Wizarding prisons are harsh places. Tina chases her leads. Queenie and Credence cope with trying to survive in the Alliance as unlikely allies. A step back to the Goldstein sisters.

Across the Water

Tina called in all the connections she knew, and a few others suggested by Graves, old Matthews, and even her House Head at Ilvermorny. The trail led here to the Tombs. The prison was hidden under Mount Rushmore. The stink of despair was so thick, the prison walls were permeated with it. Most sent here were for life. Solitary confinement in near total darkness, save for whatever light came in from the corridors through the cracks at the bottom of the doors or the flap for wardens to check on their charges. Malcolm MacDuff, or rather Prisoner 1576, was held there, if he had not yet got round to ending himself or gone stark mad.

A dishevelled MacDuff was huddled in a corner of his cell, little more than a six-by-six-foot space with a bucket in the corner and little else. He was wearing the prison's standard issue uniform and it was filthy. He was shackled to the far wall. He blinked blearily when the warden called out his number. He shuffled towards the door before being pulled short by his chain.

"L-Liz?" his voice was hoarse from either screaming or disuse. His face was gaunt. Tina was reminded of how Graves had appeared when they freed him from that No-Maj asylum.

"MacDuff…"

"Use their number, ma'am. Names no mean nothing here. Not to them," the warden warned. Tina nodded.

"What does Grindelwald want with Eva Prince? Where is she?" Tina ignored the harsh intake of breath from the warden at her mention of the dreaded dark wizard. The warden would not report her visit. He owed Matthews a wizard's debt that he was now repaying.

"She knows how. Bring back dead…" MacDuff babbled.

"Miss Prince is a necromancer?"

"No, no, not her. She does not know what she knows." MacDuff's voice took a sing-song pitch as he strained at his chain. Malcolm MacDuff had lost it, Tina realized. Gone mad from his confinement or by design. It was rumoured that family heads sometimes resorted to memory modification charms to keep troublesome relatives in check. If MacDuff's mind had been damaged in some way…

"Queenie and Aurelius send their regards from Nurmengard."

"Back, 1576," the warden warned and lifted his wand and motioned for Tina to leave.

"Lizzie, don't go! Please don't leave!" the wailing screams were cut short with a Stunning spell not before setting off his neighbours as well.

The Cauldron of Bran the Blessed, a talented potioneer, possible necromancy? What was Grindelwald up to? In Welsh myth, the dead were placed in the cauldron and brought back to life. Did Grindelwald intend to raise an army of inferi? And who is Aurelius? Where is Nurmengard?

There was one other thing she needed to do. Tina sighed as the warden led her out of the prison.

"Obliviate," she whipped around and wiped the wizard's memory of the past hour or so. No point getting the poor man in trouble later.


Grindelwald was back. Queenie could sense the change in the castle's atmosphere. Credence, no, Aurelius glanced down from the gallery, torn between running downstairs to greet his master and fearing his wrath. MacDuff had been captured, so the whispers went. Queenie confirmed this with her gift when she met Abernathy. The new witch, Eva, was terrified out of her wits. They had her locked up in one of the guestrooms. At least Abernathy had the decency to feel sorry for her enough to put her in there instead of the dungeons.

The professor they had snatched from Cornwall proved stubbornly uncooperative. Grindelwald's acolytes had tortured the captive for his secrets. Queenie did not recognize the man's name. He must have joined Ilvermorny after she graduated. Part of her was thankful it was a stranger. She would not bear to think of any of her professors being hurt. Aurelius had been brought down to the dungeons for a lesson in casting Crucios on their prisoner. Queenie had found the young man close to tears afterwards.

Aurelius or Credence was not a bad kid. Just messed up and dealt a hard hand by Fate. He had confided in her initially, until MacDuff let slip she was a legilimens. After that, the young man withdrew from her. There were few who lingered overlong in her company. She learned to curb her tongue and watch her words. Grindelwald would casually ask her about the loyalties of various acolytes. She had learnt the hard way after she had reported doubts in the mind of one of the followers. The man disappeared from the castle and was never seen again.

Aurelius looked up to the dark wizard as a father-figure. Grindelwald could be so charming and so persuasive. He took care to keep his shields up when Queenie was near, but Queenie could see how he was grooming Aurelius under the guise of helping him with his magic, slowly feeding his rage against his supposed family. A lost, lonely boy just yearning for a place to belong. She had to look out for him. She had taken him into town to get a decent wardrobe once at Grindelwald's insistence. Quality menswear, dinner suits and travelling clothes so he would not look so shabby when accompanying Grindelwald to those society events and rallies. That shy, awkward smile when she caught him feeding his phoenix. They had chatted for a bit. He knew Tina. Tina had sought to protect him from the cruel woman he had believed was his mother for a very long time.

Queenie knew little of the Dumbledores, Aurelius' supposed family. There were rumours of a Hogwarts professor of that name who might be powerful enough to stop Grindelwald. Could this be the same former professor Newt spoke of? Or was the entire thing a lie or half-truth woven by Grindelwald?

A harsh rebuke. Aurelius stumbling out of the room. Grindelwald had no need of him for now. There were more important things needing his attention than his protégé's current progress in his magical studies. He stood forlorn in the draughty hallway, uncertain and lost. Queenie knew she had to act.

"Ah, Aurelius, there you are. How would you like to come help with the flowers?"

Something to take his mind off Grindelwald, just for an hour, and maybe get him out of the castle before he gets tasked with torturing any of their captives. Grindelwald had him trained in duelling and martial magic, but no basic charms were taught to the boy. Charms any magical child should have learned at their parents' knee or in their first year of school. Healing spells or simple conjurations. Tales by Beedle the Bard. These were things Aurelius or Credence should be introduced to as part of his magical heritage after having lost out for so long, not Unforgivables.

For the Greater Good? Queenie rolled her eyes as they stepped out into the courtyard where a few stubborn blooms fought to survive in the thin, rocky earth. Grindelwald's slogan was etched into the lintel. The dark wizard had chosen the symbol of the Deathly Hallows from the tale of the Peverell brothers for his mark. The Elder Wand was owned by Grindelwald. The whereabouts of the remaining two Hallows were unknown.

She missed Jacob so at times. She had hoped she would have the freedom to marry him, but it seemed No-Majs had little or no place in Grindelwald's new order. Even Vinda thought her a fool to be infatuated with a No-Maj when there were so many worthy wizards available. Why weaken her magical bloodline thus? Queenie had known wixen from No-Maj origins who are in no way inferior to their pure or halfblood brethren. Perhaps they thought she would forget Jacob, but she could not.

She blinked away tears prickling at her eyes.

"Miss Queenie… For you… Please don't be sad…"

A bouquet of daffodils conjured up by magic. A bit droopy and already wilting, much to Aurelius' dismay. Queenie smiled wanly and accepted the blooms.

"Thank you, hon."


Summer was punishing in Casablanca. Percival Graves waved his wand and cast a light cooling spell. Sweat was running down his brow. His iced tea was already tepid. Some of the more complicated gestures were now beyond him with only three fingers. He still could not get the hang of Apparating without being splinched. Portkeys and Sidealongs left him sick on arrival despite healers' reassurances he was recovering his magical balance. He was reliant on more traditional conveyances like motorcars, trains and ships. Brooms were only good for short distances with only one hand to grip on.

He had sent his mother and the house-elves ahead to New York after months away. It was time to take control of his life again now he had most of his magic back. A meeting arranged through a mutual acquaintance. He was not MACUSA's man anymore. He no longer had an army of Aurors awaiting his orders. Yet he had more freedom to act than he ever had as an Auror. Ostentatiously, he was acting in his capacity as family head, renewing ties in the Old World. His mother had already helped establish connections with the society wixen, but it was up to him to contact the others. Foremost was…

"Monsieur Graves, I do not believe we have met before." Yusuf Kama.

Like Graves, he had been touched by Grindelwald's evil. It showed in his eyes, the sorrow and hurt. The Senegalese wizard slid into the chair across Graves at the small magical café in the souk. The tragedy of the Kama family and the Leta Lestrange were known to Percival Graves.

"He is unable to come?"

"The Ministry has him watched. They always have him watched since before Paris," Yusuf ordered a glass of mint tea. "Aslan has vouched for you, so has Tadpole."

"They say he is the only one who has the power to stop Grindelwald."

"He cannot act against him, so I understand. Perhaps a past vow? Tricky things, vows. You have a niece who was taken in Paris. You fear for the young lady." Yusuf's eyes showed understanding.

He has already taken much from you. You are a warrior, battle-scarred but not yet defeated. You will not sit back in safety and watch him win, hurt more innocents…

"If there is any way we can help stop…"

"Ah, I will convey your offer to him. Perhaps we will be in touch again soon," Yusuf finished his tea and Disapparated with a soft pop. He left behind a name card on the table.

Albus Dumbledore. A friend of Gellert Grindelwald in his youth, before he started down a very different path from Scamander's old professor. What must he think, reading of Grindelwald's deeds in that remote corner of Scotland? Durmstrang Institute's administration had been tight-lipped about their former student. They had expelled him for some reason they refused to disclose. Students do get expelled and not all of them turn into dark wizards. Newt Scamander had been expelled from Hogwarts and he turned out to be a decent chap and a brilliant magizoologist. Perhaps he would find some excuse to visit Hogwarts.

It was alarming how many of the elite European wizarding houses were drawn to the Alliance's ideas. The Zabinis, Rosiers and Carrows had family members rumoured to be in Grindelwald's inner circle. Others had expressed support for ideas of magical or pureblood supremacy if not openly willing to pledge their support to a terrorist organization. The bohemian Aslan Shafiq admitted his cousins were looking into how the Alliance could be legitimized as a political entity given its growing wave of support after the Paris rally. The artist did not care about politics so long as he had his little corner of Capri and the continued patronage of Mrs Graves. If Graves was expected to foot the bill for rebuilding Aslan's studio, the wizard might as well help pull a few strings for them.

It was the end of summer 1929. His duties as family head beckoned Stateside. Moreover, he owed Sera a visit. Hopefully before she stumbled into a fifth potentially disastrous marriage judging by the gossip rags. He likely needed to drop by at St Kitts for another medical scan.

Perhaps he could use his European businesses to stay out of States for at least half the year like his mother had done with her Italian villa. Cousin Sheridan has the running of the family's Stateside businesses under control ever since his father's decline. There was a luxury train that Percival would like to invest in in Europe. Perhaps it might come in handy. For now, he would need to deal with the heads of the Original Twelve, the same wixen who had written him off two years back.

Author's Notes:

Credence/ Aurelius is so desperate for a place to belong to. He is drawn to Queenie for her kindness, but not in a romantic way. At the same time, he knows she is likely spying on him, so he does not fully trust her.

Percival Graves wants to be a part of taking Grindelwald down.