Voldemort smiled as spellfire flashed in front of him. Bellatrix and Lucius exchanged spells, shields flashing to life in moments, spells were dodged and countered in mid-air. Bellatrix, in true Black fashion, was a maelstrom of magic; curses, shields, cackling as she darted around, a wand in one hand and a silver dagger in the other. Lucius was not idle, his wand always moving as he utilized minute transfigurations to help increase his defensive abilities. His precision was surgical; cutting curses that slipped through shields due to a crack, bludgeoning charms that scattered streams of pebbles like buck shot to force a response, curses that caused immense pain mixed with anything that would get a response, even if it was a flinch.

Voldemort snapped his fingers just as Lucius's eyes flashed dangerously in response to a slight fumble Bellatrix had with the wand in her fingers.

"Enough."

The spells immediately stopped flying, Lucius canceling the curse he was about to utilize. Bellatrix bowed to Voldemort. "I am sorry my lord. The wand… it was so restrictive… I couldn't perform to my lord's standards…"

Voldemort merely smiled as he idly summoned the woman closer. Gently placing his hand against her cheek, he stroked his thumb down her face. An act that didn't fail to make her nuzzle slightly into the warmth of his flesh. Her face was cold, nearly resonating with the chill of Azkaban even after escaping close to a year past.

"My faithful Bellatrix… do not worry about my expectations. You were… Adequate considering the circumstances. That you are even capable of fighting with a wand that does not acknowledge you is proof of your devotion. Devotion that I shall reward… now."

He leaned down and whispered into her ear," You shall accompany me, along with one other, to a meeting I have with the Goblins of Gringotts. During my meeting, you shall acquire an asset for me." His warm breath made the woman shudder, a fact that Voldemort noticed as he continued to stroke her cheek. "Any resistance… can be met with death."

Breathlessly, Bellatrix replied, "Yes my lord." Even when she was gently pushed away, she was lost in the bliss of her master's grace, so much so that she nearly missed his next commands.

"Lucius, gather the resources necessary for a treatise with the werewolves. Yes, that means I want to meet with Greyback. Do be certain to mention that if he attacks me again, he will not have a pack to lead. Travers, Mulciber, how fare the giants?" Voldemort asked as he strode towards a bookshelf. Plucking a book from the shelves, he swiftly flicked through it looking for a reference.

Travers, a man who was rail thin and sporting an immaculately groomed beard and thick brown hair, spoke, his voice cool and level. "We have successfully partitioned Clan Scrud of 24 out of their 32 giants. The remaining are either children, small or Elders. Mulciber has been working with Clan Jurd. He can explain that better than I…. I am sorry I don't remember much of the conversation…" With a confused face, the Death Eater trailed off as his master looked on in understanding. Glancing at Lucius, Voldemort nodded before motioning for Mulicber to begin.

Mulicber began his report, his voice waspy as if he had smoked muggle cigarettes for decades. He too was rather thin, yet was beginning to show his former muscular body. On his left hip was a saber held shut with a lock that held no keyhole. Mulicber smiled, showing off teeth that were black and broken. "My Lord, Clan Jurd is smaller than Clan Scrud, but they're bigger. The shortest is 14 foot. The tallest, Varvak, is 22. I got all 15 of 'em to agree to fight. Only asked to try muggle. Said it was a flavor they hadn't had." The man started to chuckle, a hitching wheeze that only signified mirth by the smile on his face. Voldemort allowed the room a small amount of levity as he found the reference he needed.

"Good. Antonin, you will be with Bellatrix and I. Bellatrix knows your assignment." With a snap, the tomb closed and was casually levitated back to its shelf as Voldemort started to walk out of the room. " I must secure the position of our… generous bankers." With a sweeping motion, his cloak was around him and he was out of the room, his two Inner Circle members behind him.

Lucius quickly asserted control of the room, as was custom in his Master's absence. "I need you to find Greyback, Goyle. Travers, I have the next part of your treatment. It should help with your mental clarity. Mulciber, there are new practice dummies in the combat room. Do not slash them to pieces this time. The Dark Lord was not happy having to create the enchantments again."

Within moments, the men in the room began to work once more.

At the crack of apparition, no one did more than glance towards the three new comers, as most continued their shopping. That was perfect for Voldemort, who was hidden under a basic glamour, and his two Inner Circle members, who were hidden under much more complex illusions. He quietly ordered them to begin their assignment watching closely as the duo walked towards Knockturn Alley, before heading up the steps to Gringotts bank.

As he entered the bank, he took reference of the two goblins and the four trolls that guarded the entrance. The goblin steel gleamed in the sun from the goblin's pikes and axe heads on their belts. Their armor appeared to be studded rune covered leather, likely able to absorb most spellfire. He strode past, knowing that they wouldn't stop him from entering.

As he watched the witches and wizards bounce about the room, each trying to speak to one of the 22 goblins manning the desks as tellers, Voldemort only made eye contact with the 23rd goblin sitting behind the tall desk in the back, his desk void of all parchment. His purpose clearly to supervise and protect as he was tense, and a gleaming dagger, perfect for throwing, lay on the desk beside his right hand. With an ease that belied his mastery over the mind arts, Voldemort sank into the creature's mind, easily gaining all the information he required for his meeting. Without the creature even knowing he was in it's thoughts, he had already left.

Voldemort approached the third teller up from the door on the left wing. Approaching he stated that he had an appointment.

"Name?"

Voldemort grinned, as his pseudonym slipped from his tongue easily. "Tomias Crater. Here for an appointment with Zaber." He didn't blink when the goblin grunted and several goblin warriors marched into the room and all the other bank occupants were told as bluntly as possible to leave at once. Several were even offered slightly better rates on their transactions due to haste to force them out the door. In minutes, Voldemort was surrounded with sharp weapons and the bank was empty.

"Come with us." The lead goblin, one who wore a helmet with blue plumage, ordered before walking towards the large doors the led into the tunnels. The brigade of armed goblins moved as one, Voldemort in the center, forcing him along to their pace.

Several minutes of twisting corridors between three different cart rides where they traveled so fast that the tunnels became a blur and only the slight tilting of the track signified a turn did they arrive at an extravagant office. At the desk, larger than the Malfoy's dinning table, sat the goblin that Voldemort had desired to see.

Zaber was a goblin of four foot two, with a scar over the entirety of the left side of his head and face, bisecting the eye. The goblin wore fine clothes, made of the best acromancula silk, under which Voldemort barely saw a sign of fine ring-mesh that shimmered with magic. However, the most interesting thing about the goblin wasn't the ring-mesh, nor even the crown that sat on the desk. It was the sword that hung behind him.

The sword was as long as the desk was wide, approximately three feet long, and seven inches wide from edge to edge. However, what was mesmerizing to Voldemort was the fact that the blade was hollow; it was merely an inch or two of razor sharp steel in the shape of a cleaving sword. That was the sign of only one particular sword in the world and he knew exactly what that sword was; it was rumored to have been forged using goblin's souls, and capable of cutting through any magic. Capable of controlling any liquid with a twist it was the perfect weapon for a goblin. Goblins manipulated their blood nearly as well as Wizard's their magic.

"To think that the Goblin nation held the Hir-Gota this whole time, I am surprised." Voldemort spoke for the first time, having to tear his eyes from the relic to the goblin in front of him.

"Cut the pleasantries. We know who you are. What do you want?" The gruff voice of the Goblin ruler was as kind as the stone that surrounded them. Each word was spoken as if it were a hammer blow, and Voldemort smirked.

"Your predecessor was more a fool than you Zaber. Good. I hate dealing with stupidity." Voldemort casually flicked his fingers, conjuring himself a throne like chair opposite the desk. In a blur of movement, the Goblin King had Hir-Gota and was standing ready on the desk for any attack.

Voldemort merely blinked at the blade that was less than three inches from his left eye as he sank into his throne. "Really? If I wanted you dead Zaber, I'd have slaughtered my way to you. Much more fun that way." The king scowled as he saw the Dark Lord's eyes light up at the thought of wading through his people's blood to kill their king.

"I will not repeat myself Voldemort. What. Do. You. Want?" The king growled as he eyed the darkest wizard to roam Britain in centuries. His blood was singing to gut this man like a fish, yet he knew that Voldemort would not come here without a reason, and a way out. He was either confident in his plan, confident in his power to kill every goblin on his way back out, or he was bluffing. Zaber was not a young goblin; he remembered the last time Voldemort sat in the King' s office. He remembered hearing the words the man told the king. 'Voldemort does not bluff.' He remembered the fact that the king lost his hand that day as well.

Voldemort considered his words carefully before he spoke. "I merely wish to enquire your position in relation to this conflict." It went unsaid what the conflict was, as the occupants of the room knew exactly what Voldemort wanted.

With a flourish, Zaber sat back down into his throne, placing Hir-Gota across his knees. Grabbing a quill and a sheet of parchment. Rapidly, he started to write, masking his thoughts of the question. He would not deny that attacking the Ministry of Magic for their treatment of his people would be highly satisfying. The Goblin Liaison Office was an offense; its whole purpose to ignore his people's attempts to communicate and improve relations. It was only in the last four years that the new head, one Dirk Cresswell actually did his job as promised.

Zaber grit his teeth as he continued to think. The likelihood of a positive outcome for his people if he sided with the Dark Lord was admittedly too low. Voldemort was a dark lord, who relished in violence. It was very possible that as soon as the fighting was over, he would turn on the Goblin Nation. Just like every other magical they had allied with… baring one. It was that magical that Zaber thought of next, and prompted the question he posed the Dark Lord.

"What is your goal Voldemort? My people do not follow goals that do not align without ours, nor do we support those who are detrimental to us."

Voldemort's eyes widened slightly at the question before he answered, in his calm, collected manner. "I desire to rebuild this world in a manner that makes magicals superior to muggles. The muggles should not have the ability to kill any member of our great peoples, and have it erased from existence simply because we are afraid to respond." Zaber nodded slightly, aware of some the history. While Goblins rarely were harmed by Muggles it had happened before. "What of our pasts? Our ancestors did such incredible things with magic that we, in comparison as peoples, are infants. Why are we, those who stand on the shoulders of our predecessors forced to handicap ourselves due to restrictions that do not make sense? Why should magic be regulated? Why shouldn't I as a wizard be able to attack the muggles that harm my children? You can hex a magical child for kicking your pet, yet you cannot touch a muggle at all for killing or raping your child." Voldemort took a breath before softly continuing. "I will drag this world forward, I will protect our magical children, I will ensure that those with magic, are treated as they should be."

Zaber listened and contemplated on what was said before he asked finally," And what is your position in this new world going to be?"

Voldemort smiled viciously, his eyes flashing in the flickering light of the room. "I will be their god-king Zaber. As is right, when you make the world from your visions. All who stand with me will be royalty in my empire." It went unsaid what those who stood against him would be, as Zaber saw the bloodlust singing in the Dark Lord's red eyes. It was that bloodlust that made Zaber's decision.

"I will not have the Goblin Nation join you as an ally Voldemort. However, I will not have it join you as an enemy either. Baring any changes, such as your people attacking mine, or your enemies attacking mine, the Goblin Nation will be neutral in action. Truly neutral in action." Zaber spoke with a finality, his eyes never leaving the Dark Lord's. The man nodded; his understanding clear.

"Gringotts will continue operating as normal correct?" Voldemort asked as he slowly stood.

"Gringotts would have operated normally either way. Gold has no effect on who we kill for war, other than as plunder Voldemort." The king's grin was met with a laugh from the Dark Lord.

"That… is one thing we agree upon Zaber. Have a wonderful day." As soon as the Dark Lord was escorted out, Zaber grabbed his crown, tapped it with Hir-Gota, and walked out of the office. As he passed, he motioned to one of his guards. "Assume that room is compromised. I am going back to my throne room." He tapped every single piece of himself with Hir-Gota, only allowing the shimmering ring mail he wore to be exempt from that. He knew that the mail would not take any more spells, and to anchor a spell to the mail would be impossible for any magical without the mail reacting. With a grin, he found the charm anchored to his left foot, before Hir-Gota cut it away with a simple tap.

Voldemort frowned slightly when he felt one of his listening charms fail and evaporate. He knew immediately it was the one on the King himself, as the only other one that stuck was the one in the office. His attempt to charm the Hir-Gota would have been fruitless, as with every piece of metal in the office. He quickly shifted mental gears, addressing the screams that were faintly heard beyond the doors of the bank. As soon as the guards allowed him leave, half way through the lobby of the bank, he swiftly and calmly strode towards the exit. It seems his two most faithful did not understand the terms subtle and silent.

He would have to fix that issue.

Sirius frowned as he looked over the list of things he needed to collect. He hated shopping with a passion, however even he understood that sending a house-elf for shopping would be impossible for some of the items. He luckily knew where to get most of the items he was being tasked with acquiring were to be found. Now, he just had to pick up an obsidian chunk for the ritual. it was only happenstance that he looked up from his list and saw the flash of black hair. It was then that he knew just as all family members did.

He drew his wand and shouted; his purchases forgotten. "Bellatrix!" As the woman turned, her eyes wide in shock, she launched a killing curse from the bone white wand she wielded.

The Alley exploded into chaos. Patrons of the shops instantly started to scream as the flash of green slammed into a flagstone that Sirius flicked up. The flagstone erupted into shards, that Sirius vanished. Bellatrix raised her wand again, ready to fire once more before speaking.

"Hello cousin. May I ask what you want? I was just shopping and to be interrupted is rude." Swiftly, Bellatrix glanced at the man beside her. The man's dead eyes blinked in response before he whipped his wand out faster than Sirius could act, sending pinpoint accurate piercing curses through the hearts of six patrons of the Alley, each who had their wands out shakily.

His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent that Sirius couldn't place. "Interferance will be considered… deadly. This is a family matter." He walked towards the crowd, a sick joy erupting in his normally deadened eyes as the remaining patrons began to run in fear.

Sirius' eyes darted between Bellatrix and the man he now recognized as Antonin Dolohov. He knew that Antonin was dangerous; his abilities matched that of his cousin, if not in her ferocity. He also knew that fighting both of them was suicidal. Yet still he steadied his wand. "Bellatrix, I am going to erase the stain you placed on the Black Family. Right. Now."

Bellatrix's eyes flashed in fury, her rage palpable as her magic caused her hair to raise slightly. She hissed her response,"You… the disgrace to the Blacks… dare to call me a stain? You... the filthy blood traitor? I shall enjoy bathing in your blood!" With a snap, a dagger swirled into existence into her non-wand hand, as she started to launch deadly spells at her cousin.

Gawain Robards had spent his entire life wanting to be an Auror. Ever since the death of his uncle at the hands of Voldemort, he desired to make a difference. He had never once considered another career. Even during the days with no sleep and the criminals nearly killing him, he loved it. He loved the paperwork, the proving his case, the combat. This was as much of his identity as his name. Thus when the SOS rang in on Diagon Alley, he immediately suited up.

He was the first through the apparition point, slamming home, his wand in motion as soon as he appeared. Luckily, he did as a blue flare crushed against his shield. He flicked the flames away, locking eyes with Antonin Dolohov. A maddening smile curled on the man's face as he took in Robard's red auror robes.

"Wonderful… Red Skins." Without another word, he attacked. A piecing curse, sent faster than most could register, tore through Robard's chest. Only for the man to fade, illusion broken, as he appeared to the right of Dolohov, blasting him with a blue fire ball. Antonin smiled as he banished the flames.

"Dolohov. According to ministry law, you are wanted dead or alive. I am leaning towards dead." Robards rapidly started to conjure knives, as he moved in a circular defensive manner; each knife conjured, was met with a tap of his wand before flying towards Dolohov. Antonin tried transfiguring a knife that came to close, only to realize at the last minute that they were enchanted. He grunted as one slashed his arm, before he focused on Robards.

"Igquel" With a slash, a purple hazy flame appeared racing towards Robards. Robards didn't recognize the incantation, nor the curse, so he did as he was trained; create a barrier. Flicking his wand up, the street rose into a wall that the auror hid behind, casting a shield spell for good measure. He was lucky that he did, as the spell sheared through the barrier without losing any speed or deadly force. It was only the shield that kept him alive, as even then he felt as if he was slapped with a towel across his torso. He looked behind his swiftly and yelled to the still arriving Aurors. "Take him down hard! I want either his body or him in a cell!"

Antonin moved swiftly, his body pulsing with his magic as he conjured a fire whip, snapping it down on an auror's arm, taking the hand and the wand it held before the auror could fire a shot. Spinning, he lashed out with the whip, creating more room around himself, before roaring his favorite spell.

"IGQUEL!"

A massive purple hazy blade of flame erupted from his wand as he spun, racing out towards the aurors who, did as their training taught. Merely conjured physical barriers, and prepared to open fire. Robards watched in horror behind his freshly conjured shield as all but one of his fellow aurors were cut down by the spell. The only other auror left standing, Kingsley Shacklebolt, looked at the bodies of his fellows and locked eyes with Robards.

It was then that the two decided that all protocol was to be ignored. With that shared glance, both shrugged offer their heavy outer Auror Robes, and engaged.

Sirius dodged and weaved as he flicked curses around him. As he did so he was frowning, as Bellatrix was still sputtering in rage. "Bella! What happened to my cousin?! The strong, powerful cousin who decided her own fate? I remember that girl! What happened to her?! The one that ordered my mother to back off before she cut up her "immaculate face"!? What happened to her?"

With every word, Bellatrix became more and more ferocious, her attacks being tinged with wisps of black. Sirius noticed it immediately, and recalled his first attempts at the Black Family magic. To think, that she is still that strong. Never was trained in the family magic and able to get this result.." with a grunt, he slipped in a pool of blood from one of Antonin's victims, and Bellatrix pounced.

With a twirl, she threw her knife and smiled in satisfaction as it slammed into Sirius' stomach, and raised her wand for the killing stroke. "Avad-"

"Bella. Antonin. I told you that this was to be a silent visit." Her incantation was stopped dead in it's tracks by the quiet voice of her Master. Voldemort strode through the destroyed Alley as if it were a normal street, uncaring for the blood or bodies he passed.

With a flick of his wand, Robards and Kingsley were flung twenty feet back through the window of the Owl Emporium, saving Antonin's live from the two's combined assault. Another flick, Antonin was summoned to his side, grasping his broken ribs with an arm sporting an obviously broken wrist. Bellatrix strode over, her eyes still on Sirius.

Sirius laid in agony. The knife was razor sharp and easily slipped into his abdomen, likely doing major damage to his organs. He knew that from his time in the last war. He knew that with the three of those here, there was going to be a blood b-. Sirius' eyes widened as he looked at the wound in his torso. Thinking quickly he moved his arm as if to cover the wound, dipping his fingers into his own hot blood.

Bellatrix finally looked away from Sirius as he held his wound in agony. She knew that he would bleed out thanks to the curse on the dagger, but as more aurors appeared into the alley, she had other things to worry about than watching the light drain from his eyes. Her lord blocked a curse from taking off her face, before ordering her to engage. With a gleeful cackle, she rushed forward, confident in her master to protect her.

The aurors fell back into their tactics; creation of cover and oppressive fire. The issue was that Bellatrix was not meant to kill any of them.

Voldemort flicked his wand as if he was a conductor of a symphony. A symphony of death and destruction as curses of all manners tore through the auror defensive posts. Taking advantage of the fact that they focused nearly exclusively on Bellatrix, Voldemort was easily able to pick off aurors as shields flashed, barriers were freshly conjured and when they were broken by either his or Bellatrix's curses. It was only when an Auror got one lucky shot in, throwing Bellatrix back with a banishing charm that Voldemort heard it.

"Sangius igno-Rafti." The blood burning curse was a curse he knew well, as it was used often in the fifties in the fallout of Grindlewald's war. A curse that ignited all the blood in the area at once, as long as the caster's blood was touching it. His attention, in that instant flicked towards Sirius Black, who's face was twisted in a manic smile as the scarlet flames leapt from his blood stained fingertips. He ruthlessly summoned the knife still in the man's torso, purposefully ripping it from his body even as the flames touched the pool of blood in front of him.

Grabbing his two death eaters, Voldemort twisted and apparated away as the Alley way exploded in scarlet fire.

Grindlewald frowned as he looked at all the information the Russian Magical Community had about the Nuremburg Trials. Similar to their muggle counterparts, the magical Allies in the war put the high-ranking officers in his army to trial for the orders he had given. While none of his orders were as bad as mass genocide of a non-combative race, he did order the mass breaking of the Statute of Secrecy, attempted and successful thefts of multiple artifacts, the killing of hundreds if not thousands, and the assistance of some in the creation of the ritual he attempted. Luckily, the information was only classified up to those leaders of the magical nations involved.

He frowned as he looked at where each of his remaining lieutenants were being kept. Volksky and Charum were handed over to the Germans, each under stasis to examine their bond in magic. He knew the boys were well taken care of as their uncle was the head of state there now, having recently won the election. He would likely be able to ask for them in memory of Alexei, who defeated them. From there it would be rather simple to fake an execution.

His second to last missing lieutenant, Chung, was missing from his prison cell as of three years previously. Klaus, when asked, was certain that he had nothing to do with it. Chung and Klaus did not get along well. It was slightly amusing to Grindlewald, as it was so stereotypical. Chung was a werewolf and since Klaus was a vampire, them fighting was something of an interesting development.

He wondered if Chung still enjoyed the gifts he had given him. Much like Klaus, who begged to have his bloodlust erased, Grindlewald experimented on Chung's werewolf half. Instead of an insane killing machine that erupted every full moon, Grindlewald granted him clarity. Admittedly, he knew it wasn't a cure; it was nearly impossible for any other person to survive the process. It was only because of his final lieutenant that Chung survived having enchanted liquid silver injected into his bone marrow. However, it allowed Chung to push aside the wolf, for control when transformed. At the price of agony of course. It was better and worse than the wolfsbane potion that was developed he decided, as it definitely gave an edge in control, but only at the price of agony and an unlivable operation.

Thinking of his final lieutenant, Grindlewald scowled. His medical genius, mad scientist and arguably the most dangerous man in his army was locked up in Britain of all places. Sonja's lover was in many ways, the sickest man that Grindlewald had encountered. He had no care at all of his enemies, nor did he care about much other than his research or his allies. The Doctor was in, many ways, the stereotypical mad scientist. He experimented on himself, he investigated magical phenomena, he even made himself neigh unkillable.

Grindlewald smirked, thinking to himself, of course, what do you expect from a man named Frankenstein.

Dumbledore frowned as he read the multiple reports about Russia. Russian political issues were nonexistent, cured seemingly over night by the new Prime Chancellor, Alexander Brendwal. His reports however, showed that the man's opponents were either forced out or made to vanish. Brendwal also asked for access to the Nurmenburg records. Records Albus knew that Grindlewald would want to know details of.

Albus had no doubt that Alexei failed in killing Grindlewald; he was uncertain there was a man in Europe that was capable of killing Grindlewald other than himself or possibly Voldemort as it was currently. He even had the man's son's testimony, stating that Magical Russia had fallen to Grindlewald. Yet the world believed otherwise; that Grindlewald was dead. Albus suspected that Brendwal will ask the Germans for custody of the former lieutenants. Their bond had already been highly categorized and studied. Albus would bet his entire stash of chocolate that as soon as the Germans handed them over, there would be an execution, faked of course, and Grindlewald would be labeled as vanquished.

Albus scoffed, knowing that his old friend would have laughed at that thought as well. 'Albus my old friend. One may only kill an idea if it is debunked. One may only kill a symbol if it's idea is flawed. One can only kill a leader, if their movement dies too.' The words that the two shared for that one summar still stood with him. It was the main reason why he didn't believe that Grindlewald was dead, other than the clues that were available. He didn't believe that his old friend would die before his cause was seen through.

AN: Well. It seems that I have developed a small system. As it is, you will have an update every other Friday, opposite the Thursday for Shadows and Shin'o. This update is primarily one to push forward plot. We have several aspects of the final portion of the year. Grindlewald knows his Doctor is in Britain, where? Who knows. Albus suspects Grindlewald is still alive, and Voldemort just ensured that the Goblins are neutral, oh and Sirius may or may not be dead. Who knows! Find out next time.