Hello All, welcome back to the story. Glad to see many of the reviews seeming to enjoy it more now that we're in the final stages!
A few of you have spoken re: Emily. Many of you see her manipulate Atticus but you don't really seem to speak off all the good things she does for him. Atticus is kind of neurotic at times, he gets lost in his thoughts and almost tries to argue himself out of things he knows needs to be done.
As one of the reviewers mentioned, Atticus would have gone alone without Emily calling bullshit on that. They aren't a perfect relationship but they are YOUNG.
VERY VERY YOUNG and two people who improve each other, or make each other worse depending on how you will see it, as time goes on.
People change as they age and Emily is no different, especially considering the influences she has in her life.
Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117
The discord channel is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/^v^r^8^8^t^6^4^Y^e^7
-Break-
24th of March 1943, Beerenberg Norwegian Island of Jan Mayen
De Galle POV
As he exited the tell-tale swirl of the portkey, he immediately felt the dramatic difference in temperature.
A gush nearby told him his companions had arrived but he was far too distracted by the arctic temperatures that threatened to freeze his extremities off.
He brought his wand and twisted it around him, stark temperature mellowed out into ambient room temperature and he sighed in contentment before his eyes fell upon the sights before him.
Glaciers covered the geography before him, the peaks of the highest point of this island were ice covered though ridges of rock were discernible in the few points that it was not covered in ice and snow.
It looked as if it had been untouched for millennia untold, forgotten in history and never once thought about.
It was a dead place, to life and to the earth itself, not unlike a log floating aimlessly in the rivers of jungles, watching life and time pass it by.
Until…
It no longer was, like as to how the log that everyone believed it to be showed itself to be a crocodile, too late for anyone or anything to notice until its jaws were around your neck, deep jagged teeth latching onto your flesh, sinking into your bones until it choked you of life.
Granted Beerenberg was not the most impressive volcano, it erupted frequently enough, relatively speaking, but its scale of eruptions were mild in comparison to the potential such a volcano should have held.
He readjusted his glasses on his face. It was unfortunate that it could not be adequately wielded to cause what they had been thinking of causing, the devastation a powerful volcano could have wrought would have helped their quest in reducing the animal population of Europe.
"Ah…what ifs, Wendy" he said aloud, his voice slightly echoing in the dead silent morning "'What ifs' and 'if only' rule my world. How much better off would we all be if those could have been turned into something more positive" he sighed dramatically before he turned towards his companions.
Wendy the wendigo was a lumbering creature, one that loomed even as it stood stark still, its soft breathing the only noise that discerned that it was even remotely alive even as it looked at him with dead, cold red eyes.
"I should have made you a little bit more animate" he muttered himself before he looked down at the floating black rectangular box, a gleam entering his eyes.
"I suppose I'll have the opportunity with something else" a slow toothy smile filled his face.
They travelled alongside the flat surface of the volcanic island before they came across the mountainous ridge at the southern part, scoria craters and trachytic domes dominated the landscape until a pass between two ice covered ridges revealed itself.
They passed through it, descending down, stark crystalline ice structures clung onto the walls of the pass, glittering with red stars as a result from the light of the torch he conjured on this journey of theirs.
They reached a long cavernous tunnel that merged with the end of the pass and as they travelled down, ice no longer coated the walls, wet drips echoed loudly as the heat of the slumbering volcano could be felt.
"Do you feel that Wendy?" his voice echoed like a chime in the wind. "The heat, nature's furnace" he said with a flourish.
Wendy's low breathing remained unchanged, her footsteps were as silent as ever.
They finally arrived at a set of stone doors, the intricate runes that adorned it was of his own design.
"And, my dear Wendy" he said dramatically as he made a cut on his palm and planted onto the stone doors.
The doors alighted with a red glow before with a gush of cool air, opened, permitting him and his companions into its gloried halls.
"It is time to create something wonderfully awful" he turned back to Wendy, a large grin on his face that might have appeared to others as manic, as insane.
De Galle turned around and walked passed the doors. The building he was in was huge, the ceiling was high, as tall as three storied buildings whilst it was as spacious as several manor houses.
The large base came alive as torches grew flames, bright red and white that touched the very edges of the huge space.
The walls were grey, made of grey rock transfigured from cooled magma that insulated the base from the skin melting heat that lied just behind those walls. Runes covered each wall to aid in that protection, to keep it cool and allow the air to circulate from within the large chamber.
No one knew of this base of his, a sanctuary he created in his early days of associating with Grindelwald.
At the time, he had been…suspicious of the success of Grindelwald's endeavours despite the promising swelling of their numbers and as such made sure that he had a…home away from home so to speak.
And it seemed like it had been a good decision on his part, he thought smugly before he began to frown, his thoughts turning unpleasant.
He had not expected Grindelwald to lose…never like that.
He had been in one of the bases in Belgium, experimenting on a few of the captives from one of the battles, attempting to further his understanding of the human form as always until he was rudely interrupted by a message from one of his assistants who was tasked to bring him the corpse of Credence Barebones.
His lips curled downward as his fingers twitched. Grindelwald…had been unwilling to allow him to experiment on Barebones alive, for some inexplicable reason.
"Truly, why he did not want him to experiment on his Obscurial parasite, I don't know" he shook his head.
They made so much progress when it came to the Obscurus parasite, to the point that they could actually make it recede!
What a discovery that had been, one that would have earned many accolades had he been published.
"They would all have had to acknowledge my genius then" he muttered to himself before he looked behind him "Come Wendy, bring him over there" he pointed towards the cold metal mortuary table.
There were no other rooms, merely one large chamber that contained all that he needed. On the north side there were of course all of his books that he managed to collect over the years.
Laboratories on the left side with the latest muggle and magical equipment whilst on the right side were the cold storages were he kept particular samples that he wanted to play around with, to see what made them tick and there were about sixty specimens, all healthy, waiting for him to use them as he saw fit.
And of course there were several mortuary tables.
Wendy brought the black box over towards that side of the base, his eyes carefully following the path of the black box behind his glasses.
"Who knew that this would befall you, my dear friend" De Galle's calculating eyes gleamed whilst something dark passed behind those eyes of his.
The message of his assistant had been short, that ICW reinforcements had come and claimed that Grindelwald was battling against Sayre and that it was unlike anything he'd seen before.
It made him intensely curious as his assistant had been following Grindelwald for some time, to ensure that he would be there when the corpse of Barebones was available. He would have seen a lot of powerful displays of magic and yet he had never seemed so…awed.
He had no interest of fighting, he was not a fighter at heart even if he was…adequate and so had apparated far from the battlefield with Wendy and Iiko but close enough to see in the far distance the great magical struggle between two veritable titans.
It was…life defining. He had known Grindelwald was powerful but not to that scale.
"You have been holding out on me, my dear friend" De Galle mused aloud before he flicked his wand when the black casket arrived by the mortuary table, the top cover creaked open before he vanished it away.
And what he had seen next…
That boy was everything he wished to achieve with his studies.
That boy was the culmination of all that could be for their people and De Galle was envious beyond words.
"How dare that boy achieve what I have tried to do all my life" he seethed, his hands shaking from the fury he felt.
He had sacrificed so much, even parts of himself, for the good of their kind, to learn all there was so that they could reach heights of Gods…
…And yet…
This Hades-Damned CHILD managed to do something that had been out of his grasp for all these decades.
Even from that distance, nearly five kilometres away, he felt the sheer power exuded from him when he nearly destroyed Grindelwald.
"No child will surpass me like that" he muttered to himself as he lifted Grindelwald from the black rectangular box onto the metal slab table, his critical eyes falling onto his leader.
"The more powerful you are, the greater the hubris, don't you think Wendy?" he said aloud, not sparing a look to his undead creation.
Grindelwald had believed himself untouchable, believing no one could defeat him and as such believed his plans would come to fruition with time.
He came closer to the table until he was on the right side. A field of magic surrounded Grindelwald, one that kept him in indefinite stasis.
A good thing too considering the state of the man.
His eyes fell upon Grindelwald's left arm until he looked towards his hand. Three long cracked prongs protruded from the thin blackened charred skin that looked like they could fall off from the slightest of breezes.
De Galle's eyes went towards Grindelwald's body, the same blackened charred skin covered every inch of his body, even his extremities and face, to the point that even a mummified corpses looked in better condition than this barely alive man.
His lips were gone and revealed blackened teeth in places where they had still remained. Ears and nose were just as gone, a grim visage that made it apparent that he was closer to being a corpse than he was alive.
Grindelwald's right arm was merely gone, a stump above the elbow was all that remained of his wand arm.
"You've made a mess of things, dear old friend" De Galle said in a quiet voice, his expression neutral, one that was cracking with every second that passed.
"You've been a fool and though you should bear the consequences of your failure, like any respectable magical, I however cannot abide by your death"
With Grindelwald dead, he would be forced once more to go underground and he would be hunted down like an animal, not having the benefits of being unknown as he once did in his early career.
This was as certain as the change of seasons.
And that…could not be allowed to come to pass.
"You promised me a life of unimpeded research, Gellert" his eyes gleamed darkly, his temper rising.
"You will give me that, you owe me that" his words almost finished in a growl before he breathed out deeply, settling his growing rage into a slow slumbering volcano.
"Even IIKO died for your crusade" he said with a look towards Wendy, a look of indignation on his face.
The boy killed his precious Iiko as if it was nothing, the bastard. Did he not know the effort that it took to make him?
He looked back at Grindelwald and stepped closer, his face leaning inward, just above the stasis field. "You're lucky I was there and not one of your other friends" De Galle smiled insanely, his eyes gleaming with darkness.
He did not inform the other…comrades of Grindelwald's survival.
They would have seen him and consigned him as a dead man and probably turn him in in return for leniency from the ICW.
That…would not do.
Not even that bitch Rosier would be willing to do what is necessary.
De Galle turned around and pointed his wand towards his books and with a flick, levitated several of those books towards him.
Grindelwald was beyond conventional healing, he had found that out before they had arrived here.
Whatever that magic was that Sayre had cast, resisted all magical healing, even the more obscure healing spells that were darker in nature.
Grindelwald should not be alive, it was miraculous he remained alive, especially in this…reduced pitiful form. His magic was fighting the magic that Sayre had cast, in a way that was parasitic.
"To nearly use all of his life force like this" he muttered to himself whilst he readjusted his glasses.
Grindelwald was an expert in necromancy and in Black Magic, surpassing even his knowledge when it came to the more esoteric nature of those branches.
His depleted magic was somehow feeding upon his life force to keep him alive, shortening the life he had left even more whilst paradoxically keeping him alive long enough for De Galle to do what he needed to do.
Life force was finite, a fixed maximum, a fundamental rule of existence though it could be bent.
Even Phoenixes were ruled by this fundamental rule, their constant cycle of death and rebirth adhered to this rule, they aged and they died and were reborn, a method of propagation of life that was uniquely theirs.
However they paid for that price by being burning out and De Galle was certain that no phoenix was ever the same once it was reborn.
There were ways of…replenishing your life force, one method the Flamels had found through their Philosopher's Stone.
One that took away something of theirs, likely reproduction or perhaps even reduced their magic. Magic would continue to increase as one aged, death only happened due to the failing of the body and for them not to be the most powerful magicals in the world suggested to him that perhaps they paid the price in their magic.
Immortality had a price.
He and Grindelwald had experimented with life force, one of the goals that Grindelwald had set for him, to find a way to replenish life force without the kind of payment that he was unwilling to pay.
"Fool…" De Galle muttered as he read through the books.
Even horcruxes would not be able to save him at this point had he made one. He burnt through his life force, whatever tether he would have had, would have been made useless if there was no life to bound to the world.
Frustratingly, he and Grindelwald had not found such a method, one that would make them immortal. Whatever they did, no matter how much they tried to factor massive amounts of life in their arithmancy, immortality seemed to be far from their grasp.
Grindelwald had already employed several rituals that would slow his aging, would have expended very little of his life force allowing him to likely live for over a thousand years.
But that had not been enough and the evidence was before De Galle. What could either of them do in the wake of such stupendous power?
But...
De Galle's eyes gleamed with madness.
They had found a way to temporarily return life force, at an extreme cost, one that was not permanent but one that would give them time to find a true way and with Grindelwald's attention firmly fixed on finding a way to live, well…
That would only hasten it.
This was a ritual inspired by the Naram Sin of Akkad, one of the few wizard kings in history who had overthrown his uncle Rimush thanks to his magic. He managed to have himself proclaimed as a divine being and had thusly ascended, from the few scripts they had managed to find, as God King thanks to the willing sacrifice of his priests who had boosted his power.
He had claimed to be immortal but later was found to be dead, rumours had claimed that the god Enlil had cursed him for his heresy. The scripts were sparse as to what had happened, comments of how Naram Sin devolved into insanity over the years had been made in a number of texts along with being subjected to rapid aging over the course of mere hours until he died, his body turning into a dried up husk.
They had managed to find a minor section of the ritual and they ended up rebuilding the ritual until they reformed it into something far more stable, their understanding of magic far more pronounced than some barely educated barbarians.
No longer was permission necessary of their sacrifices, only the permission of the one who was the subject of the ritual mattered.
The cost would still be great but it would be worth it.
"Besides…" he trailed aloud as his hand went to his pocket.
He brought out an odd wand, one that was famous and the bulbous elderberries profoundly stood out.
"This will do, this will most certainly do" his eyes shone with ill hidden excitement.
He had been aware of the existence of the Deathly Hallow, something that had remained out of his reach as Grindelwald had never allowed him to entertain the very idea of experimenting with it.
He remembered the last time Grindelwald had…educated him on his supposed 'folly'.
"My folly will be your saviour, my dear friend" De Galle sneered at the blackened husk that was his former leader. His eyes swivelled back to the wand in his hands, his eyes bright with unrelenting anticipation.
The Death Stick was legendary and it would continue its fate as an instrument of consequence.
It would be his finest work.
Its final act would see to the creation of all that it espoused.
All of it…in the form of Death Incarnate.
-Break-
24th of March 1943
He stood on the highest peak on the Inishkea Island in Ireland, his eyes staring out at the turbulent sea in the light of the morning dawn, his hand twiddling with his necklace.
This would be the first time he'd see either his sister or his mother, face to face, in months.
He wasn't sure how it would go.
As much as he would like to say they'd be one happy family, he knew that it won't be such a smooth sailing, not after he practically kidnapped them and dumped them into a place where they couldn't leave, wouldn't be allowed to leave.
A glorified prison.
It had been a topic they'd…avoided talking about through the mirror-phones – he really needed to find a better marketing name for those phones – but it would happen at some stage.
The rays of the sun hit beautifully on the rolling waters of the sea, the sounds of the crashing waves against the weathered rocks of this small island filled the morning air.
He sighed as he took a seat on the dew-covered grass, electing to not bother to use his magic to create any seats, his hand remaining fixed on the necklace that hung around his neck.
He could use his advice right about now…about so much. His family, politics, Emily, Illos…
He'd avoided talking with his father, guilt and shame always forbid him from seeking council from the man who he loved deeply, who had taught him what it was to be a Sayre and importantly what it was to be a man to be proud of, healing the deep cracks in his psyche that had been left in his first life.
His father should have been here, filled with pride as Atticus defeated – and soon kill – the man who had a hand in the death of his father's parents.
It was funny how upon his victory and triumph over his greatest enemy all he could focus on was his father…to speak with him and seek advice on matters of life…of his worries and doubts.
Atticus stared at the fishing boats that were now coming into view, his emotions were being set at ease as he watched, therapeutically, faceless people go about their daily lives.
Marcus Sayre should have been a constant in his life as they worked together, once he had brought him into his secrets and plans, to build a home that their ancestors would have marvelled at.
He dipped his head and took off the necklace, the casing that held a great treasure sat in the middle of his palm.
He simply stared at it, as if waiting for something to happen, for several moments until he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and connected once more to the vast power which poured like liquid starlight into his veins.
The universe once more became open to him, even with his eyes closed as he sensed the world around him in inexplicable ways.
He was part of a greater whole, irrelevant in the great scheme of things and yet, at the same time, he felt like he was at the centre of the universe, magic responded to him with but the merest thought and expression of will.
He hummed in contentment as he focused on the flaps of seagulls on another island, perhaps five, ten kilometres away. Each flap of the wing, each breath the bird took left a miniscule but certain imprint as magic interacted and coursed through the bird. It pulsed with magic even though it had not any of its own but that did not matter as magic permeated through the universe, no object or organism was completely free from its touch.
His field of perception, in this state, was beyond anything he had read about, except for one thing.
He did not fully understand what it was, this state of his, whether it was truly Hyper-Percipience at its most potent. Grade three Hyper-Percipience allowed for an intuitive understanding of magic that gave a supernatural grasp of magic that could give him a near total command of magic.
Ambient magic would be his to channel, he would understand magic at a different level compared to everyone else. He'd see magic differently in a way no one else would see it…just as he was now.
Everything seemed to suggest that it might well be but the strange circumstances in which he had unlocked…whatever this was made him doubt it.
The eager nature of magic when he used it made him wonder if the use of Nature magic in combination with Hyper-Percipience warped his family trait to what it was now, a deeper, more intimate version of his family magic that happened as a consequence of his desperation and…luck.
Whatever this was, he was simply grateful for it, not just for saving his life. The way he saw things now was one of the greatest gifts he'd ever received.
He remembered reading, once, that birds had specialised cells in their eyes that allowed them to see magnetic fields which allowed them to cross vast oceans without ever getting lost, following the field lines that lead towards the opposite direction of the south geomagnetic pole.
It wasn't comparable to that, at least from what he could imagine, but it was likely the closest approximation, where he could feel and see the depths and limitless scope of magic that permeated the world, the universe.
He reopened his eyes and once more beauty and infinity creaked open for him, the infinitely complex and endless nature of magic and the way it interacted with the world opened up for him.
The currents of magic were river streams of incalculable array of colours, all of it open for him to see and…touch.
He knew what he was seeing, now, the innumerable number of frequencies that magic operated in within the Magical Spectrum – Neurophysical Spectrum – that he had access to.
Before he managed to gain access to this state, he had been able to see the depth and nature of the currents of magic that traversed the world. He saw the way wards were interwoven, the way everything pulsed, with different rates and quantities, all of it connected by invisible tendrils of magic.
He could identify the different colours that made up different magical beings, even the differences in colour within the individuals of the same species, different strands of colour that corresponded with branches of magic they naturally excelled at.
He saw Seraya radiated like she was a serpent shaped star, every inch of her body was covered in a single stream of magic, rich green coloured whilst her eyes shone with black and white strands of colour that was interspersed with dark yellow. Fila held a similar 'magical-ness' as Seraya did, her own colours being bright blue with silver gold hues that covered her entire being.
But back then, his ability did not allow him to see what he saw now without aid, the individual magical frequencies in incalculable frequency bands that made up those colours, the frequencies that combined to have a specific attribute of magic or had a specific magical effect for different species and beings.
When he managed to refract the spells into their individual frequencies back at Hogwarts, using an optical glass triangular dispersive prism, he had gained a new perspective in understanding magic.
He'd used a spell freezing ward – which manipulated magical energy in hundreds of bubble like layers that were continuously charged spaced mere millimetres apart to slow spells down until it hit a layer it couldn't go through resulting in the spell being 'frozen' when its momentum was halted – in combination with the dispersive prism crystal which allowed him to discover that the colour schemes weren't too different from light…meaning that certain colours could be considered to have the same wavelengths as their light counterparts or at least the same general amount of deflection.
Arithmancy calculations had components which were mixtures of frequencies and with this new method of viewing magic, he'd been able to break spells into individual elements that corresponded to the frequencies, having noted down the colours and the angles of deflection.
But all of that had been constrained to human spells, the individual frequencies that he noted down never truly deviated from a frequency band that only witches and wizards could cast in.
Even if there was a near infinite range of frequencies that were within that frequency band, frequencies that could combine to have untold number of permeations and thus different spell effects, he had still been constrained to seeing only what his kind were capable of casting.
He could use a magical creature and forcefully try figure out their range or perhaps even bribe a merman to cast their magic in a way that he could capture what their frequency band was but in the end, at the time, he would not have been able to do much with it.
But not now…
Not in this state that he was in. His field of perception had changed on a fundamental level in a way that he could see everything of magic, of what magic touched.
His eyes were opened to the full breadth of magic, of Neurophysical Energy in a way that made him realise how much there was to discover about magic.
And his body…well, he could touch the strands of magic that had before been closed off to him, resonating with magic on a level that he didn't quite understand.
He was akin to a red blood cell…no…he was more akin to the oxygen that the red blood cell carried to where it needed to go through the veins of a vast infinite being, the individual's magic being the red blood cell in this visualisation.
Magicals were simply how magic propagated itself through life, Beings allowed to access it from and in this great infinite web of energy that was universal in scope.
It was a kind of symbiotic relationship, whereby magic grew malleable and usable to the individual's will and desires, strengthening magic in a way he did not yet understand.
It was an interaction between those who held magic and the universe that puzzled him and, strangely enough, many other magicals despite not truly knowing what magic was.
A belief that was held in the truly old families was that magic was sentient in a certain way and perhaps that link was what was missing from his understanding.
The belief of what Magic actually was, in the magical world, was varied but there had always been one element that cross pollinated in the various different magical cultures in the world…
That magic was a crucial factor in life, where life dwells so does magic.
Most of their spiritual beliefs spawn from that crucial tenet…the Beltane festival, Hallow's Eve, the celebration and honouring of the dead, Yule the celebration of the coming of the new and the going of the old, and so on.
All of them celebrated the cycles, the transition of the coming and going of something, all of which were necessary for life to flourish. The cycle of the seasons, the cycle of life, the cycle of the living and the dead.
Magic was sentient, it could not think for itself nor did it have intelligence but it knew intent and was profound.
He wasn't surprised, then, that magic was at its strongest during those specific days of celebration, a kind of feedback loop of magicals and Magic herself, where belief and the presence of hundreds if not thousands of magicals celebrating contributed to create a field of magic that was wonderful and fulfilling to be around.
Magic wanted to be used and he could not understand it clearer when his own magic had grown in strength when he exercised it like a muscle, continuously using it as a child that made reaching the heights he reached now possible.
It was perhaps the most alien form of energy, Atticus thought, the way that magic was energy yet at the same time so much more.
His experiments had shown that it was not unlike the electro-magnetic field…one where magic was a field of its that permeated every aspect of the universe and grew more potent when there was life, having compared the readings he had received from space.
Moira had said that the Precursors' principles of neural physics stated that the entire universe was living, validating his own findings that there was inextricable link between life and magic, in a way that was beyond the comprehension of biological organisms.
Other than the Precursors of course.
And perhaps…
Other than Magicals themselves.
And it made him wonder if his experiments were the beginning forays of how the Precursors had mastered the universe, their links to Neurophysical Energy, magic, allowing them to create wonders that stood for billions of years.
Their comments about beyond the comprehension of biological organisms could simply mean those who did not have access to Neurophysical Energy, especially given that they must have been biological organisms themselves.
For how could a Blind Man know what a sunrise looks like when they have never in their entire lives gazed upon it?
They could feel the heat during different stages of the day, they could hear the effects of the sunrise as the world woke up as the sun's rays hit down onto the Earth but they could never truly understand the sight of a new dawn, no matter how much they listened to other people's descriptions.
Perhaps it was this that made it impossible for any other beings other than the Precursors, at the time, to utilise magic in the way that they did.
They had none of it, they could see none of it.
And more importantly, they could feel none of it.
And it had him pose many questions…such as how magic was transgenerational, that it could manifest itself differently as time and generations went by in different family lines.
Some families excelled in different branches of magic, the power and skill that the generations before them built up, either through coincidence, through perseverance or deliberate act would permanently manifest itself, at least a small facet, into family magic.
Family magic that was sentient in a small scale, able to judge who was rightly the heir to the family line, likely understood from the desires of countless generations who should be heir to their family's magic.
And it was this that made him wonder if it was only coincidental of the similarity between family magic and the Domain, which was said to store and capture the experiences of all those who lived in the universe, possibly an infinitely larger version of the primitive and instinctual version of family magic which captured a small grain of the life experiences and skill of those generations past.
There were so many missing gaps in his understanding of the universe and magic and perhaps…perhaps what he was seeing was something far greater than he realised compounded further by not understanding the kind of sentience magic had, despite the rough intuition he had that magic wanted to be explored, to be practiced, to be used…to interact.
…In a way that didn't torment it.
He remembered the agony that magic seemed to be in when Grindelwald had used it, the abominable magic he had released into the world desecrated that sacred relationship between life and magic, consuming both in a way that heretical.
Killing people, using Dark Magic, sacrificing living beings…
All of these did not desecrate Magic for it did not shatter the Trinity nor did it shatter the links between life, magic and death.
Death was part of the cycle of the universe and necessary, and magic had no authority of how or why people died. Magic held no authority in the Domain of Death.
Death was merely the beginning and the end of a cycle in a ring of Existence and Time.
Black Magic however…Black Magic disrupted the natural cycles of life and death in a way that Dark Magic could never achieve, for it is the kind of magic that consumed or shattered life that was outside of the rules established in the universe.
And on that day when Grindelwald unleashed his spells, his own magic incredibly tainted by the use of Black Magic, magic had howled in agony and rage at the desecration.
It felt like a wound in the very membrane of the universe.
This was part of the reason why he was uncertain of what this state of his was, if Magic herself did something to him in willing compliance to his desperation rather than it being purely Hyper-Percipience.
It could not abide by the abominable magic and thus responded to it using Atticus as a vessel.
It was a neat little theory he had, a theory that would have severe ramifications and yet was one that he doubted he could prove.
At least not now.
Atticus' eyes fell back to the casing that was in his palm and with mere thought, the casing unfolded itself to release a black stone that bore the symbol of the Peverells.
The stone began to rise in the air above his hand, Atticus' eyes intently on it. It was the first time he was seeing the Stone in this state of ultra-awareness.
He saw, for the first time, a pure white colour that stretched high into the sky, one that seemed to be utterly unending.
Atticus slumped, nearly collapsing into himself.
He had not used the stone for a very long time and he'd never used it either when he'd dialled up his Hyper-Percipience to the maximum.
How could he have missed this?
He'd only seen this pure white colour in one other spell.
Homino Revelio
The human revealing charm. The only true soul magic spell that he had experimented on during his time at Hogwarts.
Where he'd find out that none of the Unforgivables were soul magic, merely magic that targeted the nervous system with a component that allowed it to bypass all kinds of magical shields, the same component present in the human revealing charm.
And here it was, that same pure white colour that signified the element that it was connected to…the soul.
He swallowed harshly as his hands trembled, the stone falling into his trembling hand.
What did that mean?
Here it was, the very same colour that was within the human revealing charm, the spell that targeted finding human souls.
What did that mean for the Dwarf that he had spoken to using the Resurrection Stone?
Did they have human souls?
Did he misunderstand or…
Were the…people he spoke to truly them?
Aurilak had said that they were mere shades of their past selves, that they were not the people they were in life, mere shades…
…Was Aurilak lying to him?
Wait…
He remembered Aurilak saying that the dead were not meant to return to this plane, that it was too uncomfortable to remain for long stretches of time.
What was true…were these shades or were the true souls of the departed?
Could he truly speak to his…?
It was too much.
"Father…" he whispered, his thoughts fixed on his father and their moments together whilst his eyes cast up to the sky, to where the pure white colour was heading towards.
How typical that it reached beyond Earth and into the Sky.
Moira had said that the Stone accessed the Domain, the collective library of billions of years of knowledge, of experiences…of so much more.
Created by the Precursors.
She said that the imprints of those who had passed on were called upon the Stone, the people themselves…
Could she be wrong?
Could the Precursors have created something with Neurophysical Energy that transcended life and death in a way that was within the rules of the universe, where souls were located in a plane of existence separate from this dimension, among the billions years of knowledge, of experiences that they captured with their unrivalled understanding and capabilities?
She had said that the Ancient Humans only knew of the Domain because of the few records left behind by the Precursors so their understanding was hilariously incomplete, just as it was for the enemy of Ancient Humanity, the people who Moira had said were misusing the Domain as a simple repository of knowledge when it was likely so much more.
"Son."
Atticus stilled, his thought processes came to a standstill, the familiar lost voice caused him to be rigid as stone.
He hadn't said his father's name even if he had thought about him. The Stone could not have understood what he meant. Surely not…
It must be his imagination, he did not ca-
"You've grown" he heard the same familiar voice again and he shook as he brought his head down and sucked in lungful of air as he exited ultra aware state he was in.
The misty, ghostly figure of his father stood right in front of him and Atticus cracked.
"Father…" Atticus whispered, his eyes watering as he stared at the man that was so ruthlessly cut away from him before his very eyes, his thoughts on Stone forgotten.
He stood before Atticus like an otherworldly presence, his misty diffuse form held together like an imposing obelisk, one that was timeless and unchanging.
Atticus felt like entire being was being condensed, feeling as the vast distances electrons orbited the nucleuses were shrink into nothing, electrons forced to rub against protons, so painful was the tightness in his chest and so agonising was the kind look of his father's face.
Marcus Sayre merely smiled at Atticus, his kind eyes shining at Atticus "My boy, I am glad to see you but I hoped I wouldn't for a very long time" His smile widened, his ghostly orbs slanted into smiling eyes "Of course, this is certainly a way to work around it"
Atticus couldn't help it and a wet chuckle erupted from him "You know me father, I like to be creative" Atticus gave his father a tremulous smile as his eyes glazed with a translucent sheen.
The faint sounds of seagulls in the distance crept up in the silence between them, father and son, for a moment, content to let the moment pass without a word said.
Marcus looked down at looked at the Stone before he looked back at Atticus, a frown appearing on his face "How long have you had that?"
"Years" Atticus confessed, dropping his shoulders as if he were a child, waiting for chastisement.
Marcus' eyes widened for a brief moment "…I see." The silence that stretched felt like an eternity, Atticus wanted anything, even a shouting lecture or telling off over the silence that seemed to permeate between them.
"How long has it been?"
"A year" Atticus rushed to say and immediately clasped his jaws shut. Eternity seem to pass as his father made no outward expression, until, finally, he spoke up again, shattering the disharmony that seemed to grow in that moment.
His father made no outward expression before he finally spoke up again.
"Why now?" His father asked finally and it hurt him that it was in a tone that he remembered clearly, one of business and formality. It was distressing, an echo of a life last lived.
"I…" Atticus swallowed harshly and looked away "I don't know" he said finally, unable to express his deepest desires to his father.
What could he say?
He wanted his father's advice on so many things, he wanted to let him know that the man responsible for his death and his parents was either dead or likely close to death and Atticus would finish him off in that case.
Above all else…he simply wanted to talk to his father.
But…
Why now?
And not soon after he'd died?
Could he tell his father that he was a coward, guilt and shame over his mistakes had prevented him from calling upon him?
"Son…tell me what has happened since I…passed on" His father gently coerced.
Atticus looked at his father and saw the same indulgent face that he had when Atticus had endless questions which his father had indulged and answered and before he knew it, he spilled it all, all of his struggles, his accomplishments, his uncertainty about what to do next about many things now and to come.
He told him about Illos, about Moira and what he wanted to do with the magical world…
His father raised his hand and Atticus stopped his explanations and his father looked at Atticus with an indescribable expression, one that made Atticus cast his eyes down.
"Son…look at me"
"Why?" Atticus said in a whisper "So I can see your disappointed face about everything I just told you about? The secrets I hid from you and the rest of the family, the lies I kept up about much of my life?" Atticus closed his eyes as his voice descended into a level of strain that made it difficult to finish his words.
He heard his father sigh.
"I could never be disappointed in you, Son" Atticus head snapped up, his eyes widening at the proclamation.
His father had a look of regret on his face "But I do wish you had trusted us…me…more" His gaze grew sharper "That has always been your issue, has it not?"
Atticus was surprised at that and almost made to deny it but he didn't. It was true. He didn't trust anyone completely. He had those he trusted with certain things, those who trusted more than others but never completely.
Not even Emily, his sister or even his mother. All three people he would die for.
All three people he would never completely trust…
His father merely chuckled softly "We're not so blind to your faults Atticus. I think we knew this from the moment you were born, when you disliked being touched even by your mother"
Atticus resisted the urge to look away. He'd hated being touched by anyone affectionately and at that time when he'd been reborn as a baby, he felt helpless in a way that brought back nightmares when he had been unable to fight back against his abusive father.
"It took far too long for you grow at ease with your mother and then later us but in the end, you grew to trust us but that aspect of your personality always stayed with you, even now, you have told me all this in the safety of my death rather than the ample opportunity you had whilst I still lived" His father said in a calm manner, no judgment creeping in his voice but it still made Atticus feel terrible.
"I am not judging you, Son, nor am I bringing this up without reason." Atticus looked at his father who continued "You cannot live like you have done without causing yourself significant amount of issues in the future. This turmoil you feel…having people who can share in your burdens can make so much difference. Your mother…" his father sighed for a moment before he looked at the sky, where the sun hung high, time of noon having approached.
"Your mother was my partner, my everything in our marriage. We shared everything, we kept nothing from each other." The corner of his eyes creased, fondness in his eyes clear to see.
"We have had our troubles" His father glanced at Atticus, a small smile apparent on his face "And yet we weathered through it and came out the better for it" he looked back at the noon sun, seemingly the harsh glare of the sun did not bother him.
"Through it all, we never stopped trusting each other, even if we disliked each other's decisions and even each other at times." Marcus turned to Atticus "And it pains me to know that you are stopping yourself from having that same kind of trust, the same kind of vulnerability with our own family, let alone your wife to be."
"I've started bringing them in, all three of them into my life and secrets" Atticus tried to defend himself.
"I know but what about in the future? You brought in Anne and Sophia because they had a need for it, not because you wanted them to know" Marcus said pointedly and Atticus knew he had him.
"And your lovely betrothed" Marcus said in an amused tone before he grew serious "only is to find out all that you have kept from her because you knew the dangers of keeping her in the dark"
"That is not true" Atticus returned a little heatedly.
"I may have kept her in the dark but I would have told her everything once we were married" Atticus paused for a moment before he looked at his father "I even told her about our family magic without being married. How does that not signal that I am not trusting her with vulnerabilities, especially one that involves the family?"
"And that is a credit to you" Marcus easily returned, once more surprising Atticus "Don't be so surprised. I told Anne before we were married too" He said in a wry smile.
"Oh" Atticus said, not sure what else to say. He'd thought he'd broken a lot of family rules from telling Emily.
"All I am saying, Atticus, is that continuing to keep secrets from those who you love and love you back is folly" Marcus told Atticus, drawing them back to the heart of the conversation "What you're doing now is good, all I am asking is that you try be more trusting and honest with our family. Tell them what ails you and they may well surprise you."
Marcus turned sombre "Tragedy can happen any time"
Atticus clenched his eyes shut hard. "I won't let it happen again, never again. I promise you that father" his eyes reopened, his glowing white orbs returned and magic began to rise around them and air began to turn turbulent around him.
Marcus smiled and nodded "I know and for that I am thankful for the man you have grown up to be. Above all of your achievements, above all the things that I am proud of, is that you will take care of our family and that I can rest easy"
Atticus' glowing orbs dimmed as the magic he had thrown up diminished, evaporated, after his father's words.
"That is because I had the best father I could have asked for to teach me about family and what it means" Atticus whispered, his tone saddened though his eyes shone with fondness.
Marcus said nothing and merely smiled, his eyes showing everything what he thought of those words.
Atticus grew hesitant though there was a spark of hope in his eyes "Father…Are you a shade or are you really him?"
There must be a way to bring him back. Especially if the Precursors did something to transcend death.
It wouldn't be an offense to Death or to Life, he was sure of it.
Even if it was, his father could be an exception.
Marcus Sayre looked pained "Son…don't ask me to answer that, please"
"Why?" Atticus asked desperately, the rejection feeling like a hammer blow.
Did he not want to be back with his family?
Marcus Sayre shook his head "There are things you are not meant to know, not until it is time."
"Piss on that" Atticus said angrily "Your answer could help so much, it could ev-"
"Stop" Marcus Sayre raised his hand and Atticus obeyed, his angry words dying on the tip of his tongue.
Atticus deflated as he looked at his father brokenly "Why?" his voice cracked as he lost all of his composure under the gaze of his father.
His father smiled sadly at him "Son…You have always been a wonderful boy" his eyes shined with pride, a look that Atticus remembered so vividly. "In every sense of the word. You are able of creating wonders just as easily as you breathe but sometimes…sometimes you forget of when to stop"
"I…I don't understand"
His father smiled knowingly at Atticus "Were you or were you not thinking of using my answer to determine whether you could bring me back?"
Atticus swallowed harshly and looked away, answering his father's question.
"Son…" Marcus sighed.
"Death is final. Magic is wonderful and capable of true wonders but the departed souls belong to the domain of Death" Atticus' head swivelled towards his father.
That turn of phrase…
"Do not seek to break that covenant" His father's voice turned grave "Nothing good can happen with meddling what should not be meddled or interfered with"
That was as clear as any warning.
Atticus closed his eyes.
He knew that he shouldn't have asked…that he shouldn't have entertained the idea but he just…
"Do you want me to bring you to mother and Sophia?" he finally asked, breaking the topic of conversation and taking it elsewhere.
Marcus looked conflicted for a moment before he shook his head "No, nothing good can come from it" Marcus sighed before he smiled sadly at Atticus "It would reopen wounds and prevent them from moving on, as they should." Marcus looked at Atticus with a gentle look "Even you should not call upon me again, son and you know that too" Atticus' complaints died on his lips as he closed his eyes.
"Destroy the Stone, Atticus. The story of Cadmus has its roots in reality. It is better for both the living and the dead to let things lie" his father's gentle voice soothed him, the pain constricting in his chest unfurled itself ever so slowly.
"One more thing" Marcus continued "If Grindelwald's still alive…don't take any risks" Marcus said in a sombre tone "please."
Atticus nodded jerkily "I promise I'll do all I can to eliminate him with minimal risk". He had no intention of getting into another battle like that again.
His father smiled gratefully at his promise.
"I'll miss you" Atticus whispered before he reopened his teary eyes and looked at his father who looked emotional as well.
"I know"
"I won't see you again, not for a very long time"
His father simply laughed before he looked at Atticus fondly "I had thought so. You were always brilliant as a child. It's alright. Time means nothing where I am" His father said with a glint in his eyes and Atticus' eyes widened at that before he also smiled.
His father always helped him, even when he knew he shouldn't.
"Father, I…"
"I know" His father said meaningfully, his eyes seemed to shimmer and smiled at Atticus.
Time seemed to cease for a few moments as father and son stared at one another, words not needing to convey the depth of their bond, even in death.
Atticus' tears finally fell before he jerkily wiped his tears with his sleeves, not looking back at his father. "Goodbye father, rest easily" he said and the connection ended, once more leaving Atticus behind, alone on the highest peak of Inishkea Island.
Atticus remained there for a brief while before he got up, flicking his hand and the water and dirt on his robes vanished away.
He slotted the Resurrection Stone back in its casing and held onto the Stone for a moment.
He was not at peace, not completely.
Magic sung as he called it forth, liquid power once more coursed through his veins and the universe once more open up to him.
The dense magic swirled, twisted and bent space around him as green, purple and white strands of magic surrounded him.
He descended down the hill towards the small outcrop of forest and waded through the trees, the trees looked and felt saturated with magic, miniscule as it may be and they pulsed with glowing golden and green hues.
He came across a rock within a small locked lake surrounded by trees that were starting to bloom, small green leaves leaving their buds.
He rose in the air and he cleared the water and his right leg touched the small rock before both of his feet were planted.
He disrobed and levitated his battle robes to a branch that hung in the distance before he sat down in a meditative pose.
His defeat of Grindelwald and what still needed to be done…
Politics, Illos, Emily, his family…
His father and his last wishes…
All of it, so much to do and to begin…
He needed time to reflect, to disconnect from the now. It might not have been the best time do to this now, to take a moment for himself but he needed it.
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes and sunk into his magic and the magic that surrounded him, the feeling of the magic that permeated the universe seeped into his being.
He felt in…harmony, in tune with the harmonious nature that surrounded him, as if he were a mere seedling in the great gestalt of magic, latching onto the gentle winds that swam in the cosmos.
Peace crept into his porous bones, the soft sounds of nature and the gentle noises of small creatures waddling in the waters below him combined with the vastness that he connected to, a sereneness fell upon that was a balm to his soul.
His troubled mind, his conflicting emotions, all of it petered out, fell away, as the vastness of the greater whole he was a part of.
Acceptance suffused within him, the familiar touch of soothing wrapped around him like a warm soft blanket.
Acceptance of the challenges he faced, of the path he would need to take and the subsequent roles he would need to play and lastly acceptance of Death.
He would not disturb the cycle of the universe, the endless ring that encapsulated all that was and all there would be. He had been touched by Death, granted the opportunity to be reborn, matched to a wand that carried a heartstring of Basilisk, a being that brought death, and a hair of a Threstral, a being that saw Death and souls.
He lost that wand in a duel against the man who perverted that cycle, a man who perverted life itself.
A void now filled by Magic and Life, an association that he felt would run deeper within him than Death had.
He had done many things he was not proud of…killing a teenager merely based on the possibility of him setting about a chain of events that would have risked the magical world…the assassination of the Selwyn family with Sarin gas, many many more other such acts like it.
He did not shy away from this…side of himself. It was as much part of him as his admiration and commitment to life.
It was a side of himself that he knew would never truly go away…the ruthless side that would not permit challenges or threats to his goals in life and family, no matter if he would have to wash his hands in rivers of blood.
He accepted this too, about himself, of himself and the burning ember of hope remained alit that he would do more good for the masses than he would cause them harm, to ensure life thrived even if it meant that he would snip away branches of the tree for its health and to allow for new growth.
It was at that moment, the moment of recognition and final acceptance, that something changed.
It was subtle, easily missed but Atticus had not. At the very edges of his perception, he felt a chaotic eddy, one markedly different to the peaceful nature of the universe he had been submersed in.
It looked like a mirage, one that showed him not a promised land but rather an abyss, one that had no beginning or end. It remained outside of his field of perception, just at the very edges, and it was gone just as sudden as it arrived but not before he saw glimpses, mere momentary windows of something...almost as if it had been memories.
Atticus remained in his state of being for a while longer and despite the questions he had regarding the anomalous sight, they fell away like a gentle breeze before he knew it and once more refocused on his contemplations of life and death.
He had lost himself, seeing his father first the time since the killing curse had struck him dead.
Magic had no authority in Domain of Death and he accepted that now.
His eyes reopened, two white glowing orbs shone illuminated the dark forest as night had crept forth during his meditation. He withdrew his magic and once more the dark forest submerged into darkness but not for long.
Atticus separated his hands and raised his hand, palm facing upward, and a ball of light grew that brightened his surroundings.
It rose in the air and hung above him.
He outstretched his hand and the mirror phone flew into his hand.
There was much to do.
"Dayton" he intoned softly.
Dayton's surprised but relieved face showed.
"My Lord" Dayton began "It's good to see you look so well" Dayton said with relief.
"Thank you Dayton…I appreciate your concern" Atticus gave the loyal man a small nod.
"How are things?" Atticus inquired and Dayton told him. He told Atticus of the confusion and slight disarray his departure caused. He told him of Parkinson and the others keeping things intact but also told him of the losses the forces in France had suffered, the reinforcement had come just in time before it had turned disastrous.
"I will be back in a few days" Atticus told Dayton, a pang of sorrow at the consequences of his departure rung within him.
He would make it up for the men who'd followed his orders.
"I'll inform the others…" Dayton paused for a moment as he glanced at Atticus curiously.
"Are you…" Dayton trailed off.
"Yes. I have had the time I needed to…process things" Atticus told Dayton who nodded in acceptance.
"Very well." Dayton said and after giving a deep bow of the head, disconnected the call.
Atticus stood up, the battle robes flew towards him and he outstretched his arms allowing the robes to come onto him.
He touched the casing on the necklace with his hand and the Stone once more floated in the air before it fell to his outstretched hand.
"Rowena Ravenclaw" he intoned softly and the ghostly mist began to form into the Founder.
She gazed at him curiously, her eyes held a deep penetrative gaze. "You seem…different" she finally said.
"I am. Somewhat" he allowed a small smile.
Her eyes widened slightly before they narrowed "I see." She remained silent for a moment as she looked around her. "Seeing that you do not seem to have any new inventions to show me, to request my expertise" she turned to him "I doubt you would have called merely for a social call" her tone was prim and it made Atticus' smile widen before he shook his head.
"This is goodbye" he told her.
She remained silent for a moment before her eyes fell on the Stone "You're…" she trailed off.
"Yes"
Her eyes returned back to his, her expression remained neutral before it turned warm, her smile though slight was there to see "I'm glad" she said finally.
Atticus was tempted to ask why but he thought better of it, already knowing the answer.
People often had the wrong impression of Rowena…that she would pursue knowledge at all cost, without considering the impact on others…or even herself.
Perhaps that had been the case in her youth but not by the time of her death. She had recognised the folly of her youth and often cautioned him not to repeat them.
"I wanted to thank you" Atticus began but she shook her head.
"What you gave me was payment enough" she told him, reminding him of the resolution he had brought to mother and daughter.
"And what is still left to be paid is a favour you will be granting me and for that, I thank you" Rowena bowed to him, something that made him widen his eyes in surprise.
She was once more upright, her graceful nature was there for all to see "It was a pleasure teaching you, Atticus Sayre and I hope good fortune for you in the future"
Atticus bowed to her "And it was an honour to learn from the greatest of the four founders" his eyes showing a mirthful quality, one that she caught and he could see her eyes alight with slight amusement before he ended the connection.
He gazed down at the Stone, the final call he would ever make was complete. Rowena was someone who he considered to be as much a mentor as Professor Brown or Fawley had been during his apprenticeships under them in Transfiguration and Charms respectively.
It was only right he would say goodbye to her.
He returned the Stone to its casing and stared at the night sky, the soft rustling of the leaves adding to his calmness.
He would heed his father's words.
Now that he had a better idea of what the Stone truly did…
There was a large part of him that abhorred the loss of such an invaluable source of information and the unanswered questions of how it was connected to the Domain would haunt him.
But he was not arrogant enough to believe that he would always have the Stone with him or in a place of safety.
As long as it existed, it could access whatever plane of existence souls remained…and if they could be called upon using this Stone, worse can be done for Magic was infinite and limitless.
Perhaps in a decade, a century or a thousand years, someone may come around capable of using the Stone in a way that is abominable.
No…
It was best he heeds his father.
He had one more use of the Stone.
Soul Magic was esoteric and the manipulation of the Soul was difficult. Now that he knew the Stone could call upon souls with merely a name or connection…
He could create a spell that will annihilate or banish souls, just as he had once feared he could when he'd experimented spells and the magical spectrum.
It would be one that he would only use in the most dire of situations, against those who used Black Magic to desecrate magic and dared to sunder the cycle of Life and Death.
That was the oath he bound himself to.
-Break-
24th of March 1943
Albus Dumbledore POV
"Agghhh" he felt himself contract and twist, painfully as he was ejected out of Hogwarts.
He just about steadied himself when reappeared at the gates of Hogwarts. He heaved as he clutched his knees, the pain of being ejected nearly barrowed him over and it, for a brief moment, distracted him of what had come to pass, until he remembered.
"No, no no" Albus shook his head in desperation, in shock as he remembered what he discovered.
Gellert could not be dead. He turned around and looked at the castle, his rage returning as he remembered the whore of that monster who dared…
Gellert could not lose to a boy, he was better than that.
The boy was a Seer, he must have tricked Gellert somehow, that was the only way Sayres meagre talents could defeat Gellert for only he could truly do it. He must have seen a possibility to surprise Gellert if the paper was true or he lied.
It must be a lie.
Only he knew Gellert well enough to defeat him.
"It's a lie, it has to be." He murmured to himself, attempting to console himself. "That whore will tell me the truth, she must know from him"
He walked up to the gates but was nearly thrown back had he not shielded himself against the magic.
The wards of Hogwarts bloomed in full strength and it forced him to stop.
His eyes widened as the full weight of what Armando had done and quivered in rage, his magic boiled off of him.
He dared to force him out from his school!
He did not attack the children, his ire was with that monster and the devil spawn was no student. He would force her to tell him everything. He knew she and that boy were responsible for everything that had happened to him and now Gellert, he thought with grief.
Tears ran down his cheeks.
Gellert could not be dead.
His eyes widened.
Of course!
He almost disapparated on the spot but halted, for a brief moment and took the opportunity to look at Hogwarts, the imperial castle stood beautifully in front of him.
"I will be back" he promised aloud.
He did not know how, the fall out of his actions would be severe but he knew he could talk himself out of it.
He would claim that he had been confounded and that it was an attack against the Light, to push him out of the way to make way for the Dark. He would claim that Lady Slytherin orchestrated the whole thing in order to ensure that the Light's best defender would not be available to oppose her and his acts.
It would not be hard to believe, his allies had already known that the attacks against his person, subtle as they may be in the IMP, were all because of her.
He had seen it happen, their influence rising and rising, with every victory Sayre won, he won more and more hearts and minds in Magical Britain…no in the whole of Europe.
He should have acted before they had entered a relationship, before she went under the protection of the Sayres which must have allowed her the opportunity to claim her wretched heritage that caused him to only dither further, his soft and cautious hand preventing him to do what was necessary.
They were prodigies of their generation, not unlike himself and Gellert and those who had the power could not resist impose their will onto the world, not having the wisdom or moral integrity they needed to resist that call of power.
They'd succumbed to their power, the boy's not being able to resist coming under her malevolent spell for he knew that Slytherin spawn had destroyed the potential for the Light he had.
Now…
Now, the boy would have to be killed just as she needed to die. She's corrupted him just as she had corrupted his Gryffindors against him, his former house.
Her words were as slick and sweet as a serpent's tongue, able to turn those who were his against him and if that was not enough, the deeds of her damned betrothed would do the rest, blinding his Gryffindors to her nature as an insidious Dark Lady to be all because of the false belief that Atticus Sayre was a secret Gryffindor in Raven colours.
No…
He refused to believe that boy was anything but another Dark Lord rising to power, too far gone, further than even Gellert for Gellert had the capacity to change. Power had addled Sayre's mind and he must be dealt with.
What has he done to Gellert…
He disapparated and arrived at the door steps of the rustic farmhouse and slammed open the door before he rushed towards one of the wooden planks before the fireplace. With intricate weaves of his wand, the wooden plank cranked open, the protective spells disabled and with a flick of the wand, a small wooden box floated upwards.
His tremulous hands reached out to the wooden box and he felt weak at the knees, the horrors of what he may find was nearly too much for him to bear.
He had not realised how much he still loved Gellert, not until the sickening agonising moment arrived that he might have been killed.
He had never believed anyone capable of defeating him, let alone kill him and that mere thought…
With a strength of will he did not think he could have possessed in that moment, he opened the wooden box and his eyes widened deeply.
"Oh" he sighed in desperate relief, his eyes closed as tears trailed his cheeks. He collapsed to the floor, clutching the necklace desperately.
Gellert was still alive. He did not know his condition, only that the blood pact would have been destroyed had he been dead.
He reopened his eyes and his trembling hands lifted up the necklace and his eyes widened. The magic that bound him and Gellert was weak…
…That could only mean Gellert was injured, perhaps even close to death!
Albus stood back up.
He could no longer delay, his eyes gleamed in determination. Gellert was still alive and that meant everything was still left to play for.
He would heal Gellert and then 'capture' him some time later, offering him to the ICW as long as they kept him alive to spend all of his years in captivity.
He could convince them of this, that death was a relief that he should be denied to have, to spend his remaining decades in captivity and in solitude, forever denied a martyr's death.
He would receive all of the accolades that he was due and he could begin his work. It would take decades but he would get there. Gellert would see the error of his ways once he had the time to think things over, to repent for his ghastly use of magic and his hunger and conquest.
He would then bring Gellert back to his side after he 'died' in prison under a new alias and they would bring the Magical World under his vision for the Greater Good.
His informants at the ICW had already told him that they were uncomfortable with Sayre and the men he had marshalled under him, the loyalty he held of his followers – for he believed they were most certainly his followers – reminded them too starkly of Gellert Grindelwald and they had been looking for solutions of how to deal with the boy.
With proof that Gellert was still alive, it would forever destroy the credibility of Sayre and by proxy Slytherin's spawn and he could work with those who wished to curb the boy to completely destroy him and his whore.
He would use the wealth he had built over the years to turn everything and everyone against them.
Yes…
His mind whirled, thinking up plans and abandoning them with frightening speeds until his eyes coldly set before he closed them.
He dived into his memories, replaying them over and over again until he whipped out his wand, his eyes still closed, and conjured a map, the details that showed on it were perfect.
He reopened them and took hold of the map. All of his belongings were left at Hogwarts and he could not retrieve them for any period of time.
It was lucky that all of his more important things were either at this safe house, the former home of his half brother's maternal family, the Dipplesworth family.
He had grown grim at the unstoppable rise of the whore and became suspicious at the news of the boy's escapades.
If he had been that skilled then surely she was too and if that was the case, she could steal the necklace and use it against him.
That was unacceptable.
He twisted his wand, returning the wooden plank back to its place and put the necklace around his neck.
She would get her due just as he would.
He exited his bastard's half brother's family home for the last time, having taken all of his belongings with him.
He knew a few things of the safety measures the Ministry had enacted to avoid being invaded by Gellert and his forces and he knew that they had his magical signature on record.
Whilst he could hide his signature, he knew that they would be hunting him, at least right now.
He clenched his teeth.
Him. Albus Dumbledore hunted as if he were a common criminal!
He would set things right, he vowed.
A few hours later he arrived at a low misty forest, one that was starkly different to how the weather was outside of the forest.
He walked through the eerie forest, one that was as silent and as still as Death itself until he could see something in the distance.
The open mausoleum appeared in the distance. Its marbled stone shone in the light of the dusk sun as the low mist seemed to surround it but not touch it. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows shone beautifully at the top of the building and hope rose within Albus' chest.
He felt the wards as he approached the edges of the building. He clenched his teeth.
He was so close now.
He would not be stopped, not now. He brought out his wand and slowly raised it as he unleashed control over his magic. His magic roiled from him like an unrelenting wave, one that thrummed with an incessant beat that was calm and smooth unlike how it had been before, a raging storm of grief and misery.
He methodologically poked and prodded at the wards, attempting to find a weak point to latch onto, his magic allowing him to feel the ward to a certain extent.
He had never been the best at wards, his attempts were clumsy at best, mostly because he had considered wards to have elements within them that was…distasteful.
Most of the powerful wards were all blood based and were wards that he would ensure to slowly phase out of Magical Britain.
His country did not need to use such archaic and dark magic.
His magic grew to intense levels once had found a weak spot, power that had seemed calm now grew to a furious storm.
He raised both of his hands, his wand tip pointing downwards. He stood like an ancient mage of old, one who would fill the imagination of when one thought of a wise knowledgeable mage, and with a flourish, he extended out his magic in a powerful wave that struck the wards, one that coated the surface of the ward facing Albus.
He shone like a white star, his magic struck the world blind with its intensity and power. The density of the air doubled under the weight of his magic as more and more of his magic made contact with the wards and after Albus had set himself, he pulled at the wards, his magic sinking into the wards like barbed wires before he ripped them off with a sudden and sharp moment, not unlike a crocodile ripped off chunks of flesh of a wildebeest in the savannah.
The wards collapsed under sheer strain and pressure, the wailing magic dispersed back into the environment and Albus sighed with a weary smile, satisfaction glittering in his eyes.
"So close…" he muttered as he straightened his back and walked towards the Mausoleum.
Relief and exultation filled Albus as the view of the statue came into his line of sight. It was a statue of a prostrate man kneeling in front of the Mausoleum, as if to beg for forgiveness.
Just as Belsing had described.
As he neared, he made out the name on the etched just below the Deathly Hallow symbol.
"Millicent Peverell…" Albus spoke with whispered reverence.
Finally things were going somewhere.
All of his plans had seemed to be destroyed, his reputation was sundered.
But…
There was hope.
Gellert was still alive and thus his path to ascension remained intact even if were difficult but…
He had been here before.
His father had cast a large shadow after what he had done to the three muggles that had forever tainted his sister Ariana.
Muggle haters they had called him when he had started Hogwarts. They whispered about him, claiming him to be the same as his father, the dumb sheep blabbered what their parents had said about his father.
But he had shown them his brilliance, his undeniable greatness.
He had changed the very name of Dumbledore into something respectable…something revered.
Until it was once more taken from him.
But like always, he had hope and he had himself.
He would turn it around just like then.
Armed with the Resurrection Stone and Elder Wand, nothing would be able to stop his ascension.
And Sayre and his whore would pay for their transgressions against him.
He walked past the statue towards the large wooden doors and whirled his wand around.
It seemed like there was no hidden magic that could trip him up.
He twisted his wand and the doors fell open, slowly, revealing a dark tomb room. He cast Lumos as he entered the hallowed resting place of one of the Peverells, even if it was a spouse.
The room was bare, no hidden treasure was present. A large stone casket was in the middle of the room, one whose top plate was sculpted to a female form, not unlike how pharaoh tombs were made.
He remembered the Peverells originally hailed from Ancient Egypt.
He walked around and stared at the woman's face. She looked plain, undistinguished.
This was the woman who turned Cadmus into a grieving mess that killed himself?
He raised his wand and pointed it towards the stone casket and the tip of his wand crackled before it vanished away the top cover.
His eyes travelled towards the open casket. A woman in pristine condition laid there, her hands seemed to cover something above her heart.
He twisted his wand and disturbed the corpse from its rest, the arms creaked like an old set of doors, the sound almost made him wince but he continued on as one by one the fingers were pried apart, until, finally, a black stone revealed itself.
"It's here…" he whispered in undisguised joy "It's really here".
He felt a deep connection with the Stone, as if it was calling him towards it, begging, pleading for it to be used to speak to those who had long past…
To beg for forgiveness from his sister.
His hand snapped forward and took the Stone from the cold dead hands of Millicent Peverell and brought it to his eyes. The mark of the Peverells was upon the Stone "Fin-"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH" Albus cried out and he dropped the stone, deep agonising pain shot through his arm, one that felt like he was being stabbed by a thousand swords at the same time. Clarity entered his mind even amidst agonising pain and his eyes grew horrified at his blackening hand that was soon growing.
He weaved his wand with blinding speed, trying to stop the encroaching necrotic nature of whatever curse had ailed him but it was to no avail, it would not stop, it would not cease.
"Those who seek the Hallows should reap its rewards" rung around him before a chilling feminine laughter rung around him, one that he recognised.
"No…" He had been played.
How?!
How did they know?!
No one but he and Gellert knew they had sought the Hallows, he was sure of it.
He dragged himself out of the tomb with as much energy as he could, the curse had passed his wrist and was fast moving up his arm.
He had little time, he knew this.
This was a withering curse, one that did not respond to any counters he knew.
"Aberforth…" he croaked out.
His brother would know. He had tried to find out all he could about healing after Ariana's death before he had given up and settled to run a dingy old pub.
The nature of Ariana's affliction had him dive in the more darker regions of magic, much to Albus' disapproval.
How ironic that this knowledge would be what could save him.
He exited the mausoleum and stumbled in his steps. He was losing strength.
He knew he could not go directly to Aberforth, they would be waiting on him. He was pale and sweating, his skin must look gray.
With strength he did not know, he disapparated and arrived at a strangely built home and dragged himself at the door, his wand flicked upward with but the most he could manage but it was enough for the door opened.
"Wha-?!" He heard, the familiar voice of his most loyal was like heaven to him.
He heard the fast approaching footsteps as he crashed to the ground, his breath hitched and straining.
"Albus?!" he heard the disbelieving tone of his soon to be saviour.
He gazed upward with his remaining energy, the familiar red hair was a blessing.
"Aber" he heaved as his eyes nearly closed, his pained breathing filled the silence "forth. C-call h-him. T-tell him it's a-aggh with er-ring curse" Albus finally managed before unconsciousness took him, the last thing he heard was the mocking laughter of his enemy, an enemy who he had brought to the magical world, blighting them all with her existence.
-Break-
25th of March 1943
He stepped onto the isolated rock that had waves crashing against it as he descended down from the air, a small bubble protecting him against the raging sea.
He moved to one of the walls deep within the cave and pressed his hand against it, causing the stone to ripple like how a puddle rippled when a stone was cast in it. He took a step back and waited.
It began to transform as silver grey metal replaced the stone walls and formed into a thick silver grey wall that, after a hiss of air being released, opened, the seamless nature of the wall having been split apart forming a doorway.
He walked into the doorway and the door closed behind him. The room he was in was small but high and though he felt no movement, he knew that it was the equivalent of a lift, one that was descending thousands of metres below the surface.
The doors opened and he stepped into the familiar grey silver corridors that marked out this subterraneous facility.
He knew that Moira knew that he was here and likely informed his mother and sibling.
"So this is where I was born. Seems awfully grey" a soft feminine voice joked. He raised his hand and the holographic form of Alice appeared who had dark hair and purple eyes.
He had created her with plenty of help from Sparkly Dawn and Moira but her personality was all his own making. He hadn't brought her with him during his campaign against Grindelwald mostly because he did not want to risk anyone finding about her. Plus he wasn't all too sure he wanted to expose her young self to the grim realities of war.
He was a kind of father figure for the A.I., after all.
She remained at his family's Irish cabin where his main lab outside of his trunk or this facility was.
She worked extensively with his army of elves who had completed the tens of thousands of advanced golems who would be capable of completing semi complex tasks with only the slightest of direction.
The majority of his elves had been set on this task, of inscribing runes onto the golems that would take in ambient magic to power them and this had been completed several months ago.
In that time, Alice had coordinated the elves to Antarctica, to finally start to prepare the site there for the asteroid that was arrive there in the next few years.
Emily had completed the arithmancy for the mass illusion enchantment that would be inscribed the diamond wardstones which would be arranged in carefully placed locations that would allow for the asteroid to float mid-air and hidden from magical and muggle sight, leaving them free to work uninhibited on creating Illos.
The shrinking charms were already complete, their modification was far more efficient and even if he had to use diamond wardstone batteries to power the charms to do shrink the asteroid.
"It's a lot prettier once you see the forest" he smiled at his companion, mirth in his eyes.
"Well from the way you described it, for those leaves to be purple, they must have come from a world surrounding a red giant…" Alice continued to theorise as they walked, her words falling into the background as he continued to walk the long hallways of the facility.
Ten minutes after walking, he arrived at the familiar bulbous room which lead to a open hallway.
He walked into the familiar main room that overlooked the massive ecosystem just outside the window. There were purple leaved trees and plants with strange birds that he had come to recognise all too often.
His eyes swivelled around and finally, he saw his family waiting for him. Moira towered over them whilst they stood in front of her.
"Mother…Sophia" he said slowly and carefully, unsure of what else to say in that moment.
For all of his increasingly profound understanding of magic, he could still be incredibly…uncertain when it came to certain social and familial things.
Like how to greet them after a long absence.
His mother made the first move and walked towards him, her expression neutral until it broke into one of relief as she hugged him tightly. "Oh, I am so glad you're fine" she said before she broke off the hug and clasped his face with both of her hands, seemingly trying to inspect him.
"You're thin" she said flatly whilst her eyes narrowed.
Atticus couldn't help and laughed "I've always been thin" he smiled at his mother.
"I can tell you're not eating right" she said in a stern tone though it only made him smile a little.
"Mother…" Sophia said exasperated when she walked over.
Sophia looked different, her hair was shorter, cropped with blond highlights that truly stood out. Not only that, she seemed to have put in some muscle mass compared to the last time he had seen her.
Atticus grabbed his mother's hands and held them softly before turning to Sophia "Hello sister, you look well" he said warmly before he nodded at her hair "New style?" he asked her.
She simply shrugged and she turned to look to Moira briefly before she returned her gaze back at Atticus "In her peoples' culture, warriors painted their faces to signal their commitment to their arts of war. I wasn't much of a fan of painting my face so I instead settled on painting my hair somewhat"
Atticus' eyes flickered to Moira who seemed to be in a conversation with Sparkly Dawn before they turned back at Sophia. He let go of his mother's hands and turned to her "It seems like we have much to catch up on"
She smiled a little and nodded "We do" she came forth and hugged just as tightly as his mother "It doesn't mean we're fine, Atticus. I know you love us but you have much to do to make up for what you did to me" she whispered in his ear, sobering Atticus up.
He knew he had made the right decision hiding his family but he would bear any of their ire with gratitude so long as they lived.
She let go and spun on her heels and walked towards Moira. He watched her go with an introspective look on his face. It seemed like she was recovering well of the grief she held for Charles and the threat Grindelwald had made to her.
"Moira did a lot of good work with her, Atticus" his mother spoke up, seemingly able to pick up his thoughts.
He turned to her and saw she was looking at Sophia with a saddened smile "It hadn't been easy but she's getting there."
"I see" Atticus said quietly.
"No matter." She turned to him "If you're here then that means something meaningful has happened" she said with a knowing tone.
Atticus grimly smiled as he nodded. "I will tell you all about it" he said softly to his mother who grabbed his arm and guided him to Moira, Sophia and Sparkly Dawn.
They had settled down and so Atticus began to tell them the state of the war, of his defeat of Grindelwald.
He told them of the death of Xavier Charleston, something that hit Sophia deeply. She had met the man before during her time in the States and no doubt harboured some grief of the man Charles Etherington had called uncle.
He told them the stark truth, that he nearly died fighting Grindelwald and that had it not been for something he still could not truly explain, he would have died.
It had upset his mother and sister immensely at the risk he had taken and took their harsh words on the chin.
He had expected no less.
It took a few wise words from Moira to ease the tension before he asked Sophia in a bid to move to happier conversation topics.
Sophia spoke of her training in Ancient Humanity combat forms, some that seemed to bear a striking resemblance to Krav Maga. She tried to rope him into being her dummy but he politely refused something that caused her eyes to glint and he promised to himself to never be in a room alone with his sister lest he wish to end up on his back.
He was willing to be screamed at but he had no desire to be a tool for her to release out her frustrations on.
His mother had asked if the war was over and he told them the likelihood of Grindelwald surviving was high, his body having been snatched from beneath him.
This caused both of them to tense up, his sister far more rigidly than his mother.
"He's still alive" Sophia asked lowly, clutching tightly to the cutlery.
Atticus bowed his head "Yes…I'm sorry Sophia. I did not consider the possibility he might escape, not when he looked so close to death"
His mother was about to speak but Moira spoke up next "That was a mistake that may well cost you everything" she said calmly.
Atticus inclined his head, knowing the truth of her words "I know…" he met her gaze "It's part of why I am here"
Sophia and his mother looked at him with a confused look but Moira understood.
"You seek my people's weaponry." She stated.
"And the satellites you have around this world that monitored everything for the last few hundred thousand years" Atticus smiled grimly.
"I see" Moira said contemplatively.
"What are you talking about?" Sophia asked a little frustrated.
Atticus turned to her "I'm going to use an orbital weapon to destroy wherever Grindelwald is, to avoid having to fight him once more"
Sophia stared at him for a moment "Why didn't you do this the first time?" she asked and quickly added "And don't tell me you needed others to see you defeat him. That might be part of it but I know there's more to it." She paused for a moment, her face slightly twisting in bitterness "After all" she looked around "You kept all of this from us, your family"
Tension grew as brother and sister stared at each other.
Finally, the thing that kept the once close siblings apart was brought to light.
"I understand…" Atticus began softly before he turned away from his sister's gaze.
He knew they needed to have this conversation.
"Do you feel betrayed, Sophia?" Atticus asked after a moment before he turned to face her.
"Yes." She immediately said, her face set in stone. "I told you about Charles, you even met him, something that I would never have done if I didn't trust you completely." The stone broke and hurt emanated from her face "But it seems like you don't trust me at all, not even mother"
Atticus sighed and hung his head on the back of his chair, staring at the ceiling. "It's not that I don't trust you…It's just that…" he trailed off.
"You did not think we would understand, the secret you have uncovered" His mother spoke up, her words able to articulate what he had struggled to say.
He turned to his mother and nodded slightly. He did not trust them with the most treasured secrets not because they were not trustworthy but partly because he did not think they would understand.
He still had his own trust issues, something that was inherent to himself but them not understanding was part of it.
"Not at the time" Atticus said with a sigh before his eyes flickered to both his mother and sister. "But I was wrong." He admitted to them, his head bowed in a humble gesture.
There was also the case of him not wanting the secret of all of this technology and knowledge to be leaked out should anything happen to any of them.
He knew it was cold but in the far recesses of his mind, he could not help wonder the disaster that would happen should either of them fall into the hands of those who wished to learn all of their secrets…
Of course, he would wipe them out along without mercy so he doubted they'd ever be able to act on it should they have somehow managed to find out.
"I was wrong to keep so many things hidden from you and I see now that it does more harm than good to those who I love and treasure" Atticus paused as he looked up, hoping his earnestness shone through.
Sophia seemed impassive whilst his mother looked at him with a glimmer of understanding.
"I can only hope you forgive me and I promise I will not keep secrets like this from you again"
Silence reigned for a few moments until Sophia broke it "I forgive you brother because I know it hadn't been long since you have known about all this and because you're an idiot" she said with a small smile before she turned serious "But I won't forget so easily what you did." She clenched her jaw "I know hiding us away from Grindelwald was not a bad decision but to do it against my will…" her eyes flared in outrage.
"What would you have me do?" he asked of his older sister.
"Speak to me. Tell me!" she hissed out angrily before she visibly got herself under control "It matters how you do what you do, Atticus" she stared at him "I love you but you can be too much, whether it is secrets like this" she waved her hand "or doing things without consulting others" she turned to him, a fierce look on her face.
"To wake up in a strange place like that…" She clenched her hands and Atticus winced.
Yes, that wasn't the best way to do it.
"I am your older sister, Lord Sayre or not" she said sternly "You do not make decisions for me. Never again" she said finally.
"And that goes for me too" his mother said after a heavy moment of silence.
He understood. Truly he did.
But they were his family. People he cherished more than anything in life. The love he bore for them was something he felt fiercely.
"Alright" he said a little more quietly, his tone subdued. "I will not surprise you like this again." His eyes flickered between his mother and sister as he drew himself up, a clenched jaw had set.
"But I will not permit danger to come to both of you if I know it is coming. You know that I am a Seer, that I can see multiple possibilities. If I say you have to hide or leave, you will listen." Atticus voice was stern, as unyielding as steel "I say this as Lord Sayre" his eyes firmly staring down Sophia.
Her nose flared for a moment and she was about to say something "I won't let what happened to father happen to either of you…please" he said in a softer tone, vulnerable.
Her protestations died out as a pained look passed across her face before brother and sister stared at each other "Only if you tell me the whole truth and I agree with the seriousness." She finally said, yielding somewhat.
He inclined his head "I will"
"We will see" his sister whispered before she shook her head, her gaze on Atticus.
"I know you want me to take care of the family businesses but I want to be involved in Illos too"
Attics nodded, resisting an urge to glance at Moira. It seemed like they knew pretty much everything he had told Moira.
He wasn't all that happy about that.
He turned to his sister who simply nodded to his unasked question before she began.
"I have already forgiven, my son" she smiled for a moment but it didn't reach her eyes "But I can't say I can easily forget the kind of danger you have put our entire family by pursuing all that you did…choosing to defeat Grindelwald alone, creating this island of yours, all of it" she shook her head as she stood up.
"I know you're now Lord of House Sayre but you have to think of this family first. I might not have told you all of the worries you have put me through in our mirror calls but there was not a day where I feared I would get a call from Dayton to tell me you have…" she closed her eyes as she took a moment to calm herself.
He was silent for a moment, contemplating the stress he had put his mother in and for a moment he was unsure of what to say.
He did threaten his family with his actions, put them in harm's way for an ambition and goal that he wholeheartedly thrown himself towards.
"Mother…I…" Atticus struggled for a moment before he took a deep breath and looked at her with determined eyes "I promise you I will never put our family at risk again like I had done before. What I did with Grindelwald…" he trailed off for a moment.
"…It was selfish" he admitted and she reopened her eyes and their gaze met "I hated him." Finally he let it out. "Hated him for what he did to our family. He caused the death of our grandparents" his eyes flickered to Sophia who had been the most affected by the death of their grandmother. "Our cousins, uncle and left your mother with a shortened lifespan" Atticus breathed out heavily, his hands were tightly bound.
"I wanted to see him die" he declared, his harsh voice almost seemed to growl "I wanted to see him die by my hands, to see the life ebbed out of him whilst all that he held dear was ruined and destroyed" Atticus eyes began to glow slightly though he did not notice though everyone else did.
"I hated him that much and though I needed the kind of influence his death by my hands would have brought me for the goal of Illos, it was not my main motivation anymore" Atticus confessed.
And after a moment of silence his mother spoke up "I know." She said softly, gazing down at him with saddened eyes. "I felt the same hatred you felt for him." She placed her hand on Sophia's shoulder "And I know that Sophia does the same" Sophia's eyes were wet and she nodded firmly in confirmation.
His mother turned to him, her eyes now set hard "And you have done the Sayre family credit for setting out revenge and driving Grindelwald to near death but I want you to promise me that you will never do anything this risky again. You are the future of this House. You have planned to take our people to the very stars which cannot happen with your death." She paused for a moment and her tone took a softer stance "Do you understand?"
"Your mother is not wrong" Moira added…unhelpfully. "Taking the kinds of risks you took when you were not ready – especially if it took something extraordinary" she said with a slightest of narrowing her eyes "to defeat him is hubristic and full of folly. In war, honour and revenge do not matter, not when at the end all that matters who is left standing"
First Emily, then his father and now his sister, mother and Moira?
He would have found the chastisement funny if it wasn't so depressing.
Did he really screw up that badly?
It seemed that despite his plans working out, his relationships with those he cared for the most were being put under strain from the way he worked.
He sighed. His father was right, he would have to let at least his family in if he wanted to ensure he didn't lose what he was trying to protect the most.
He wanted to save the magical world but it would mean nothing if he lost all that he cared for.
"I cannot promise you that I won't risk myself like that" They looked unhappy at that proclamation "Who knows what can happen in the future, to me or to you. What I can promise is that I will not seek out a fight that like this again and will do all I can to resolve it without putting myself at a risk like that again and will not hide it from you"
His mother stared at him for a short few moments before she nodded "I will hold you to that" and sat down.
After that, the situation eased out and the next few hours were pleasant as familiar familial bonds reasserted themselves before he had found himself alone with Moira.
"You told them about Illos?" he asked her, carefully hiding accusation.
"I did" she confirmed as she looked at him with an appraising look "They deserved to know"
"I know" he said frustrated "Bu-"
"But you wanted to tell them on your own terms?" she interrupted "It was not good enough" she added.
He wasn't happy with what she said until he stopped to think about it. Why would she say that...?
It clicked for him and he looked at her "They didn't understand why I was doing what I was doing…why I kept all this from them and they needed to know something"
Moira nodded "You have a Builder's mind, someone who can conjure several different plans that weave together into a final achievement. But you lack the skills to understand where discontent can rise from, even from those closest from you. Discontent could have turned into dislike which can turn into hatred. On a greater scale it can turn into a riot or strike and then, eventually, rebellion" she said calmly.
Atticus sat back in his chair.
"I could have truly messed up" he stated more than asked.
"You could have. But you did not" she told him "You are young despite your maturity and rare intelligence mostly unfound in your kind" Atticus' eye twitched. He knew that she did not mean it in a harsh way, as her people were entirely on a different level, even from him.
Despite the various rituals he had conducted that increased several aspects of his mental capabilities, he was still very much not the at the intellectual level of Advanced Ancient Humans.
"you do not have the life experiences you need to accurately assess and act. It will come, with time" she smiled gently at him "but if I were you, I would take a moment to assess things, particularly with interaction of those close to you, before you decide. Pebbles can make the largest of waves, after all" she finished.
He took a moment to ponder it before he waved it away. He would take her advice on board but he had more important things to discuss.
"The weaponry and the live feeds?" he brought her back to the reason he wanted to speak with her.
For the next hour they spoke about the weaponry and the live video feeds.
The live video feeds were linked to a room within the facility that stored all that it captured and had all of developments of the last several hundred thousand years.
There were eleven small black orb like satellites that were in geo-synchronous orbit that were powered by solar energy. They were roughly thirty metres in diameter, tiny in the grand scheme of things and had the capability of clouding their energy signature completely, courtesy to the unique black material that shrouded the orbs. Moira offhandedly said that this was likely the reason why they remained unbothered despite knowing that the Forerunners had visited the planet on several occasion during her hibernation even though the last time was over two hundred thousand years ago.
Atticus couldn't' help but marvel at the fact that it remained operational for nearly quarter of a million years.
The Forerunners, the Precursors and the Ancient Humanity had all built to last and he couldn't help but want to aspire to it.
The video feeds were beyond anything he had heard of. It was capable of tracking the movement of a single bee even if it was under the cover of trees, shifting its dynamic feed in different spectrums until it could track it without issue.
She would set Sparkly Dawn to focus onto the captured feeds into Mons, Belgium, and track every slight bit of movement.
It would not give hundred percent certainty that they would be able to track Grindelwald as they were looking at feeds that were not specifically ordered to track anyone but the possibility that he might be successful was high.
They talked about the weaponry and what might be most useful. Any kind of high profile weaponry was immediately discarded. He did not want UFOs conspiracy theories happening because of his actions and they finally settled on making it seem as if an asteroid hit wherever Grindelwald was hidden.
It was primitive technology, to use magnetically accelerated metallic rocks but it would halt any further inquiry.
He hoped Grindelwald was far from any theatres of war because he doubted any of them would leave such a mystery unhidden. Not to mention the chances of affecting the timeline and possibly causing a catastrophic change of events that could cause Nazi Germany to survive could be high, something that he was utterly unwilling to allow to happen.
The Facility had limited manufacturing capability and it could create easily a relatively primitive weaponry, a small orbital cannon, one that would be loaded with 3 metre diameter 'metallic rock' which he would transfigure to have a dense inner core of tungsten roughly 1.5 metre in diameter.
At most, it would have a speed relative to the Earth of approximately 70,000 km/h which would be enough as it could create an impact crater almost 55 metres in diameter and 14 metres deep with the equivalent yield of 13 kilotons of TNT.
That amount of energy should destroy anything magical that Grindelwald might have been placed around where he was and the impact and heat alone should incinerate all living beings.
He could only hope that Sparkly Dawn would find something to end this soon.
Sophia and his mother had both agreed to stay a little longer until Grindelwald was finally dead.
Soon enough, they had completed the plans and he turned to a different topic.
"Moira, I will be bringing Emily here to meet you and to learn of Ancient Humanity" he told her carefully, the question was unasked but they both knew it was there.
She looked at him for a moment before she nodded "I expected this for some time" she told him.
He wasn't surprised. She knew of her and no doubt his mother and sister informed her even more.
"And…" he hesitated for a moment "This is more a favour than anything else." She waited patiently and he continued "At some point, I would like my great grandfather to know about you as well."
Moira smiled at him and tapped his hand "Your mother has already asked me this. Once it is time, I will meet my direct descendants."
Atticus' lips twitched. Of course his mother would have asked Moira. He looked at her curiously "I'm surprised you want to." He said to her "You seemed to have preferred to be alone, passing on knowledge but having no interest in the affairs of the world, let alone your descendants."
Moira remained silent for a while "I have realised that I have been…too content to watch life pass me by." She looked at him "Your mother has helped me in that regard"
Atticus' eyes widened. His mother helped Moira?
Moira continued "As you know, the way my people were reared was different compared to your own"
How could Atticus forget? It had been fascinating to discover.
Families did not exist like it existed in most human families were parents cared for their children, no…Ancient Humanity had their children raised with other children whose parents had the same vocation, assignment as the other parents did.
There were caretakers who would oversee these children from infancy to the age of sixteen at which point they would meet their parents who would impart familial history and offer the child the opportunity to succeed in their parents' field or allowed to go into another direction.
It was a way to instil core principles of their society onto their children without the interference of parents, which ensured stability in the individuals whilst ensuring that the parents are not neglectful of the developmental stage of children which could cause a host of psychological issues.
It was something he was deeply interested in enacting, to some degree.
"We were taught mental control from an early age which dulled the kinds of bonds that one should feel towards crèche siblings or towards parents." She paused for a moment "It did not mean the annihilation of my people did not affect me" she met his gaze intensely. "It left me…hallow"
She continued "Seth and our children changed that. I reared them with Seth contrary to my society and created powerful bonds to them that remain even now though they are unfulfilled"
"Since they have departed from life, I have preferred to complete my mother's mission in solitude, waiting until I am released of my duties and can finally pass onto the next stage, finally fulfilling that yearning I hold to be with them once again"
She looked away, a tender smile coming across her face "Your mother…has changed my perspective. In a way I did not expect. Reminding me of days long past that need not be concluded. I do not have to be bound to this Facility in solitude" she turned to Atticus.
His mother had changed her perspective? He wondered.
"Or fixed in this Facility, alone without the chance to make full use of my life until it was time to pass. With you almost free from this war of your kind, I can safely leave the Facility in your hands" she paused for a second.
"Before I was given this duty, I was an explorer much like my mother was before she was recruited into the Council." She said to Atticus meaningfully "I think it is time for me to venture out to discover what remains of the ancient enemy or the Shaping Sickness and find out if the galaxy is still an unfertile place…" her eyes darkened for a brief second "or if there any remnants of the Ancient Enemies that remain."
Atticus took that in before he glanced at her "Are you really that concerned that we might come under attack once it is time? Did you not once say that the Flood seemed to have been defeated by a weapon that was capable of even destroying Precursor technology, one that consigned even the Forerunners to possible extinction?"
"We defeated them once and yet they came back and have seemed to drive the Enemy to such an extreme that they created weapons that wiped out entire worlds of life. Who is to say that they would not return a third time, with potentially no Forerunner and certainly not my people to stop them this time?"
Her words had sent chills down the back of his spine.
He remembered the horrors of the images Moira had shown him of what had befallen her people.
To think those creatures could still exist…
"That is my purpose for venturing out, to seek out the answer to the questions I have long since neglected to answer" she added.
"When would you leave?" Atticus finally asked.
"Within three years" she told him calmly. "With the end of your war, we can utilise your time efficiently to create the few precious minerals and metals we need using your ability to permanently alter one form into another and to teach you the remaining of what you need to know in order utilise the Facility to its highest potential."
He nodded.
There were several precious metals and minerals that were extremely exotic and only existed under rare circumstances in nature, like how several of these metals needed to be around specific radiation from a neutron star to exhibit the properties that were needed for several different functions of the ship systems and devices.
Like Ilmendus which was a metal that housed the crystals that mitigated reconciliation effects.
Reconciliation was the self healing effect of space time that eliminated any paradoxes that might occur. The severity of the effects of reconciliation depended on the amount of discrepancy of information from one place to another, as well as the strain on the local space time membrane.
These metals were able to channel the crystals with 99.999% efficiency, the knock on effect of such efficiency reduced the strain on the local space time membrane allowing the possibility of creating massive structures to travel through slipspace.
The greater the mass, the greater the rate of discrepancy of information, the greater the strain on the local space time membrane.
This metal and the crystals were vital in making Illos capable of travelling through slipspace.
He had spent significant time with Moira to integrate the support systems, engines and drives that would constitute within the sublevels of Illos, hidden from plain sight.
She continued "The manufacturing hub has been active for the past few months with the steady stream of resources you have procured" she paused for a moment "It will not be enough to complete the fabrication Illos will need within the next three years. At the current rate, seven years will be at minimum required"
Atticus sat back as he thought it over. He had procured two different streams of resources; through the goblins and through the manufacturing and mining companies he'd purchased in the muggle world.
Unfortunately, with the war going on, there were only very few civilised nations that hadn't shifted their economy towards supporting the war, meaning manufacturing and raw resources were heavily used in the manufacturing of weaponry and machinery.
That meant that he could not adequately divert resources from those nations without gaining too much attention.
However…the goblins had proved to be a significant boon on the other hand. They provided over 65% of the resources that he was having sent to the Facility via a depot that his elves manned.
Problem was…he was paying through the nose for it. The rates they charged especially considering that it had to be…discrete, well…
He was lucky he could create gold.
Through a complicated arrangement with the Dwarves, who held a significant portion of the Sayre wealth, he purchased an actual depleted gold mine in South Africa where he managed to find 'gold veins' that were 'untapped'.
And so his source of gold became known to the Goblins and in return for 30% of the annual yield of gold, they would provide him the equal monetary value of raw material.
With the war not ending any time soon, unless he wanted spend time figuring out program arrays to mass permanent transfiguration of dozens of different metals and minerals to exactness composition required, which he could do but rather wouldn't, he would have think of something else.
Several magicals that he sponsored for apprenticeships were in the final years of their masteries in Transfiguration and though he was tempted to bring them in immediately, it was probably a little too soon to bring them in on this secret when he planned on introducing some of them to Illos once the asteroid was down.
Derek Saunders and Sandra Kilburn knew of his plans of creating Illos so he was tempted to bring them in. Derek already was heavily involved in procuring management and overseeing development of his muggle companies despite still being at university.
"What increase would you need?" he asked her.
"400% to complete the support systems, the drives and several other devices. It would fast forward completion within twenty-two months and give us the necessary time to integrate the systems within the world ship."
Atticus blankly stared at her for a moment before he grabbed the bridge of his nose.
How was he going to pull that off?
He would have to see if he can source these raw materials from South America but he knew that they could not sustain the quantities he needed. America and Canada likely could sustain at least some amount though he would have to get creative lest they think that the companies were shipping towards the Nazis.
"If I remember correctly, other than Nickel, it is Tungsten, Aluminium, Molybdenum, Rhenium, Osmium and Iridium which are needed in the highest quantities of pure metals to forge the alloys?" he asked of her.
She inclined her head "Yes. We can use the excess material of the Asteroid to source Nickel along with whatever other quantities of minerals and metals it may hold but from the surveys we have conducted on the nickel cored asteroids, the majority of them are poor in prospect whilst the asteroid belt in general barely holds in some instances 10 parts per trillion. To create the drones to mine the asteroid field would set back the completion date by at least four years"
He frowned, his mind whirling on how to get around this new deadline.
Each of those metals were required at least in tens of thousands of tonnes.
His initial method of mass transfiguration required him to break down the structure and slowly induce change to reshape into the image he visualised.
It was an exceedingly penalising exercise, one that took substantial amount of magical power…magical investment. And that had been a purely wooden block, not a supermassive asteroid that would consist of a complex composition, let alone the rock and ore that he'd been changing that he would not have the benefit of temporarily…
His eyes lit up.
"I would be able to create several mass transfiguration arrays, all programmed to transfigure into those specific metals using the molten rock that surrounds us" he told her.
The Facility in the Outer Core of the planet, just below the crust of the planet. Instead of changing huge swathes of rock from somewhere else and ship it, he could create an assembly line of sorts…one where molten rock and metal would serve to be the base material.
His mind whirled as he thought on it further "If you could free up several different sections where the magma would feed into them, I can create arrays that will permanently transfigure them into what you need, using the same kind of wardstone I'd be using for the Asteroid."
He would use the Time Room he created in his trunk with the aid of Rowena, one that was being fed from a massive wardstone that recharged after six hours of use which took over a week to charge from ambient magic, and gave three hundred sixty hours within the room itself, enough to complete the arrays.
She thought it over. "We do not have the space for any large volume" she finally said "Nor can you create more than a certain tonnage at a time. The Facility sits on a carefully maintained equilibrium, one where the buoyancy of the Facility is dependent on how less dense it is in comparison to the Outer Core. That balance can easily be disrupted and the Facility would sink." She warned before she paused for a moment "I will have Sparkly Dawn calculate what we can allow" she turned to him "It likely will reduce the lead time but I advise that you still obtain a source outside of your…transfiguration"
He grimaced.
The goblins would have to fill that gap whilst WWII raged.
The only thing he could think off was all of the annual yield of gold for at least several years.
They would realise the position he was and try and extort him for all that he was worth.
He was already dreading approaching them for any source of Mithril.
He resisted the urge to groan. "It will be done" he told her firmly and after a glance, she nodded.
-Break-
25th of March 1943
Daily Prophet
EXCLUSIVE: DUMBLEDORE ATTACKS STUDENTS AT HOGWARTS IN GRIEF STRICKEN RAGE! WAS THIS IN RETALATION OF HIS LOVER GRINDELWALD'S DEATH!?
By: Rupert Scrimgeour
[Image of Grindelwald and Dumbledore side by side in their youth]
Nicolas Flamel POV
He frowned as he read the article, the news of Albus attacking students had been a shock to see plastered in the morning paper. The article spoke of Albus' cry of grief when he'd read that Grindelwald was dead and proceeded to attack the students and staff alike before he was stopped by Lady Slytherin before being removed from Hogwarts by Headmaster Dippet.
Only a day after the monumental story of Atticus defeating Grindelwald himself. That had shocked both himself and Perry immensely, that Atticus had managed to defeat Grindelwald alone.
They had underestimated the boy's prowess…and his ability to use propaganda to ensure he built a legend that would endear him to the public, something both he and Perry knew would be vital to their eventual plans.
"What are you frowning about dear?" he heard and he glanced towards that direction.
Perry was dressed in a rich blue dress, her silver hair rolled beautifully with each graceful step she took, her hands holding two cups of tea.
"See for yourself" he said calmly as he lifted up the front page of the paper in front of her, her eyes squinting for a moment before they widened.
"Oh" she eloquently said before she set the two cups on the table and sat down, taking the paper from his hands.
Her frown was one more of concern than it was one of confusion, as it was for him.
Albus had been his former apprentice, one that he had thought to have hold so much potential. He had liked the boy and shared more with him than he had with others.
They'd worked together with finding the missing uses of dragon's blood and allowed Albus to publish his most famous contribution to magic, The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood.
The boy had been incredibly bright, eager to learn and Nicolas had found himself quite liking the oddities of Albus.
Truly exceptional individuals were rare in their world, rarely were there any individuals who sought to fulfil their potential without inflicting the world with conquest.
He had thought he had found a kind of kindred spirit in Albus, someone who wanted to learn all of the mysteries of magic for the sake of it, rather than using it for his own ambitions and purposes.
Of course he had not been blind to the man's faults, of which he had many, namely the kind of arrogance he held with regards to his view of the world, his sense of morality being the right one.
It hadn't been something that Albus had voiced often, their work never necessitated the matters of philosophy or the future of the Magical World but once a while it had crept up and as time passed and Albus made himself into a renowned figure, it had filtered through to him.
It seemed like he might have misjudged Albus but he wasn't so sure. Not completely. The allusions the paper were making made it seem like he was a dastardly Dark Lord hiding in plain sight under a shroud of goodness and Light when it reality he doubted it was as plain or simple as that.
No doubt that there was far more at play and he already had reached several conclusions as to what was going on.
"I did tell you Nicky" Perry said after she's finished reading the several articles that the Daily Prophet released on Albus.
The main story had been the attack in Hogwarts but it segued into a detailed report of the investigation Scrimgeour had led into Albus Dumbledore, supposedly as a result of his refusal to join the war to defeat Grindelwald.
What they had reported was…disturbing to say the least, none more so than the allegations of Credence Barebones or infamously known as Aurilius Dumbledore, was in fact Albus' brother and could well be responsible for the death of the maternal family to the former Grindelwald follower.
"I did tell you there was something off about him" Perry said with an arched eyebrow.
He resisted the urge to sigh "Yes, yes you did" He said a little unhappily before he gave a flat look at Perry "But we both know that you always disliked him because of what happened with those Chinese Vases"
Perry gave him an unimpressed look "I'm not so petty to simply dislike someone because an alchemic accident otherwise I would dislike you very much" she said with an arched eyebrow.
"No, I did not dislike him because of that incident" she said plainly before she muttered under her breath loud enough for him to hear "Even if those vases were six hundred years old and priceless" she said in a clipped tone before she gave him a harsh look.
He winced slightly at the look. Those vases had been gifted to them by Esim Khan in 1617 when they'd decided to take a little journey East, something they'd delayed for quite some time.
In that era there were few mages in that region of the world but those that remained had positions of power in the Kazakh Khanate and even there, their names had been well known, so much so they'd been invited by the Esim Khan, the ruler of the Khanate.
Perry had worked her magic – no magic was used, merely her charm and presence – and had gained a friend in the ruthless but cunning individual. Esim Khan had aspirations of making his nation into a centralised state, something that he would struggle and ultimately fail in accomplishing, had struck a cord with Perry and she helped him as much as she could in helping him identify what he needed to do achieve unity and establish integrity of the state.
As a gift for the wise council Perry had given Esim, he had gifted her priceless Chinese Vases of the era of the Mongolian Empire, ones that had been made in tribute to the new rulers of China.
Priceless vases that were destroyed in a careless experiment that was done with the proper wards established to the point that even magic could not fix them, the alchemic reactions saturated the vases with enough magic that any repairing charms or runes would not hold.
"No, I disliked him because of his behaviour afterwards. Oh he apologised true enough but he never made any attempts to show how apologetic he was for destroying my lovely vases" she gave Nicolas a dirty look "And now look, my dislike was not born out of pettiness but rather out of intuition"
'That was a lie. She very much really disliked Albus because of the vases. 'Showing how apologetic' he was merely an excuse to just dislike because she wasn't certain about him amidst the confusing signals she was getting from Albus' he thought cynically.
Nicolas sighed "Yes dear" Perry did have a knack for determining if the people they associated with were true or not, one she displayed time and again throughout the centuries.
It had helped them tremendously avoid would be thieves and those who sought to harm them.
"But you weren't sure" he spoke up, reminding her of the uncertainty she felt about him.
She gazed him with a slight scrunched up nose "No, I was not" she admitted before she turned cold "And that is a credit to him, that he managed to hide true nature even from himself, enough to confuse my intuition"
"Not able to fool Emily Slytherin however" Nicolas remarked to his wife and she inclined her head.
"She does have the Corleane sensitivity, able to feel things from people's magic that is able to penetrate towards their very being." His wife added.
"My own sensitivity is not as instinctual as hers is, it is far more learned after all than it is an inborn ability" she continued before she looked away for a moment, her face had the familiar look of faraway thinking.
They had met one such as Emily Slytherin before, Laurent Corleane who had been able to discern who they were from their magical signatures alone. He had the kind of sensitivity that he could read almost all there was to know of someone's character and personality and such could pinpoint anyone from a distance, making their attempts to hide themselves pointless.
She had learnt enough from him, how things felt and how he saw things that she managed to make version of it, a highly difficult to master version but nonetheless it worked well enough for the vast majority of people.
"You're thinking what I thinking?" he finally asked.
She turned back at him, a knowing glint in her ancient eyes "That the fall of Dumbledore so soon after the fall of Grindelwald is no coincidence? His secrets laid bare before all just as the world is reeling from the defeat of Grindelwald capitalising on Atticus' newfound fame and renown?" she said amused before she sipped on her tea.
"Even if it is all true, which I suspect it to be, mostly, even if it was too flamboyant with regards to the allusions of Albus being a hidden Dark Lord" Nicolas responded with a frown "I have to say I'm concerned at the lengths they're willing to go to deal with threats"
Perry sighed before she gave him a small smile "I agree." Her finger tapped on the rim of the porcelain cup as she formulated an expansion to her words "It is something we will have to address with them but I also cannot help but wonder if this was the only way for them to be shot of Albus' meddling fingers without outright killing him"
"You don't think they need opposition?" Nicolas posed to his wife.
"Of course they do." She said in a flat tone "Whilst they are an impressive pair, they are but children"
"A child that is already an Archmage and another that promises to be one" Nicolas muttered to himself but it was loud enough that she heard.
"All the better that they have us" Perry replied to him and he looked up.
"You think we will be enough?" Nicolas pondered aloud.
He wasn't so sure of that. When Atticus Sayre had taken them up into space, he had marvelled at the boy's achievement.
But more than that, he had been incredibly wary of the power the boy wielded at his young age.
He was not like Albus, he did not believe that power automatically corrupted people, merely that it was a strong influence on people. People were never homogenous, there was a variance of all types and susceptibility to vices was one thing.
It took a strong mind to be able to resist strong vices and at times he did wonder if Atticus Sayre had the strength of mind to resist.
Time seemed to prove Sayre was capable of it but now, with the accolades he received and would receive with the defeat of Grindelwald, well…
Time he supposed would only continue to tell.
"We will" she declared firmly. "And we won't find the resistance like you think we might do" his wife told him. "Our reputation and our legend is more than enough to make two, even as powerful as they are, young people listen to what we have to say"
She continued "Above all else, Atticus Sayre is a conscientious boy, one who truly loves magic and vividly dreams to create a world of magic where the constraints that on us, socially, culturally and even magically are no longer there" She flicked her finger and the nearly empty cup of tea refilled itself, steam rose from the hot liquid.
"He values meritocracy and wishes even the smallest of people to have a voice. His idea of a ruling body is unique in the Magical World, even if it will have Royalty as its leaders. I have read his ideas and the way he is shaping the ruling body. It would not work without having a very strong Council far from the absolute power he could strive for. In anything, he tries to limit his own power to ensure it can work to its best"
She kept her gaze at the hot tea even as she spoke "I find it hard to believe someone like him would not listen to advice that would help bring his dream island – or world ship as he likes to think of it – into fruition." She turned her gaze to him "An idea that truly shows his character."
He wondered if it wasn't merely that made her defend him and his betrothed so much…after all, he had saved what Perry treasured above all else, even if they were mere remnants of they once had.
"Because he is unwilling to wage a war to bring all of the Magical World under his rule and would prefer to do it in a prolonged way offering all a home but under his rules and laws?"
"Precisely because of that" she nodded firmly before she waved her hand at the papers that laid adorned on the table and the papers that had shown Atticus defeating Grindelwald floated in the air "How easy would it be for a person of his power to turn it against the Magical World, to demand things from it?" she posed to him.
Nicolas sighed "Easily" He knew that Archmages held a kind of magnetic draw that many magicals would be unable to resist. All magicals could feel their power, even the dullest and weakest of them all and in the face of that power, all that had been impossible suddenly turned entirely possible.
"But that is what makes him so much more dangerous" Nicolas said to his wife.
"Of course" Perry said easily before she tilted her head "But we knew that, didn't we, when we agreed to join his plans to create a place where the majority of the things that ails our society is removed without war."
"And" she continued "Before you get yourself in more of a snip because your precious former apprentice proved to be exactly what you had hoped he would not be, you should be pleased that we might finally be part of a world again, one that already is paying dividends in changing that once proved to be ever resistant to change"
He smiled at his wife bashfully. He was a little annoyed that his apprentice had proven to be so…disappointing.
In truth he had been perplexed at how she instantly warmed up to the boy in a way she had never to Albus even amidst the early reports they'd received from Albus regarding the boy's character.
She had liked Atticus Sayre from the moment she had seen him in Alexandria when he had been presenting his contribution to Transfiguration for his Mastery.
They had followed the news of a young prodigy from the Sayre family with half an ear up until that stage and once they had met the boy, they keenly kept themselves appraised regarding his progress.
After all, they had always kept an eye out on the most talented even if they rarely acted and perhaps it was a fault of theirs.
He had seen his wife's fondness for the boy grow as time went by and it all exploded when Atticus had taken them into space, a first experience for the both of them, and told them of his plans to carve out a place for the magical world without needing to fight a war to defend or impose itself onto the muggle world.
At that point, they had long since been withdrawn, if not physically, then certainly mentally from the affairs of the magical world. Atticus had shattered that for them both with his words and his deeds.
And truthfully, he was happy for it because he felt, for the first time in a long time, genuinely excited about the future of magic. They were at the forefront of a Golden Age and both he and Perry would be critical.
Already he had made several headways with regards to universal leylines with the information that Atticus had obtained during his jaunts in space.
Above all else, he wanted to see conversion of a massive asteroid into a flying living world that lived and breathed magic, to walk upon its soil, climb its mountains and stand atop crystalline structures that would dot the skyline whilst clear waters and rivers snaked the landscape with magical creatures that would roam amongst the bright green forests and tropical jungles.
He had been doubtful of the feasibility of it but he had learnt to readjust his estimations of the boy time and again until he believed the boy when he spoke of doing incredibly difficult things.
Atticus Sayre was a dreamer with a way of words and a will to see them happen and he truly hoped that he would prove to be everything that Perry hoped him to be.
"It's quite unlike you, Perry" Nicolas said over his tea cup that he held to his lips. She spied him a curious look "To hold such faith in someone we barely know even if he has done us a great favour" he added.
What Atticus had done for both himself and Perry was wonderful, one that would ensure that he would not find enemies in them, so long as he kept true to his character.
However, Perry truly held faith in the child, to a degree that Nicolas found difficult to understand.
He might have a jovial nature but it was one that was coloured with scepticism.
She pondered his word for a moment before she took a sip of her tea, savouring the taste of her camomile tea. "Are you not tired Nicolas, of the constant rise of Dark Lords that threatens to upend the delicate balance that exists in our world, a balance that is unsustainable?" she turned her gaze at him, a fierce glint shone in her eyes.
"We nearly lost our last descendants at the hands of Grindelwald and in a century's time another may rise to finish what Grindelwald could not, even if none of them know their links to us. And worse, if what Atticus warned us could come true, Exposure may well come at the hands of a Dark Lord who in his neglect allows the muggles to learn of our world" she shook her head "And we both know what kind of disaster would befall both worlds"
Despite the…reaction to Grindelwald's plan, despite the abhorrence and shock at the madness of it all, Nicolas could not help but think that his mad scheme could well have worked.
And a dark recess of his mind, he wondered if Grindelwald's attempts may be replicated by another Dark Lord intent to pick up where he had left off.
Atticus' warnings rung heavily within his mind as it if it were the words spoken by an oracle. Given his Seeing abilities, perhaps there was far more to it. Atticus had never said he saw a conflict with the muggles but if another like Grindelwald should rise, with the same philosophy and aims…
He ignored those thoughts and refocused on the subject at hand, though they would not leave him, not for some time.
"You don't truly believe if their plans pan out that Dark Lords suddenly won't pop into existence?" he asked sceptically.
She turned to him with a raised eyebrow "Do you think either of them will allow such a thing?"
"Not on the island" he answered with a frown. He could not see it happening. Neither would allow the world they built to be infected by the kinds of diseases that allowed Dark Lords to come into existence. Unless…
"I could see them facilitating a rise of one somewhere else in the Magical World if it suited their purposes" Nicolas said to his wife.
Perry looked at him curiously as she thought it over "Perhaps. But what would be the point?"
"Maybe to hasten Exposure?" Nicolas offered. He did not truly believe they would be so reckless but anything was possible.
"I doubt they'll orchestrate a rise of a Dark Lord, not when they realise the problematic nature of taking in all of the magical world." She said with a wry smile. "Even if it is the end goal."
Nicolas' lips twitched "I know it isn't funny and definitely will not be if and when the moment truly comes, but can you imagine the sheer chaos of contending with the people who for centuries believed themselves to be at the upper echelons of ruling power suddenly finding themselves with little ability to influence the politics of the ruling council that Atticus intends to build with himself and Emily as royalty?"
The idea of meritocracy being what would allow ascension within the magical world that Atticus had envisioned was one that he was certainly looking forward to.
He wasn't so sure if Atticus truly thought, however, of the sheer problems they will face with the heavy resistance of the magical world.
Of course, he suspected that it would be decades if not a century in the future before the bulk of the magical world would move allowing the necessary time to build a political and social framework on solid ground but even so, he could see many issues with it.
It would likely show him what kind of man Atticus Sayre truly was, how he would deal with the issues.
She sighed a long suffering sigh "Yes, I can. I can also see it being something that possibly we'll have to find a way to solve in the years to come."
She set her tea cup onto the table "This is what I mean with them being children. Both of them are immensely powerful but sometimes, sometimes they do not realise the intricate interactions that are required to uphold the very binds that bind us all."
"There is a quality in ignoring those binds" he smiled wryly. They hadn't been people to conform to society and sometimes it was necessary to just evade those bounds.
She nodded "True enough but not everything, not all at once."
They fell in an easy silence as both of them pondered over what had been said and what's left unsaid.
"Do you think he had to have gone this way?" Nicolas asked his wife.
"Albus? No. I don't think so. But you know what he was like, he would not listen if he believed himself to be right" she said in a disapproving tone "Which was more often than not. I have found those who are resistant to the opinion of others tend to be the ones who find change the hardest" she paused for a moment before she turned to him
"Those comments he made about the girl may have a kernel of truth, certainly from what we know, but he seemed dead set in believing the worst in her. She did not need to be all that he accused her to be and I fear what may have been had she not had a strong anchor in Atticus."
Nicolas sighed as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his teacup in his hand "I did try to disabuse him from thinking her a Dark Lady to be" he shook his head "Somehow I don't doubt that he brought this to himself by making an enemy out of those two"
Albus had claimed that he would not provoke either of them but that he would act if he believed them to be nothing short of what he had suspected them to be, most of all Emily Slytherin.
He had already thought her to a budding Dark Lady, dragging Atticus Sayre down to her level of cruelty and hatred, something that Nicolas knew deep down he would be unable to prevent him from believing to be true.
The sounds of the bell rang delicately in the room and Perry got up "Well, time flew by." She said with a sigh. "Finish up your tea. We still have a little amount of time before your staff meeting to take a quiet walk" she said with an arched eyebrow before she left.
Nicolas eyed his tea and saw it had grown cold anyway and set it aside before following his wife who waited at the door.
He outstretched his arm dramatically "Wife, I present myself" he said with a flourished half bow.
Even though he did not see her face, he could tell that she was rolling her eyes and probably fighting a smile. He felt her arm snake around his and soon enough they exited their private apartment.
They walked through the long hallways of the central building, the tall ceiling that had moving spectres of light that illuminated the halls with careful measured luminosity that was tied to the day night cycle, turning brighter and dimmer depending on how bright it was outside.
They reached the main hallway that overlooked the central courtyard which was oval shaped, the shape moulded against the edges of the main building. Trees were wedded into the background of the courtyard with lusciously green grass lining the cobbled path that crisscrossed the courtyard, each leading to a doorway. There were seats and tables in the open air courtyard, intended to be open to all during the day, free to relax in the serene environment that is intended.
It was weather controlled, wards that protected the courtyard against nature as rain, snow and so on slid off a dome of magic that diverted snow or rain into downpipes that helped water the various plants and trees that were all around the campus.
Even during the mornings, the courtyard was filled with students, young and old alike, including children younger than eleven who were taught by primary school teachers at one of the centres not far from the central courtyard who taught them fundamental magical studies, languages, mathematics and some of the sciences.
As they walked on the smooth cobbled stone path through the courtyard, they received respectful bows of the head and nods before they returned to their activities.
The excitement of meeting either him or Perry died out soon enough once they had gotten used seeing them on a daily basis.
They walked past a young family of four, the parents were no older than thirty and the twin children were no older than five and though Perry's gaze would appear to be smiling but more or less not particularly interested, he knew her tells better than anyone living or dead.
He could see the joy in the slight creases in her eyes, the firm lips that she kept tight despite the sound of the two giggling children filling her with much happiness and relief.
He felt the same, though not as deep as she did.
He turned around his hand and wrapped his hand around hers, gently squeezing it as they left the courtyard towards the main building where the majority of the current classes were held.
"I'm beyond relieved to see that a small part of us – and our daughter – still remains in this world" he told her, painful memories of their daughter remained on his mind.
She glanced at him with a soft smile before she looked ahead as they walked through the central plaza. A grand staircase stood imposing, made out of grey marble stone that matched the scheme of the interior walls of the main building.
The wall was bare, of course, as there was little to celebrate yet but he no doubt soon enough it would be filled with honoured alumni who have contributed to the Magical World.
"As am I." her face turned slightly into one grief "I had hoped we would have been able to save more" she glanced at him, sorrow and sadness etched on her face "If I had known…"
The noise of other people arriving stopped her from continuing that sentence and her face returned to neutral however he could feel the comfort she needed from the way she squeezed his hand tightly as they climbed the staircase.
He and Perry only had one daughter, one that was born before he had discovered the Philosopher's Stone and used it, making himself and Perry barren and unable to have any more children.
It was a price they had paid unwittingly and severely.
Their daughter had refused the stone once she had known the effects and what it would entail and with saddened grief they had let her go live her life.
The lack of more children had not truly been ruinous for they had descendants as their daughter had children and their children had children. Unfortunately, all but one line still remained, a Swiss family that had found itself targeted until only the youngest of the family remained alive but imprisoned.
Luckily they had been successful in scrubbing their history and links to their descendants, ensuring that none could wield their blood against them but fate still conspired against them when they heard the horrors that happened to those who were captured.
And so they asked.
They asked Atticus to save a family…their family which he did without further demand or question.
For that, Nicolas thought, he would help the boy in whatever way he could, even if it meant he worked against him in some capacity or another.
Soon enough they arrived at their destination.
The rest of the morning was spent with briefing with their Professors, several of whom had been given special disposition by the Irish Ministry to teach their craft.
After the acceptance of the Irish Minister Connor Freyrie to allow the classified Gray and Dark branches of magic to be taught at Seshat Institute of Magic and Science, or SIMS, he and Perry set about inviting several Masters of those arts to come teach at SIMS and all of their first picks had chosen to accept.
Rituals, Blood magic, Shadow Magic, Shamanism and Dark Arts were now all subjects that were taught at the school along with sixteen different branches of magic, both NEWTS level and Mastery level.
It had been quite the challenge, to come up with a curriculum that shifted away from the traditional way teaching Mastery level magic but in the end, they succeeded quite ably.
Most of the Masters already had apprentices in various stages of their apprenticeship which allowed them to serve as assistant professors and a paid salary that was quite generous. This allowed the work load of the Masters to be significantly reduced whilst also ensuring that the students had the necessary time with their Masters and the apprentices to complete their degrees on time.
In addition to that, whilst it was not mandatory for students to take on a mundane subject, it was encouraged in the way of reduced fees and scholarships.
They'd found several squibs and muggleborns who had taken mundane degrees in America, Australia and in the Isles who could fit in straight away in teaching scientifically illiterate students to eventually a graduate level by the time they attained their Masteries.
The Mastery courses were five years long, two years longer than what they were typically. This was because Mastery students were required at SIMS to provide research and magical development during their time at the school.
This addition to the Mastery program served several purposes; One, it would help them establish themselves within the field they are growing an expertise in with a unique contribution to their field whilst also retaining a significant royalty to whatever they created thus setting them up financially as well, two it would allow them more time to get used to the mundane subjects they undertook, get used to the scientific way of approaching things, something that both he and Perry agreed was a useful way of approaching many facets of life and it would be good for them in the long run to allow a different train of thought than the common way.
Speaking of students, currently they had over two hundred students on Campus, not many compared to the Great Schools of the Magical World but they had never truly intended to become a competitor for those schools, especially considering that nearly all of the students here were seventeen and older, the majority being well in their twenties and thirties, those who had not had an opportunity to apprentice to a Master but always wished to, one reason or another preventing from doing so.
Those students were most eager to take advantage what was offered to them, most of them being from poor magical families with no nobility in their history or muggleborns who had been denied opportunities because of their heritage.
The fact that they offered schooling for children below the age of eleven was a huge bonus to their students as it allowed several families to attend without concern.
That is not to say the nobility scorned them, no, there were plenty of those around, the name Flamel had been a draw that many could not refuse despite the varied background of students and staff alike that resided at the school.
They were the most resistant to take mundane subjects but that was fine. As time passed, he expected in the coming years that everyone took at least one mundane subject along with a Mastery.
Arrogance and prejudice after all tended to be whittled away when your peers, no matter how much you disliked calling them your peers, did as well or even better than you did and when they would begin to understand that mundane subjects would allow them to come up with ideas and understanding that would aid them with their magical studies, he expected much of that arrogance and prejudice to be significantly reduced.
And the magical world would be all the better for it.
With the war now seemingly at an end, Nicolas expected the number of students to increase quite drastically, the disruption the war had in the magical world had been severe and the number of casualties were horrendous, likely would leave many children and young magicals without their elders to rely on.
They would offer to pay for those children to come and study at the Irish school of Magic, the younger ones at the on campus primary school, whilst offering a full scholarship to those who wished to take their studies further.
They had plans to expand the number of staff in the next year or so already, wishing to have at least two Masters per subject, who would have their own apprentices, effectively quadrupling the number of professors at the school.
Those apprentices would be offered a position at the school in the Research Centre, one that would be focused on creating magic and artefacts for the consumption of the Magical world, aiming to ignite a Golden Age of Magic. They were already seeing positive results.
When the day drew to a close, classes having finished and people retired to their own devices after dinner, he took a moment to walk around the large Gardens at the other side of the campus.
The Garden was illuminated with floating balls of dim white lights that were about five to ten metres in the sky.
The Garden was vividly green with numerous colourful flowers that he recognised. Some were magical but most were mundane. The trees that adorned the garden were all apple trees of differing kinds, something that Perry wanted the school to have.
He heard a phoenix song and he smiled to himself. The evening sun was in its dying embers, the dim shine of the lights added to the peaceful song.
He saw a woman sitting there, the bright red feathers of the phoenix obscuring her as the tail curled around the woman's neck.
He walked up to the woman and spared a curious glance before he sat next to her. She had a crossword puzzle on her lap, intently focused on it.
She came here not too long ago, allowed in on Atticus' recommendation.
He'd heard of her of course. How could he not?
Credence Barebones…or Dumbledore if you like, was infamous even more so after his apparent defection. And the woman who had stood by the man, through good or ill had become known to many people.
Speaking of young Credence, his survival against Grindelwald by the skin of his teeth had been reported, deep within the papers and it come to a relief to the young woman before him.
"Have you decided?" he finally asked.
She hummed beautifully, playing with the phoenix's feathers, Fawkes, he'd been told, as she kept her gaze on the crossword puzzle even as she spoke.
The bird was very popular amongst the student population and was often one could spot students feeding the phoenix berries.
"Is the answer still the same?" she returned.
She looked up from the paper, her black eyes studying him intently.
He sighed and met her gaze "It will be difficult" he told her.
She smiled beautifully "Many things worth doing tend to be difficult"
He laughed heartily "Not when it means having to deal with fools in the ICW" he said with a raised eyebrow.
"Besides…he might not agree" he warned her.
"He will" she stroked Fawkes' feathers. "Especially when he learns that you're helping" she said meaningfully, a glint of happiness and gratitude shining through her eyes.
Fawkes crooned softly, almost sorrowfully as the phoenix's black eyes stared at Nicolas.
He felt a little hint of guilt creep in to him.
He shot a dirty look at the phoenix. Cheating little flying rat.
He looked back at the Asian woman who began to work on his crossword puzzle again.
Damn his curiosity.
He half glared at the phoenix.
Damn the phoenix.
"Alright." He finally said after a moment. "I've changed my decision." He paused for a moment. It was going to be quite the hassle, he thought disgruntled.
"The Irish Minister won't be much of an issue and will support us" after several concessions no doubt.
He hoped Perry would forgive him for many more dinners with Connor Freyrie and his wife.
Though…
He suspected she would approve.
She had a weakness for sappy love stories.
And perhaps, he did too.
Her head quickly rose and turned to face him.
"Thank you" she said, happiness shining through on her face. Fawkes crooned softly, seemingly approving of his decision.
He stared at the phoenix, peace and soothing calm filling him.
"You better stay away from Perry." He muttered. He didn't need her armed with a phoenix.
He'd never win an argument again.
-Break-
Leonard Spencer-Moon POV
He held his face in his hands.
He remembered Dumbledore requesting the boy be marked as a Dark Lord for the slaughter that had taken place at the Provydetsi family home.
He had nearly thrown him out the door that day, the absurdity of requesting such a thing against the oldest House in Magical Britain when they were simply acting in self defence in a way that was completely legal had been high.
And now…
He removed his hands from his face and gazed down at the papers
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE: NOT THE MAN YOU THINK HE IS!
By: Rupert Scrimgeour
It was the evening paper, once more focused completely on Dumbledore. The attack on Hogwarts had been shocking enough but what had followed in this edition…
Well, suffice to say it was grim. The connections to the acts that Dumbledore was accused of committing were allusions made by the reporter who, unfortunately, seemed to have a well of information that was proving him to be more right than wrong as time went by.
The door to his office opened and Yaxley, the Director of the DMLE walked in and took his seat, his stern expression gave little away.
"Are the stories right?" Leonard asked almost in a despondent tone.
"Unclear to say" Yaxley said "But things are leading towards that conclusion however." Yaxley paused for a moment "His magical signature has been captured at the Dipplesworth home."
Leonard spied a glance at Yaxley "Why are you calling it still the Dipplesworth home? Shouldn't it have been returned to the Ministry once the family line died out?"
Yaxley pursed his lips "It seems like someone had made a claim to the home through the Ministry" Yaxley's eyes grew hard "And it seems like we are unable to trace back to whom the claim belongs to and neither can we determine who exactly filed the claim. Given the unimportance of the home and the land it sits on, it would likely never been investigated had we not specifically looked at the home after the allegations made in the paper"
Leonard groaned, unable to resist this time "It all adds up" he said as he once more placed his head in his hands.
"It seems so" Yaxley said.
What a Merlin damned mess. How was he going to get out of this one?
Rumours before Sayre defeated Grindelwald had been that he had been having secret meeting with Dumbledore discussing the war and Dumbledore's role in it.
At the time he had welcomed it, the attention and publicity it had given him to be around a powerful wizard who could stop Grindelwald had been…nice despite the IMP's attempt to erode the public view of the man.
It had been a good decision, to remain in good standing with his supporters, especially when Dumbledore's beliefs had been continued to gain traction, despite the negative view the IMP had been spinning.
That had been fine when the war had at most been at their doorstep and they remained out of it. Sayre's unilateral declaration of war had hampered much of Dumbledore's pull, even more so when Sayre had been wracking up victory after victory.
He had ensured the Daily Prophet wouldn't make such claims under his authority as Minister but here they were, they sprang this dragon dung of a mess without even informing him!
"What of the Dipplesworth inheritance?" Leonard asked, unsure what it was he was hoping for.
"Untouched." Yaxley answered "There is an heir to the wealth as you know, small as it may be, and that might have well prevented any further…foul play"
Leonard nodded grimly.
"How is the search going?" Leonard asked of Yaxley.
"Ongoing" Yaxley said brusquely "We have questioned the brother but unless we can get him thoroughly interrogated, we won't get anything from him." Yaxley pointedly said.
Leonard shook his head. He was already on thin ice. To authorise the use of truth serum or Legillimency without consent would be illegal even if Aberforth Dumbledore was a half blood.
And Aberforth Dumbledore would be a fool to allow that to happen if he wished to protect his brother.
"No, we can't. It's off the table" Leonard said firmly and Yaxley looked at him with a look he did not like…it was one of understanding of his situation and perhaps even calculation.
Yaxley would not be the only one who smell blood in the waters.
"Set everyone on him, I want him found." Leonard said finally. He knew the Auror Department was already putting it as a top priority, the level of the scandal necessitated it.
"We are doing what we can" Yaxley said firmly "We have already tuned onto his magical frequency but it seems like he's able to mask it to a degree making this a lot harder. Not only that…" Yaxley paused deliberately.
"I am uncertain if we can reasonably bring him in using non-lethal force" Yaxley said slowly and Leonard blinked after a moment and looked at Yaxley with a serious expression.
"Why?" he asked.
"Dumbledore is an Archmage…one of prodigious transfiguration talent. Once he resists…" Yaxley trailed off meaningfully and Leonard slumped back in his chair.
He had not forgotten that little fact, of course not. He only hoped that the DMLE could figure out a way to stop him without needing anything from him.
Over the years, they had worked hard to develop methods to stop powerful wizards from causing harm to Britain and how ironic was it that the individual that many had placed their hopes in would ultimately be the one who would be targeted using those methods?
He could only thank Mother Magic for having the wisdom of not letting him peruse the detailed defence plans in the event Grindelwald crossed the Channel.
Yaxley continued "He is reputed to be on the same power scale as Grindelwald" Yaxley said pointedly "How are we to contend with that with merely stunners? Not to mention you had dozens of our best shipped out for some unknown mission with Lord Black" Yaxley's eyes showed nothing but Leonard could practically feel the deep interest in that mission.
To say Yaxley had been unhappy when he had ordered well over seventy Aurors to go with Lord Black, would an understatement.
It was, perhaps, the moment he had lost whatever slight loyalty the man had held to him.
Leonard coldly looked at him "If that is what it takes, then I will authorise lethal means to subdue or eliminate Dumbledore" It actually would aid him significantly and remove a problem before it could grow into the final nails of his coffin.
He had plenty of those surrounding him, Dumbledore did not need to be another.
The things they had discussed, the things that Dumbledore wanted…
Yaxley remained silent for a moment before he nodded "I will have it done. It will reduce the risk to my men and alleviate a lot of their concerns."
'Not to mention it would likely bolster their opinion of you once you told them that you fought for them to be able to defend themselves' he thought cynically.
"Good thing his allies have practically abandoned him after the second story was released." Leonard mused.
Yaxley only grimly nodded "To think he swindled several mudbloods" he shook his head. Leonard could only smile thinly at that.
Yaxley was not in disbelief in the act itself, merely that it was never done before.
Occasionally there were squib-born descendants of extinct lines that could claim a heritage denied to pureblood families for some inextricable reason.
It was not talked about and none of it was made public, only the right families that had kin work at the Ministry tended to know about such things.
There once had been a squib-born of the House Winterdon, one of the thirteen Elder Houses of the Wizards Council, the governing body that preceded the Wizengamot, that managed to lay claim to the Winterdon estate back in 1801.
The Winterdon family had been a matriarchal family, one that had special requirements in order to inherit Head of House Winterdon like so many such Ancient Houses did.
Though the House was officially designated extinct many centuries ago, there were still a few cadet branches of the Most Ancient House of Winterdon and Xavier Charleston had been part of such a cadet branch.
And yet, none of them could lay claim to the Winterdon estate other than this muggleborn girl, someone who seemed to have but a merest trickle of magical blood in her veins and yet the family magic had chosen her.
Suffice it to say, it had sent an uproar amongst the nobility that such a person could be counted among them and before the year was out, she had died in an 'accident'.
As did the muggle family she belonged to and whatever kin they could find.
Since then, it had been abundantly clear that any such occurrences could not happen again and thus any information of heritage tests was kept from those who came from the muggle world lest they upset the balance of power and muddy their world.
What Albus Dumbledore did was ingenious and at the same time vexing.
That reporter managed to find one of the students Albus Dumbledore had introduced to the Magical World and upon deeper investigation had found that Albus Dumbledore had been swindling a lot of these squib-born descendants who knew nothing.
From the investigations, Albus Dumbledore had managed to secure himself their wealth through dubious means.
Scrimgeour, somehow, had found out the scheme that Dumbledore had played, testing muggleborns for any unclaimed estates and swindling them out of that wealth completely unknown to them.
Many purebloods would not have blinked an eye to that given they were merely muggleborns but it was the principle that this man was a deputy Headmaster and supposedly of the Light.
That story had sunk any protests his allies might have had regarding the ruinous demonization Dumbledore had been receiving after Hogwarts, especially once the Goblins had verified it to be true.
They may not care about Wizards swindling one another but they did care about not being held to account for this.
The DMLE swiftly put an order to put a hold on all of Dumbledore's accounts with their 'aid'.
He was already having his contacts see what he could to do to seize all of his gains…for the Ministry of course.
He would certainly need it given how…short his remaining stay as Minister could well be.
"It only proves how dangerous he is" Leonard sighed before he gazed at Yaxley "Keep me informed of anything you find"
Out of the things that had besieged Leonard, why this had to happen he could not fathom.
Who know that Dumbledore could have been involved with Grindelwald in that way.
That he was…
Grindelwald's lover…
Leonard fought the urge to despair, all that he had worked to crumbling around him.
Yaxley stood up and bowed his head slightly "I will Minister" and he left.
Leonard sat there for a while, pondering on what he could do before he shook his head. There was little in his control at this point.
'It seems like he had no control at all' he thought bitterly.
The Sayres, the Blacks, even the damn Malfoys had eroded all of his influence and powerbase to the point that he could little but tweedle his thumbs, hoping that they would destroy each other instead.
Leonard narrowed his eyes as the gears in his mind began to shift.
Perhaps…
Perhaps, that was something he could do and it would get their attentions away from him, leaving him free to work out a way to once more obtain the influence he once held in his early years.
Despite the threat of permanent disgrace of himself and his family line, perhaps there was something he could do that return a modicum of control back to his hands.
-Break-
Emily POV
She traced her finger tips on the stone as she made her way up to the Headmaster's office. She reached out to the magic in the smooth stone that made up Hogwarts and hummed in response.
It was...is...the first place that felt like home. The magic that welcomed her, the first of its kind she's ever experienced.
She might have made a home with Atticus but Hogwarts would always be someplace special to her.
The walls that chimed and soothed with rich magic seeped into its ancient stone, the generations of students casting their magic within its halls and rooms left an imprint on the grand school, one that built on the foundations of what the Founders had done.
The school had been a work of passion, none could highlight this more than Salazar Slytherin himself in the few entries when he had reminisced about the early days in his closing pages of his last book.
The fall out between the Founders was one that he regretted even if he believed himself to be right, the threat of muggles and the dangers muggleborns raised by them presented was something that was unwavering even at the close of his life.
Emily bent her fingers and pressed them harder against the stone, dragging her fingers across the ancient stone like claws.
She would ensure they would not be able to destroy all that her ancestor had built and would see to it that Hogwarts would remain standing a thousand years more.
She arrived at the Headmaster's office door and she looked at the Gargoyle "Tempest" she said simply as she spoke the password she was given.
The gargoyle stepped aside and she proceeded into the office. Memories came to the forefront of her mind, of the first time she had been in the office.
To ask if she could remain here during the summer instead of going back to the muggles despite having already having been offered a place at the Sayres.
"Lady Slytherin" the familiar old baritone voice of Headmaster Dippet called out.
She inclined her head slightly, looked up and saw him standing there on the second floor.
"Headmaster" she said politely as she beckoned towards him and rose up the stairs. She got to the second floor and Dippet hobbled over to his seat behind a cluttered desk, filled with islands of parchments.
"Apologies about the mess" Dippet said in a hastened tone before he gestured towards the seat in front of the desk. "Please take a seat" he offered and she took it.
"Did I come in an inopportune time?" she questioned as she eyed the documents.
He shuffled in his seat in an attempt to settle himself before he looked down at her from behind his oval glasses. "No, you did not. I had planned to finish this work before it was time for our meeting but something else came up and…" he waved lazily with his wand at the documents and they began to float before sorting themselves neatly into a pile before they flew away towards one of the shelves behind Dippet.
"Related to the…incident of a few days past?" she asked mildly, her tone gentle even if her eyes were sparkling with interest.
His eyes grew darker "Yes. It seems like the ramifications of the…incident…will have a lasting impact for some time to come" he brightened up before he clapped his hands and folded them in front of him as he leaned forward, whatever dark cloud had settled above him seemingly disappeared "Now, we're not here to discuss that, I'm sure you heard and said enough to the Aurors about it to last you a lifetime" he chuckled though she could tell it was forced.
He wasn't wrong however. To say Dumbledore's outburst had consequences would be to say 'It was only a bit of rain' during a torrential rainfall in the tropics.
Aurors arrived five minutes later after Dumbledore had been evicted once one of the staff had been the foresight to call them and she had been subjected to a series of questioning for the last few days.
It had been quite fun, to play the perplexed student who did not truly understand his outburst or the hatred he had shown her. She told the aurors that she had always the feeling that he never really liked her, once more drawing to the interview she did when she outed herself as Lady Slytherin, but never did she think it was that bad.
She told them she did think the grief he had shown likely meant that it was true that he and Grindelwald were closer
Parents and close family relatives had poured into Hogwarts, the sheer outcry against Dumbledore was delicious.
She was quite certain she must have looked deranged in the last Slytherin Hierarchy meeting when they'd discussed the impact of Dumbledore's words and actions.
After all of these years, she finally got her revenge for the way he discarded her and plotted against her.
She had been hailed a defender of Hogwarts and given the Special Award for Services to the School, something that she quite enjoyed especially given how much of it had been orchestrated.
What she hadn't expected however was the articles in the Daily Prophet that came in the following days, the sheer character assassination that honestly surprised her.
Scrimgeour truly destroyed his reputation beyond repair and if the evidence he had brought forth was true…
Out of all the things she wouldn't have expected him to do was the defrauding muggleborns and orphaned children.
So much so that she began to suspect that Atticus had planted that information though how he would do that with the way the Goblins operated, she had no clue. She would have to ask him.
"Yes, I am here to formally give you notice that I am withdrawing from Hogwarts, effective immediately" she told him.
He solemnly nodded. "I have been aware of your examinations in both OWLS and NEWTS and have expected this" he sighed before he glanced at her with a small smile "Doesn't mean I do not wish for you to reconsider. I have spoken with Professors Fawley and Slughorn." He said, peering down his glasses. "They would like to offer you a dual apprenticeship in Charms and Potions." He flicked his wand and brought to her a piece of parchment.
She took it and looked it offer. It was a formal offer and contract, a standard apprentice one though one that spaced out the Charms Mastery to be completed after Potions.
She suspected she was going to be offered it by the way Slughorn had acted but she was surprised by the offer from Fawley.
She glanced at Dippet "Highly unusual to be offered apprenticeships without the masters present" she commented.
Dippet chuckled softly "That is my fault" he admitted to her "I wanted to offer you this myself along with an offer of my own"
She leaned back in her seat waiting for Dippet to expand which he did.
"I would like you to study Defence Against the Dark Arts under me" he told her seriously, once more surprising her. She knew that Dippet had written several books on DADA, many of them acclaimed though they were largely forgotten in the midst of more modern popular books.
That is not to say that Dippet's books were useless…on the contrary, they had actually been quite insightful, simply a lot more intellectually engaging as they tended to be somewhat philosophical which wasn't what most wanted from their DADA books.
Dippet must have caused the slight look of surprise and smiled "I used to be quite the world champion, over a couple of centuries ago of course and though I might not be spry enough to keep up physically, I do have a great depth of knowledge that I am able to impart on you"
"Why?" she bluntly asked, her eyes intently boring into him.
She remembered the first time she had been in here, denied the right to remain in safety at Hogwarts when the muggles had been bombing London relentlessly.
Had she not had the opportunity to stay with the Sayres, people Dumbledore could not bully in ensuring they retract their offer, she would have been forced to stay with the filthy muggles and likely forced to hide out like a rat in one of the bomb shelters…or worse.
The offer was great, to be offered three apprenticeships by renowned figures, even if Dippet was no longer truly known for DADA.
He sighed deeply "Penance" he simply said and she narrowed her eyes.
"For allowing Dumbledore to conduct himself as he did before he shattered his reputation?" she bluntly said, her ire with the man before her rising with no intention on her part to reign it in.
The portraits behind Dippet muttered disapprovingly at her tone and words but she paid them no mind.
She no longer needed to mince and mind her words against those who held a position of power.
She had power now too.
Greater than Dippet, greater than the majority of people in Magical Britain.
In magic and in social status.
"And for believing what he had said about your character" he said solemnly before he slumped in his chair, looking truly ancient now.
She kept quiet, not out of respect for his age but merely to force the man to speed up whatever this guilt ridden conversation was about.
"I was concerned about the effects of the muggle world on the magical world, after all, many businesses and shops have moved from Diagon to Godric's Hollow to avoid the catastrophe that could have befallen them."
The modified bomb wards that were placed on Diagon had been effective, for the most part but it still showed how many people could have died had the threat not been taken seriously before.
There had been plenty of families that resided in London that lost their homes to the bombs, their wards unable to take the energy and impact of the bombing.
"But Albus had convinced me that we should not break tradition and permit students to remain at the school when the Ministry would have intervened had it been serious enough, just as it intervened to allow the majority of businesses and people in Diagon to move to Godric's Hollow." He sighed.
"The Ministry did nothing. They did not and would not care" she said with a calm she did not feel. In truth she was furious.
He inclined his head solemnly "That is true and something I ignored in favour of Albus' council. One that could have cost you tremendously had it not been for the generosity of the Sayres."
"Yes" she answered simply before she drew herself up, her eyes intently meeting Dippet's "And you do not have to worry. I hold you no ill will for that decision nor do you have to feel the urge to repay me out of guilt" she stood up, the offer in her hand.
She looked at it for a moment. Perhaps if things were different. If things hadn't been tainted by the guilt of old men who did not care about an seemingly irrelevant child who wanted to a safe place to stay.
Slughorn wasn't completely innocent in that debacle having known she hailed from an orphanage.
She had no doubt that Slughorn wanted her to be his apprentice for the prestige she would bring him. Fawley, she could see it being more genuine but she didn't doubt it wasn't completely because he didn't feel some kind of guilt.
Any other time she might have used their guilt against them but she had no use for any of them. None of them had what she wanted that she could not obtain for herself now.
She had no use for pity or guilt. Not now. Not ever again.
She turned to Dippet. "You may give my thanks to Professors Fawley and Slughorn but I have to decline" she placed the offer letter on the table and met Dippet's sorrowful eyes "Just I decline your offer" she said respectfully before she turned on her heels and walked out.
No longer did she have to bend to those like Dippet or Slughorn, to play the polite demure girl who felt honoured to be in their presence.
An hour later she walked out of Hogwarts with her possessions after a final meeting with her inner circle.
They knew their roles and to continue her work within the school. The acts of Dumbledore had shattered the existing structures of Hogwarts, the opinion and the image of the Gryffindors.
She might have done great work at mending relationships with the other Houses and the Slytherins but Dumbledore was the final blow that allowed the hold that Gryffindors held on the school to break.
They had already been suspicious of Dumbledore and no longer viewed him warmly given the way he remained at the Castle whilst an eighteen year old many of them knew was fighting a war on their behalf, which she enforced them into thinking.
But now with Dumbledore showing far from the Gryffindor standard they had held themselves to, their confidence was broken and it was time for the Slytherins…to offer an olive branch, to permanently end the schism within Hogwarts and create a unity against those who held no place in Britain…
Like Dumbledore.
Of course it would have the added benefit of ensuring that the Slytherins quietly ruled in the background.
After she past the wardline of Hogwarts, she took one last look and disapparated on the spot.
She arrived at a top of a hill overlooking a small forest and made her way towards her destination through forest, walking a familiar path.
She passed through a muggle repelling ward and made her way to the cabin settled in between a small clearing in the forest she saw in the distance.
She could hear the faint music emanating from the cabin, the familiar piece he liked to play when he was deep in thought.
She arrived at the door and walked through, the wards felt welcoming to her as they always did now that she was recognised as part of the family and she walked through the hallway, towards the living room that leads to the back garden. Her footsteps sounded off the ancient floorboards, light creaking and dull taps of sound emanating as she walked.
The familiar sight of him plucking away at the harp that rested between his legs facing towards the gardens brought back memories to her and she knew it was deliberate.
Atticus cared about meaning.
He could be pragmatic when he needed to be but he liked to make grand gestures and do things in a certain way that held meaning.
At least, it seemed, when it came to her.
She sat across from him and watched him as he played with his eyes closed, his fingers dancing across the strings fluidly, his body swaying as he led one ending into another.
He was getting better at it, she thought as she felt his magic attempting to enchant her into a lulled state, waves of magic seeped into her. He was like those snake charmers, those who danced and played tunes in front of snakes, who could not help but fall sway to them, mesmerised and unable to look away.
She let it capture her, enjoying the feel of his magic as he tugged at the strings with ever more feeling and ever more power, her heart racing at the same beat of the strings and the waves of magic that thrummed again and again.
She wasn't sure how long she was like that for as he came to a close almost seemingly out of nowhere, and the piece petered out in a way that felt…unfinished, waiting for another stanza to begin.
He reopened his eyes and turned to her with a half smile, his purple green eyes shining brightly as they fell on her.
He stood up, carefully leaning the harp against the foot of the chair before he came over to her, his movement fluid. He leaned down, her hair fell down his front but not in front of his face as he brought his hand to her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.
She looked up at him with an impassive face, one that she wore carefully and did not reflect the excitement she felt and he brought down his lips to hers with the softest of kisses.
A tease she wasn't in the mood to allow.
She broke her impassiveness and brought her hand around to the back of his head and gently but firmly brought him closer to her, their lips now firmly on one another and before she knew it, their lips and tongues were locked with another, battling out like two great sea serpents in a mating ritual.
They broke apart and Atticus stood straight back up, a small grin on his face, knowing full well what he did.
She looked at him with half lidded eyes "Did you have to seduce me like that?" she asked in a questioning tone.
"Of course" he said plainly as he walked away. He looked over his shoulder "It's the only way I know for certain I can win when I play this harp" he told her.
She got up from her seat and stood beside him, staring at the harp. "I understand" she said demurely. He looked at her with a questioning gaze and a glint of mischief entered her eye "I understand that you need the aid of a magical harp to do what I" she stepped up closer to him, looking up to his face before her index finger rose and traced the contours of his cheekbone "can do so easily" she said in a wolfish smile.
The harp in question was Cana's Harp, made by Cana Cludhmor, an ancient Irish Druid who created the carcass of a ghost whale, a now extinct magical creature.
She didn't know from whom he got it from. He only said that it was owned by someone who didn't appreciate it and that it did not deserve to be left unused gathering dust.
Atticus frowned for a moment "You know, you probably shouldn't be too proud about that." He held a look that made it clear that he was struggling to keep his lips from twitching.
She narrowed her eyes "You better not finish that sentence"
He simply chuckled before he flicked his finger. The Harp rose in the air before it went flying towards the far side wall but before it could impact, the wall opened up and revealed a hidden place, one that the harp flew into. The wall closed up and Atticus pulled her and stared down at her.
"You've been busy" he murmured softly, an intense look in his eyes.
She hummed "I have" she said with a deliberate smile.
"Did you have to antagonise Dumbledore?" he asked, getting straight to the point "It could have wrong"
She tilted her head "Did you have a vision where it went wrong?" she asked genuinely curious.
"No" he admitted "I read the paper, reading enough to know you instigated his exit. I haven't exactly slept for the past few days."
"That is a weakness you'll have to fix at some point" she said with a raised eyebrow. He had a powerful ability but constraint to only form during his sleep. Surely there was a way to activate it in another way.
"I'm aware. There isn't exactly much on my version of Seeing since it seems to be quite unique to my family" he looked at her with a fixed look "Nice attempt to change the subject though."
She merely shrugged in his arms "I didn't actually have to do much to instigate him" she said with a frown "He was far more erratic than I expected."
Dumbledore should not have reacted like that. She expected a reaction…to slowly build him into a rage causing him to attack her but she never expected such an outburst.
Atticus frowned for a moment "I wasn't completely sure if Dumbledore loved Grindelwald. I suppose this answers the question." His eyes darkened "The trap worked, I received the signal"
Her eyes brightened, her lips contorting to a savage smile "Oh?" she purred in delight and he expanded on it.
It was a combination of a nasty withering curse, one of Egyptian origin modified to be more fast acting on those who were more magically strong, and a permanent spell modified to be strengthened significantly.
"Surely he's dead by now" she pondered aloud.
He grimaced "I wouldn't count him out." His eyes darkened "Grindelwald survived. If he survived, Dumbledore could live long enough to be a problem. The last thing we want is a resurgent Dark Lord with a vengeful Archmage"
They remained silent for a moment, digesting that prospect. Dumbledore's magic had been powerful and truly made her momentarily regret her decision to taunt him.
She wasn't as strong as him, not yet, not when she still had several maturities to go through and to train her magic further.
"No more Hogwarts" he spoke up, breaking the silence as his arms wrapped around her.
"Yes" she confirmed and she told him about the offer she'd been given.
"Did you ever consider accepting?" Atticus asked.
"No." she said immediately. "There is little purpose in apprenticing now, not when I could go to SIMS and learn more from the professors and the Flamels in a year than I would in a day with them"
"True" he hummed after a moment as he looked at her but didn't press.
"Let's go" he said to her suddenly.
"To this mysterious place where your mother and sister are?" she asked calmly, hiding her immense interest.
He held onto her waist before he swung her around, her back against his chest.
"It's time you know the complete future" he said against her head and soon enough the tell-tale feeling of apparation consumed her.
Her eyes widened as she saw them arrive on top of a small outcrop of rock in the middle of the sea.
Her foot nearly slipped against the smooth jagged surface of the rock.
Atticus held firm onto her waist. "Easy, it's not the most ideal place to apparate to but it's preferable than potentially landing in there" she turned her head and saw where he was looking at.
At the base of the rock, on their bottom right there was a small cave, which she was barely able to see from her angle, that was repeatedly being smashed by the sea, flooding it again and again as the tide ebbed and flowed.
"The entry is there?" she wondered aloud as she unfurled herself from his hands and moved alongside him where there was just about enough space to stand.
"Yes. Time has worn away this rock" he turned to her "Hundreds of thousands of years ago, this rock was a small island, not much larger, of course, but large enough I suspect that there was an easy route into the place."
She narrowed her eyes.
'Hundreds of Thousands of years?'
He outstretched his arm and after a second, a glowing trident spear materialised.
She recognised it immediately. Scal Slea, the weapon he'd slaved himself to complete.
In truth she was a little jealous of the weapon.
Though…it seemed a little different. It had a black stone at the centre of it, golden runes seemed to have been etched around it.
He grabbed hold of it, spear and man glowed slightly with magic, a small but noticeable wave of magic emanated from them.
It was a weapon of royalty, the way it glistened in the light and pulsed with magic.
It seems like he caught her look of envy and smiled at her "Do not worry, I have one planned for you." His eyes gleamed for a moment "And another surprise too."
Before she could respond he tapped the butt of the spear against the surface, and a translucent bubble like wave originated from him and soon enough the waves that had crashed against the rock now crashed against the bubble.
She eyed the spear curiously. She'd suspected it was like a focus, certainly he confirmed her when she'd asked but she never really thought it could replace his wand.
Not that he really needed either but wands were much like an extension of oneself, their magic stretched further and made easier with a wand that suited their magic.
"Do you miss your wand" she asked once she tore her eyes away from the spear.
"Sometimes" he said softly "It's been a wonderful companion. Had it survived the sheer power I poured through it, I don't think it could have functioned nearly as well as it once did, despite the deep bond I may have had with it." There was a tinge of sorrow in his voice and she could understand.
She palmed her wand, her long index finger caressed the smooth contour of the bone white wand.
Her Yew and Phoenix feather wand meant much to her.
He extended his right hand to her. "Shall we?" he offered softly and she turned to him and took his hand.
They made it down the rock and onto the entry of the cave, where it looked like nothing was amiss.
She couldn't really sense anything magical either so it made her a little wary.
Atticus let go of her hand and banished away his spear before he walked up to a plain looking jagged wall surface and placed his hand on it.
The jagged wall surface was replaced with a smooth grey wall with a flawless drop of illusionary magic.
Or that was what she thought it was despite not feeling a hint of magic.
His look of bemusement as he glanced back at her made her suspicious.
"What was that?" she asked of him.
"Not magic" he told her as the silver grey wall separated, parting without any indication that they had been two separate sides.
He walked into the opening and turned back to her, his face serious.
She stared at him for a moment, wondering what she was about to see.
Atticus' secrets, much to her loathing and grudging respect for being able to continuously being able to surprise in ways she did not expect, tended to be huge.
Breaching into space, taking her up to see the world from atop…Illos, the fact that he'd seen her alternative self and what she could have turned into…
For some reason, she thought that this secret may well be greater than any of them.
She began her stride, slowly and steady.
"This will change your worldview of many things Emily" he smiled softly at her as she crossed the distance.
"Things that seemed impossible, even to one who thinks magic can do the impossible will no longer be insurmountable." He told her, his eyes fixed on her as she stepped into the strange box like room.
He took her waist, drawing her into him as they stared at one another "You once wondered why I always focused on both magic and science though admittedly, I never expected really what the potential of science could have yielded until not too long ago" he admitted to her with a small wry smile before he grew serious once more.
"You will see today why with Magic and Science, there is nothing that can stand in our way" his eyes bore the same fire that he had when he told her of his ambitions.
The doors closed behind her and for some reason she could not help but think another set of doors had opened.
-Break-
Grindelwald POV
Agony…
Awareness had brought to him a world of non-existence, a place where his consciousness swam in the seas of the Void.
Who was he…
Agony had seeped into the cracks of his soul, helpless fear and rage thundered into his mind…
Why…
A distant echo of what senses he had remaining had rung within him, his body seemed to settle onto a hard surface.
"Ge…" he heard, somehow, from someone or something, one of his senses seemingly working even if it diminished. If only that hadn't been the only sense that had increased ten fold.
Waves of agony and harrowing pain hit him, that distant echo washed over him like a thunderclap, one that happened again and gain.
It felt unrelenting, the force of sanity breaking pain that seemed to engulf him, drown him.
Please…no more…
'We do not beg' echoed in his mind, a familiar voice and a familiar strength.
What did the voice know of his pain?
'We know pain like it is a son. We are Gellert Grindelwald. We. Do. Not. Beg.'
Gellert…Grindelwald…
The waves of pain ebbed away, if only for a moment and he…
He remembered...
He was Gellert Grindelwald, the most powerful Dark Lord to exist.
How…
At that moment, a visceral assault of memories assaulted him.
A cry out of rage and hatred emanated from him but to anyone who had listened, it came out little more than a dying wheeze but none could mistake the grave hatred that would mark ill tidings.
"SA…." Escaped his charred lips, his half burnt tongue could only slightly move in his mouth but hatred fuelled him…burnt within him like an erupting volcano, wishing to blanket the world into blackness.
The Void seemed to break, hues different from the total blackness began to form.
Somehow he could almost see again, being able to make out the slight differences in forms through darker and lighter hues of shadows.
He saw a figure loom over him.
"Can you h…me now?" he heard, the familiar way of speaking enough to make him remember who was with him.
"Esssss" he sounded out, the pain of speaking no longer debilitating.
"Good…ood. Charms will…for now."
"Whe..ee?" he asked, his tongue unable to sound out the more difficult letters.
"Beerenberg." De Galle said.
So that place the man had thought a secret.
"You're lucky to be alive" De Galle said before he began to explain his current state.
No wonder his sense were gone. He was little better than charcoal. He seethed. There was no subtlety to what he felt, the all consuming hatred and desire for revenge had thrown all reason and ambition away.
De Galle had told him the ritual could be prepped within the week but he needed his consent.
He knew De Galle's rescue was selfish and more than likely also a wish to see out the ritual they had constructed on him, someone who had little to lose despite the risky nature of the ritual and likelihood it was going to have side effects.
But he cared not.
He could only feel two things. Hatred and desire. They ruled within his shattered being and his thoughts were affixed on devouring all that his enemy held dear.
"O…it." He wheezed out, his voice sounding more like a hiss.
"Excellent, excellent! I will wake you when its time!" It became dark once more, the dulled pain that he had felt was gone and agony returned in full force but, in that moment, the burning hatred grew larger than the pain he felt, fuelled by knowing who it was who did this to him.
"Saaaaaiiiee" he wheezed/hissed out, the exhalation of air, harsher and rougher than anything he should have managed.
He returned to the shackled state of unconsciousness with nothing but a name and a glowing set of eyes fixed in his mind to go with his deep hatred that was soon beginning to define him.
