities was possible.

With the death of so many of his coven, he was vulnerable to an assault by rival covens that detested his influence over them which had been why he had suspected it to be them.

He'd forced them to abide by a set of rules in the outcome of the Vampiric Wars, one that they chafed under.

Like any apex predator, Vampires believed themselves to be at the top. He did not disagree but even the largest hornet could be overwhelmed by a mass of bees.

And so he'd ensured all vampires kept to the shadows and those who did not, faced True Death.

He'd set up a permanent Elder Council, headed by the oldest and most powerful coven rulers as a way to reduce the tensions that arose from his victory and rules. Of course he'd elevated several covens that were younger than many others who were older but it had been his right as the Ruling Elder.

His decision to support Grindelwald had been independent with a few covens joining him but most did not though he had earned the tacit approval of the Council who lost nothing at the gambit. Win, and Vampires would no longer be constrained in the shadows.

If he lost…

With the inevitable testing of his strength, he needed to make peace with the magicals, something he knew now was not going to happen.

He had not expected for him to be here let alone come here with only one other. This changed everything.

In the wake of Grindelwald's death, he'd did all he could to find out more about the boy.

He'd been aware of the boy's actions against Grindelwald's forces but he could not have predicted the boy was powerful enough to be able to defeat Grindelwald.

Grindelwald was powerful, even if Drakul had lost his magic, he was still a magical creature and he could sense the power he possessed. It was power unlike any he'd felt for almost a millennium though it was far darker than the one he remembered, the tinges of Black magic in his dark nature had added to the reasons why he refused him the first time.

It was ironic, in a way. The one who Grindelwald resembled in strength had been capable of doing a similar feat to what he had accomplished despite being opposites in Magic and in temperament.

Miriam.

None save one other Vampire would know of that name and understand.

The true name of Merlin Ambrosius who he'd met not long after the man had forcibly changed the very nature of Goblins when they'd been defeated by the first Wizard Coalition.

An act that was that was taken to be called as the Humbling of the Goblins, one that ended major conflicts between Goblins and Wizards and allowed Goblins to survive without posing a continued threat to the Magical World.

He had not cared about any of that…only that he'd been able to change the nature of a magical race.

Miriam had been approached but to his disappointment found that for all of the man's power, he did not have the knowledge or an idea of how to return a soul. It had not been a completely useless meeting however given that it led months of conversation regarding Drakul's early centuries of life. It had been the first and only time he'd spent such close proximity with a living human without draining them though they had both known that Miriam's strength in magic meant that Vampires posed little threat to him. A strength that Grindelwald almost matched.

And for Grindelwald to have died, it meant that the boy was on their level.

Someone who was here for total eradication with the way he and the likely Slytherin girl were slaughtering vampires.

"Gather the remaining Vampires and bring them to the great hall" Drakul ordered, his black and red eyes grew as vibrant as cooling volcanic glass. "We'll stand a greater chance here."

She got up and bowed before she disappeared in what would seem like a blur to normal eyes.

He placed his arms behind his back as he walked back to his seat.

His gambit with Grindelwald had failed and he was likely going to pay for it with his life.

He tilted his head in quiet musing whilst he clenched and unclenched his fists behind his back.

He would not make it easy for them.

Emily POV

She spun underneath the reach of the knife like fingers which whistled in the air.

The vampire snarled, its sangria eyes glittered with ravenous, murderous hostility as it leapt back over two dozen metres away. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the light of the flames that surrounded them.

It landed onto its feet and blurred forward once more, her eyes tracking the creature with difficulty but she could see enough.

Emily's wand flashed a crimson colour, a long tendril of a fire crackled as she pulled at her arm, the tendril of burning fire lashed forward and caught the mid-rift of the creature, all of it happening in less than half a second, and halted its advance.

The vampire's face contorted into an agonised snarl as the fire seared into its flesh. It clawed at the fire, and subsequently at its torso, but it was to no avail.

She drew back her arm and swung it away from her body, the tendril of fire that constricted the creature grew tout due to its elastic traits and swung the vampire into the air.

She cancelled the tendril of fire and with a wide arc of the wand, she slashed towards the vampire, a dark purple blue spell careened from her wand which bisected the creature in uneven halves with its left arm lobbed off as well.

The vampire howled in pain as the upper part of its body crashed onto the cold stone, still alive, still conscious despite its lower torso several metres away.

She glided towards her stricken down foe with careful, graceful steps, the sounds of her armour clinking beautifully and in rhythm of her steps.

Blood splurted from its mouth, the vampire now realising the full nature of its situation. Her lips curled in satisfaction.

The look of realisation in the eyes of the vampires had invoked a deep pleasure from within her…the moment they knew they were going to die at her hand.

With a jerk of her wrist, a silver flash streamed from the tip of her wand, separating the head from the neck and it fell with a wet thud onto the cold stone.

She stared at the lobbed off head whose mouth was ajar. The skin began to grey, whatever magic kept the thing alive was leaving the pieces of the body, desiccating before it would turn into ash within the hour.

She mused to herself she might bring Eileen Prince some Vampire Ash for her birthday. It was one of the rarest of ingredients – and illegal – only used in two known potions. Eileen probably could find many more uses for it.

She tilted her head upward, the whizzing and wiring sound of the…drones above her caught her wary attention.

The room darkened with the death of the flames that Atticus conjured causing the drones to slowly become alit with a white glow whose touch that stretched far into the distant dark reaches of the long hallway.

The drones were made from a silver grey metal and added to the sleek oval body they had. Its front had what looked like a perfect dent in it but it was far from the case.

It was the opening port of a kind of energy that she only had the barest of knowledge of.

Beam made out anti-particles that bombarded 'real-particles' it came into contact with, the reaction between the energy and the matter caused the areas of where the Vampires were hit to literally be destroyed out of existence and if they were hit enough, their bodies would combust in on themselves, turning into a bright red white hot colour before all that remained was a black mark in the place they stood.

It terrified her.

Those drones had killed five-fold the number of vampires she'd killed and she knew they could have done it much quicker, only increasing her incredible unease around the things.

She never thought it possible…

That there were weapons that could annihilate atoms of her body and if there was a large enough attack…

It made her method of immortality pointless for she could be completely destroyed should such a weapon be fired against her.

Only a few days ago she would have scoffed at magic-less machines capable of such power…something she was utterly disabused of as her world view was shaken once more.

She heard Atticus' footsteps behind her and she glanced over her shoulder. His magic was subdued but she could sense that he was teeming with magic even if he was aglow as he normally would be. His face was stoic, his eyes dark, his long hair, hair he artificially grew longer, hung past his shoulder, draped his face like his cloak draped his body.

He was adorned in silver grey armour, which was polished and seamless with blended sharp features that marked its surface difference from age old armour of the middle ages.

It was made of Adamantite but it was far from the only thing that it was made of, the technology within it made him a veritable superweapon even without his magic.

"There aren't any more nearby" Atticus said before he turned his head, a frown worn on his face, towards a wall on the left side.

A…holographic displaced formed around his face, one that permeated through the solid structure of the walls.

"The remaining Vampires have congregated in a large room" Atticus said to her. "It seems like they're gathering for a last stand."

She glanced back at the corpse of the vampire, a distant look on her face.

When he had taken her to meet Moira, she had never expected such a story to be told to her.

A story of Ancient Humans millions of years old, an empire that encapsulated billions of stars and that sailed the stars as easily as man sailed the seas, connecting hundreds of thousands of human worlds to each other.

A story of greatness that was reduced to one of destruction and utter humiliation. She wasn't sure what had come upon her…the feeling of rage on behalf of a people long extinct, save for a single member…a people that were closer to being muggle than magical.

Perhaps it was the fear within her that spoke up…that for all the power she might possess, what should she do in the wake of such overwhelming technological might?

Even the structures of these…Precursors who were made out to be god like beings with unimaginable magical powers billions of years old – which had pleased her immensely to found out it was possible to live that long and was certain magic was responsible – could be destroyed, structures of immense size and awe inspiring indestructibility annihilated…proving that magic was not an answer that could solve everything or undefeatable.

It also highlighted what could lay beyond this world…the dangers of non-human enemies and nightmares like the Flood that were worse than any magical disease or creature.

She finally understood Atticus' obsession with space…the need to expand outward, to inhabit a world of their own and to create a collective people that could rise to the untold dangers that they would face.

She understood now that being the greatest witch wasn't enough…would never be enough. Just as they were superior to muggles, out there, in space, there could be beings that could crush them as easily as one would crush an ant under their boot.

A feeling of dread that thought had inspired that had not left her core being even now.

He told her that he hadn't known of Moira until he'd already been to space, something she believed, but that he'd always felt a calling to it.

Perhaps it was his Seeing abilities had manifested in a certain way that directed him towards that obsession. Magic did work in strange ways.

Moira's people themselves did not understand it well enough, even if it called it something else.

Which had pleased her. Moira's people may have accomplished great things without magic, but they would accomplish far more with it.

Things they were already starting on. She glanced at her body. She wore armour of the same kind of metal though it was lighter and nimbler though no less strong.

Atticus had made these in his trunk version of the Time Room and one that was further enhanced by that mechanical elf, Sparkly Dawn.

Tiny runes were inscribed into her armour that masqueraded in curving lines when in reality they were runes that made it as near as destructible as she could imagine.

She lifted her arm and tilted it, glancing at the screen that lit up on the inside of her arm. Within the armour there were miniscule power cells that powered shields, tracking technology and even a small weapon hidden in the back of one of the arm braces.

Moira had insisted they kept a non-magical weapon in their armour just in case.

Speaking of Moira…she did not trust the woman at all. She felt closer to a muggle but was not. Not quite a squib either but something in between.

But that wasn't what she did not like about the woman…it was the fact that she was completely closed off from her magical senses. She did not feel like a void…but more like a closed wall where her Legillimency and sensing abilities could not pass through…at least not passively and she was not too keen to test the woman who held technology that could obliterate the entire world.

She glanced at the drones again. She did not trust the woman who gave all of her people's accomplishments to Atticus and his family, even if they were her descendants. If it were even true.

Why favour one type of human when they were both the descendants of her people, according to her?

If Emily was terribly blunt, she suspected the muggles would have far better use for it than magicals would and despite Atticus' drive for magicals to pick it up, she knew that they'd never devote all of their time to understand her people's technology and science.

Magic would always come first, even if technology was more powerful.

At present.

Atticus' plans for colonising a world out there made it apparent that they would have to create a society that fully fell under their rule. To survive what was out there, there could no competing governments or societies that would weaken their kind.

It also meant she would have to…curb her loathing of lesser magical breeds. She could see the advantage of Goblins in their future world, warriors that could fight and craft weapons and ships when they met other space faring civilisations.

Even Veela could have their uses other than being whores.

She shook her head, ridding herself of the musings that had flittered in her mind for the last few days, to the point that she'd almost forgotten that they'd needed to deal with the vampire situation.

By the time three days had passed spending all of it learning all of the secrets, history and plans that Atticus had kept from her – even if she could accept he could not have shared it without the agreement of Moira, a woman despite not having magic was perhaps the most dangerous being alive right now – they'd allowed Atticus to remain out of sight for too long.

He could not simply show up after going missing for so long and so she concocted this plan of theirs.

To annihilate the vampires responsible for the Bloody Massacre of France, the name that was soon becoming popular to use to describe the attack, and bring his preserved head to the French Ministry and to Atticus' forces.

Atticus was already cherished for freeing the country but this would cement his reputation there which only suited their plans.

With the population of France, Britain and Ireland staunch supporters of her and Atticus, they would have over 60,000 mages in their sphere of influence, one that would grow over time as she'd work to bring as much of Europe under her influence.

It also helped that she wanted to…express herself fully without restraint and vampires proved useful targets.

"Let's go and finish this off" she turned half way as she flicked her wand upward, carrying the desiccated half of a body with her. "Which way?" she asked him.

He nodded to the other end of the hallway "That way before we turn a right."

She saw Atticus look at her with an inspective gaze whilst she walked passed him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Have you gotten out what has stressed you for the last few days out of your system?" he asked her as he locked step with her.

"I've not been stressed." She denied and looked at him with a mild glare.

Atticus lips began to twitch upwards as he tilted his head "Really?" he asked sceptically with doubtful eyes.

"During this whole excursion, you fought with a relentlessness that honestly scared me a little" he said with slight humour. She looked away from his amused face. He continued "Not to mention, some of the way you killed them." She heard the disturbed tone in his voice "I mean…did you have to cast that filthy curse at that vampire? It didn't even kill him!"

She glanced at him and saw him looking a little green causing a side of her lips to curl upwards. "Which curse?" she asked innocently. "I did cast a lot of curses after all, many of them quite vulgar" she said in a humming tone.

"The modified entrails curse" he said in a slight reluctant tone.

She frowned "I think cast several modified versions of that curse…" she turned to him with a deadpan expression. "You're going to have to say it to make me remember" she said meeting his gaze.

He looked uncomfortable which amused her. He was fine with bodies and parts of them laying all around him, surrounded by pools of blood and guck but as soon as it is a pretty nasty curse of certain body sections…well, he turned into a little pansy.

"The protruding one" he said through gritted teeth as he looked away from her gaze, not even Occlumency seemingly able to suppress the embarrassment he showed with slightly tinted cheeks caused by saying only half of what was protruding.

She wouldn't use that spell again, that was for sure. The shock value was quite great but then she'd have to see something like…that again. If it looked that disgusting on vampires, she definitely wouldn't want to see it on humans.

"Ah…" she said in an understanding way that fooled no one. "I just wanted to cause a distraction" she shrugged. "That was all" she finished in a way that signalled she didn't want to pry even more, not now.

He looked at her and seemed to pick up on that. "Have any more attempted to escape?" she questioned him and he shook his head.

"No, no more. They've figured out they can't escape and can't kill us either forcing them to retreat with what numbers remains which probably the only real move they have left. The drones have a pretty much complete view of the compound and can see the slightest of movements dozens of miles away." He explained.

Her face twisted in displeasure. She wasn't sure why she felt like this…this feeling of being…dissatisfied.

She'd always enjoyed holding overwhelming power over the heads of those beneath her but there felt something…unfulfilling in the way all of this had been done.

She banished that thought away. They weren't here to showcase their magic anyway, just to come away with Drakul's head and to elevate Atticus' status amongst his soldiers once more.

After a few more turns, they arrived at the door and Atticus began to draw more of his magic, the world began to bend around him slightly as his eyes began to glow brightly white.

She shivered from the sensation, the tingling warmth that seeped deep into her, deeper than through her skin, flesh or bones.

She let off her reins of her magic as well that twisted and swirled around her, magic hummed in her veins, a throbbing network of power that lied just underneath her skin, waiting to unleash agonising death to her enemies.

"There are twelve vampires there." He glanced at Emily but she cut him off from whatever he was going to say.

"I won't make any mistakes." She said sharply, their eyes intently on each other before he nodded and let her take lead.

She smiled at him warmly, genuinely for a moment as her hand travelled to her cheek, a slight caress that trailed the contours of his cheek before she withdrew her hand, her expression shifting into a one of coldness and she turned towards the door.

She loved him but he was worried too much.

She glanced back and saw the drones become camouflaged, disappearing from all sight. She could still sense them, the slight vibrations they made echoed in the dense magical air they both created as they unleashed some of their magic.

She threw the decapitated body piece through the door, the sound of the crumpling body echoed in the large hall as it skidded across the stone floor.

She looked at Atticus in the corner of her eyes as she walked through, with him locking step with her as they made their way into the hall.

His face nearly overshadowed by the glare of his intense glowing white eyes, the magic they exuded was palpable.

She turned away from him and looked around. She saw the ancient look of this hall…this hearth, cobbled worn stone with long beams of dark stone that held up banisters made out of wood, as if to throw a mockery at the ancient myth of what could destroy them. On each side of the wall were rows of candles that burnt brightly red that gave off an ominous atmosphere.

She turned her eyes forward and saw several vampires standing beside a high throne. She could sense the animalistic fear and predatory intent, two contradictory emotions that seemed to pulse around each other like two ravenous wolves intent on forcing one to submit to another. It was too even at this moment to tell which would dominate.

She intended it to be the former.

Her eyes finally fell on the man sitting on the throne, his black robes hung from his frame like thin drapes hanging behind windows, silhouetted figures that hinted but did not show, just as the menace he exuded at poorly hid behind the bored expression his face wore, a face half hidden by long black hair as he leaned against his elbow which was perched on the armrest of his throne.

The bright red hue that the room was showered with did not hide the paleness his skin showed, as if mere light of flames could not tinge his winter moon skin.

He sat languidly in the seat though his eyes, two pools of merciless violence with pale red vapours that shone and danced in the black waters of his eyes.

They kept walking, closing the distance as their heels echoed like the drums of war in the deathly silence all fell prey to, the tenseness of the situation rising and rising as the distance closed.

Drakul shifted his position slightly but it was enough to make her stop, her eyes intensely surveying the slightest of movement.

She was not as fast as a vampire, not yet, possibly not ever but at this distance she cleave several of them in half if they rushed her.

"If you wanted an invitation to my humble home, I would have eagerly sent out an invitation" his voice was soft and seemed to hover in the air.

He sat up straighter in his chair, his hands lay on the armrest at ease and without tension but she knew he was primed.

His eyes flickered between the two of them, intensely studying both them, on Atticus more than he did her.

Her hand clenched slightly tighter on her wand.

She hummed beautifully "We didn't want to bother you" she smiled, her teeth bared as she spoke, the nearly silent hisses of the lowly creatures at the insult and mockery was music to her ears. "Besides, we didn't want to ruin the surprise for you…in a manner that is respectful of your ways." Her lips drooped and mellowed, one twitch of the lips away from curling into a venomous smile.

His eyes snapped to her, a silent stare bore into her, one that could shake and thrash the nerves of many with the sheer intensity and warning that shone through in those unearthly, inhuman eyes.

To her though…it was merely entertaining…a wringing sense of amusement at the annoyance the creature must feel.

"And you mean by that…?" There was no curiosity in his question, both knew the answer, all knew the intent of what she had said.

Her eyes glimmered as her lips curled into a predatory smile, her top lip drawn back to reveal her incisors.

The tightening around the corner of his eyes was enough to tell that he felt insulted at the gesture and she went for the kill.

"To prey on the weak…to put inferiors in their place by reminding…and feasting…on them" Emily's eyes grew dark, her magic rose in dark wisps that seemed to strangle the light out of the room. The red flames of the torches darkened, as her magic began to suffocate the air out of the room.

One of the vampires blurred forward, its fingers curled in a claw like shape readying itself to claw out of her face.

Its head exploded into ash whilst she drew her wand, a gnarly blue spell streamed forward, hacking the decapitated corpse into a thousand little pieces before she vanished it away before any of the pieces fell on the ground.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her half lidded eyes turned towards the group of vampires who stood deathly still and overwhelming animalistic fear overtook any predatory instincts they may have had.

She smiled in the light of the red flames of the torches, her black eyes shone with a red glow around the rim of her pupils.

Drakul felt like nothing to her, like he was a void in space except a sense of dangerous air that he seemed to naturally exude.

Drakul leaned back in his chair, his cold eyes staring down at her intently. "I see. And there is nothing we can do to reach a…mutually beneficial agreement?"

Her smile turned vicious as her eyes flittered around the room, meeting the gaze of each vampire present who struggled to not look away. "There is." She said in a soft tone as her smile shifted into one of rich sweetness like honey dewed milk.

Drakul narrowed his eyes but seemed to wait what she had to say.

Her magic began to rise from out of her, a turbulent wave of magic shone out of her as her eyes took on an unholy gleam of magic.

"You can bow"

Drakul's eyes widened significantly and he snarled before he leapt out of his chair, the distance between them was eaten in half in less than four tenths of a second.

The rest of the vampires also began to blur forward in that time.

Red strobe lights filled the room, flashes dominated the room like stars winking out of existence as vampires were destroyed in fiery white hot flashes before they were nothing more than black marks on the ancient stone floor.

Drakul had been hit by several of the beams in his lower half of the body, losing some of his momentum and with an incredibly fast flick of the wrist, she cleaved off his head from his body but she wasn't fast enough to deflect away the claws of his hands.

Thankfully Atticus had remained focused and banished away the remnants of Drakul's body before it could reach her, crashing onto the floor.

She turned around and saw him with an outstretched hand and gave him a blinding smile "Thank you my love"

His lips twitched "My pleasure" he said with an amused shake of the head as his magic receded away, the glow of his eyes banished behind the familiar purple green eyes.

Her fingers twitched and the separated head of Drakul towards her. Her wand rose and with a series of wand movements, a glass began to form around the head before it was sealed shut. "That should preserve the head for at least a couple of days." She said before she turned to him.

She flicked her finger and the separated head floated towards Atticus who took it with his hands. He looked at it intently as his lips thinned.

She watched him curiously. The way he looked at the creature's head…

"You're thinking of your comrades?" she asked as she closed the distance between them.

He glanced up at her. "I am. Though I agreed that you could give the death blow, I very much would have liked to have killed the thing for what he did to my comrades." He said with certain emotion flickering in his eyes.

Her hand travelled to his face, stroking away a lock of his hair from his face "I'm sorry I took that kill from you." She said sincerely.

She had all but demanded that she got to kill all of the vampires including the leader. She hadn't thought that he might have wanted to do it himself, albeit for a reason that she wouldn't have done it for.

He cared about his comrades in ways she could never care for her own. She understood loyalty but none other than Atticus had hers and even that she did not completely understand.

"It's alright" he smiled warmly at her as he took her hand and kissed it. "In the end, it does not matter who kills him, only that he is dead."

She nodded at that before she looked back at the throne behind her. "What do you think will happen with the other Vampire covens? They won't be happy Drakul is dead." She mused aloud.

"Likely not" he agreed "But I doubt they'll act. At least if they had any sense of self-preservation"

"If they don't?" she turned back to him, closing the gap between them.

Coldness crept in his eyes. "If they threaten the Magical World, either with war or by acting up against the muggles, they'll be eradicated. Completely. It won't take long to find their hiding places with Moira's technology."

She never wanted him more than in that precise moment. She loved the way he looked at her, the warmth and love his expression exuded at times but sometimes…sometimes, the cold ruthlessness he expressed sent shivers down her spine.

"Sounds fun" she said with a slight smirk as she brought her face inches away from his face as she stood on her tip toes causing the coldness in his eyes to disappear.

His lips twitched "Probably would be" he chuckled softly. His eyes sparkled in a certain gleam "A midnight stroll in a dense forest under the starlight, hunting bloodthirsty vampires?"

She hummed beautifully as the corners of her lips tugged at the thought "Sounds like a lovely date" she murmured as they moved their heads closer to each other until he finally leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips before he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She melted into his warm embrace, embers were stoked within her into awakening inferno as their kiss grew more passionate, more unrestrained.

She finally broke away as she came back to her sense, prying herself from his lips as she leaned back, licking her swollen lips. "As much as I like kissing you, I'd rather not befoul myself in a creature den like this"

His eyebrows raised "You didn't have any tr-" her finger was placed on his lips, something that amused him quite a bit from the way she could feel his lips moving under her finger.

"We agreed that would not be mentioned again." She said with a mild glare. At times she couldn't resist her…urges and he most certainly knew how to play on it. In even the most unsavoury of places.

He raised his hands in defeat and she removed her finger from his lips. "Of course" he acquiesced in a teasing tone but she ignored it.

She glanced around. "Do you want to scour this place for anything valuable?" she said in a tone that made quite apparent that she would very much like not to spend more time here.

"No, I have already checked it out earlier. There are some signs that there could be gold in one of the basements but it is of no value to us, really" he told her and she nodded.

They made their way out of the castle, towards a clearing at the edges of the castle grounds where the rescued group were.

She stared with blank eyes at the fourteen muggle women who were unconscious "Where we will leave them?"

They'd been used as live blood bags for the vampires. There had been several that could not have been saved given that potions wouldn't work on regular muggles so they'd given them a mercy killing. These women should recover just fine in time.

"At the doors of a nunnery." She turned to him with a frown. He shrugged "It's a dangerous time period for people and I'd rather leave these women at the mercy of other women rather than men who might take advantage of their obliviated state."

She hummed noncommittally as she stared at the muggles. "You're a bleeding heart at times. They're only muggles." She said uncaringly.

"But still human." He reminded her as though she needed reminding. She remembered what these humans had done to her. They might not be the same ones but they would turn out the same if they had known of her magic.

"And they're innocent." He said in a firmer tone "That matters."

She glanced at him for a moment before she looked away at the other unconscious…creature.

"Are you certain you want to keep that thing alive?" she said curiously. He recognised the creature immediately and had stopped the drones from killing her though the others she'd been were all killed.

He sighed "Not entirely. She's almost completely vampiric but she has a soul. I don't know how that is possible. Plus…" he trailed for a moment. "I remember now what her name was…is." He stared at the unconscious tied up creature. "Amelie Cantona" he said.

She frowned. She didn't recognise the name or the family name. "Muggleborn?"

He shook his head "A French pureblood I think who had been in Belgium months ago the last time she was seen."

She eyed him intently "Strange that you would know her" She wasn't trying to accuse him though from the way he was looking at her it seemed like he doubted it.

He smiled at her "She was a…lady friend of one of my comrades. Lyra Silamontaine" he stared down at the creature "If Amelie still has a soul when Vampires don't then that means she's something new…" He was looking at her like she was a puzzle.

"Will you tell this…Lyra?" Emily asked.

"Not sure yet." Atticus said in a frown "I think I ought to. Especially since a familiar face can draw out the humanity in the creature."

Emily hummed "Could be similar to werewolves if the creature has a soul." Atticus turned to her and she expanded further. "We know that the werewolf curse changes someone on a fundamental level…that means that their magical pattern has been changed, something that has changed the magical frequency in which their magic operates in" she paused for a moment "It is very likely that if this…creature still has a soul, her condition could be reversed."

Atticus nodded "I thought that too." He looked thoughtful for a moment before he shook his head.

"Let's finish this off and head to France, shall we?" he asked her and she nodded.

-Break-

Ramirez POV

*POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*

"Quiet" Ramirez hissed out as the last of the men arrived at the marked site.

The sounds of muggle machines and men barking orders filled the night sky.

Ramirez popped his head up and spared a glance all around him and saw there were no one there.

He got himself up from the crouched position he was at behind a metal contraption he did not know what it was and disillusioned himself.

They were atop on a rooftop in a military base in Germany, deep within their borders nestled somewhere near Munich.

He looked over the edge of the building and saw thousands of soldiers and hundreds of vehicles, used and unused alike. He looked into the distance and saw several buildings, all of them huge. He grimaced.

He walked back to his men "I think we're at the right place" he told his men. "Problem is, we'll have to scour every building to make sure we don't miss anything."

"If the enchanted machines are located in multiple buildings, we'll have to split up and make sure tag them all" Sanchez pointed out.

"It will also increase the risk of discovery which is the last thing we want" another said.

"Doesn't matter anyway, the ICW will sweep across this base at a later stage when we can find out how many know about magic and erase their memories" Jacobson noted.

"It does if it means they're more alert if we screw this up." Ramirez said with narrowed eyes. "The last thing we need is them prepared when we come back with a full force or even more muggles knowing about magic"

And wasn't that a disaster?

After the…battle…between Sayre and Grindelwald, his men had stayed behind whilst the majority of the Knights of Mimpost went and aided the men in Paris against the Vampires, taking the prisoners to a ICW compound that held prisoners of war.

At that base, everyone was interrogated with truth serum to determine their scale of atrocities.

Most were guilty of murder but some were truly apprehensible. The ICW did not have the capacity to house all of the prisoners so many of them would be extradited back to their home nation, provided their ministry is stable.

They would be penalised, heavily, and they will be kept on record, magical signature, their blood, every way possible that would make it easy for the ICW to come down on them, hard, should they ever think of joining another Dark Lord.

The ones that were truly too abhorrent were not permitted to live freely…or at all.

Nevertheless, the interrogation had yielded significant results and had led to much of Grindelwald's secret bases to be discovered and dismantled all over Europe and even in the Middle East.

They recovered millions of galleons from these bases, including several hundred thousand galleons worth of potion ingredients.

But most importantly, they discovered that Grindelwald had given the muggles enchanted weaponry, a crime that horrified many.

Grindelwald hinted at it in the published quotes between Sayre and Grindelwald – a fact that he found incredibly suspicious, especially given how quickly the news broke out – but they never could have imagined the depth of his treason.

They were lucky enough to capture several men who worked personally on the weapons and they discovered how badly things could have gotten had the other muggles discovered how much of an advantage these weapons really were.

Grindelwald made them nearly impenetrable, to the point that even magic would have difficulty destroying the things.

It had sent the ICW into a frenzy. What was even worse was the scale of the secret of magic was out.

It seemed like the majority of the German command knew about magic along with a substantial amount of ordinary muggles and that…that nearly caused a widespread panic, Grindelwald's ominous plans about wishing to set muggles and magicals against each other in his quest of ruling whatever ashes remained had sprang in everyone's minds.

All other operations were halted and teams upon teams of ICW obliviators and Aurors that were capable of the spell were sent across Europe, interrogating muggles that were brought into the secret and obtained further names before wiping their memories.

Ramirez did not think it would end for several months to come.

"Alright, let's split up and get on with it. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can call reinforcement in and pick this place clean." He barked out and soon enough, they were all split up and on their way to strengthen the Statute once more.

-Break-

Silamontaine POV

She glanced around her whilst she stood amongst the crowd in the same building they had quartered for themselves when they'd liberated France. It was even more magically expanded now, the newer members they'd picked up along the way had increased their original numbers quite significantly, well over four hundred…even with the recent losses they suffered.

The days after the vampire attacks went by quickly, time had waited for no one or their grief. Most of the remaining members of the Knights aided in the aftermath of the attack that decimated much of French Ministry and many people around the magical quarters.

It seemed the best use of their time now that the war was effectively over.

The Vampires had attacked all of the magical quarters in Paris, their goal seemed to be total destruction and death with the way they killed over a hundred people.

Luckily, the attack had come late in the evening and with the previously looming threat of Grindelwald, many people still not did trust that the French Ministry was able to protect their people, which had been proven right.

The bodies of her comrades had been all found, magically preserved and sent on to Britain or elsewhere for the respective funeral rites to be carried out. It had been…painful to see so many comrades that had fought with her for so long lie there dead at the very last battle of the war.

She saw Potter, Bones and Ms Black at the left side whilst Hirahito, Harfang, Parkinson and Lockhart were just across her. There were a few others as well that she could see from her location and she suspected that everyone really was here.

They'd been asked to come here for a final meeting by Lord Sayre who had finally arrived.

A frown came across her face. She couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed.

Why did it take so long for him to come here?

Had he forgotten about them in the wake of Grindelwald's victory?

Dayton had said that he was coming, causing everyone to stop the plans they had of returning home to be delayed until after he'd arrived but as the days went by, there was a quiet discontent about where he was…why he was taking so long.

She had read the papers that marked out his victory over Grindelwald, the instant legend he created in the wake of that battle. He was a modern Merlin now…the teenage hero who triumphed over an evil greater than even Morgana and Ezkridis.

The public loved him.

Even if there were whispers and careful inquiries about where he actually was.

He'd been almost gone for a week since that fateful battle and people could not help but wonder what happened to their hero.

Even the French public who, perhaps for the first time ever, truly liked an English man, couldn't help but wonder.

He'd arrived at this very building when there had been only a few of them there present and had asked people to spread the word that he wished to talk to them, that he wished to explain his disappearance.

He hadn't stayed long and left to go to the French Ministry and news had travelled fast, even beyond borders now and dozens of reporters from all over had lined up at the French Ministry where he'd been rumoured to have spent several hours to speak with the French Minister.

Not long after, they were all here waiting on him.

She wasn't sure what he would say.

Would he apologise for not coming directly to help them against the Vampires? Had he been here, their death toll would have been far less than it had been.

They had looked out for each other, hadn't they? Why couldn't he have done it again?

Maybe…maybe Clarke would have still been alive, making her call him an idiot over a game of wizarding chess.

She blew out air from her mouth, dangling away a lock of her out of her face before she brushed behind her ear.

She knew she was being unreasonable.

The man had just defeated Grindelwald at the age of eighteen! A man who killed so many powerful mages like it was nothing and the way the people who had seen the battle, he had been close to dying until he miraculously managed to find some kind of power to help him survive and eventually defeat Grindelwald.

A traitorous thought creeped into her mind…

But, then, isn't that what is wanted from their commander…their leader and idol?

To be more than just any other man like he had proven so many times when he'd saved all of them at least once from death in battle?

Clarke was far from the only one who idolised Lord Sayre but he had been one of the most ardently loyal amongst them all.

Yet it had not mattered…dead at the hands of some bloodsucker, his body desecrated at the creature's hands and fangs.

The hubbub around her quieted and her eyes snapped towards the raised platform at the front of the hall where he had finally arrived, reminding her of the powerful presence he had.

She was not the only one who had concerns regarding his…disappearance when he'd been needed. Never enough to truly stop believing in him but enough to cause chinks in the armours of their perception of him. All of them remembered how different he was.

Where others of similar noble birth had an air of arrogance and entitlement, concerned over material things and perception, he seemed like none of that mattered. He would treat someone like Mycroft Bulstrode the same way as he would a muggleborn like Rodney Hanks…and Clarke.

He never asked anyone of anything that he would not do himself, talking with people with an ease and comradery even if they were of the lowest birth or ability.

To him, it only mattered that you chose to be here fighting alongside them all, to fight with him…even if he did not know at times that many only remained for so long despite the risk to their lives because they believed in him.

The faith in him might be shaken a little in a number of them but their respect was still there.

She studied him carefully as he walked to the centre of the stage. He had an expression of grimness, one of solemnity though his radiant purple green eyes shown as always with vibrancy and power. His hair was longer and fell over his shoulders. He wore a plain set of dark robes, perhaps nave from the look of things, far from the green combat robes he typically wore.

Perhaps it was what he normally wore…away from war and death, she mused to herself quietly.

"Found ya lass!" she heard the familiar voice of Harfang and looked towards the direction of the noise. She saw his head sticking out of the crowd he was wading through as he neared her.

She allowed a smile appear on her face which was genuine. She liked Harfang even if he was as gentle as a mother bear. He'd taken upon himself to stick around her and she found herself slowly becoming accustomed to it.

He wouldn't replace Clarke, of course, and Harfang never tried that but it made the blow she felt at losing her friend she came to view as a brother a little less painful.

"Couldn't last a while without my absence, could you?" she teased him a little as he arrived next to her.

He gave off a quite chuckle "Not so much. Just here to make sure you don't brood yourself to death" he bumped his arm against her shoulder.

She hummed sceptically as she eyed him. She didn't quite believe him. "Did Parkinson get tired of you?" she asked leadingly with mirth in her tone.

The reaction told her enough and her lips twitched in amusement. Parkinson and Harfang had different temperaments, like day and night really, but they both secretly enjoyed the conflicts and though Parkinson may viciously deny it and Harfang might joke about it, they were friends.

Even so, prolonged exposure to each other tended to make things a little too…passionate. It was kind of like watching an old married couple at times.

"It was best we listen to our glorious leader away from each other" Harfang said diplomatically causing her to giggle a little.

She glanced at the platform and saw Lord Sayre about to speak and gestured towards him, ending any further conversation. The room had descended into deathly silence.

He did not say anything for several moments, his unique eyes surveying all of them.

"The Knights of Mimpost" he spoke, his smooth powerful voice carved through the hall with ease, where even those at the back of the hall could hear as if he were just beside them.

Men began to unconsciously stand at attention, something she almost did before she caught herself when he said the name of their group.

He looked away to the side for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

"It was just a way to push us rise to the occasion at first…" his voice trailed off in an eerie quality as his right arm went behind his back.

"To call ourselves Knights. To embody within ourselves the qualities of the symbolism of what a knight should be. Individuals who gather strength from within themselves to fight for honour, for justice and the innocent against the relentless forces of evil" His voice grew stronger as he spoke.

His eyes snapped back at them, his vibrant purple green eyes trailed around the hall with intensity as his hand rose in the air and gestured towards them. "It became more than that when we fought side by side against Grindelwald's forces in France, striking and harrying down the enemy until we liberated the very lands we stand on today" Lord Sayre's eyes gleamed, his voice shook with passion as he clenched his left fist high in the air.

The hubbub of the crowd rose just as the passion in his speech grew ever more, the strength of his words sinking into the flesh of all present.

"It became more than just a way to rise to the occasion when we fought in the halls of Genelum, in the cold lands of Switzerland, in the marshes and the river lands of Slovenia and Croatia, our blood, sweat and tears shed in the name of freedom, justice and righteousness!"

Memories of the battles they fought side by side played in the forefront of her mind.

Lord Sayre raised his arms, as if to beckon them into his embrace whilst he looked to them with eyes filled with a maelstrom of purple green eyes that burned with passion.

"The Knights of Mimpost has become a name of brotherhood, defenders and heroism, those who saw the face of evil and did not wither under its presence but rose above it, looming over it like a mountain and crushing it under the weight of our noble character.

We have defied overwhelming odds and laughed in the faces of ugliness and barbarity when we liberated country after country, all whilst we defeated Grindelwald's finest when no one else could." Lord Sayre's electrifying words jolted all into a rapturous cheer.

"Knights! Knights! KNIGHTS OF MIMPOST!" All roared victoriously.

Lord Sayre's were alight before they settled into a warm fire as he signalled the hall to quiet down.

The hall was once more deathly silent, so silent a pin could drop from one end and be heard at the other side.

"Many of you have wondered why I chose Mimpost, what the significance of it was." The room was hanging on over every syllable he uttered.

"It was a wordplay for Post of Mim, the alternative name for Yggdrasil of the ancient Norse Mythology, the world tree that stands at the centre of the cosmos, connecting different worlds from various parts of the cosmos together by its tremendous branches." He paused as he began to pace away from his spot, his arms behind his back.

He glanced at them as he paced. "I had chosen Yggdrasil to represent magic and the realms as the different peoples of our kind, all united and connected by magic.

And all of you stand before" A flash of pain crossed his face as he stopped briefly "and those who we have lost" he said with a heaviness that was felt by all in the room before he continued to speak and pace "have become greater than my wildest expectations. You have become the very inspiration I had hoped to achieve with the symbolism behind the name The Knights of Mimpost."

He stared at them all with glowing eyes that seemed to be able to bore into their very souls.

"You have fought in the name of honour, justice, the innocent and for Magic and her children! You symbolise all that I had hoped to achieve with what I had asked on that auspicious day in the Wizengamot when I called upon you to answer Magic's plight and stand beside me as we drove him to the edges of the world before we sent him to the damnation he so richly deserved!" he fiercely said, his voice teeming with satisfaction, something felt by all.

"We have achieved that and we have broken his evil grip onto Magic and our people with nothing but our will, power and our togetherness!"

She and her comrades broke out once more, cheering in victory.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing" he said over the cheers that began to died down again.

"It is because of us that Grindelwald did not triumph. I may have cast Grindelwald down but that triumph belongs to us." All in the room could feel the depth of his sincerity that he believed it.

"All of you, all of whom who hail from different backgrounds, poor or wealthy, from different blood statuses, muggleborn or pureblood, from different lands, British or otherwise, you all threw away your differences as we fought against a man who ideals sought to divide all of us. Europe is free because of us, my comrades, free from tyranny, free from an evil Dark Lord that threatened to engulf our kind into a war against the muggles that would leave destruction in its wake.

You represent the greatness of Magekind and what is possible when we come together in unity and I hope in time we do not have to fight amongst ourselves once more when there is far more to unite us than there is to divide us. We are all children of Mother Magic and I hope one day that we can honour that truth."

Lord Sayre paused, his passion withered as an expression of solemnity take over as he dipped his head.

"And as we speak of truth, I will also confess something to you all. I have failed you."

Her eyes widened at the proclamation and she wasn't the only one shocked by those words.

"I owe you my life!" one of them cried out "You never failed me!"

"I owe my life too!"

"So do I!"

More and more shouts and denials of Lord Sayre's proclamation rung around them.

Lord Sayre's eyes had widened at that, genuinely surprised at the fervent denial of his so called failure.

He smiled warmly at the men before he signalled them to quiet down.

"Thank you for the words." He said in a sincere tone.

He continued "I have never shied away from telling you the truth, my comrades." He had a solemn expression as he said that.

"When the first of you joined me in this war in the wake of the Wizengamot's refusal to join the war against the evil of Grindelwald, I told you that war was ugly and that we would see a lot of ugliness." He paused for a moment as his eyes surveyed the room.

"We saw much of that ugliness in the hearts of the men we faced and we have seen the barbarity and cruelty they wielded against those who stood against them, many of whom bear the wounds of that cruelty are here with us today amongst us" Lord Sayre glanced around, his eyes falling on the ones who had been imprisoned in Genelum and other places like it.

"But what I have also told you was that we were going to win" he said in a firm tone before it was washed away by a solemn countenance

"Though we have won the war, the cost that it took was high, none ever more so than the cost that our fallen comrades…friends have paid especially at the eve of the end of the war. Dead men do not win and in that, I have failed in keeping the promise I had given to them."

She glanced at Harfang who met her gaze. He looked serious for the first time tonight. She quizzically raised her eyebrow but he shook his head.

"Many of you wonder where I went when I left the battle at Mons" She snapped her head back to Lord Sayre. "Why I wasn't in France when you needed me" He said with a pained look.

She clenched her fist at the reminder.

He had a distant look on his face as silence stretched. "All my life, I have loved magic more than almost anything yet in that moment, I never felt more grief for it" he turned to them, guarded eyes flittered across the room.

"Grindelwald was evil as were his plans for what he wished to our kind. That is undeniable just as it is undeniable that he had to be stopped and it isn't why I felt grief…no…I felt grief because of how many had died at the ambitions and ideals of one man, how many magicals had died because one man wanted to rule over the ashes over it."

"I felt grief at what Grindelwald had wrought onto our kind with the great power he had, the intelligence he bore, when he could have used it to help advance our people into the next Golden Age, where wonder and awe could be brought into the world with new ideas, new magic and philosophy!" Lord Sayre said in a powerful voice, one that teemed with restrained passion.

"He believed his power made him the superior of the rest of our kind when in reality it should have made him the best of us all, to elevate the weakest amongst us so that they can rise to excellence not just for themselves but for the magical world." Lord Sayre paused for a moment, gazing around the room.

"Many of you had kneeled in front of me that night." Lord Sayre had said in a soft tone.

She had heard that was what happened. She hadn't been sure what to think of that…whether she would have done the same.

"Something that took me by surprise and that had concerned me. I did not want you to kneel to me because you saw my power, my strength and believe you had to kneel before me." Lord Sayre's face flickered for a moment "It reminded me too much of Grindelwald."

Murmurs rang out as said that and she could see the looks of discontent and dismay on many. Many who were fervently loyal to Lord Sayre.

"That is not to say I did not…appreciate the gesture" Lord Sayre said delicately "But it is not a choice to make suddenly." He said in a solemn tone.

She raised her eyebrows.

Is he implying…

"Freedom…Freedom is something I cherish greatly and the last thing I would want is for you to bind yourself to me only because you felt like you had to." He stopped for a moment, letting the depth of his words sink into them before he continued.

"I did not understand the depth of the power I had and with all that happened with Grindelwald, with the grief I bore for the tens of thousands of magicals that lay dead, I…" he sighed deeply.

"I felt like I had to process it, just for a day." He glanced at them "which became two, which became four." His eyes grew into crystallised power, magic began to swirl around him as the room thickened with pressuring magic.

"I did not know what happened exactly in France until much later and by that time it was far too late" He said in barely restrained anger as his eyes flashed with purple fire. "But that didn't mean it had to end there"

His left hand rose in the air and with a flick of the wrist "That is why I hunted down the ones responsible with my betrothed, Lady Slytherin" a head in a glass jar came floating from the back until it was in Lord Sayre's hand.

He put his hand forward and she saw the midnight black hair that matched the blackness in the red black eyes of the pale head before them.

It was a grim sight and she couldn't help but smile. A dead vampire was a good vampire.

And it seemed everyone in the room agreed as the volume of approval rose.

"This was Lord Drakul, the vampire responsible for attack on France and who's coven participated in the attack" Lord Sayre's eyes were hard, glittering like emerald and amethyst gems. "They're all dead, every single one of them."

That brought on a raucous cheer. Many of them wanted to hunt down the vampires and kill them all but having their leader do it for them was just as good.

"It is my penance to the 67 men and women who died at the hands of this creature." He said with a grim countenance.

"You are wrong!" she shouted aloud, much to surprise of everyone…and herself.

Lord Sayre's eyes met hers and she wanted to slink into herself to escape that penetrative gaze.

She drew herself up higher as she gathered her composure "You are wrong, Lord Sayre. You said that dead men did not win but that is wrong" she shook her head. "Dead men can win and Clarke…" she said in a faltering voice before she took a deep breath "Clarke did win. He won when you killed Grindelwald and he won when you killed that" she nodded at the head "creature you killed in the name of our fallen comrades."

'He won when his faith in Lord Sayre was repaid' she thought to herself. Clarke would have been happy enough to know he mattered enough to Lord Sayre to avenge them.

"HEAR HEAR!" rang all around her.

Lord Sayre stared at her for a brief moment before he smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Lyra." He said gently. She flushed a little before she nodded firmly at him.

To know that the vampires are dead brought a great deal of peace to her mind.

"And that brings us today to the conclusion of this meeting. I have kept this quiet as I did not want the attention" he glanced at Dayton who suspiciously was looking elsewhere "but I have been reminded that you all could use the ease of mind of what happens to the families of our comrades who have died."

"Since the beginning, I have set aside a fund for the family members of those who have died so that they are not left adrift and in hardship because of the sacrifices their parent, sibling or child had made for the Magical World. They all received and will receive 50,000 galleons and any children left behind will be given scholarships to their schools of choice. It is the least I can do for our comrades, our friends."

This caused many to smile happily if a little surprised, probably as surprised as she was as the amount of galleons which was huge. Many of the ones that died had not come from wealthy family yet still answered the call of duty despite knowing their deaths could cause issues for their families. Twenty to thirty years of salary would truly be a godsend for those families.

To know that those families were taken care of was a relief to her and to many.

"Our comrades may have died but they are not forgotten." Lord Sayre said firmly.

"HEAR HEAR!" she shouted with everyone else.

As the hall quieted down, he spoke again. "And that brings me to you." His eyes roved around the room.

"The Knights of Mimpost was a group that fought for a righteous cause against tyranny and evil, both of which have been defeated. It is no longer needed" he said with a pause before he smiled slightly "But that doesn't mean it won't ever stop being a brotherhood."

"OR SISTERHOOD!" Harfang bellowed, drawing the attention of everyone to him…her. He was pointing at her and at another female who bore a red face though from the way she was looking at Harfang for so being called out, it was probably not one of embarrassment.

Peeling laughter rang around them, one that Lord Sayre joined with a wide smile "Or sisterhood" he said with a nod before he grew a little serious.

"Many of you are nobility or have opportunities to go home to. Some of you may even have ideas of some kind of business that you wish to start that I'll happily help you with generous terms" He paused for a moment as he looked around.

"But those of you that don't have any of that? Well… I have always been more of a builder than I was a fighter and you're welcome to join me" he tilted his head to the left, a full blooming smile on his face as his eyes gleamed like starlight.

She looked around and saw the excitement on the faces of many who she knew would accept the opportunities that Lord Sayre was going to give.

She had enough of fighting for the rest of her lifetime, she was sure of that.

The black robes of Hit Wizards had never really looked good on her and she wasn't keen on returning.

Lord Sayre's vague words didn't reveal much but she knew it was an opportunity she couldn't pass on.

-Break-

31st of March 1943

De Galle POV

He hummed in a jaunty little tune as he painted the side of a naked woman face that was in an enchanted sleep.

"Hey, ho, hai! What is that over the hori z-z-zooooh-han" he sang beautifully as the tip of the paintbrush flicked up as he jerked his wrist up, finishing the runic sequence that started at her throat.

"Is it a broom, broom, broom?" he sang before beginning to whistle as he got up from his crouching position.

He twirled on the spot, a little bounce in his step. "No no no! It's too quick, flying too slick, it must be a flying carpet, young cadet, zoom zoom zoom!"

He glanced around the ritual section of the large room as he hummed the rest of the song before his eyes fell upon Wendy who had been staring at him. The humming died in his throat and he cleared his throat.

"I didn't realise you were here Wendy" he said a little embarrassed as he adjusted his glasses on his face. "No need to look at me like that!" Wendy made no noise nor any outward physical reaction but he knew she was judging him.

"Bah!" he exclaimed dismissively "What do you know of good music?" He said with a glare. "You're just a hunk of flesh I crafted into living" he waggled his finger at her "My songs and my singing is great"

After putting Wendy in her place, he looked at the ritual before him. At the centre of the ritual was Grindelwald, surrounded with a spiral runic circle connected by seven runic arms that each led to a magical within the centre of each runic circle which itself was linked to six other magicals. The six that orbit around the seventh will stabilise the strength of the rituals as they channel their life force – and a small bit of their magic – into Grindelwald. A perfect use of the seven by seven principle.

A feat that would have proven impossible in just a single runic language and this was effectively a multi matrixed runic scheme that incorporated several different runic languages to combine into this complex ritual.

In an immensely complicated ritual such as this which was non standard – that is meant to say the configuration of the ritual was in a septagonical shape with hexagonal pattern around each point of the septagon, far from a standard normal runic circle, it was necessary to use bridging methodology for it to work as intended.

"Ha! How ironic is it that the greater degree of success for this ritual is all because we are using Sayre's universal bridge that he submitted for his Runes Mastery" De Galle chuckled at the irony that the universe played out.

What Sayre's mastery submission allowed was that it bridged the multiple languages within a runic scheme stabilising the scheme without affecting its effectiveness, allowing the full capability of the runic scheme to flourish without the disjoint that might have happened otherwise.

His head snapped towards the exits, his eyes narrowing into slits as his mind whirled.

"Impossible" he snarled.

No one should be able to know about this place!

The wards had picked up a trespasser an-

His eyes widened. The wards were down!

For it to be done so fast…!

He ran out of the ritual section and towards the doors before he glanced over his shoulder.

"Wendy, go greet our friend will you?" he said in a sharp tone and the lumbering creature growled before it turned around and sped away on all four limbs.

He unholstered his wand and pointed it at the exist, disabling the wards for a moment before flicking his wrist, opening the twin set of doors. She ran through and he resealed the door and enabled the wards again.

When she didn't arrive back within fifteen minutes, he grew worried. Wendy should have been capable of getting rid of their rude interloper unless…

Unless it was him.

An explosion rocked the large room and he stood at attention, the tip of his wand glowing with a violent sickly green hue.

The remnants of the doors had shattered inward in the room and had spewed dust into the room, making it difficult to see who was coming.

Why they had to come now, a day before the night of the ritual, he did not know.

"So unlucky" he murmured to himself as he stared at the dust cloud.

"Hmm curious. I have not read about this creature anywhere" he heard someone say in a sophisticated manner as they exited the cloud of dust.

His eyes goggled at the sight. Wendy was afloat in thick metallic wires that constricted her body but that was not what made him speechless.

A man with greying stark red hair and beard walked in with the most offensive robes he'd ever seen. They were in a rich yellow colour with pink teddy bear plastered all on that yellow background.

Looking at it just reminded him of the time he'd been as scatterbrained as an Erumpent horn explosion when he'd took that particularly hallucinogenic potion.

He'd been particularly embarrassing that day, having attempted to swoon a Pegasus mare into mating with him. Thankfully he hadn't been successful and he didn't have any little Centaurs running around.

He snapped out of it "Who are you?" De Galle demanded as he raised his wand higher, the menacing glow of the killing curse that was at the tip of his wand shaded his face in a dark expression.

The man looked startled at that as he set Wendy down. "You don't recognise me?" he asked in disbelief.

De Galle scoffed "I would have remembered an offensive man such as you." He looked at the man up and down in a disdainful way "I would have rid the world if only to save it from your awful dress sense. Ezkridis save me, what are you thinking man?!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Ezkridis save me?" the man said after him with a baffled expression before he visibly regained his composure "I am Albus Dumbledore." De Galle's eyes widened in recognition.

"Ah! So you have heard of me but not seen me before, quite peculiar." Dumbledore said in a musing tone "I would have thought most of Gellert's followers would have at least been able to recognise me on sight"

Gellert? De Galle wondered in bafflement. He was on first name basis with Gellert?

"You've never seen an image of me before?" the clearly addled man asked De Galle.

"No, I don't read any of those nonsense papers." De Galle dismissed before he eyed Dumbledore "Gellert?" De Galle said in a demanding tone "You speak of him as you knew him personally"

Dumbledore's bright expression fell and a much more guarded expression arrived, unsettling De Galle.

It wasn't so much the change but the cold look in the man's eyes.

"Yes, I did…once upon a time" The man said before his eyes looked past De Galle. "He is here, is he not?"

De Galle unease grew more but didn't let it show "You've arrived at the wrong place, Mr Dumbledore. I'm afraid Lord Grindelwald is not here. He is dead after all" De Galle said in a thin smile.

The cold eyes in the man hardened into crystal clear glaciers. "I know he is here, I know he is barely alive. You will take me to him" The man's magic ruptured out of him in a maddened fashion, the pressure he exuded was immense. Nowhere near what he had seen of the boy or Grindelwald but comparable enough.

"Avada Kedavra" De Galle said through gritted teeth and the sickly green curse streamed forwards towards Dumbledore who looked impassive.

Dumbledore's wand roses in the air and Wendy intercepted the curse before the ground began to rumble causing De Galle to panic "Wait wait wait!" he screamed and the rumbling ended.

He heaved heavily as he clenched his wand tightly. The stability of this place wasn't all that high. It protected against the heat, for sure but if too much of the place was destroyed, it would all unravel and he would not lose all that he saved in this place because of Grindelwald.

He wanted to see through the experiment, for certain but not the cost of his precious research.

"I will take you to him. You can kill him if you want or take him, I don't care but you have to swear an oath you will leave this intact and me alone." De Galle said in a hate filled voice.

He hated being backed into a corner but he knew he could not win against this man.

He had heard enough that Dumbledore was meant to be Grindelwald's equal – not that he expected it to also mean possibly that – and he would rather cut his losses than lose everything.

He could always try the ritual with someone else…or himself.

Wendy's temporary corpse was thrown aside, revealing the man who had hid behind her.

He stilled forward, his right arm behind his back whilst he carried his wand in his left. "And what makes you think I will do that?"

"If you don't, I will blow up this place." De Galle said in a maddening furore, his eyes gleaming with hate behind his glasses. "If I am to lose everything, I will make sure you lose everything"

That halted Dumbledore's approach but it did not change his neutral expression.

"You may think you could bind me, disarm me, knock me unconscious before I do…but…if you know that I am one of Lord Grindelwald's followers, then you most likely know who I am." He said in an insane tilt of the head, the whites of his teeth glistening under the light of the room.

"De Galle." Dumbledore murmured aloud, causing the grin on De Galle's face to widen.

They said nothing for a minute.

"You will swear an oath not to interfere with what I have come here to do." Dumbledore tried.

"No." De Galle refused. "I set the rules in my house, Dumbledore" De Galle snarled, spittle exited his lips as his face contorted into a ugly hate filled look. "You will abide by my rules or we all die!" he screamed at Dumbledore.

This rude man was ruining everything, he was lucky he was allowing him this much!

Once more, a tense silence filled the room until, finally…

"I will swear the oath." Dumbledore finally agreed, a wary look in his eyes.

"Know that if I find any loopholes in your wordings, I will do it anyway" De Galle snarled. "I hate being cheated."

Dumbledore said nothing but the tightening around his lips said enough.

Dumbledore swore the oath and after careful examination, De Galle could not find anything wrong with it. The time constraint of 72 hours was fine.

De Galle stared at Dumbledore for a moment before he palmed his wand. "Follow me, I will take you there." He didn't wait for Dumbledore to follow as he made his way to the ritual section.

He quickly flicked his wand to one of the walls and once one of the runes glowed, he sighed satisfied.

He might not be able to match wand to wand with Dumbledore but he could surprise him.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Dumbledore's voice boomed like an angry thunderstorm. De Galle twisted around and looked at the angry expression on Dumbledore face.

He stood at the farthest reach of the ritual septagon near a cluster of sacrifices.

"A ritual, what does it look like?" De Galle said in puzzlement. He had heard Dumbledore was quite the magical prodigy. Surely he knew of sacrifices of this.

"This is foul! How can you even attempt to do something as blac-" He stilled any motion as his eyes fell to the centre of the ritual, his eyes wide.

"Oui-wee" De Galle said in a singsong voice. "That is Mr Grindelwald if you're wondering" De Galle shrugged. Dumbledore's face grew pale, his hands trembled as he closed the distance to Grindelwald.

De Galle was a little perplexed at Dumbledore's expression. Sure it was shocking to see the all powerful Dark Lord like this but that kind of expression was a bit too much.

Dumbledore fell to his knees and De Galle almost thought he'd seen wet eyes from the man. Probably excited that Grindelwald would be easy to kill.

"He's almost dead" De Galle said nonchalantly "You'd do him a mercy really if you just killed him."

Dumbledore's head snapped to him "What happened to him" he boomed, taking De Galle aback.

Dumbledore's face had tears streaming down his face.

De Galle's mouth was agape. This wasn't the look of a man wanting to kill or even capture. This was a man grieving.

"Wait…" De Galle said in repressed excitement even if his eyes hid none of it.

"It was true?! You and Grindelwald?!" De Galle laughed uproariously. Oh, the big bad Dark Lord was like that was he?

Hilarious!

Oh whe-

The hairs of her body stood when he began to feel waves upon waves of grey yellow magic crash into him, the pressure in the room grew to unbearable levels and he began to struggle to stand still, his knees threatened to shake as the pressure of his magic continued to grow.

"Tell me" The command in the voice reverberated in him, he managed to just about glance at Dumbledore who looked like a new born star with how tangible magic was now.

"Stop…I…'ll tell. R-it..ual" He managed to croak out and the pressure withdrew causing him to gulp huge amounts of air as he keeled over grabbing his knees.

Well, that was more like Grindelwald. He shook his head as he eyed Dumbledore warily. He was stronger than he had indicated before.

Dumbledore's cold eyes grew harder and De Galle began to speak, telling him everything, from the battle to the condition he'd managed to rescue Grindelwald from to what he planned to do with the ritual.

"Do the ritual." Dumbledore commanded, startling De Galle more.

De Galle shook his head "Can't. Has to be tomorrow night. Otherwise the effects of the ritual can become too unstable." Dumbledore didn't look pleased at that explanation but seemed to accept it.

"What about the sacrifices?" he couldn't help but ask. Dumbledore was meant to be this super moral, holier than thou Light Wizard.

Dumbledore eyes flittered around the sleeping witches and wizards before he turned away. "It is for the Greater Good."

De Galle laughed and laughed at that.

Oh…what entertainment!

The day had passed quickly and soon enough it almost time for the ritual. He'd regaled Dumbledore stories of his half brother – something that seemed to annoy the man, much to his amusement – before the man had rudely decided to remain in the ritual room, studying the runic components keenly. Before that though, he'd asked a few times about the price on Grindelwald and naturally De Galle lied about it.

He said that Grindelwald would only retain a fourth of his magical strength during the few months he had back at his peak physical condition which would allow him to find a more permanent solution to his problem.

No need to make Dumbledore wary about what it would truly do to Grindelwald…not even he knew exactly.

In that time, Wendy had resurrected from her little nap, much to the surprise of Dumbledore and much to his own smugness.

Finally, the time of the ritual was almost upon him when Dumbledore cornered him, demanding more of him.

"You're hiding something from me, I know it." Dumbledore looked at him with sharp eyes.

He felt a Legillimency probe which he violently broke off, making Dumbledore wince slightly.

"My mind is my own!" he hissed out angrily, agitating Wendy who began to growl menacingly at Dumbledore. She began to stalk towards him, her large lumbering form drew closer to the ground, signalling that she was in stalking mode.

Dumbledore raised his wand wearily at Wendy which only made her agitate more.

He was…tempted to let it play out, for the insult of attempting to mess with his mind.

He could get away with it, especially with the surprise he had primed. Grindelwald might hold affection for the fool but he would not need to know.

Disposing bodies were nothing difficult.

Decisions…decisions…

No, it would ruin his fun after he restored Grindelwald. He was quite curious to see how sane his old friend would be after the ritual.

Seeing a former lover probably was a better test than whatever else he could have come up with.

He raised his hand and Wendy stopped. He glared at Dumbledore "Do that again and I will let her feast upon your rotting body."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes but lowered his wand.

"And to answer your question, of course I'm hiding things from you" De Galle said in an exasperated tone.

"You're a nosy little hoerenkind" he muttered the last word to himself before his voice grew louder "I don't like you and you're here because somehow you have a connection to your loverboy – a strong one that which only means it's probably blood based, kinky! – making a nuisance of yourself! I have many secrets that I don't want to divulge to someone like you"

"But if you're talking about the ritual, you know all that I know, you're the third person who knows as much as I do now so you tell me, what am I hiding?" De Galle said in a snide tone.

"The price." Dumbledore said with narrowed eyes. "It's not enough."

De Galle rolled his eyes before he gave Dumbledore a disdainful glare "And you're the ritualistic expert then are you?"

"I have done rituals before, many of them with Gellert."

"Doesn't mean a Dementor's willy!" De Galle snorted before he waved at the ritual "A lot of this is theoretical and something it took a very long time for both Gellert" he said his name in a mocking drawl, something that Dumbledore bristled at much to De Galle's amusement "and I to figure out." De Galle paused for a moment.

"If you want to have a crack at it, go ahead" he waved at Grindelwald's blackened husk of a body "Know that if this ritual isn't done in next few hours, it will take weeks to set up again. Time your lover doesn't have" De Galle said with a mocking smile.

He could see Dumbledore wanted to hurt him.

De Galle felt a keen sense of pleasure in that.

Dumbledore stared at him and De Galle met his gaze.

"If anything happens to him…" Dumbledore warned.

Vaunted Light Wizard that turns a blind eye to probably one of the Blackest of rituals in existence.

What entertainment!

De Galle scoffed and waved him away.

"Yes, yes, you'll paddle my behind" He glanced at Dumbledore and winked "I may even enjoy it" Dumbledore looked away in disgust making De Galle laugh.

The clock stroked three minute to midnight and De Galle stood by Grindelwald's body. He removed the stasis field that was around him and Grindelwald wheezed awake. He placed several enhancement charms on him that was intended on pet animals going deaf or blind. Humans hadn't been compatible due to the strength of the charms but for someone like in his condition…?

"It's time for the ritual. You know what you need to do." He said loudly to Grindelwald.

"Yy-ee-sss" He wheezed out and De Galle stepped away from the circle and hastened out of the outer tiers of the runic scheme.

Dumbledore looked on with wary eyes. Dumbledore had not wanted to meet with Grindelwald again in the condition he was in, preferring to wait until he was back to what he was like once.

De Galle couldn't wait to see how much of that Grindelwald would remain.

As the clock stroked midnight, the magical energies began to rise, rise, rise until it grew to a turbulent maelstrom of magical energy.

The hairs on his skin had stood tout at the deepening energies of the ritual, the enchanted sleep the sacrifices had been were ripped away, jolting them away. They looked panicked, fearful and unknowing of where they were but soon enough, it was time for their part to begin.

Many of them tried to escape but it would be to no avail, the ritual was locked in and they were going to die.

Their screams and pleas filled the air, the turbulent magical energy seemed to grow and turn darker as the tangible fear they exuded tinged the magic of the ritual, just as required.

"Monstrous…" Dumbledore whispered seemingly to himself but it was loud enough for De Galle to hear.

De Galle hummed "And yet here you stand, unwilling to do anything but watch their suffering. All for your lover" De Galle goaded but Dumbledore did not say anything in respond and all he did was close his eyes.

De Galle scowled disgusted at the man.

All that power he had and he was this weak.

Whatever did Grindelwald see in this man?

Crackling of magic distracted him and he once more paid attention at the ritual before him.

The magic of the ritual turned darker, near black as shadows began to swirl within the confines of the ritual scheme.

A deep unsettling feeling washed over the room, as if dread was made manifest. His skin began to feel clangy, as if a film of sickness had coated it. De Galle frowned. There should be no leakage of the magical energies within the ritual circle.

Howls and agonising screams erupted out of the mouths of the sacrifices, flesh tearing echoed in the room, like someone was running a rake down their backs until one by one, they fell silent, the shadows that swirled around engulfed the entire ritual into blackness, crackles of magic and deep red glows of what seemed like swirling glowing blood circled around the outer perimeters until they dove into the blackness.

A massive wave of magic shattered the confines of the ritual, shaking the entire room and blasting De Galle off his feet, his head crashing onto the stone floor, dazing him.

His glasses were off his face and he could not find his wand either.

He gasped, desperate for air as oppressive magic the likes he'd never felt before washed over him. He heaved himself over onto his back and saw.

A figure made of shadows stared down at him with two orbs that were sickening red. He felt the repulsive touch of his magic…if it was magic, worse than any black magic he'd ever come across, and it seemed like it was withering his very being from just being in contact with it.

"G-Grindelwald?" he croaked out before the cold embrace of unconscious claimed him though before wondering if perhaps he had been a little too successful in his experiments this time.