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.

17. Chapter 64 Part II

Hello All, welcome back to the story!

Without further adieu, please enjoy the post and let me know what you think of the ending as I'm sure many of you will be pleased.

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117 where we are now in the final Arc of the story which returns to world building.

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

-Break-

30th of March 1943

King George POV

"So their war is over" He surmised across from Churchill who huffed before he drank from his glass of whiskey across from him.

George leaned back in his chair and took the moment to take in his Prime Minister's appearance.

His weathered look, the deep grooves of sunken skin beneath his eyes and ever growing saggy skin underneath his chin as this war dragged on despite the hope that laid beyond the horizon did not escape George's attention.

He was a man who held strong opinions on many topics, so much so he'd been viewed as a radical before his ascension to Prime Minister, opinions that left the impression of an unwavering man, an image came to mind of Churchill standing alone against the harrowing incoming storm on the cliffs of Dover.

It was the impression that many of their countrymen held.

Though, as George got to know the man more intimately over the years, he knew it was not as easy as that, as things tend to be. He held a mask before the world, one that he'd seen occasional slip during their meeting, one that hid the restlessness and depression that he was prone to. A mask that heavy use of drink supplemented though that seemed to change as their fortunes in this blasted war did.

Yet as much as this war seemed to take a toll on the man before him, there was a vibrancy in him that had been missing from him, no matter how much he seemed to have tried to hide it. George knew that Churchill believed they could win completely and totally with the Americans entering the fold.

With Montgomery's forces breaking through in Tunisia striking at the Mareth line, American tanks defeating the Germans at El Guettar whilst their own forces broke through in Southern Tunisia, the hope lay there for their eventual victory.

Later than the war the Magicals had fought but nonetheless a victory that was coming.

"More or less" Churchill said in a complicated tone whilst his face twisted slightly "As you know, the young Sayre Lord defeated the wizard Nazi in single combat"

George's eyes darkened at the mention of that man.

His worst fears had come true.

When he had first learnt of the existence of the Magical World upon his ascension to the throne he'd been mystified and awed but later turned to horror and no small amount of fear when the dissatisfied wizards and squibs that Chamberlain had found told them of the powers their kind held.

They could alter the minds of others, burn them alive with but a word and a stick and yet do much much worse. No secret could be held against them if they so wished, no act of depravity could be spared if they so wished, even pitting family against each other by putting them under a mind control spell.

And it seemed, that this…Grindelwald may well have done this to the German leaders…perhaps even Hitler himself.

The assigned wizard, Underhill, that the British Ministry for Magic attached to the office of Prime Minister had been subverted into becoming an agent for the Crown, the oath of silence he'd taken was expanded upon once news of Grindelwald's defeat had become known to them through the Daily Prophet and the IMP.

He now swore fealty on the pain of death to the Crown and had thus told them of the capricious behaviour of the British Ministry, of the intent to ensure that no news filtered through to their world about the possible hand that Grindelwald had in causing this war…or the plans he had for both worlds.

They failed. In no small part to the growing protection they'd outfitted themselves with.

In the past month or so, they'd made substantial progress in outfitting a loyal cadre of wizards that were bound to the government and the royal family with Mr Cameron and Mr Johnston being critical in that endeavour who'd found some more likeminded individuals who still held loyalty to the Crown.

For the time being they still had to be careful for they could not adequately protect their interests and their minds with the small group of wizards that now were 'loyal' to their King and so they had made sure that they remained under the radar of the wizards that had come to inspect Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, Number Ten and several other homes of high ranking officials and commanders.

The insult was paramount and it was treasonous. He had found more evidence of the duplicity of the wizards, the exact accord to which they had bound to since 1707 when Queen Anne signed and ratified it as Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, one that had been referenced in the few treaties that he had found earlier which had informed him that he was – is – their Sovereign. An Accord they have broken time and again this century and perhaps even as soon as it had been signed.

He'd found a copy of the charter that was signed and it was as clear as daylight as to what the relationship between himself and the magicals should be.

The Ministry for Magic was borne out of the inception of the Statute of Secrecy where institutions were required for self-governing separate from the normal world that the Wizengamot, the Wizard's version of the House of Lords, were not equipped to deal with in its entirety.

That charter allowed the British Ministry for Magic to become a dominion, the same status as Canada or Australia had within the Empire…where he presided as the Head of State, the same title he held in four other Magical societies in his Empire, including none more so than in the British Ministry for Magic.

The Minister was required to seek audience with him, to request to govern Magical Britain in His name, not the charade that Spencer-Moon had concocted when he'd become aware of the Magical World.

It was something that all but forgotten by all, it seemed. Not even within the Magical World were there any books or information about this forgotten fact. A deliberate act to remove any hints of the influence the Crown held in the British Ministry for Magic.

Before, there had been a Royal Court Wizard, a tradition that stemmed from the days of King Arthur. This Court Wizard would be the voice of the presiding King or Queen of the day and the bridge between the ever distancing worlds.

One that may not have existed since the death of Queen Victoria, his great grandmother.

George wondered if the assigned wizard was a mockery of the esteemed position of Royal Court Wizard. As he learnt more of the Magical World, it would not surprise him.

He was unclear as to what happened, not even his current staff of wizards were able to find out the truth as to what could have happened for a near total collapse of the Royal influence within Magical Britain, Ireland and beyond. They had told him that his father in his early days had some influence but that seemed to have withered away quickly.

The dairies of his great grandfather, Victoria's husband, provided little support and the nature of the survival of his diaries and the treaties that had been signed only suggested that there had been a concerted effort of near total erasure of the Royal Family's and their staff of their knowledge of the ancient accords that bound the Magical World to the Kings and Queens of Britain and its dominions.

His father had signed the treaty that made Magical Ireland a dominion but had done little else. It seemed that after that act, any involvement of his father in the Magical World had ended, something he was eerily coming to recognise as one of deliberate act, not unlike as to what happened to the erasure of his family's power and influence.

He had wondered why the staff still knew of certain things and even Underhill knew not the answer to this question and it seemed it may be left unanswered for some time. Not even the staff had any idea as to why they knew certain things.

The opinions that wizards held, as Mr Cameron was oft to make clear, that non magical peoples were little better than animals seemed to stretch to even him and his Royal House, their very Sovereigns.

It seemed that Spencer-Moon's attitude towards him was not unique and likely something his forbearers since perhaps his great grandmother had to accept.

Something he would not.

He had struggled with the idea of Magic in God's Earth. Scripture had warned against those who held Magic, to never suffer a witch and gave warning about their natures.

A struggle that he was slowly overcoming and had begun to realise that the boundaries between the Magical World and the normal world would break, one way or another.

Grindelwald had proven the fragility of that boundary with his actions and his plans.

It was why he truly believed that Grindelwald had something to do with the nature of this war, the brutality that it was fought with and the zealotry the Germans held that a generation ago would have made the majority of Germans balk with disgust.

If these wizards could wipe the memories of what seems like an entire generation of Royals and government to hide the power he and his government held over the Magical World, to the same people they are beholden to, it did not surprise him if Grindelwald truly warped the German minds to commit acts of evil the intelligence officers were reporting to the higher echelons of the government.

If anything, the way they viewed normal god fearing people as little better than animals proved that they would hold no compunction over genocide.

They were already, directly or indirectly promoting the idea of genocide over one group of normal people.

And it was something that hardened his heart as to what he would have to do.

There was now the barebones of a sub division within the Secret Intelligence Service that would only grow with time and one that would be dedicated with keeping the government and the royal family apprised of the developments within Magical Britain.

He may accept these wizards amongst him for they were not the same as the duplicitous wizards that broke the accords but nonetheless they held the same powers that man ought not to have…they were a necessary evil, an evil that would shield his family from their kind.

They would protect the Royal family against the wizards and ensure that the moment took for the worst, they would receive forewarning and be able to act accordingly.

It perhaps would not happen in his lifetime, not so soon after their war, but eventually…

Churchill continued, breaking George out of his dark thoughts "Since his defeat of Grindelwald, the multiple fronts have collapsed and the European governments that supported him are in disarray and in midst of widespread retributions from the ones that had suffered under the thumb of Grindelwald supporters"

"I'm surprised to find out the defeat of a single man could collapse an entire war effort" George commented with a frown.

"Ha!" Churchill barked before he scowled "If only it were that easy for us. Hitler's death would do little to stop this war except for perhaps several other officials dying in the power struggle that would happen." He shook his head "The wizards" he said the word with disdainful tone "are far from like us in that regard. It seems like Grindelwald was all that bound the movement together" Churchill pursed his lips

"Not unlike I suppose a warlord"

George nodded. He could understand that. There were plenty of such individuals in history where men were able to call untold number of men to their cause only for it to shatter upon the death of said individual.

The British Empire had often recognised such lightning rods and did their best to eliminate such problematic individuals.

Speaking of problematic individuals…

"And what of Atticus Sayre?" George questioned, his eyes lighting up with a hint of interest. "Is there any news on him?"

Atticus Sayre was one that held George's interest and had done ever since he had discovered of the ancestry the boy held and the call to arms he had sent out.

The Sayre family had once held the Dukedom of Leeds and had done so since the 1300s – even if the title was dormant at present – and remained one of the few families who still paid the agreed fee directly to the Crown to keep their titles unassigned and left the door open if things changed in the future allowing them to resume their peerage.

He wasn't entirely sure what to think of him. He'd seen the images of that battle, the Battle of Mons, one that truly shook his worldview of what magic could be capable of.

They'd sent one of their deep cover intelligence officers along with one of the wizards in their midst and what he had reported was shocking. He could not enter the place, not even approach it as there was some kind of magic field – wards – that cornered off nearly a five mile radius area but the pictures that the wizard had taken for them said enough.

The entire battlefield was dead, the earth was chaffed and cracked, deep spidery cracks into the once green and fertile fields now turned into a barren desert were apparent to see. There were half mountains stretched across the field whilst there were gaping holes where you could not see the bottom of them, showing that they were capable of carrying mountain sized earth and throwing them at each other.

It was monstrous, the kinds of power these people held.

Yet he had shuddered to think what could have happened had the boy not defeated the madman. This ICW could have lost the war and leave him to aid the Germans without opposition. A war where magicals were aiding the German war efforts completely, bolstering their weaponry and espionage to the point that even the efforts of the Americans would prove little worth eventually leading to an Allied loss leaving Europe – and Britain – under the control of a fascist regime.

Only for it to be pitted against the Magical World in a war for survival where only one of their peoples would survive.

For that, saving tens of millions if not hundreds of millions lives, the young Sayre Lord had his gratitude.

Yet…

The very idea there was a man, one barely out of his adolescence, capable of such power was frightening to George.

His fear had tapered off when he had read the boy's words but it only highlighted his skill in manipulation and propaganda, a feat that seemed that the Magical World did not quite understand yet.

It was impressive, to tell the truth, the way that no one truly questioned why the IMP were able to break the news of Grindelwald's defeat less than eighteen hours after the fact, with images of the battle itself!

It was a masterful but simple use of propaganda, to break the news before others and to write the story of what happened in your favour.

The Secret Intelligence Service had worked overtime with the information that the wizard agents had provided them and they managed to pull an impressive profile on the boy, one that did not fail to intrigue him.

He was a childhood prodigy who seemed to exalt the sciences and had based several of his theories and discoveries on Physics and other sciences. It was something that several of his wizard agents had noted to be highly irregular amongst the so called pureblood nobility, to be praising anything 'muggle'. It would have been seen as offense by many people yet this boy did so without much concern.

It wasn't the oddest thing about him either for the boy seemed to almost worship magic from the way he was quoted in his early years and it seemed to be a running theme all throughout his life.

He was odd beyond even the tales that he had heard from the normal born wizards. Perhaps some things did not change…even amongst normal people, geniuses tended to be odd.

It was why the intelligence service believed him to be a Class One threat, one of the same class as Hitler himself.

His ability to call men to his banner, his genius and his power made it clear he was not someone that they could leave unmonitored. They were not capable of monitoring him now but once the war was over…

"He has been confirmed to be in France just before I arrived here, according to the information our agents could pick up in Diagon Alley" Churchill told him, a scowl on his face "It seems information travels fast." No doubt Churchill was likely somewhat envious at the speed news travelled in their world.

"Where he has been and what he has been up to, no one knows." Churchill gave him a meaningful look "It still hasn't calmed down, the fervour with which his name is praised. His disappearance act seems to only strengthen their worship of the boy"

George wasn't surprised. It seemed like the boy had ascended to Messianic proportions since his defeat of Grindelwald…and it wasn't confined to Magical Britain either. The Irish Magicals seemed to wish to claim him due to his family's ancient history on the island.

It only highlighted the importance of keeping apprised in the boy's movements. The boy may preach to all about the right to freedom and justice but words were wind. They had already seen the rise of a charismatic leader in Hitler and his ability to warp entire nations to his cause.

They would not allow another to rise in their shadows.

"We will continue to do nothing for now." George said finally after a moment's pause. "I understand the concern you feel about him, believe me, I share it too but we are in a midst of a war that we are finally getting somewhere in. I do not wish our attentions to be split any more than it needs to be"

Churchill grumbled under his breath but nodded his acceptance of George's decision.

"Now" George said in a commanding tone, his eyes peering down at his Prime Minister. "Onto the war" he said with zero levity and with a blank look.

Churchill straightened up and began to speak on the developments in the war, neither of their minds focused on magic and wizards any longer.

-Break-

30th of March 1943, Emmalise Infirmerie du Malaise Magique

Credence POV

He sat up in his bed reading the French Chroniclewhen he heard a commotion outside the doors of his room. Calling it room was like calling a prison a home. He was little better than a prisoner sitting in a waiting cell, counting the moments until he was imprisoned with no end in sight.

Not long after Sayre had defeated Grindelwald, the majority of the forces went to France to aid against the Vampires whilst the bulk that remained with the prisoners were ICW forces. The ones he had fought with and the ones that had come.

And it had been the ones that had come that had him arrested, the commanding officer had outranked Ramirez who, to his credit, had protested the treatment he had been given yet did nothing else once he'd been ordered to step aside.

He hadn't been surprised in truth. He knew that the ICW would not hold to their agreement and the conversation he had with the commanding officer, Kalinostos, made it clear that the contract that he had signed had been contingent on him aiding in defeating Grindelwald, something they claimed he had not done.

He had read the contract again and though it had made clear that he was not expected to defeat him, it was expected that he'd make significant contribution to defeating Grindelwald, something they had argued he had not done.

He had not the energy to argue that such a claim was false…that it had been his sacrifice that allowed the stage for Grindelwald's defeat to occur.

He knew that they would not listen. He knew they did not want to listen.

His mind went back to the bitter moment of when Charleston had said they only needed to hold on…to hold on long enough for help to arrive.

He died to give Credence time…time to live long enough, to delay Grindelwald long enough for aid to arrive.

Xavier's faith in the short moments before his death had been unwavering, full of faith…

Faith that had been repaid with the arrival of Atticus Sayre who eventually defeated Grindelwald singlehandedly.

To this day, he did not know how Xavier knew that Atticus Sayre was coming…or how he knew that Atticus Sayre would be able to prevail over Grindelwald.

In many ways he was envious of Xavier…to see such faith repaid when all the times he had placed his faith in something had come up nought, fraught with disappointment and bitter betrayal.

Only his faith in Nagini had remained and yet that may soon come to end, even once he managed to escape this cursed place with or without Fawkes' help. Without the ICW's aid for a cure…it would not be long before she lost the remaining parts of her humanity.

No one else existed as far as he knew that would be willing to aid them in their – his – quest to cure her.

The bitterness that he felt was strong, the betrayal by the ICW felt worse than any other betrayal.

He knew he had done terrible things or allowed to happen, things that he would never fully forgive himself for doing but he wanted to redeem himself of by fighting against the man who had been a mentor…had been as close to a fa-…

The door opened and his head snapped towards the noise, his wary and guarded eyes widened as he recognised who it was.

"Apologies if I have awoken you" he said smoothly before his eyes travelled to the papers in his hands "Though it seems like my apology is not needed" he said with a slight smile as he walked over to the chair across from his bed.

The man's eyes fell on the chains on Credence's ankles and frowned deeply at the sight and he stopped walking for a moment. The ICW wanted to prevent him from escaping and had placed upon him magic restricting chains that made it difficult to feel his Obscurus. Eventually he would have overpowered it once he healed from the multitude of injuries he'd received from Grindelwald but it didn't mean it wasn't effective.

It slowed down his healing substantially as well, likely by their design.

"Well, that is unacceptable." He said simply before he waved his hand and the chains clinked open with no effort.

He let off a shuddering breath as he once more felt his magic more freely within his body, the metaphysical bounds that his magic had been in were released and he smiled unconsciously at the familiar thrum of his magic…and that of his obscurus parasite that writhed within him, the familiar rage that it gave off was a welcoming feeling. It had been too long since he had felt what now had become a part of his being.

He glanced at the young man who now took his seat across from his bed, intently gazing at Credence. The smile fell of his face and wariness shaded his face.

"Why are you here?" he asked Sayre intently, his eyes narrowing.

He couldn't help it…there was something about Sayre that felt…off. Even his obscurus parasite felt calm in a way that he did not understand.

Sayre smiled briefly before he looked away. "She's in Ireland, you know" he said in a calm tone.

Credence stilled, startled by the random comment before his magic began to writhe under his skin, an angry fear rose within him that he only just managed to smother as his mind whirled with why he would mention Nagini.

"How did she get there?" he asked in as calm a tone he could manage.

"I arranged it" he turned to Credence with a tilted head. "It was the best place for her."

Credence wasn't sure what to think of that. Why would he involve himself with Nagini?

The cynical part of his mind knew why…because of him. A bitter anger broke through its restraints.

"What do you want?" He bit out angrily "I will not fight for you, or whatever cause you want to champion" he said in a derisive tone as his eyes blazed over in anger.

Would he see the true face of Atticus Sayre, the manipulative successor to Grindelwald rather than the so called saviour the world seemed to regard him as?

He'd seen the power this…being held…the kind of power that could destroy entire nations.

Grindelwald had once nearly set Paris aflame with but his mastery over Protego Diabolica and he had heard it took Flamel and the Scamander brothers all of their power and effort to dispel it before it truly went out of control.

And that had been when Grindelwald had not even been trying.

This…being in front of him could do so much worse than that.

Sayre only smiled and it was a kind one at that. His long hair swivelled as he shook his head "I do not want you to fight for me…or to fight at all" he looked at Credence sympathetically "I do not think it is who you are anyway"

Credence reared back in shock before his face twisted into a snarl. Who is he to think he knows who Credence was?!

He didn't even know who that was himself!

"Who are you to tell me who I am!" he roared at Sayre. "I fought all my LIFE!" he said in an angry snarl, memories of his childhood, the inner demons he fought as he was beaten, abused time and again with no one to help him. The memories of when he fought to survive as MACUSA aurors tried to kill him, the memories of when he he'd killed so many in Grindelwald's name even as it tore him up to do it…

He had fought all his life, in one way or another.

"And you shouldn't have had to" Sayre interjected in a soft tone breaking through to him, the turbulent and charged magic that he was whipping up slowed as Sayre began to exude magic, magic that somehow seemed to soothe the rage and pain he felt.

Sayre's eyes shone with the kind of understanding that sent him reeling.

How could he understand?! He was born to nobility, never hungry or beaten!

Yet…such understanding did not come from nowhere.

Credence knew how to spot lies, falsity. He was no longer blinding himself and those eyes…those understanding eyes were far from false.

"You are right" Sayre said in a commiserating tone "I am no one to tell you who you are. That is a matter for you to find out and perhaps you are already on your way to do that" Sayre said in a small smile before he lost it and looked away, a distant look in his eyes.

"My grandparents were in New York that day, you know" Sayre said, startling Credence once more.

Credence did know. He knew it all along. He had wondered why Sayre had saved him when the death of his grandparents, while had not occurred by his hand, had occurred in part because of him.

"I know" Credence said in a growl, the anger he felt slowly dissipating "Is that why you're here? To threaten me with Nagini because of what I did?!" he said in an angry tone though what he felt was far more despair and guilt than it was anger.

Was Nagini going to suffer because of his sins like he had thought she might for so long?

Sayre turned to him, his vibrant purple green eyes bore into him in such a way that made him feel naked. "No." he said simply before his face softened "I do not hold you responsible for what happened to my grandparents. Their deaths were a tragedy but then so was the circumstances of what happened to you." Sayre said kindly and Credence gritted his teeth.

He had heard those kinds of words before.

"To blame you would be petty of me and rather short sighted." Sayre shrugged before he looked at Credence again "I am not threatening Nagini nor have I placed her in danger…in fact she is in one of the safest places in the world"

"Where?" Credence demanded.

"The Seshet Institute of Magic and Science" Sayre simply answered.

Credence leaned against the back of his bed, looking away from Sayre. He'd heard of the school though only vaguely. He knew that it was a different kind of school one that seemed to wish to study the higher forms of magic but also muggle science.

In truth he'd once been fascinated by science. He hadn't been allowed to learn much of it, the Barebones family having believed that such nonsense was not necessary and rather ensured they'd learn about scripture and other books that they deemed appropriate than allowing them to read about notions that 'godless heathens' were trying to promote with their 'falsities'.

Once he had learned that he was magical, he had all forgotten about science, instead the world of Magic had gobbled him up.

It had been why SIMS had been a curiosity for him and certainly to Nagini. Especially when they'd learnt that the Flamels were there. People who they could never approach for help and never tried.

To think that Nagini was there with the famous Flamels, the few people who could potentially cure her…

He turned to Sayre, a cautious look on his face. "Why?" he simply asked, a question that was packed with a number of questions within itself.

Sayre tilted his head before he stared at the ceiling, a small frown was adorned on his face. "Chances…" he began in a soft tone, a word that floated airily from his lips, one that seemed to take an age to dispel.

"Chances are often hard to come by, especially in our world. People are locked in their social and blood status and there are very few opportunities to escape it." He paused for a moment, his eyes seemed to impossibly darken only to reveal embers of glass drifting off in the cold sea. "And then there are those who do not even get the chance to have a chance" The words made him almost shift in discomfort, the familiarity of the words rung heavily in his mind.

"I have been lucky…far more than I have any right to be. I have been born to a family where love was present, in all kinds of ways" Sayre began to smile slightly and Credence couldn't help but feel burning envy.

His smile fell off "And I am all too aware of how fortunate I was to be born in such a family, no less in a family that holds tremendous influence and power." He turned to Credence, a passionate fire burning in his eyes

"Such awareness makes me responsible when I see those who could do so much but would never get the opportunity to rise to meet their potential, to possibly exceed it." His eyes almost glowed with the ferocity with which he spoke. "How many people have within them to become great magical theorists, to become great transfiguration masters, potioneers, charms masters and mistresses? Far too many and they'd never get their opportunity.

When I see these people and when I see those who have a burning light within them that is scarred, fraying at the seams, hoping, praying at a chance, at a second chance to do something meaningful with their lives, to be allowed to be more than what and which family they had been born into, I cannot help but want to help" Sayre said with such conviction that it seemed to ring into the world.

He continued "Even if they are unaware that they wish only but a single, second chance." Sayre's eyes bored into Credence's. He couldn't look away, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest whilst he held a tight grip onto the bedcovers.

"There is much broken within our world…it can be utterly cruel, unforgiving and has left many people broken and disillusioned with a world that holds so much beauty." Sayre said with a wistful tone before he looked away. "I want to give people this chance…to help them become better versions of who they could be rather than being who they were forced to become, at their own or at other's hands." He turned to Credence, his face morphing away from the passionate look he held into one of neutrality though the glimmer in his eyes never faded.

"That is why Nagini is there…" he said in a soft tone. Credence felt his grip relax as he breathed a sigh of relief through his entire body. He looked down at his hands, the scars of the battle he fought were very prominently there.

His arm would never heal, he would never have the same motion of movement again yet such loss felt nothing compared to the relief that he felt that Nagini had a chance of living a full life free from the curse that maligned her family for so long.

The Flamels were there…

His eyes closed as the familiar dream played out in his mind.

The home by the beach in the Philippines, a dark haired toddler waddling along on the sandy white beach, laughing as Nagini chased after him mimicking a monster, her hair flowing like silk as she smiled widely despite attempting to look mean.

It began to fade as he knew it was a dream that could not happen. He could not consign Nagini to the life he'd force her in if he took her away with him on the run from the ICW.

It broke his he-

"…And why you're going there too" Sayre said and Credence's eyes snapped wide open and met Sayre's gaze.

"…What?" Credence said in disbelief.

Sayre's lips twitched in amusement "It had taken some effort but with the Flamel's influence along with my own not too shabby influence" his eyes shone with small amount of mirth "The ICW was…convinced to drop the charges and to assign you a punishment that has the full backing of Ireland, France and the Flamel's."

Credence frowned. "I don't understand."

"You're going to become a professor of Defence against the Dark Arts for the next twenty years. Someone will come and pick you up tomorrow morning" Sayre said and Credence couldn't help drop his mouth in disbelief.

Sayre continued "Of course you will not be allowed to leave Ireland for more than two weeks in between academic years and even then, you're required to specify where you're going to the Irish DMLE. Should you go missing willingly without any evidence that suggests otherwise, you will be hunted by the ICW with the original charges being filed against you"

"But I have never taught anyone" Credence protested, still dazed by the ridiculous offer.

"We are aware" Sayre told him. "That is why you'll taking your mastery from an elderly Master and shadowing him…he doesn't have many years left and only took the post as a favour to Perenelle."

Sayre leaned forward. "It is a second chance, Credence and a chance to teach those who had never had to fight to survive…to impart on them the responsibilities that comes with magic."

Credence swallowed harshly and looked away. He'd never seen himself as a teacher. He knew much about fighting…what it did to you…what it did to others.

What could he teach others other than what not to do?

"It is a chance at a peaceful life, true, one that isn't quite the freedom that you wished for yourself and Nagini but it is a new beginning. Nagini is being helped by the Flamels and whilst she is being helped…Perhaps you can help yourself, unburden yourself with all guilt that you feel, guilt that I have felt rolling off of you from the moment I met you, that weighs you down by helping others from making the mistakes that you made, educating them away from the pitfalls that happened to you." Sayre paused for a moment allowing Credence to digest all that was said.

The confirmation that she was being helped by the Flamel's was a bittersweet moment.

The fact that Sayre could feel his guilt wasn't so surprising. The boy…the young man was annoyingly capable of seeing through him and it explained much.

He'd heard that Sayre had the ability to pull people into his sphere and he had thought he was like Grindelwald.

When the others had kneeled before him, he had thought he was seeing the same story playing out again.

Grindelwald used his charm to ensnare others into his cause, to make them believe that all was doomed without him, without fighting for it.

He had thought Sayre had the same character as Grindelwald, to lie, cheat and prey on the fears and weaknesses of others.

It was worse.

He offered hope.

He had seen it on the faces of those who had kneeled and rose as Sayre spoke to them about not being superior to the men who had fought alongside him.

He had seen the hope that he caused to bloom in others with his words as he spoke about how they bled together, how they'd won together.

It was the kind of hope that inspired of unwavering faith and it was overwhelming.

Was this what Xavier felt before he died? The unwavering faith he had, the hope that seemed lingered on even in the wake of his death?

The same kind of hope that Sayre offered?

"I don't understand…" Credence finally whispered, fighting the deep emotions he was feeling. "Why bother? You know that I will never fight again, not even for you ever after you do all that you promise" he met Sayre's gaze.

Sayre simply smiled for a moment before he raised his hand which began to glow before a crystalline structure began to form in his hand, one that seemed to resemble a city with towering features, pieces of small crystalline shards flying in orbit of the structure.

"I want there to be more people who can see the beauty of the world…of magic." He said in a soft tone, one that verged on being a whisper. "Those who were born to magic often forget that magic is miraculous…that its beauty holds no bounds, its possibilities are endless." Sayre looked almost reverently at the crystalline structure before he looked up and Credence was stilled at the dancing emeralds in Sayre's eyes.

It was almost like he was sucked in amongst the stars themselves, bright specks of greens that danced in a sea of eternity.

"You were once promised, no doubt by Grindelwald, to be taught magic, something that had been denied to you until you were in your twenties. You have seen much of the Magical World…the beauty of it…the cruelty of it. What I wish for you to see is that there are people who want more of the beauty to exist…to be made to exist." Sayre smiled gently before the crystalline structure vanished away.

He stood up "I see in you someone who can truly appreciate magic for what it is and I believe that you would see it once you are unchained by the mistakes of the past." He turned away and made for the door but stopped for a moment.

"I believe that this is who you are, Credence Aurilius. Someone sees the beauty that is magic. In time, you will too with this second chance." Sayre said before he left and exited through the door, leaving Credence to his turbulent thoughts.

As the door closed, he let out a shuddering breath as he trembled at the chance that was being offered to him.

Becoming a professor of all things…

He who had never the opportunity to be formally taught magic at any school had now the opportunity to teach at what could become the most prestigious school in the entire world.

A possibility of a cured Nagini with whom he could finally have the family they'd long been denied.

"Professor Credence Aurilius…" he whispered and a sense of peace washed over him.

Perhaps…perhaps that was who he was meant to be.

-Break-

Anne POV

She looked at the holographic display of Illos, one that showed several different tiers. It showed the inner tier, one that would have all of nature and living spaces, the subtier tier that would have vast array of technological systems and most obvious the drive that would allow the world ship to sail the stars, and the outer tier that would form around world ship protecting it against the harshness of the nothing that existed in space.

Well, according to that metallic servant space wasn't a void and actually wasn't nothing…just very diffuse? She didn't really have a mind for all that kinds of things.

Sophia was better than her, much better. She'd taken to the languages of their predecessors like a duck to a water, much like she learnt their combat techniques with ease. At least that had been what it looked like to her. According to Moira, Sophia was doing great for an unenhanced human.

Apparently their warriors, their versions of Aurors and Hit Wizards were enhanced much like one would do rituals to enhance themselves. According to Moira, whilst Atticus was physically strong – wasn't that a surprise, learning that Atticus had done many rituals under her nose – he did not compare to their top enhancements. He'd be middle ranked though his reflexes was better, Moira told her.

She stared at the creation before her. She still had trouble believing how so much changed in less than a year. She had known so little of what her son was up to.

'Marcus…what would you say about all this' she wondered to herself.

The doors hissed open and she turned to it. Moira walked in.

She waved her hand and the world ship disappeared and a complex array of tube like systems she had no chance of guessing formed before her.

"Sorry, I didn't know you'd be coming right now" Anne told Moira.

Moira smiled at Anne "Do not worry about it" she told Anne. Anne made to leave but Moira spoke up. "You may stay, if you wish?" she asked Anne.

Anne thought about it and nodded. She had planned to find Sophia who had last been reading on some Atlantian tomes that Moira had sequestered before its fall.

For the next few hours she watched as Moira concentrated on what she called 'secondary systems' that would be the failsafe if the primary systems failed. Much what Moira had said she couldn't quite grasp, like when she talked about nullifying frequency harmonisation and so on.

The doors open and the metallic servant, Sparkly Dawn entered. They turned towards the servant.

"Seeker Yprikushma, we have found the localised neurophysical energy signature of the target, One Zero Zero Eight Seven, designation Grindelwald" the strange disembodied voice of the servant voiced out.

"Certainty?" Moira asked.

"99.79%. The secondary target One Zero Zero Eight Nine designation Dumbledore was found at the same site less than a cycle ago at a dormant volcano in the Wiisysian Sea"

"Wiisian Sea?" Anne asked confused. Moira turned to her.

"What you know as the North Sea." Anne nodded her understanding.

"Atticus will need to be informed of this development" Moira told her and Anne nodded grimly.

She couldn't believe what happened with Dumbledore! To think that man attacked her future daughter in law.

A cynical part of her mind thought the girl probably wanted Dumbledore to attack her. Her despise of the man was no secret in their household.

She liked the girl, she truly did but she thought she was far too much at times.

Moira sent a communication message to Atticus with but a few taps on her wrist.

Sparkly Dawn left not long after. "What Sparkly Dawn mean with energy signature?"

Moira smiled at Anne. "Despite not knowing much of the terminology, your intuition and ability to ask the right questions is excellent Anne. We can find specific frequency of energy signatures of magicals. As you know, we have devices in orbit of this planet and after seeing the battle at the place you know as Mons, we have been able to register his signature. After that it was merely a case of tracking any spikes of that frequency."

Anne eyes almost boggled. "You can detect anyone? Without magic?"

Moira tilted her head "Is it truly such a surprise? My people were not unfamiliar with what you know as magic and I have also spent a lot of time amongst the large amount of data I have collected on your people, none more so than the Atlantians."

Anne supposed not. "Still, does Atticus know you can do this?"

"He does not. He did not ask." Moira told her.

Anne sighed exasperated. "Fine." She shook her head "He'll definitely will want to know this" To know that technology could track magicals…

Moira thought on it for a moment "I will inform him" she assured Anne.

Anne nodded before a thought crossed her mind "Did you use it to track your children when they left?"

Moira looked almost a little startled but nodded, almost sheepishly if she didn't know a little better "I did." She admitted "I wanted to know if they were safe."

Anne smiled at that. "Bet you saw a lot of embarrassing things?" she coyly asked.

Moira smiled at that, mirth creasing her eyes. "There was this one time my eldest son…"

-Break-

30th of March 1943

Charlus Potter POV

He watched as Atticus spoke the assembled men who he had the pleasure of knowing for more than half a year, all of whom he could now not help but feel wary off. Emotion had seeped into every word he spoke, so much so that he seemed to ensnare every ounce of attention towards him, as if they were all moths to a flame.

He had this ability…this draw that made people listen and then want to hear more as soon he was finished speaking.

It had not been apparent at first, though perhaps he might have been clouded by his earliest memories of Atticus…of when he had seemed this quiet if brilliant student at Hogwarts that shattered all expectations with ease.

Just as he shattered Charlus' expectations of his leadership qualities despite of his youth, several years younger than even he and he was amongst the youngest of their group anyway, and because of his seemingly quiet contemplative nature.

And he continued to shatter expectations, even possibilities with the way he could use magic.

The crowd exploded in protestations as all voiced their discontent and disagreement at the notion that he'd failed their fellow comrades though…he imagined many felt as if he was far more than a fellow comrade.

He'd seen how the relationships evolved from one where they'd followed him because he offered a way to fight against Grindelwald to one where they fought for him, even Atticus did not acknowledge it actively.

He glanced at Dorea who smiled at Atticus told them that he was paying the families of those who had died, collectively well over twenty million galleons, a sum that would leave nearly all but a few families in crippling debt. His family was one of them though twenty million galleons would be keenly felt by future generations.

He knew that Atticus may well feel guilt for the deaths of their comrades, Charlus did too. Far too many faces amongst the crowd were missing, men and women he'd drank with, who he remembered seeing in the halls of Hogwarts or in the streets of one of the Alleys before he'd taken to call them comrades, even friends…but somehow he felt that it cheapened their deaths, as if their worth could be measured in mere galleons.

It was unfair.

Charlus knew this but he could not help feel this way from the way everything had gone…from the moment he'd seen Atticus' power at Genelum, in their battles when he'd finally used more of his skills to practically save everyone from death when before he had done it in a far more limiting way saving far fewer people…one that signalled that he'd been hiding his power, to the detriment to many people and ever more so when he'd seen him combat Grindelwald with the kind of power that still shocked him even now.

He was not ignorant to the words that Atticus spoke…he listened. He knew that Atticus at some level believed what he said…that he truly fought for and stood for freedom, justice and for the Magical World yet Charlus never had been able to shake away the feeling that there was so much more to his words than he let on.

After Atticus finished his speech, Charlus left the building after briefly speaking with Dorea, who wanted to speak with Atticus for a brief moment though he wondered if she'd get the chance given that everyone wanted to speak with him.

He waded through the Magical Quarters of Paris which was being rebuilt once more in the wake of the Vampire attack, an attack that had proven to be utterly deadly. He knew that had Atticus had been here, instead of the rest of the forces despite numbering in the hundreds, he'd have been able to save many more lives than they'd been able to, no matter how uncomfortable that simple fact had made him.

That a single man could prove to be more powerful and capable than hundreds of battle hardened men and women combined.

Using magic that only tales had remained of, long dismissed myths and impossibilities were now realities as Atticus distorted and warped the world to his whims under his power.

The worst thing about it he had not been the only one capable of it, Grindelwald had been capable of it, showing that any Realised Archmage could do it, the dangers of such truth likely few would realise.

How many would see what they had been capable of and seek to find such magicks themselves? To wield them and use them as Atticus and Grindelwald had done?

One that left an entire area for miles dead and saturated with dark and vile magic?

He should be ecstatic that there was one like Atticus able to fight against the evils of those like Grindelwald but he wondered truly, did he even know Atticus?

Did anyone know him?

There had always been something that marked him different than others, beyond the many attributes others would identify. It was the look he'd have, those faraway distant eyes that seemed to hide tremendous secrets, ones that occupied his mind nearly all the time.

He hoped it was far from what he thought his friend could be thinking off…dreams and thoughts of uniting the magical world much like Grindelwald tried…that his words that might did not make right were mere soothing words like the words one would say to a man who lay dying in the battlefield, asking if he'd be alright when you knew he was going to die.

Those kinds of thoughts had occupied his mind.

When he'd heard raucous cheers filling the streets, he'd looked and saw Atticus with the French Minister and he saw that he wasn't there alone with the Minister either, beyond the aurors that escorted them which they all knew were unnecessary. Emily Slytherin was there too, something that only made him even more wary.

The announcement that the Vampires that attacked France were dead was met with an ear deafening cheer. Atticus spoke to the French citizens with perfect French, speaking to them of that horror they faced with the forces that threatened to destroy the French spirit, something they faced with utmost courage and nobility and he hoped that France would remain strong for many years to come.

Slytherin spoke up next and told the crowd that she could do nothing but help when Atticus had told her of what he planned to do next and hoped that the deaths of the Vampires would bring them peace and praised the French resilience.

The crowd had lapped it up and cheered them both even more.

He couldn't help but smile, whether it was bitter or sweet, he did not know.

He caught the gaze of Atticus and was almost startled into battle readiness when he felt something filter into his mind.

'Meet me where you once said Lions made excellent hunters'

Shock travelled through him before his face settled into a stony expression.

To think he was capable of Legillimency of this scale…

He wouldn't…would he? He thought as dark thoughts whirled in his mind.

He knew the dangers of Legillimency…the capacity the most skilled had in the Mind Arts. They were able to inducing emotions into others, fear or joy, it mattered nought what kind.

Even…even perhaps feelings…feelings of loyalty…

It was hours later, the early hours of the 31st when he'd climbed up the stairs of the building they'd stayed at during the early days of France's liberation.

Just as that time, Atticus sat on the edges of the building with his legs hanging off, his eyes cast down at the magical district of Paris.

"Charlus" he said in a calm tone, not parting his eyes away from the magical district below him.

It was always eerie how he knew someone was coming. He'd silenced his steps, obscured his smells, all of it yet Atticus knew someone was coming,

He could not detect any wards and he did not think Atticus would set one up just to seem mysterious as much as such a thought amused him.

He took a seat next to Atticus, his feet hanging off of the building just like his friend's did.

"Atticus" Charlus returned, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes before they fell upon the magical district as well.

They remained in comfortable silence for a while as time passed, the soothing quiet of the magical district was like music to him. He supposed, in many ways he'd have to get used to this kind of quiet.

They'd fought in many battles often several in the space of just a few days and never had they gone more than two weeks or three weeks without a battle and when they did, it was several within a week at least.

Charlus knew that he'd killed many people and it was something he had not completely processed.

It was easy to chalk them up as 'the enemy' but they were just as human as they were even if many of them barely deserved that description. Dorea had helped much in that regard, to help ease the unease he'd felt so often.

He wondered if it was anything like the grief Atticus said he felt at the lives that were lost because of Grindelwald.

Did Atticus blame Grindelwald for the deaths he'd caused?

Or perhaps he did not care at all…perhaps…

"Ask your questions" Atticus said in a soft tone before he turned to Charlus for a brief second. "I know you have many of them."

Charlus turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Your skill in Legillimency…Did you use it on our friends and comrades?"

"It seems like I have underestimated your distrust of me" Atticus said in a musing tone. Charlus lips thinned. It wasn't so much that he distrusted Atticus per se…

"Not since we've verified that they genuinely wanted to fight against Grindelwald." He said in what seemed to be in an honest tone before he glanced at Charlus "I used it to determine if they were spies for Grindelwald or anyone else."

It mollified him somewhat but he hadn't dropped his shields. He knew it was likely futile but he'd keep it up if only for a measure of safety.

"Why did you show it to me?" he asked curiously. "You could have kept it a secret and I would not have known any better."

Atticus shrugged "I could have but eventually people would know I am capable of Legillimency. I'm pretty good but there are others who are better at it and Occlumency than I am." He glanced at Charlus "and I trust you with it." He said in a calm tone.

"You make it sound like you'd be using it all the time" Charlus said with a frown, ignoring the comment that Atticus trusted him. Legillimency was illegal to use unless you were licensed to use it, it was a forbidden art and Occlumency was barely legal as well.

"Only those who seem like they wish to do my family harm." Atticus said calmly "Now that I have defeated Grindelwald there will be many who will seek to harm my family because they cannot get to me. Grindelwald had shown that it was possible to strike at my family." Atticus' eyes darkened "I never want that to happen again."

Charlus looked away from Atticus.

He could understand that sentiment. Fleamont had been attacked by Grindelwald's henchmen for his stances and it made him furious. He'd seen plenty of malicious Grindelwald followers who would not hesitate to take it out on their families.

"How did you learn the magic you know, why did you learn it?" Charlus asked, finally getting to the heart of the matter.

He'd long suspected that Atticus played a greater game and he know nothing of it. He wasn't entitled to know, just as Dorea had told him when she'd chastised him for his mistrusting tendencies of his friend.

But he needed to know, if only for his ease of mind.

"Curious that you actually asked that" Atticus said with a slight smile. "No one else had asked but you" He glanced at Charlus, a curious glint in his eye.

"Much of the magic I used against Grindelwald has been of my own creation – the way I use transfigurations, the devastating spells even the lightning" Atticus said before he looked up at the cloudy night sky "No one will be able to exactly replicate what I have done, not without understanding magic the way I do, not without understanding how the universe works the way I do" he turned to face Charlus.

'Understanding how the universe works…?' he thought with an inward frown. He wasn't too shabby with magical theory but the way Atticus said it…

"Though the kinds of magic Grindelwald used?" Atticus shook his head "That, I'm afraid are likely to be far more common than you think they are. Much of it is likely lost but once something is written…" Atticus trailed off leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.

Charlus had thought about that…the kinds of awful magic that Grindelwald used though he had not truly thought of where it may have stemmed from…and it left him uneasy.

"As to why I learnt or created such magic?" Atticus said in a musing tone before his face grew serious "I am a Seer." He told Charlus matter-of-factly as if he were merely reading out a sentence from a book.

"You're a Seer?" Charlus asked surprised. He'd heard the rumours that many within the Knights believed at least somewhat in but to hear it confirmed…

"I am" Atticus face shifted to one of mild sheepishness as he scratched the back of his head "Though not a particularly talented one…at least at the moment" he admitted to Charlus before he grew serious once more "But the visions I had since I was a child had always been one of war and death, even if I did not know the context of them" Something seemed to pass through his mind with the way his eyes darkened.

Charlus felt pity for his friend. If he had Seen the kinds of battles they'd fought over the past six months, as a child, no wonder he had been such a quiet child despite the arrogance one would expect from someone of Atticus' station.

"I've always known one day I would have to fight, my Vision had always made that apparent. It was why I've always pushed myself when it came to magic" Atticus lips twisted in an almost forlorn like smile "Though it helped I truly loved magic, making it a relatively easy endeavour to push myself."

Atticus stared at the cloudy night sky that began to thin, revealing smatterings of stars "It does things to you…seeing war and death as a child. It made me all too aware that life is fragile and made me see the things that divide us a people, as magicals, are far too petty and inconsequential to what problems we will all face together, no matter how much some of our people disdain other magicals for the minor differences they have"

"What do you mean?" Charlus asked with a frown.

"This war…this war was not the only thing I have Seen." Atticus said with a tone of bitterness that surprised Charlus with the strength behind it.

"I have Seen wars distant and near, in both worlds. Not too long from now, the Japanese will be beaten into submission by two singular bombs that will destroy two entire cities, killing hundreds of thousands of people. I have seen a war fought not by armies but by ideology armed by the threats of those same bombs but in their thousands only many times stronger, some even hundreds of times stronger.

I have Seen the muggles hold the world hostage with these bombs, both sides committing to Mutually Assured Destruction, aptly named M.A.D., as they play with the lives of billions and all Life on Earth with their political games and struggle for dominance.

I have Seen Dark Wizards attempt to become Dark Lords, I have even Seen a Dark Lord attempting and succeeding to weaponise blood purity into a call to arms causing civil wars that tears entire societies apart." Atticus' tone as he explained was one of deep solemnity and tiredness.

Charlus swallowed harshly. There were more wars to come? Muggles killing hundreds of thousands with just two bombs? He wanted to deny whatever Atticus had said as the words of a lunatic.

Yet…

It explained so much…

All the times he seemed to get that look in his eye, like he was lost in his thoughts…

Was he Seeing things in that moment?

Charlus had never taken divination, something he'd have to do after tonight but he couldn't help but think Atticus was telling the truth.

"Is that what you're planning?" Charlus asked after a moment "To stop all of this from happening?"

Atticus laughed mirthlessly and simply shrugged "I can't stop history, Charlus" he said meaningfully.

"I am a single man, yes a powerful man but I am nothing compared to the streams of Time. I might be able to change some things but I cannot change the hearts and minds of the entire world." Atticus shook his head "No…my days of war and fighting are over. I am a builder, Charlus I have always been one in the core of my soul."

They remained silent for a moment allowing Charlus to think over all that had been said.

He wasn't naïve enough to believe everything Atticus had said without a pinch of salt. But if even half of what he said was true…

They would all be in for a difficult time. Charlus stared at the North Star for a moment.

A builder…

He knew that Atticus was playing a greater game even if he said that he was no longer fighting. Everything he knew of him suggested that simple intuition was a fact.

All those speeches, the words he said about Mother Magic, the grief he said he felt at the deaths of all those families because of Grindelwald's actions and followers, all of it suggested that Atticus would not remain idle and watch the world pass by.

His words held a deeper meaning now that he understood more.

"What are you going to build?" Charlus finally asked, breaking the silence between them.

Atticus let a smile bloom on his face, one that seemed genuine especially with the way his eyes gleamed.

"A home, Charlus" Atticus turned to him, his smile morphing into a grin. "I want to build a home…one where the prejudices, reclusiveness and the hatred of the past and present can be washed away by a sea of hope, inquisitiveness and passion" he said in an enthralling tone.

"Where blood status does not matter…where Magical Beings can live in harmony, in fairness with each other without anyone impeding on their rights and freedoms as sentient beings, as magical beings." Atticus said in a wistful tone.

"I wish to build a civilisation that isn't a dead end like the one our world is at present. One stuck to the past and past achievements with no agency or desire to elevate their society as whole into something greater, something that would make Mother Magic proud to call us Her children."

Charlus' eyes widened at what Atticus had said. Of all the things he could have said…he could not have imagined he'd say this.

Cold pragmatism took hold of him. "And what would it take for you to do this?" he asked sceptically, a wary feeling washed over him. "Are you going to force the Ministries around the world to change into this…utopian version of the world? They'd fight against it, with all of their might and resources…to the point it could become as bad or even worse than the war against Grindelwald"

Atticus simply smiled before he looked away from Charlus "People always think you have to take from others in order to have something." He said in a musing tone that bordered on sounding mirthful.

"Perhaps that is the case with the muggles." Atticus raised his hand and slowly the air twisted into a spiral before a miniature Phoenix began to coalesce in his hand, its bright radiant red feathers were striking, as was the piercing cry it let out.

"But not with our people. We can create from anything, we can create from nothing" Atticus said with a fiery look in his eyes before he turned to Charlus. "Magic offers great possibilities and it is in those possibilities that we can offer a home that takes from no one but takes in all that wish for a world that embraces them and one in turn they can embrace completely."

"The Magical World as it is now is heading towards an endless spiral that not even I can save it from. They will not change, the foundation that it is built on, the very structures that upholds it is rotten. Dark Lords like Grindelwald will always rise so long as the broken corrupt system that promotes bigotry, inequality and hatred remains in place. It is a cesspit where those who believe they can dominate over others find many likeminded others." Atticus eyes began to resemble more like swirling mass of power than they did eyes.

"I will build a new home, away from it all with all those who wish the opportunity to build something new and something great."

Charlus looked away from those striking eyes and stared at his street below, his hands tightly gripping on the edge of the building.

It sounded too good to be true…

Far too good to be true.

"It's a nice dream" Charlus said in a soft tone before he turned to Atticus, a hard look on his face "a nice dream that could just as easily turn into a nightmare"

Atticus hummed. "True." He agreed quietly before he fell silence for a brief moment. "But I doubt it." He said with a quiet conviction.

The conjured Phoenix climbed onto Atticus' shoulder and made trilling sounds, as if to soothe Atticus.

"And to leave the Magical World to deal with what you say will happen without your aid?" Charlus shook his head in anger. If another Dark Lord with the power of Grindelwald rose, they'd all be in a world of trouble.

He knew that Magic liked balance and that another Archmage who could fight against this Dark Lord likely would rise but he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

He agreed with Atticus that there was much that was wrong with their world but wasn't Atticus meant to be the symbol of hope?

One that could inspire everyone to be better, just as he had inspired all of the Knights with his words and adherence to duty?

He no longer believed Atticus to be like Grindelwald. He seemed to be every bit as genuine Charlus feared he may not be.

That he was a force of good for their world…and it hurt him to think that Atticus wanted to leave the world they fought to protect for so long and so hard behind to make his own version of it.

Didn't it deserve a chance to become better?

Wasn't that why they, in part, fought against Grindelwald and his ideals?

"Practically all of the Magical World worships you. Don't you feel a responsibility to try to change all their minds instead of running away?" Charlus said in a quiet plea, hoping to get through to his friend.

The dream his friend had was wonderful but it wasn't needed. Not yet…hopefully not ever. He could see so many people leaving with him from Britain, their home, the best and brightest.

Atticus could change their minds, not through violence or force but by simply being who he was.

Atticus stilled at what Charlus said and for a moment he regretted what he said but he squashed that feeling down. Atticus turned to him with a look that took Charlus aback.

It was one of pity.

"Five years." He said softly.

"Five years until it is time for me to go build the home that I can proudly call my home. In that time, I will remain in Britain and try to uplift all the societies that wish to listen and work with me to create a just, peaceful advancing society." He paused for a moment before he continued.

"I will do all in my power to work within the system, never straying from it. If it works, I will not abandon the Magical World as it is now and do all I can to change it into a society our descendants can be proud to call home."

Charlus stared at Atticus for a moment.

It was far better than he could have expected.

"Alright" Charlus said finally. "I will do all I can to help. I believe in the kind of world you want to create Atticus but I believe we can do it here" he gestured into the distance "Not somewhere out there. In the place of our ancestors, the place our families have fought for generations to protect."

"And when I prove to be right?" Atticus asked softly with a tilted head. "When the monolith that is the British Ministry, all of the Ministries of Europe, decide to choose hanging on to power to advance their causes, to line their own pockets over making our society better?" Atticus posed to Charlus, staring intently at him "What will you do then?"

The question had hung in the air for some time, the gentle breeze of the wind did nothing to dispel it away from him.

He heard the doors to the roof open and glanced at it and saw that it was Atticus' betrothed. Atticus rose from the edge of the build and climbed down the ledge.

"Then I will join you" Charlus said with a sigh. Fleamont would hopefully come too. He glanced at Atticus' back. "I do not believe it will be necessary to leave and I hope to Merlin you are wrong."

Atticus glanced over his shoulder. "So do I." though the way Atticus said it made it clear he thought they would have to.

"By the way" Charlus called out stopping Atticus from leaving for a moment. He peered over his shoulder.

"Are you going to get a wand at some point? You're making us all look bad" Charlus asked with a hint of humour. None of them had failed to see him use wandless magic so casually.

It was something that was filtering into the public as well.

The Phoenix on Atticus' shoulder trilled before it vanished into specks of gold dust that the wind carried away.

Atticus held a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No, I won't. I'll be alright without a wand and I'm quite curious to see how many will take on the challenge of using magic without a wand" he said before he and his betrothed left.

He shook his head. It wouldn't surprise him if he expected others to be capable of it because he was capable of it.

He sighed and remained behind for some time as he sat there with his thoughts.

Not too long after, he was joined on the roof by Albert Bones and Dorea.

They sat next to him.

"Did you hear all of that?" he asked aloud.

"We did" Dorea said in a prim tone and he glanced at Bones who simply nodded. He stared at the thin ring that was behind his heir ring.

They'd concocted a plan that allowed them to overhear his conversation with Atticus.

"He didn't change your mind if that is what you're wondering from what we could tell" Dorea said in a biting tone.

He grimaced. That had been the secondary purpose of the eavesdropping…to ensure that they heard all of what they'd discussed. He'd been worried about Atticus' skill in Legillimency and he wasn't certain about his character so they made some precautions.

…Precautions that Dorea disliked but had agreed with eventually only because the risk to Charlus was too high even if she did not believe Atticus would do such a thing.

"What did you think about what he said?" Charlus quickly changed the topic. He knew he had to make it up to Dorea for 'betraying' her friend.

He'd also make it up to Atticus as well. He'd meant what he had said.

"Unexpected but not overly so" Albert said contemplatively. Albert had thought that Atticus had grand plans in some way or another. "The fact that he is a Seer though…" Albert looked a little disturbed.

"Muggles killing so many with just a bomb…it seems inconceivable but I remember rumours Grindelwald had warned that they would do this…it had been a large reason why many joined his cause" Albert said with a sigh before he continued "It seems like there is much to be concerned about"

"It makes sense if he Saw all of this death, this war" Dorea said quietly. "He'd always been a morose child in many ways. Uninterested in many things boys his age should have been interested in."

They remained quiet for a while until Dorea broke it.

"Did you mean it when you said you'd join him if the Ministry proved to be too corrupt to change?" Dorea asked Charlus.

Charlus met Dorea's eyes and nodded before a small grin appeared on his face, one that hid the awfulness he felt. "It sounds like a wonderful adventure, don't you think?"

Dorea smiled a little "It does, doesn't it?" she mused a little. "Atticus had always been a dreamer of sorts, at least from the way he spoke of Magic." She tucked her hair behind her ears as she gazed into the distance. "He'll create wonders if he's allowed to." She said softly.

He didn't doubt her words. Atticus seemed capable of anything. He only hoped Atticus was also capable of being very wrong.

"I fear for Britain if it doesn't change" Albert said quietly, drawing their attention. He continued "If what Atticus said is true…about this Dark Lord who would use blood purity as a weapon, I can see it becoming a bloody civil war. Already the tensions are high and Atticus isn't helping in the matter either with his speeches about blood status." Albert sighed before he glanced at Charlus with a grim look.

"I can see his popularity with the public truly threatening the Wizengamot. Even with Lady Slytherin by his side, it will not be enough for change to become truly possible. With that, I can see this possible Dark Lord gaining significant power with these nobles backing him"

That thought left them all uncomfortable.

"More people would leave with him then." Dorea said with a sigh.

"If what he had Seen will happen." Charlus said in a murmur.

They remained quiet for some time.

"At least we know what his plans are" Albert noted before he looked at them with a contemplative look "What do we do?"

"Well, I'm going to help him in whatever way I can" Charlus told them "I meant what I said." He shrugged. He'd do all he could to prevent another Grindelwald from rising.

Albert smiled a little "So will I." He stared at the North Star "I like the idea of a more equal, just Britain. And it is not possible…" he trailed off.

It was a tall ask, they all knew it. Justice was hard to come by within the Wizengamot and when it did, it was because someone or something had more enemies than it did allies.

"Then we could build a home with Atticus" Dorea finished his sentence. "Either way, it'll be an adventure" Dorea said with a twinkle in her eye.

Charlus laughed as he brought his arm around her arms and she settled her head against his shoulder. "Five years…" he whispered.

-Break-

Dumbledore POV

His ears rang as his eyes flittered open, consciousness returning to him slowly but surely. He felt hot, almost unbearably so.

The sounds of crackling fires, of grinding noises filled his ears as the ringing dimmed away.

"Wha-" he gasped as he lifted his head. He was atop of a lone peak of stone amidst a sea of molten rock, one that seems to heat up the very pillar of safety he laid upon. Moonlight streamed down from the massive hole that had opened up above them, pieces continued to crumble away as the stability of the underground facility continued to deteriorate.

The shield he'd conjured around, one of the strongest ones he knew had done its job and protected him from the explosion of magic that shook the very foundation of this mountain, no volcano.

It had not been too terrible, at first. A massive wave of magic had shattered the confines of the ritual, one that continued to travel and blasted almost everything away by the sheer force.

He slowly got back up to his feet, and twisted his wand around him in a tired fashion, his body ached from the force that sent him into unconsciousness.

He looked to his right and his breath hitched as he saw the abomination that taken over the form of his lover.

Grief threatened to swallow him whole.

Gellert…no…the creature levitated in the air, surrounded by an tendrils of fires that seemed to sprout from the cooling rock. He was shrouded in blackness though it was better to say he was completely black, and almost incorporeal with the way strands of blackness combined to give him form.

Holy Chains that Albus had attempted to use to constrict the creature had still remained though it seemed to make little difference as the two walls he'd attempted to bind him to were no longer there and two pieces of rock floated in the air, connecting the creature to those rocks.

When he'd peered into those soulless red eyes, he knew then that Gellert was dead for what worn his skin was far from the man he once knew.

No attempts to get through to him had worked and they had fought however brief it may have been. The creature had unleashed some unholy black magic to shatter the Light imbued chains and in the process destroyed much of the facility.

He took grim satisfaction that De Galle was dead though it was fleeting.

When he'd seen the blackened husk of Gellert, he had lost it…to see his strong Gellert to be reduced to such a pitiful state…

He had known that De Galle was lying to him…that the cost of what they'd planned to do what too high.

How wrong he had been…

The cost was disastrous.

Gellert died the moment the ritual had begun for he could not see anything human in whatever that creature was.

He reeked of Death, of rot.

The creature's head swivelled towards him, bright furious red eyes stared him down.

"Albus…." The creature's voice was a cacophony of howls, agonised screams and despair. It was monstrous.

And he had stood by and let the ritual happen, an evil he knew would forever marr his soul.

Distant noises seemed to grow in intensity, even to the point of drawing the creature's attention

"Do not say my name, you foul creature" Albus shouted even though his heart ached and the creature's attention returned to him.

To see his Gellert turned into this…

The noise grew even louder.

His wand wavered in his hand as he stood against the foul being that stood before him.

"I will destroy you, Demon. You wear whatever remains of Ge-" Whatever Albus would have said next was cut off as the entire place rocked in a massive explosion that destroyed everything close by.

Albus Dumbledore died within an instant, the legend he once promised himself he'd carve out died an ignoble end, an end that winked out in less than a blink of an eye.

-Break-

31st of March 1943

They stood afloat thousands of feet above the sea, their eyes cast down at the slowly crumbling volcano that lay in the far distance.

He glowed as magic bent around them, a kaleidoscopic maelstrom of magic surrounded him as his eyes glowed bright white and glowing lines marred his face. He could feel the shifting molecules within air, the uncountable miniscule vibrations of the molecules that changed and quickened with the input of energy, energy he was exuding with massive quantities.

He peered down at the volcano, his eyes carefully taking in the sickening twisted form of Black Magic. It was horrific to see the awfulness with which magic had been twisted.

He could see an ocean of black magic settling onto much of the surface of the right face of the crumbled volcano, like a dense poisonous gas that choked the very life of everything.

"How much longer" Emily said and he glanced at her. She was afloat as he was though not under her own power, not yet. She was adorned in the same armour she'd worn during their attack on the vampires, just as he was.

They would not need it.

He glanced at his arm and say the countdown. "Nine seconds." He told her.

She breathed out and he glanced at her. It didn't surprise him that she could feel the malignant magic that Grindelwald exuded even from this distance.

He'd Seen this night a few nights ago, just before they fought the Vampires.

There had been Possibilities of a battle but none of them would end well for them.

He'd Seen the vision that had prompted him to omit things from Emily once more, of her surrounded by a White Raven and a Red Crow and he knew he could not take any chances.

Any battle between him and whatever Grindelwald was seemed endless, as if they could not defeat the other.

That could only mean that whatever powers Grindelwald had was a worthy match for the power he held.

It was a good thing then that no battle would occur, just as he had promised his family.

A sonic boom shattered into the air and a red hot slug streamed down at a velocity of tens of thousands of kilometres per hour.

It almost blinded them, the explosion that occurred, the volcano cracked open completely like an egg as superheated gas and smoke rippled through the air with the speed of sound.

Another slug fired and streamed down, and then another, and another.

In total it happened eight times, the once tall volcano had been devastated into a flatland with rivers of molten stone and rock.

He turned to Emily "It's time for you leave Emily." He said in a grim tone. Emily looked at him with cold eyes, eyes he met before she relented and began to transform.

Her face began to elongate, vibrant hues of blues on a background of dark nearly black colour began to replace her pale skin. Her neck grew and grew as her body contorted into a long thing form. Her arms shifted and feathers began to sprout whilst her legs merged with her body whilst her ankles and feet began to elongate before they turned into knife like dagger claws.

Her wings flapped powerfully before she clicked her beak sharply and a hiss erupted from her beak as her serpentine tongue tasted the air. She stayed like that for a moment before she flew away.

He watched her retreating form for a moment. Her animagus form, the Occamy was a form that suited her well.

Atticus raised his arm and Scal Slea came to his call and began to climb high into the sky.

He stood amongst the clouds, the rays of the moonlight hit his armour in such a way that it was gleaming like a white star.

His hair was aloft, floating gently amidst the weightlessness his magic caused to happen within a sphere around him.

Crackle

A small crackle of lightning formed around his left hand which held onto Scal Slea.

It was slow, at first before it grew into a veritable storm of lightning as his body shone with dancing streams of lightning.

The magic that coursed through his body, his own and that of nature's thrummed and hummed like a soft gently purr of a well engineered engine.

The complex interactions of the universe around him slowed, as if it stood still waiting, watching, as he stood at the precipice of a great and terrible act.

He let of an inaudible sigh and a ripple of power tore through the air. Lightning streaks of green, purple and white hues began to paint the clouds with which he stood amongst.

The dancing streams of lightning began to twist around his body like liquid vines of power as thunder began to boom around him.

The thin diffuse clouds began to twist into thick cauldrons of ominous grey clouds as his power began to rise and rise.

The clouds began to crack with thick glowing purple green spidery veins and the sounds of thunder grew to humongous proportions, as if it was trying to drown out the Earth with its furious cry.

The world dimmed to near blackness, the lights of his lightning, his magic and the red glow of the smouldering lava that lay where the volcano had once been were the only sources of light, as if to signify two ends of the World, two realms of opposing nature.

Enormous tendrils of lightning began to form and struck the sea with ear deafening thunder.

The smell of ozone filled his nostrils whilst it began to rain. At first, droplets had only formed until only moments after rain drops the sizes of tennis balls began to furiously pelt the Earth and Sea below.

His magic seeped deep with the weather system of the world. He could feel the atmospheric pressure, the moisture in the air, the electric charge that was in his complete control.

Where before nature magic had once fought to struggle away from his control, it now beckoned him, welcomed him as he were long lost kin.

He did not know if it was because of his elemental ritual…because of Hyper-Percipience granting him near unrivalled control over ambient magic or because of what happened against Grindelwald…

In the end, he supposed, it did not matter as he stared at the cosmic energies that permeated through reality with blinding and awesome array of variety and colours.

Howls and whistles of the storm that twisted and raged around him dimmed away as his heart beat slowed, seemingly reaching a near infinitely slow crawl amongst the march of Time.

The world began to slow just his heart slowed, the incessant claps of thunder that seemed like miniature explosions and strikes of thunder that seemed more like a forest filled with a sea of white barked trees all slowed, the gears of the world slowing down as if it had run out of precious fuel.

In this moment, he felt as if he were at the centre of the universe, a lightning rod for Magic herself, Her hand of Judgement.

He looked down at the sea of smouldering lava. He saw the dim blackness that still radiated despite all of the attacks that were equal in explosiveness to nuclear bombs.

Whatever Grindelwald was now, he was far from Living.

He was akin to an infection, one that was rotting and made all that it touched averse and no longer conducive to Magic and Life.

It was a good thing, then, that he was the one to burn it away.

His arms began to rise to his sides, the dense magical field that surrounded him magnified to unleash a torrential sea of magical power, the lightning that struck at the world with blinding, terrific strength grew to monstrous proportions, their thickness growing thicker than even the Empire State building, so devastating was the power that he unleashed into the world.

The sea began to boil away at the sheer power that it was being assaulted with, the world was torn asunder as reality began to bend in shifting, twisting turns.

His face no longer held thin glowing lines but was alight with a maelstrom of purple, green and white swirls of moving power.

His hand tightened around Scal Slea which began to glow blindingly silver with three golden purple stars at the top. The centre of the spear glowed a faint white, the black Stone with which he imbued his Spear with thrummed at the power that it was feeding hungrily at.

The story of Cadmus had rung in his head. Cadmus had died according to the stories to magical exhaustion because the Stone had pulled on all of his magic in his desire to bring back his wife.

He had never used the Stone beyond the timeframe his Ancestor Aurilak had set for him. Whatever draw it took of his magic must have been miniscule and possibly could have been exponential had he passed it.

Perhaps it took more because of his wish to bring back his wife, his magic had responded and the Stone had gleefully taken as much as it could.

It was that idea that caused him to investigate if he could weaponise it…to invert the connection the Stone had to the Domain, to the Souls of all those who had died.

If it could call upon the Souls of the Deceased, could it not, instead, banish Souls to the Domain?

And so, Scal Slea became the medium with which to channel huge amount of magical energies, feeding it into the Stone whilst the runes that he'd etched into it inverted the main function of the Stone.

He raised his spear higher, the furious rampant rampaging storm around him reached its zenith, a peak with which the world became little more than a sea of lightning, one that submerged the world with blinding light.

The thick arcs of lightning that howled and raged from the sky began to bend, twist as if they were little more than leather whips.

More and more massive tendrils of crackling lightning began to bend and twist, compacting into thinner tendrils yet somehow seemed to exude just the same amount of terrible power before they snapped towards him and all of that potential power, all of that energy crashed into the tips of his spear in a wiring, whizzing crackling noise that seemed to deafened the very universe.

His arm began to tremble as burns began to form around his fingers which were tightly coiled around his spear.

The thousands of thin tendrils began to peter out, the streaks of lightning that had torn the world asunder and boiled the Seas away dissipated though faint remnants of scars across the face of the clouds remained, ones that glowed faintly purple and green.

He twisted his wrist around until the tips of his spear were pointed directly below.

His arm continued to tremble, the sheer amount of magical power that his spear continued felt like it burst at any moment, not even the siphoning strength of the Stone could take more.

Black tendrils began to stretch into the sky as a figure began to coalesce above the cooled, wet rock.

Even from this distance, he could see the glowing red orbs of Grindelwald. He saw the reddened core of his soul, nothing that bore any resemblance to a normal soul remained.

His white orbs settled in hardened glass as the tips of his spear began to glow, liquid like blue white globes of energy seemed to almost drip from the tips of his spear.

Grindelwald rocketed upward, a lance of darkness shot towards him.

With an outcry, one that reverberated in the deathly silent night, a thick beam blue white light spewed forward as an explosion of wiring, buzzing, arcing sound erupted around him.

It was huge the beam of almost liquid magical power that spewed forward, a lance of light that was akin to God's smiting, wroth and righteous punishment made physical.

It crashed into Grindelwald who had tried to move away but could not, no one could be faster than the speed of light.

The sound of the crash thrummed in the night sky, the crater that had formed grew and grew with each second that passed.

Atticus' arm throbbed with the strain of the power that was being unleashed and he knew that it was time.

He gave a single last glance at his spear. His spear was the conduit of that power…and the trigger for the inversion.

It likely would not survive whatever happened. He felt a pang of loss. His spear…his wand…

He returned his eyes towards the now hundred metre crater that seemed to continue to grow amidst the assault of his power.

He drew back his trembling arm, ever so slightly and brought his right hand to his mouth and bit into his index finger before he brought it to the activation runes on his spear.

It glowed vivid gold and he didn't have much time. With a strained cry, he threw his spear towards where Grindelwald was and quickly brought his arms in front of him and clasped his hands next to each other before a pulse of super condensed lashed forward and propelled the spear at near the speed of sound.

Atticus rose further into the sky like a missile and soon enough, a thunderous explosion happened causing him to look down and he saw a bubble of misty white light grow and grow until subsumed the entirety of the land on which the former volcano once stood upon. It reached a thousand metres in the sky and he could hear harrowing, eerie howls and moans of somethings.

It was almost as if he was hearing…people.

It caused shivers to run down his spine as he watched the misty white bubble ripple and shake to the tune of those disturbing howls and moans.

It was almost twenty minutes later that the bubble began to fade away and it was another twenty minutes away when he saw no magic emanating from the island.

He saw Emily flying towards him and shifted back whilst she applied charms to keep herself floating.

She stared at him for a moment. "It's ridiculous the kind power you have" she said flatly, calculating glints shone in her eyes.

It made him laugh a little awkwardly. "I know" he admitted. "I don't know how I got here to be honest."

That was the truth…it seemed to have snowballed from the days when he tried out Northern Magicks.

He had never thought he'd reached this level, at least so fast.

She sighed before she gazed down at the island. "Shall we?" she asked him without looking at him, a curious look adorned on her face.

He twisted his fingers and floated her closer. He wrapped his arm around her waist and flew down towards the crater which was filled with ice cold water and was continuing to be filled.

He set them upon an outcrop of rock. He frowned at the body of water but before he could say anything Emily stepped forward.

She walked towards the edge of the water and kneeled down, her hands touched the surface of the water.

"Ah…" he murmured softly as he watched magic begin to surround her. He watched as near invisible tendrils of her magic submerged within the body of water, shooting in a fast pace in a searching like pattern.

He watched her work with a glint of pride in his eye. She'd come far since she took on the water elemental ability, her control and ability was ever growing.

She hadn't told him what exactly the ingredients were in her ritual, she remained annoying silent on that topic but nonetheless he was proud of her.

Something rocketed out of the water and with a wet thud crashed next to Emily. Emily rose and twisted her wand around, cleaning herself in the process.

Atticus walked forward "How was it?" he asked her.

She turned to him, a smirk on her face "Easy." She said in a typical arrogant fashion. She grew more serious however and she held a contemplative look on her face "It's becoming more and more natural the more I use it. It's like…" she paused for a moment "Like using Runes. The more you use it, the more you understand, the more you can do with it."

Atticus nodded. It was not quite like that for him, it had been more of a struggle…like building himself up little by little, moving from one weight class to another until, suddenly he could lift a mountain.

Yes…it was not as natural progression as it should have been, he mused.

"He's…healing" Emily said with an alarmed tone, the tip of her wand crackled with a dark curse.

The torn black skin of Grindelwald seemed to be healing, he could see bones slowly but surely grow and saw tendrils of muscle begin to form.

Atticus stared at the body. He was perplexed. He couldn't see a soul or anything that resembled a soul. He frowned. "He's not alive" he said aloud.

"What do you mean?" Emily's head snapped to him.

"Exactly what I said" Atticus said with a sigh. He turned to her. "That last attack banished his soul to the afterlife and I can see no soul within that body."

He could see the gears in Emily's mind turn. The light on the tip of her wand dimmed before she holstered it away.

"Then why is his body healing?" Emily wondered aloud. "Surely if your attack destroyed his body to this degree and that final spell removed his soul then he can't have any magic to repair the body?"

Without the soul, magic had no direction even if the body held magic. There had been enough studies made on Dementor victims to prove that.

"Unless whatever was done to Grindelwald used magic to heal his body." Atticus said with a sigh.

"What kind of ritual could do that?" she wondered with fascination as they watched the ugly corpse of Grindelwald heal almost completely.

He only roughly resembled a human being…arms, legs, a mouth and nose. The rest of him was blackened and ashy, not unlike a lump of coal.

"A ritual that has no right to exist. Whatever they did made something horrific…and terrifying." He admitted. Emily turned to him with surprise in her eyes.

"As I told you, any battle between us did not show victory…or defeat. No doubt if he's able to heal like this, I wouldn't be able to defeat him in any conventional means. He survived all those slugs like it was nothing and probably would have survived my Hammer attack." He said in a grim tone.

Wasn't that terrifying?

That there were the kinds of magic that could make something as unstoppable whatever Grindelwald had been.

"Cruro Madidus" Emily intoned as she struck the corpse of Grindelwald with a blood boiling curse.

"What are you doing?" Atticus asked with a frown.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes "Seeing if he heals from dark curses."

Atticus returned his eyes to the corpse and saw the blood within Grindelwald's corpse boil.

It continued on for a few minutes until it stopped, much to Atticus' surprise.

Emily hit Grindelwald with two more curses, a dark curse that froze the inside of the victim and a bone demolishing curse.

Grindelwald healed completely after a few minutes each time.

"Fascinating" Emily murmured, a glint of intense hunger entered her eye, something that he recognised all too well.

"You can't keep the corpse Emily" he said exasperated.

Emily looked at him with a frown "Why not? His healing abilities are beyond our own. We can find a way to replicate it."

Atticus raised an eyebrow as his eyes darted to the corpse and then back to Emily who rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, whatever ritual he used is a terrible idea and I have no desire to replicate whatever disaster that ritual is." She said in a patronising tone before she continued "Merely to see if there is something about the magic that lingers on even in his death."

Ah…that made sense. She'd told him about her studies in figuring out a way to anchor their souls to their bodies. If there was even a speck of DNA, in theory, the body would reconstitute itself using magic. It was a fanciful idea, one that he certainly thought was possible for there was little that was impossible in magic but it seemed it was an endeavour that could take a very long time to solve.

Something that could be hastened by the study of this body.

His face scrunched up in a pinch before he looked at Emily who looked at him with narrowed eyes.

He couldn't really refuse. Not without causing her to be pretty pissed off at him. She wanted him to support her.

Why did she have to be so interested in creepy things like this?

"Alright, fine." He conceded and she smiled in triumph though her eyes did not seem all that happy.

"I'm glad I've got your approval" she said in an innocent tone, one that made him grimace.

Well, it seemed like she was unhappy anyway.

"I'm just concerned that whatever they did could undo the banishing" he admitted to her.

Her expression shifted as something dark passed across her face "And could it?"

"I don't know" he admitted. For all his ability to see Souls, he was still very uneducated in it.

"The possibility exists though." Emily surmised before she stared at the corpse. She remained silent for a little while.

"Fine, one week. Then we fire the thing into the Sun." she glanced at Atticus and he knew that was the most that she would concede.

He nodded his acceptance of the terms.

She twirled her wand and Grindelwald's corpse floated into the air. She narrowed her eyes in concentration. "It seems like his body is resisting transfiguration" she said with a hint of awe and disbelief in her tone.

Atticus' eyes widened before he raised his hand and attempted to change Grindelwald's form. It began to twitch and almost changed but it still resisted.

Atticus couldn't help but laugh "Truly, if only he hadn't been a damn psychopath." He shook his head.

"Even if he hadn't been, he would have been a problem for our future goals." Emily said pointedly. "He wasn't one to follow others."

Atticus said nothing to that.

His eyes widened. His spear!

He outstretched his hand and willed his spear back to him. He could feel the most tenuous of links and it shot out of the water and into his hand.

Cracks ran down the spine of the shaft and the left prong of the trident was missing. He could feel the weakening magic with in it. He looked at the Resurrection Stone and saw that half of it was missing and the other half which was still embedded in the Spear had turned completely white. He touched it and could feel no magic within it.

He wasn't sure what to feel. His spear felt weak and likely couldn't even withstand a powerful spell before it broke in half and the Resurrection Stone…

He'd never speak to his father ever again. He'd accepted before but now that it was reality…

"A shame" Emily said as she moved closer to him, her hand caressing his arm.

He turned to her and saw hints of warmth on her face and he gave a small smile, one that she reciprocated before he turned to his spear.

He knocked its butt against the cooled glass like rock a few times. "It did its duty. I'll see if I can repair it…if not, I can make another." Probably a better one too.

"Make you one too at the same time" he said as he turned to her.

"Hmm." She hummed beautifully as she stared into his eyes. "One fit for a queen?" she teased.

His smiling eyes looked down at her with a small mirthful grin "One fit for an Empress."

Her lips twitched in amusement and warmth. "I like the sound of that." Her face morphed into one of pensiveness and made him almost frown.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"Our greatest enemies are dead, we reign at the top" she looked at him "The public loves you and there is no one who could deny us anything" she smiled widely as her eyes gleamed with triumph.

It was true, Dumbledore was most assuredly dead. If not in the attack then most certainly by the Hammer or the Soul Banishing ward.

"Illos can finally start with all of our attention" Atticus said with a happy tone.

"I can finally start our plans for Magical Britain – and Ireland" Emily said as she stared passed his shoulder "We can remove all of the remnant links with the muggle world, build up a loyal base of fo-" Atticus raised his eyebrow exasperatedly "allies and future subjects" she corrected with a playful smile before she grew serious.

"Enemies will reveal themselves, political and other kinds of plots will be arraigned against us." Her eyes shone with excitement and coldness. "There is much to do." She said finally.

He smiled wearily at her. This would be her natural playing field and unfortunately he had to play.

There was no rest for the wicked, he mused.

"We also need to get married this summer" She said aloud, everything running through in his mind came to a screeching halt.

"What?" he asked with wide eyes but it didn't seem like she heard him.

"Your popularity has never been higher and to hold a wedding now would only further increase our presence within the minds of the public." Her smirk grew.

"The number of politicians, businessmen and influential people who would wish to come to our wedding will be great"

"Wait wait wait" Atticus said hurriedly "We're not even out of our teenage years and you're still sixteen" he stressed out. "I'm only eighteen Emily!"

Emily looked at him unimpressed "So?" she simply said.

He would forever deny he spluttered "So?! What do you mean so?"

She grabbed both of his cheeks and brought his head down, staring intently in his eyes. "I love you Atticus, I have before I even knew what that strange feeling was." She said softly "Whilst it is early and admittedly I'm also thinking about it in a political manner, I do want to marry you…I have done since I agreed to the betrothal."

Atticus looked at her surprised "Really?" he asked a little concerned. She had hated the idea at first…to become a wife. He'd promised her that they'd be equals and that he'd never treat her otherwise and the contract showed that.

"Yes, really, you idiot" she said in a warm tone before she pecked on the lips. She moved away "I never hated the idea of binding myself to you, in my mind we were always going to be together after that Beltane night" she said in a soft, vulnerable tone. "I only hated that you would hold power over me…in more ways than you already do" she gently caressed his cheek.

He closed his eyes as he felt the love in that simple gesture. "I love you too." He murmured quietly as he touched the hands that were on his cheeks.

"Alright" he said softly as he reopened his eyes and met Emily's eyes. "We'll marry this summer." He agreed.

Her eyes shone with a kind of happiness that was rare.

"You do realise that my mother will want to plan everything?" he said with a smile.

Emily grimaced as she let go of his face. "It's not her wedding"

Atticus laughed, loudly at that. "Yes…I'm looking forward at how that argument will go."

Emily face pinched in a certain way before it soured, likely thinking of how adamant his mother will be "It's not her wedding" she said again though it sounded far more petulant that she'd likely ever wanted.

Atticus snorted as he walked around Emily to the corpse.

"Maybe we should delay?" he heard Emily say behind him causing him to get into a fit of laughter.