-Break-

Genelum Castle

Atticus POV

He snapped his eyes open and shot up in a…bed? Light filtered through stained glass that created a miasma of dancing colours in the room. His eyes darted around the room and realised he was in a large but bare bedroom.

'Where am I?' he wondered with not a little bit of concern. The fact he wasn't in a dark cell – or worse – did much to alleviate his concerns but even so…he didn't like not knowing where he was.

He blinked and tilted his head with a frown on his face in contemplation. "I didn't dream…" he murmured. That hadn't happened in a long time. His dream visions, most of which were of the same events unless he did something that would change it, each of his actions appearing to be invisible lines…invisible threads that he could adjust ever so slightly, just enough to change the direction by a few tenths of a degree…which was great enough to cause enough change but not enough in the grand scheme of things.

Though…the more he did so, the more it would and the more he did so, the greater the change he could make. He could not see far…It was almost like walking through dewy misty morning where you could see more than 50 metres in front of you and even then, it was never uniform. He could see things that he wouldn't expect to see until years from now, like Elvis on a black and white television or an adult Emily in the Wizengamot. He could see things that affect him but that was vaguer than the random visions he'd see of others. The further they were from him, both location and in importance, the greater the clarity…almost as if he was a stone cast into a puddle and they were at the very edges, larger unaffected by his changes.

To not have a dream now…Was it because of exhaustion? That was worth thinking on. Later.

He threw off the bedcovers and stood up. He was still in his battle robes so he was spared any kind of indignity in that regard. Plus, the last time he'd woken up somewhere strange, he'd been put in strange clothes, met an AI and found out his great many grandmother was an Ancient Human hundreds of thousands of years old…so really, so far so good.

He stretched out his body, removing the knots that were in his muscles before he also clenched and released his fists finishing by rolling his wrists. The pain was gone but it seemed there was still a few vestiges of what he'd put his body through, even if he was healed. With a content sigh that comes from stretching, he looked for his wand and found it resting on the bedside table. The familiar thrum of his wand was like the sweet smell of home after being away for months. He put it back into his wrist holster and eyed the glass stained window.

He walked up to the stained glass window and opened it. He squinted his eyes as the light of the noon sun shone directly at him before they readjusted and he realised exactly where he was as he looked down at the plains before him.

He stuck his head out of the window and saw that he was at the upper reaches of Genelum Castle. There were four towers, all equidistant from each other from what he could tell though a section near the tower to his right was damaged.

'At least we won' he thought to himself though he wasn't exactly pleased that he was out long enough for them to win. He took a deep breath and felt his magic as he breathed in and out, an exercise that always calmed him, something that never felt to make him content.

He inhaled deeply and brought forth his family ability with gentle coaxing. The world around him changed as his magic, ever present, hummed in his veins. He could, once more see the currents of magic around him even if they were but faint outlines paling in comparison when his Hyper-Percipience was fully activated. But it was not needed.

The familiar sight of kaleidoscopic rivers of magic, of power that touched every living thing greatly set him at ease, as if he once more was seeing the colour in the world after being rendered colour blind, somehow.

His magic wasn't back to maximum, the fact that he had to manually bring forth his ability to see magic was a prime example and he still felt his core was replenishing but he was no longer helpless. Well…He wouldn't be helpless against most things out there even in a depleted state but still.

He frowned as he thought back on what caused his…immobilisation. He'd known that there would be a toll on his magic…on his body but for him to be out at least ten hours…

He hadn't been out when he'd saved his mother almost a year ago…

Was it simply because he was channelling nature magic as well as using his Hyper-Percipience ability to its maximum? That it put such a strain on him that it rendered him unconscious, magically depleted and his body straining to heal itself?

He shook his head. One thing was for sure…he wouldn't be doing that again any time soon. Not until he understood why it was so taxing.

The power he felt was intoxicating, like liquid ambrosia coursing through his veins, as if the world was at his beck and call and would shake at every spoken word, would tear apart at his displeasure…

And yet, the toll was too much. He hated the lack of control over himself and the fact he had to rely on others…

No. It was necessary to take down the wards on Genelum but he doubted there ever would be another situation where that much power would be needed.

He reached out on his Familiar bond and it took a while but Fila's feelings filtered through, much to his relief. She felt tired but…oddly smug?

He snorted that turned into a chuckle before that transformed into a full blown laugh full of mirth. Once he settled down, his face twisted into a fond smile, the lines of around his eyes creasing. Of course she would find a victory in being able to outlast him. That smug feeling she was oozing did tell him that she was more or less fine. He wasn't entirely sure where she was but he doubted he'd see her until she was back at hundred percent. She was a prideful creature and would demand no less than perfection.

He sent back a feeling of exasperation to her before he got a distinct impression that she was unimpressed by it though he felt a smidgen of relief filtering through. For all of her haughtiness and Queen like attitude, she did care for him. He wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't too far away where she would be able to help if needed.

He pushed those thoughts away and walked towards the door, his wand at the ready. Even if he was certain that he'd only find allies at the other side of the door, it wouldn't do to let his guard down.

A few flicks of his fingers he silenced and disillusioned himself before he obscured his scent and reached out to the door knob. He opened it and strode out into the hallway which was empty. It seemed that he was within a wing of residential rooms from the rooms he'd spotted that had their doors open. He got around a bend that lead to a large oval living area and there was where he spotted some of his comrades, Lyra Silamontaine and Roland Clarke. They were perched on the edges of their seat, their heads hanging over a game of Wizarding Chess.

"Check in five moves" Ms Silamontaine smugly intoned. Atticus' eyes flickered to the board. He suppressed a desire to hum in disagreement. She'd be able to do it in four if she'd seen it.

"That sounds awfully similar to what you said last game…" Clarke looked up from the tiered chess board, mirth in his eyes. "Remind me…what happened in that game?"

Silamontaine threw him a nasty glare that to him was oddly a strange mix of sexy and terrifying.

'Morgana's sake, Emily's warped my preferences' he mused to himself before he winced.

"Ah!" Clarke's voice thankfully drew him out of that line of thinking as he shot up from his chair in a panicky state "Wha-!" he patted himself down erratically before a chocolate frog leapt out of the opening of his robes. Silamontaine's face morphed into a self-satisfied grin at the sight of Clarke's betrayed face.

Atticus dispelled the spells on him amidst soft chuckles and he was greeted with wands pointed at him.

Their eyes widened in shock when they realised it was him. They hastily bowed to him from the hips "My Lord…!" Clarke stumbled over his words, though Atticus did not fail to notice the hint of reverence in his voice. The deep bowing was new as well, he thought with a slight frown.

"Please" Atticus raised his hand, halting Clarke from speaking further. They glanced at each other as they stood back straight again.

"We're, uh, sorry for pointing our wands at you My Lord" Silamontaine said a little awkwardly.

"It's just we were caught off guard" Clarke's nervousness was rolling off of him.

"Don't worry about it" Atticus told them with a wan smile "If anything, I'm pleased your combat instincts are still active even during your…relaxation" Atticus said with a bemused tone before he raised an eyebrow "Though…obviously not good enough if you haven't taken the necessary precautions to spot a disillusioned enemy" Atticus stopped for a moment, seemingly deep in thought "It seems you might need a refresher course" His eyes were positively devilish.

Both Silamontaine and Clarke blanched at that. Atticus chuckled "I'm joking" he wasn't but he wasn't going to mention it now. He turned serious "How long have I been out" Both of them straightened out at his tone, their faces turning serious.

"Three days, My Lord" Atticus eyes' widened marginally. Three days?!

Fuck.

He looked to the side, a frown on his face. After a moment, he looked back at them, who were looking at him expectantly but with an air of nervousness.

"I…see" Atticus said slowly, breaking the tense silence. It seemed he really underestimated the strain he'd put himself under. If he took that long to recover…

His eyes swivelled back to them, a fierce gaze settling on the pair of them. "Tell me everything that's happened since" he ordered them, his voice carrying utmost authority.

And so they told them. When he'd collapsed, Dayton ordered them to protect him which from what he could sense from them with Legillimency was something they were proud to do.

The teams captured almost 100 prisoners, the rest having been killed in the assault or escaped. Not a bad feat at all, it was excellent. There were, unfortunately a number of casualties, their total numbers having dwindled to thirty-two, down from the forty-two that had joined him in this mission.

The hostages they'd come to free were, for the most part, safe and healthy, malnutrition and injuries aside. There were a few casualties but on the whole, it was a huge success.

They'd informed him that he was under guard by the original members of the team that watched him take down the wards. He could tell that things had changed once they had seen him.

The others had come from the other entrance that guarded the way up to this wing and all of them were looking at him in a way that left him somewhat uncomfortable.

He'd thought they'd show fear…that someone like him existed, someone who could wield magic that 99.9% of the wizarding population could never hope to wield and yet, instead, they radiated deep loyalty and a disturbing amount of reverence.

But wasn't that what he going to have to be used to?

That all of his schemes were going to end up culminating in him being viewed as a saviour of the magical world?

To be viewed…pretty much as…Merlin of the modern age and then later on as Wizarding Moses to Magekind?

He'd gotten used to the looks of awe and the feelings of jealousy when he'd walked the halls of Hogwarts but this was different…far too different. Even during their campaigns, even after his fight with Vermeer, there was never this amount of reverence or loyalty. There was respect, there was some loyalty but nothing compared to this.

After a while, he was taken to where Parkinson, Longbottom, Dayton and the rest were which was in the courtyard that had been rebuilt to serve as a command centre.

He was met with several of his comrades who bowed to him or saluted to him like some of the few muggleborns had done. He didn't need Legillimency to know their views of him were changing.

As he arrived at the railings that looked over the courtyard, he spied Longbottom and Potter talking whilst he saw Bones speaking with some people he hadn't seen before, likely the former hostages from the way they looked. They seemed to be wearing combat robes. A question to ask.

Heads swivelled towards him as he descended down the stairs. He spotted a mingling of sorts, a distinctly Asian looking man speaking with several other ethnic people. He hadn't known that Grindelwald had wizards from other regions of the world prisoner.

Longbottom must have seen him because his loud voice bellowed "Ah! There is the Mighty Thor, the one who brought the skies down to smite the pesky Dark Idiots!" He dramatically exclaimed, his arms aloft.

Atticus heard a snort behind his back and he glanced over his shoulder and saw that it was Silamontaine who looked away from his gaze, a smile on her face.

Atticus shook his head with an exasperated smile as he descended down the stairs, Longbottom walking his way with Potter in tow. As he reached down the stairs, Longbottom placed his hands on his arms and almost shook him in the excitement he felt.

"Glad to see you up and running about" Longbottom sported a large grin, a twinkle in his eye "You missed out on a lot of fun, my friend! Storming a castle, taking down the dark idiots whilst rescuing the maidens!" Longbottom closed his eyes in seeming contentment "Ahhhhhhhhhhh" he breathed out, his large frame practically deflating from the action "I can't wait to tell little Harold that his father is a man of legend amongst legends" his voice rumbled deeply, a pleased smile forming on his face.

Atticus eyebrows were both raised in mixed swirl of bemusement, annoyance and a mild bout of disbelief. He shook off Longbottom's…arms and slowly pushed him away from him, finally having some personal space again. Not that Longbottom noticed who still had that disgustingly pleased content look on his face. His eyes turned to Potter who looked exasperated but there was a twitch of fond amusement there.

"Has he been like this the entire time?" He asked of his…friend of some sort.

"He has" a chorus of agreement rang out, all of their voices carrying a hint of tiredness of that fact.

Longbottom opened his eyes and eyed them all "Bah! They're just jealous I managed to win the tally" Longbottom boomed whilst he waved his hand dismissively.

"Like Parkinson said" Bones voice came from behind Longbottom and Bones, the new guy in tow "The knocked out enemies don't count." Bones said with a judgemental look that offended Longbottom.

"I'm not counting them." Longbottom protested. Bones gave him a look that screamed 'I don't believe you'

"As much as I am…enjoying this little reunion, I've been out for three days" Atticus cut off any retort that Longbottom might have and met Longbottom's gaze who lost his affable air and grew serious "I need to know what's been happening." He glanced at the two who filled him in about what they knew which was only in regards to Genelum "and what's happening elsewhere" he turned back to Bones.

Bones nodded "I suspected as much. We'll hold a meeting now that you're awake from your…display" Bones met Atticus' gaze. Atticus faintly felt some wariness and conflict there.

He wasn't the only one. He glanced at Potter who was eying him with intense focus.

It seems like he might need to explain. At least to some degree. Distrust at this stage was not going to be helpful. At all.

Atticus nodded to Bones, agreeing to the silent questioned and by the slackening of his eyes, he knew that Bones understood.

"This is Jean Delacour, Lord to the Ancient and Noble House of Delacour" Bones introduced. Atticus eyed the Frenchman. He was a little gaunt but he seemed otherwise fairly healthy. There was a deep fire in his eyes that was making Atticus wonder.

"Well met Lord Delacour" Atticus said with an incline of the head as per decorum.

Delacour returned it "Well met, Lord Sayre" he said without any inflection in his tone beyond respectful.

Not long after, he was seated around the table with Parkinson, Dayton, Bones, Merek, Carson, Potter, Longbottom and Delacour around the table. After a welcoming that was…somewhat uneasy due to the uncleared air about his capabilities, they'd gotten to it. Longbottom as always broke much of that unease away with his jovial, affable ways. Though, it was clear he had questions too.

Dayton was cool in his interactions with Atticus that was pissing him off, not that it took much Dayton to piss him off. He'd have to speak to him about his behaviour. Usually he'd bend over backwards to prove himself to Atticus. Something Atticus refused to acknowledge, refused to acknowledge Dayton's efforts amidst the failure of his duties to protect his family…to save his father.

Delacour was representing the former hostages, according to Parkinson and Bones, and after assurances of the pair that he wasn't going to be a problem or a liability to them, he didn't ask any further questions.

"We've received word of our forces in Switzerland" Parkinson began. He was the person who, in the most basic of terms dealt with communication with the rest of the ICW forces.

"And?" Merek asked.

Parkinson glanced at him before his eyes jumped to each of them "They've progressed well and they've taken out many of Grindelwald's bases. They've also taken the Swiss Ministry, or what passes as one" he informed them. The faces across the table were pleased but Atticus narrowed his eyes as he looked at Parkinson's reactions.

"There's more isn't there?" Atticus asked sharply. Parkinson's eyes met his and he nodded slightly.

"They've received word of some of the results of the attacks that were carried out in Belgium and Germany" Parkinson paused momentarily before he let off a sigh that was almost unnoticeable but not to Atticus. "It seems…Belgium was a mixed result. The base De Galle has fallen but that casualties in that endeavour was…high."

"High?" Delacour questioned, his eyes burning. He was radiating restrained fury.

"Seventy percent wipe out of the forces and another fifteen percent were rendered injured to the point it will take them weeks to recover if at all." Parkinson said to a grim audience.

"Well…Merlin's balls" Longbottom said with a sigh, his expression unusually grim.

"Was that the worst of Belgium?" Bones asked.

"Yes but some bases were defended too well and though most of the forces survived those encounters…"

"…It doesn't fill us with confidence" Merek said unhappy.

"Doesn't fill anyone with confidence" Carson said just as gloomily before he straightened up in his seat "Did they capture any?"

"They did." Parkinson confirmed "Most of the Walloon region has been liberated and there are organised resistance rising in the Flemish regions. Most of the bases are under tight watch and the fighters there are being dwindled even as we speak. The Belgian Ministry unfortunately is in Antwerp which incidentally has the most activity of Grindelwald's followers. Even so, there is chatter that the nobility there that has long since been under their thumb are chafing and might be finally entering the war against Grindelwald." Parkinson added before he grew forbidding "But that might not happen nor might the resistance truly kick off."

"Why?" Atticus asked. The news was not good. He had expected setback in some instances but not this much.

The dreams hadn't been clear, only that battles would be happening. Even the visions of Genelum had shown they'd get in but not if they'd win or lose. They'd given no indications they'd lose but none that they'd win. Just like during the visions when they'd been fighting in France. He knew beforehand of battles to come so ambushing them had turned to be difficult and he'd figured out a way to avoid battles by slightly changing their plans.

But was he actively causing the war against Grindelwald to turn out worse?

Did this happen in the other timeline? Before he interfered?

No…he shouldn't dwell on this.

"Mannheim" Parkinson said with a tired stiff voice.

"Out with it man" Longbottom growled as he banged his closed hand on the table.

Parkinson sent Longbottom a poisonous glare before he continued "They were wiped out almost to the man. Only thirty or so made it out, and only twenty six made it out of Germany and into France, some of them falling due to being hunted."

Deathly silence filled the command tent.

"There were over three hundred men…" Merek said with horror.

"How?" Atticus asked quietly, his gaze burning into Parkinson. His fist was clenched under the table, the only show of anger he was allowing to filter through.

Parkinson sighed "Grindelwald." He answered simply and it sent a chill through the tent.

"By all accounts, the battle was going well until he entered the field." Parkinson said.

"He rallied his followers and counter attacked?" Potter asked, speaking for the first time.

"No." Parkinson thinned his lips as he entwined his hands and settled them in front of him "He destroyed them all." His eyes flittered between them "All by himself. With. A. Single. Spell"

The room descended into chaos.

"Impossible!"

"They must have been under a mass illusion!"

"I agree, Rosier is capable of it, Grindelwald must have been able to do something like that!"

"SILENCE" Atticus voice cut through the tent, his voice shaking the very room. Heads swivelled to him. He was standing up, his magic was burning in his veins as the air grew heavy.

They looked at him startled before some expressed abashed looks.

"Now…" he continued "Let Parkinson finish." He said sternly to the men who were all decades older than him but feeling no less chastised.

Parkinson gave him a nod, his eyes shining with approval before it disappeared. Atticus sat back down. "They've submitted memories. It is true."

Once more, a deathly silence fell upon them. Atticus clenched his teeth. He'd known Grindelwald would be difficult…no…more than difficult.

"No one knows what the spell is but it is immensely powerful and it is categorised in in a higher band than Fiendfyre – for the moment. It is an army killing spell like no other. Within minutes, hundreds of battle hardened, a large number of them Sorcerer level were killed almost as if they were nothing." Parkinson continued his report in a grim tone.

The tension that settled in the room was high.

"It doesn't matter" Atticus spoke up, breaking the uneasy atmosphere. His eyes were blazing in defiance, in certainty. "We'd known that we'd be facing a monster, someone who is a giant amongst giants" His eyes met each and every single set of eyes. "Does it change anything?" he posed to them, leaning forward in his chair.

"Does it change the fact that he needs to be stopped, that his movement has to be destroyed, his very ideals to be defeated?" Atticus voice rose in volume, his expression changing into a one of firmness.

"Non" Delacour answered, his eyes still shining with fury "He and his followers" he spat, his distaste, his hatred shining through his voice "Are an infection that must be exercised, to be purged out of the magical world. The things he and his men have done to us, to the people he claims to be championing is nothing short of evil." Delacour's face broke out in a snarl as he vibrated in painful anger, his magic feeling chaotic and brimming with a desire to be released.

"Even so" Parkinson said after a moment's pause that had settled in the room after Delacour's tirade "It doesn't alter the equation that we do not have someone capable of dealing with Grindelwald" his eyes bored into Atticus. Soon enough, everyone was looking at him.

"I wouldn't say that is true…" Bones said, his eyes intensely focused on Atticus.

"Hmm" Longbottom nodded agreeably as he folded his arms with a small grin on his face "We do have Thor walking amongst us" his eyes were inspecting him despite his humorous expression.

"Will you explain to us what that was, Lord Sayre?" Carson asked respectfully, the question that was on the mind of everyone in the room, including Delacour.

Their looks were expectant. Dayton's gaze was fixed on him, his eyes were giving nothing away.

Atticus sat back in his chair. He decided.

"That was not a spell if that's what you were thinking" Atticus explained. "Merely my magic manifesting in a way that allowed me to…direct at my target."

Carson's eyes widened "That's…"

"Insane" Potter added.

Carson turned to Potter "I was going to say unheard of"

"How powerful are you?" Bones asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

Atticus felt the attention on him. "Very" he answered simply as he settled his hand on the table, his palm touching the table.

"If you're wondering if I can defeat Grindelwald…" He trailed off, his gaze away from them and looked to the exit.

Despite all of his rituals and training, he wasn't sure. Despite his Hyper-Percipience growing stronger all the time, he was still only eighteen and years away from his final maturity.

Could he survive against Grindelwald? He was more certain of that.

But defeat him?

Flicker of doubts surged within him. A single spell defeated hundreds?

He wasn't sure he could do that. Lightning was destructive, powerful but could he use it to target hundreds of wizards at the same time? Lightning travelled at the speed of light but it took time for him to build it up, enough for him to be impeded, his concentration to be broken and the worst thing he could do is lose control. It was a sure fire way of dying – or worse, losing his magic as his body exacts a toll.

He was more sure that his fighting skills were up scratch but if he didn't know what to expect…

"I don't know" he admitted. Any visions that seemed like he was facing Grindelwald did not appear complete or even anywhere near decipherable…as if there were far too many things that could be changed. Many of those visions seemed to be destructive on a scale he didn't want to think on.

In many ways he was happy about that as it spoke of a destiny that was unwritten, that was highly changeable. But it also meant that any future knowledge he might have wasn't all that useful.

It did mean he'd have to ensure he was…creative and channel Sun Tzu. When faced with an enemy that was greater, he'd have to find a way make that 'greater' lesser in a way that would allow him victory with the least amount of loss.

The problem was…

Symbolism was too important in the magical world. He had to win in a way that would leave him undeniably the victor, the man who triumphed.

"Even being able to add uncertainty to the battle between yourself and Grindelwald is enough, for now" Merek stated breaking the grim atmosphere. "It makes the possibility of victory seem possible."

"Aye!" Longbottom said with a nod before he turned to Atticus "That is important. No doubt there will be a lot of despair and negativity over the loss in Mannheim and offering hope will be important." Longbottom gaze pierced into Atticus "And you, my friend" Longbottom said with a respectful glint in his gaze "Are that hope."

"I agree with Longbottom" Carson added, his eyes bearing down on Atticus, glints of pride and acknowledgement shining through his eyes. "From the moment you asked us to join in this war, I knew you would be doing your House proud, Lord Sayre" Carson inclined his head respectfully whilst he kept his eyes on Atticus "I have known your father for a very long time, a millennia of family allegiances are between our houses" he turned to Merek who nodded before returning to Atticus "and I am honoured to be fighting alongside one such as yourself, someone who your father – and your forbearers – would be so proud to call you son, not that he hadn't been proud from the very beginning" Carson eyes were bright as he spoke with passion

Atticus kept emotions from overwhelming his neutral expression. The loss of his father, a man who had healed the damage he carried from his past life still was something that hurt him. To hear that he would be proud of him by someone who knew him so well…

The Resurrection Stone hung uncomfortably heavy on his necklace in its enclosed casing.

"You doubt yourself Lord Sayre in this matter" Merek picked up from Carson "But each time you faced a challenge you have overcome it, you've thrived in the face of adversity. And that gives me confidence and assurance that Grindelwald will be defeated by your hand, My Lord, for your shoulders are the only ones capable of carrying the hopes and cries for justice that the Wizarding World desires."

Merek stood up, Carson followed as did Dayton, his expression neutral but a hint of pride was in his eyes, shortly everyone else did save for Delacour who simply watched, his eyes soaking up the scenes before him.

"You have our faith." Carson added, and ayes rang out, even from Bones and Potter.

"You are powerful Lord Sayre and powerful magicals tend to throw the world out of balance" Bones spoke up, his tone measured, his eyes showed a hint of carefulness. "But I do not believe that you are anything other than the man who is fighting for what is right and what I do believe is that if anyone will defeat the enemy that is Grindelwald, it is the man who wields one of the Elements like the mages of old" he said with a small smile. Atticus felt measured respect ooze from Bones.

Atticus glanced at Potter whose eyes were fixed on Atticus.

Moments passed as their gaze met before Potter nodded, seemingly having agreed with the words of Bones. Atticus got the impression he passed some test from the pair of them.

"Aye, it is no mistake we have the first Elemental in centuries amongst us" Longbottom boomed before his face turned in a half grin "Magic tends to balance things out. A Lightning Elemental to cast away the Darkness that threatens to engulf the world, the Heavens showering the world with its spires of light, striking down at the menacing Darkness" Longbottom said theatrically, his arms aloft. Snorts and chuckles rang in the room.

Atticus' lips twitched before he got his emotions under control that threatened to spill despite his Occlumency.

Their words of confidence in him was…something he wanted, even if it made him slightly uncomfortable. To know that those who were of similar enough station to him viewed him so highly, that they had faith in him…

He couldn't help but think, though, if they would have faith in him with the machinations he's had, the schemes he's got in place…

"Remarkably poetic, Longbottom" Parkinson drawled in his typical monotone voice that drew Atticus out of his thoughts, thankfully and Parkinson's words made several snort, breaking the slight tension that was in the room.

Longbottom simply responded by sending a pimple hex at Parkinson who simply batted it away into the ceiling of the tent with a flick of his wand after he'd drawn it quickly. Parkinson looked unimpressed before he strode forward and took his seat, unconcerned. Amused expressions were sported by most, excluding Longbottom who looked pinched for a moment before he snorted and also sat down when all the others did.

Atticus was glad for the…whatever that was, to have been changed without his intervention. "With what we should do" Atticus intervened as he glanced across the room "We need to meet up with the other forces and proceed from there."

"The forces are bound to come here." Parkinson interjected "Several of them already have hinted at the possibility of using Genelum Castle as a command base for Central Europe"

"Are Prewett and Bulstode included those forces?" Potter questioned.

Parkinson nodded slightly "They are." He allowed a small smile "They were most…effective" Parkinson proceeded to explain their exploits much to the pleasure of the men around the table.

"Hear that Lord Delacour?" Longbottom said in a goading smug tone "It seems that if we want to win, we need good old English commanders taking the reins" He said with a proud grin.

Delacour glowered and Atticus interjected before they'd go off topic…again. "And who are the ICW commanders in charge?" Parkinson named them and Atticus had met only one of the four named.

With the death numerous commanders…including his would-have-been brother-in-law, there was a dearth of experienced commanders.

The ICW had been resistant to allow any of them any commands of the forces other than their own – which they could not usurp in any way, anyway – but that might well change with the successes they've racked up.

"Are the wards back up?" Atticus questioned. They did take a beating and he could see the faint outlines of the wards.

"Most of them are already up and it won't take too long for them to be at half strength. There were cracks in the Wardstone but it can still be used effectively." Bones contributed.

"Very well, we can use Genelum as a command centre. Speaking of the castle, what is being done about the enemy prisoners?" Atticus asked keenly. This was the first time they had so many prisoners.

"They're a strain on the resources" Merek scowled slightly "Some of the men who escaped burnt a good amount of the food that was here. Not enough to cause us issues for a couple of weeks still but given that more of our forces will come, it'll be an issue."

"That can easily be sorted" Atticus dismissed "We can take some of the muggle farmers. The muggle Swiss are not involved in this war, no doubt the food they've made is plentiful." Not to mention they could just give them Draught of the Living Death or just keep them transfigured for extended periods of time.

"Have they been interrogated?" He posed to them.

"They have" Longbottom scowled "Most of them are simple grunts who got caught up in the war but some of them were real pieces of work." Longbottom's eyes shone in anger. Interesting Atticus mused.

"I see." Atticus said slowly.

"Even if they're grunts, they are criminals" Delacour said fiercely. "They need to be punished."

"They're not going to be executed Delacour" Merek said tiresomely. Delacour turned sharply at him, a scowl on his face.

"WHY NOT?" he almost shouted, his fists clenched "They are equally culpable for the travesty they have caused."

"No, they're not" Potter interjected, drawing Delacour's ire "Many of them had no hand in the things that were done to you and your fellows" Potter's expression changed slightly, his eyes showing a sign of sympathy before they hardened "We cannot execute everyone. On the battlefield is another matter, especially if they're casting to kill but these were captured without a single spell fired from them. To kill them would make us little better than Grindelwald" Potter's final sentence hit Delacour almost like a train from the way he reeled.

He clenched his teeth "FINE" he growled out before he breathed in deeply. "What do you want to do with them?"

"We'll separate them" Atticus interjected. "The ones that have committed the crimes against you and more will remain permanent prisoners until this war has ended. The others…" he trailed off for a moment as his mind whirled for a moment "I will speak with them" he declared.

"About?" Parkinson questioned, interested.

Atticus smiled "An option. An opportunity. A way to clear their conscious." He tilted his head "Some of them might not take it but a few might. And don't worry, precautions will be made to ensure they don't betray us"

A few of them glanced at each other before they nodded.

Atticus looked to Delacour "How many of the former hostages are willing to join us in the war?" he questioned the Frenchman. There were over three hundred and twenty of them after all. Just a quarter of them, once they were trained up, would a big boon to them especially after all the losses they'd suffered.

Delacour frowned for a moment in thought "I don't know" he said after a few seconds "I know the ones I have spoken with want to ensure their families are safe." Delacour, for the first time looked truly tired. "Many of them are political hostages, their families having some kind of influence, wealth or powerful mages and their imprisonment was to control said families. As we have been cut off from the main world for a long time, some even years, many of them are eager to find their families."

Delacour paused for a moment as he eyed Atticus "That is not to say that there won't be many who are willing to join but you will have to speak with them. There is plenty of…" Delacour clenched his teeth, his nostrils slightly flaring "anger at Grindelwald and his followers but once news filters of the defeats to them…much of that might turn into fear instead"

"If we insured the safety of their families?" Parkinson asked of Delacour.

"That might work but many of them would likely just want get away from the conflict." Delacour answered. "Getting most of them to wait until reinforcements arrive before they could go already was a difficult task. Only after being threatened to be imprisoned did they understand."

"Cowards" Longbottom mumbled as he crossed his arms displeased.

Atticus thought on it. "Very well, I will speak with them once they assembled in the next few days of the option of fighting against Grindelwald." There was also the matter that Grindelwald might actually already given orders to kill off the families of the hostages out of spite.

It would be…cold of him to want that but he could see the advantages of that happening. Nevertheless, it was only a possibility and he'd have to play on their emotions to get at least some of them to join him.

"Allow them to contact their families. Suggest to them that they should ask their families to leave if they're in Grindelwald territory" Atticus suggested. That at least would divert the blame from them to Grindelwald if…when he orders the death of the families he'd been pressganging now that he lost the leverage.

He hid a calculating gleam as he thought on how to increase their forces. Many of the former prisoners were not particularly well but they weren't too bad off. Much of the suffering they went under was psychological and that

Well, he could use that to increase the men fighting in their group if only to reduce the losses they've suffered over the months.

Not long after that, the meeting ended leaving himself and Dayton remaining as the room emptied after he'd asked Dayton to remain. He did so without protest.

They stood apart from each other, the tension in the room was high.

Atticus looked at him with inspective eyes. "Your behaviour…" Atticus said in a low angry whisper.

This broke Dayton's countenance "MY BEHAVIOUR?" he shouted in almost disbelief, taking Atticus aback.

"Do you have any idea, what state you were in once you finished your show?" Dayton continued, anger marring his face. "You were like a marionette, your strings were cut suddenly and fell forward and I only just managed to catch you and do you know what I found?"

"Your pulse was so weak that it seemed as if you were dead! Your breathing was almost non existent!"

Atticus remained silent. He hadn't heard anything about his condition so he listened despite the disrespectful tone of Dayton.

"You were suffering from extreme magical exhaustion" Dayton began, radiant anger creeping in his voice "Not only that" he continued with a fierce gaze "The amount of damage that diagnostic spells were showing were obscene!" Dayton strode forward, fury etched on his face.

"Your carelessness almost got yourself killed!" Dayton bore down to Atticus.

"Dayton…" Atticus looked at him with thinned lips, his eyes were as hard as diamonds.

"You FORGET yourself" Atticus words were as cold as the arctic, the magic in the room built to the point that his magic was manifesting itself.

Dayton's eyes flickered for a moment, cycling through anger and chastisement before it settled in tiredness.

"My Lord…" Dayton voice was weak.

"I understand" Atticus interrupted and Dayton lifted his head up. "I know it wasn't the best idea I've had but what is done is done." Atticus said curtly before his face softened. "You were angry because you thought you lost…" 'another Sayre?

Dayton's eyes showed tortured guilt "I already failed your father…I will not fail you." He said quietly. "And yet I almost did." He whispered pained.

"Dayton…" Atticus sighed as he looked at the guilt ridden man in front of him. He knew that he and Sophia had barely given him time of day when before he was effectively almost an uncle. It wasn't difficult to continue to torture him with the indifference they'd shown him, he was an easy target to blame.

"You did not fail father." Atticus said quietly. It was true…after all, his father had declined to take Dayton and the guards to the Provydetsi home.

Dayton's eyes snapped towards him, flickers of hope shone through even if he was guarded, as if it was too good to be true.

It was time to stop holding accountable for his father's death.

"I do not think father would see it that way nor would he want you to torture yourself with the guilt" Atticus brushed his hand in his hair "He would be pleased that you're doing what you're doing for me. Just…stop letting guilt tear you apart…Gerold."

If only Atticus could his own advice.

Dayton's eyes suspiciously shone. "I am not sure I can do that." He admitted.

"I can understand that" Atticus said quietly, an easy silence fell between them until Atticus broke it.

"I won't be doing that again." Atticus told Dayton who looked at Atticus in surprise.

"Really?" Dayton couldn't help but have some disbelief creeping in his voice.

Atticus laughed "No, I won't…Even without what you have told me, I'm not happy being unconscious for three days." He shook his head before he stilled and looked at Dayton. "Why hasn't anyone said anything about the state I was in."

Dayton's eyes glinted "I got them all to swear an oath of silence after I convinced them that they didn't needed to tell the others of the toll on your body. They'd agreed and we told the others that you were suffering from extreme magical exhaustion"

Atticus looked at Dayton surprised before he smiled and nodded to Dayton. He hated looking weak and what Dayton did was excellent. "Thank you." He nodded.

Dayton bowed his head in acceptance before he turned around but not before stopping at the flaps of the tent "Even if you do not blame me for your father's death, I will not stop to protect you in every way I can, My Lord. It is the least I owe your family. I might not be able to stop you from your desire to defeat Grindelwald but I will be at your back if you'll need me." he said before he left.

Atticus took a moment before he shook his head and walked out.

-Break-

EXCLUSIVE: FAILURE AT MANNHEIM, GRINDELWALD KILLS HUNDREDS WITH A SINGLE SPELL

By Reinhart Kimmich

On the eve of the 8th of February, a daring series of attacks of the Allied Forces was initiated that sought to take advantage of the victories that had been tiresomely fought for.

Belgium, Switzerland and Germany were all sites of coordinated attacks to strike at the Dark Lord's followers.

But it is Mannheim, one of the strongholds of the Dark Lord, that this reporter brings to you an unprecedented accounting of the events that has transpired.

After a hard fought battle of hundreds of men pitted against each other, the Allied forces seemed to be winning.

But alas, it seemed that Dark Lord Grindelwald was personally there that day and Ladies and Gentlemen, the images brought to you today are memories that this reporter managed to obtain.

[Images of Grindelwald bringing down massive silver rocks that rained down on the men in the field.]

The shocking images…

ICW UNCONCERNED BY SETBACK – VICTORIES IN BELGIUM, SWITZERLAND AND UKRAINE USED AS EXAMPLE

By Jackson Martinez

Supreme Mugwump Hando Mulan had said "The setback at Mannheim is unfortunate but the victories we have obtained in other theatres show all is not over. Even as we speak, loyal men and women are fighting hard to liberate the lands under the yolk of Grindelwald and his followers…"

The Supreme Mugwump has recently come under fire in what many believe is a series of catastrophic failure…

14th of February 1943

Alexandria, Egypt – ICW Headquarters

Cihan Aslan – Mugwump Ottoman Sultanate POV

He watched with quiet dignity as the room descended into furious squabbling, each of them either blaming the other for the failures or even in some instances, accusatory shouts that implied collusion.

His hands were steepled in front his lip as he watched the proceedings of this…meeting of highly ranked and politically powerful representatives of Ministries around the world with no small amount of distaste. These were all those who hailed from nations who pledged to fight Grindelwald and yet here they were bickering.

His eyes turned to the Supreme Mugwump, Hando Mulan who struggled to calm the room, little more than ineffective in his attempts.

Finally, the Mugwump for MACUSA, Richardson fired a thunderous spell that overwhelmed the sounds of bickering. The guards raised their wands slightly but had refrained from aiming at the American. The concern of infiltration was real and amidst the fact that the ICW had been infiltrated numerous times, especially by several individuals caught who had gone through the weaponised form of memory alteration, the environment was highly militant and stressful.

"If this meeting represents much of the Magical World, no wonder we find ourselves in the state we're in" the American said scathingly.

Words of insult were spewed from offended mouths before a withering glare from the American and several other Mugwumps who agreed with him.

"We're not here to play the blame game" Richardson continued as the room settled down.

"Quite right." Serginho, the Brazilian Mugwump said "The disaster that was Mannheim has left us bereft of our most experienced commanders, let alone the number of men we lost in that debacle."

"Many of which were French" Jacquilin interjected angrily "We contributed those people to the assault under the impression that the commanders would be competent." He leaned forward, a mutinous expression on his face "Now France once again is at the mercy of Grindelwald, depleted and in danger of a second invasion." His eyes glinted "Perhaps we should have allied with the British, Lord Sayre than to follow your lead" His words were poisonous and he could see the anger shining in many eyes, much of truly masking the wariness they felt about the boy.

It was a wound that was regularly being salted, the topic of Lord Sayre he mused. He'd met the young man almost a year ago now in this very city, Alexandria. At the time he'd been obtaining his third Mastery, in Runes.

The young man had an elegance in his runecrafting, an almost supernatural understanding of how things fitted, one that seemed to indicate a greater affinity to Runes than most families who had such affinity in their family magic.

Perhaps it was a sign, that the boy had depths within him that would continue to puzzle even the greatest of thinkers.

For all of the boy's talents…

Who would have thought him to be able to take down the Wards of Genelum all by himself, by power alone, a feat that is unheard off?

Even Grindelwald needed dozens of men to take down the wards of Durmstrang and here was a boy of eighteen years of age able to do it himself on a castle that had wards almost as strong as Durmstrang itself.

"He is but a boy" one of the Mugwumps said derisively. "To even suggest that he might be better than the commanders we have…"

"And yet, has he not wrought victory after victory?" another questioned.

"Small victories, nothing special." Another dismissed.

"And that is what you have said when you allowed him to join in the war with his own people, independent from the ICW. That he and his knights by proxy were nothing special and as such, at most, they would divert some of the attention away from the ICW forces." The Mugwump for Portugal laughed mockingly "And yet, at least in the Western Front, he's done more than you ever imagined, with a paltry few hundred that has dwindled yes, but nonetheless has taken far few losses considering the battles they have fought"

"Not to mention" the Mugwump for Greece interjected "Hadn't this body wanted him fighting against Grindelwald in the first place?"" he posed to them "Has your pride been damaged so much that you would dismiss granting him command despite his age? Is your disdain for the British Ministry which continues to refuse to join the war so great that you seek to alienate an ally of this body?" His eyes were judgmental as they fell on the belligerent mugwumps.

"His family has contributed significantly to the ICW prior to his entry in the war anyway and yet here you are denigrating his and his compatriots' efforts" the Mugwump for Greece shook his head in disgust.

The room descended into a series of arguments and Aslan could only shake his head in disappointment.

Thankfully, after a number of strenuous arguments, the meeting, in the end was resolved several hours later when the vote had gone through to ask for greater percentage of fighters from the Ministries they represented.

MACUSA would heavily be involved in absorbing ICW forces in their command structures of the forces in the Western Front…except for those that were present in Switzerland.

The Eastern Front would be left untouched as the forces there swept the Baltics before they would head into Central Europe before heading into Poland and Belarus. The hope was that the Russians would press from the south whilst they pressed from the north and east.

Another decision, one that he had not expected to pass, had been made to allow Atticus Sayre to take command of the ICW troops that already were working with the British in Switzerland.

In truth, Aslan thought that it was a mere formality considering the actions of the so called Knights of Mimpost. There were few things that could make men bond closer than a shared battle against an enemy that wanted you dead.

As he descended down the stairs into the open plaza that led to the exits of the ICW headquarters, he spotted Richardson speaking with the Brazilian Mugwump and decided to make his way towards him.

Both his and Richardson had a…rapport of some type, so to speak. The Ottoman Sultanate of Mages worked in concert with the American in the Eastern front, their knowledge of the Balkans and Eastern Europe had greatly helped in garnering support from the locals against the followers of Grindelwald.

They were effectively the mouth pieces of their governments for this war.

Richardson parted with Serginho and proceeded towards the exits "Richardson!" Aslan called out.

Richardson turned around with a curious expression that didn't change once he noticed it was him.

"Mugwump Aslan" Richardson said calmly as Aslan caught up with the American. "What can I do for you?" he asked curiously "I would have thought you would not want to speak with another Mugwump after that meeting considering the disinterested look you had on" he mused before he gestured towards the exits and Aslan nodded his assent.

They walked in lockstep in silence as they walked away from the crowds. "I would not say I was disinterested" he asked with a bemused tone "Merely exasperated at their…" he trailed off for a second.

"Arrogance, pretentiousness, idiocy?" Richardson said with a light tone.

Aslan chuckled but said nothing to that. He wasn't going to denigrate his fellow Mugwumps, least of all where they could still be heard.

"I'm going for lunch, join me?" Aslan asked of Richardson. Richardson turned to Aslan, his eyes inspecting Aslan before he finally nodded.

"I could do with a bite" he acceded, having understood there was a reason for Aslan's seeking out of Richardson.

They walked down the beautiful Magical Quarter of Alexandria, the strange mix of Egypt and the West, mostly Grecian, in full display with the variety that was available.

They eventually settled in a café that overlooked the ocean, seating on the first floor in a private booth.

They talked a little about things that were of little consequence during their meal, family, politics, trade and such before Aslan broached the topic he wanted to talk to Richardson about.

"What is MACUSA's answer to Grindelwald?" he asked finally over the rim of the glass of firewhiskey, his eyes fixed on the sea in front of them as the sun hung low in the sky.

"What makes you think we have an answer" Richardson fired back at Aslan.

"I doubt your people are happy about the massacre of Mannheim. That French peacock might claim his people lost many in that encounter but we both know you suffered the worst – other than the ICW itself" Aslan countered calmly.

"Hmm" Richardson made a noise but remained silent for a moment. "And this…interest…is it personal or is it business?"

Aslan glanced at Richardson who looked at him. "Business. My…colleagues are…" he took a moment to think on how to delicately broach the topic "considering if pulling out our men would be prudent." He thinned his lips "With the Eastern front more or less stable, retreating from the ICW is something that is looking all the more attractive with the way the war is going. Even if we outnumber his followers, which we do, it matters not if he can simply wipe them out with a single spell"

It was a major concern for his people and he imagined it was likely something that was an undercurrent to the frayed atmosphere in the ICW. He could see the splinters forming and the longer this went on…

The ICW always had a strange mandate that exceeded the function for which it was set up. It was not unlike a global government into itself that refused to call itself that. The Statute of Secrecy was its primary mandate but ultimately anything could be justified for the protection of the magical world under that remit. Of course there were laws and so on, many of which curtailed the reach of ICW but as soon as there was a breach…well, the ICW would come down on them like a herd of Hippogriffs.

But if Grindelwald continued to win…questions would be asked…what is the point of a body that could not deal with a Dark Lord? One that has been breaching the Statute and caused coup after coup? One that has perverted Magic herself?

"Truly…" Richardson mused though there was a hard glint in his eyes "Your colleagues believe it might worth striking on their own…?" he hummed for a moment "Well, I cannot blame them but it would only exacerbate the situation and you know what will happen should he win."

Aslan simply nodded. They were more than aware of Grindelwald's desire to disband the Ministries and set up his own perverted version of the ICW with representatives. An affront to their power.

"As to your question" Richardson continued "We do." Richardson pursed his lips for a moment before taking a swig of his firewhiskey.

"I will tell you this because it won't be long before the news filters through anyway…" He glanced at Aslan as he settled his glass in his hands.

"Xavier Charleston is joining the war"

Aslan's eyes widened in shock. His mind whirled…if that happened…it was a game changer.

Xavier Charleston was the current Headmaster of Ilvermony, a man in his late eighties and was a confirmed Arch Mage. An expert in Defensive Magic and a Runes specialist, he was one of the most celebrated Americans to date.

"I thought his injuries would not allow him to stand against Grindelwald effectively?" Aslan queried.

Richardson narrowed his eyes at Aslan "I will save us the time on the question as to how you know that but the injury…It can be managed. Will be managed" Richardson said curtly.

"That spell Grindelwald used…" Richardson shook his head "Is not something that can be dealt with the skilled Sorcerer and if Grindelwald has more of those…" he trailed off, the implication clear.

"Why the change of heart on his part?" Aslan couldn't help but ask. Of course there was the President that might have asked but even so…he could have joined much sooner.

Unless…

"Charles Etherton" Aslan simply said but Richardson let nothing pass across his face except for a small glint in his eyes. Of course.

"Does he hope his grandnephew is alive?"

Richardson turned away from him "Charles is…skilled. If anyone survived it might be him."

The words were delivered in a grim tone, one that reflected the likely fate that would befall on Etherton.

"I see." Aslan said for a moment.

"And I hope you know…should anything leak out of this conversation, we will know it was you and nothing will save you" Richardson sent a piercing gaze at Aslan "from the wrath of MACUSA or an Arch Mage should anything you spill endanger the life of his grandnephew."

Aslan bit down a scowl and nodded "Of course. But I will have to inform my colleagues of Charleston joining. It will be needed to convince them to stay the course."

Richardson nodded "That's alright" he knocked down the final finger of his whiskey and stood up "I will see you around, Mugwump Aslan" he nodded to the man before he left.

He sat there until the sun disappeared into the horizon, deep in thought. Charleston, Sayre, perhaps even Dumbledore.

Perhaps in one of them they'll find a champion to defeat Grindelwald.

-Break--

Shinji Hirahito POV

Shinji watched from the back of the crowd, silently and his eyes fixed on the raised platform in front of them where Lord Sayre stood speaking with a few of the other Englishmen.

A quiet rage was within him, a tempest of fury that licked every fibre of his being. His face did not change, his body did not shake, his magic did rouse from the fury he felt burning within him.

No…

His was a rage of immense control, one that was directed and yet aimless. He'd been captured under false pretences, under a banner of peace. Grindelwald had sought out the magical noble families of the Land of the Rising Sun, a relationship that the man spent years in cultivating, carefully, learning of their ways and the way they saw the world.

The man knew that none of families of the Minamoto clan, the families that ruled Magical Japan, an old branch of the Imperial House of Japan, would join in his endeavour of a different world order, one where mages stool above Magicals.

Even to the magicals of Japan, such line of thinking was anathema…to go against the Emperor. His own family, The Hirahito family that descended from a minor branch of the Minamoto clan, would never even entertain such thoughts and would rather commit Seppuku than to tarnish their family honour in such a way.

But the promises…the ideas he'd brought forth, one where Europe would be under his rule and Asia under the rule of Japan, under the rule of the Emperor, the magical families free to return to the fold…

That was palatable. The Statute had decimated their standings within the Empire and the destruction of the Statute would return the ancient bloodlines to the upper echelons of Japanese society. Magic and Japan, even amongst the muggles, always had a symbiotic relationship, one that was cut in a fit of panic because of the foolish white men hated what is but part of the natural world, all because some foolish text that deemed them evil.

They did not have the power nor leverage to fight against the Statute so they'd sat waiting, for centuries until the Statute would fall. It was fruitless.

Until now.

The Emperor had agreed, provisionally, to such a scheme and had given the Seiwa Genjo, the family that were Emperor's voice in Magical Japan, to negotiate with Grindelwald. The alliance with the Germans had been made with the knowledge that eventually the nation would fall in Grindelwald's hands, as would the rest of Europe.

And yet it went all wrong once they understood that Grindelwald was not the man who simply accept a rule out of his control. He was too gracious, too accepting of the terms that were set.

He never intended to follow through in their agreements.

It was by accident – though he was suspicious of that – that they had found out of his schemes and the evil he hid in his charming smiles.

By that point, they'd been held captive. It had taken six executions out of the twelve men Grindelwald held before the assassination attempts by the Japanese Ministry were stopped. One of the executed men had been his elder brother.

He breathed out loudly from his nose as he struggled to control his rage.

And now he was the last one left alive.

He did not know why there were not legions of the Emperor's men waging war against Grindelwald – he did not believe they would forsake the insult to their honour purely because of the hostages – but he suspected the war against China and America likely halted any actions until that was over. Whilst the men of Magical Japan would not participate directly, there were many ways to circumvent the Statute without drawing attention to themselves.

All he knew, however, was that he could not return home, would not return home. Not in disgrace, not until he took vengeance for his brother, not without sating his Katana and his wand in the blood of the enemies of his family, of his nation.

Not until Grindelwald was dead and burnt and his ashes scattered in the four corners of the world, cursed to never be reborn.

That was his solemn vow and his rage would not go until he got what he sought.

His eyes returned to the man who now was alone.

Murmurs quieted down as people paid attention to the young man.

He made for a powerful figure, Hirahito mused, one that would only grow in presence. He was wearing dark green combat robes, one that was distinctly different from the other dark red robes that were likely draconic in origin. His long pitch black hair was held behind his head with a purple silk strand, the same colour that matched the boy's eyes for the most part.

He had never seen anyone who had the kind of eyes the boy had. Beyond their odd colours, they showed a restrained amount of power that had taken him by surprise.

He'd observed the men who'd freed him from captivity and he'd gotten enough understanding of their dynamics within their group. They were warriors who had fought together in many battles, many of them were leaders of men. Longbottom in his magnetic presence that drew people in, Parkinson in his quiet assured nature and Bones' steadfastness that made him a pillar of men.

But above them all, was Sayre. The youngest of them all and by far the one that held the most influence, likely because of his power. Even in Japan, they'd heard of the Prodigy Transfiguration Master. Though...

He doubted it was merely just because of power.

"You may wonder why I have asked you here" the young man said, his voice carrying through the courtyard with ease, his head turning from one end to the other, seemingly looking at each man – and woman – with his bright purple eyes.

"Some of you hope that you might leave, to return to your families, to return to your homes and put behind this miserable experience that you have suffered" His voice was kind and solemn yet it was unpitying and his words were too breezy despite the heaviness of the topic, as if it was being carried through the air like a leaf in a summer's wind.

The crowd murmured in low agreement. He saw gaunt faces, some more unlucky with visible scars that were on their faces and he saw faces unblemished but showed far more pain than others. Wounds…injuries…did not have to be physical.

"I do not blame you" Sayre tone turned soft, his voice was mellifluous.

His expression changed into one of solemnity "I do not know what you have been through, the savagery you have suffered at the hands of men who enjoyed inflicting it on you. I cannot know what it feels like to be imprisoned months or years without an end in sight, only a voice – if you were lucky – at the other side of thick walls." His voice grew in volume, in strength as he spoke and Hirahito had unknowingly clenched his fists that were trembling in rage.

"I cannot understand the feeling of madness threatening to overcome you as you worry for your family, to what fate has ascribed, whether or not you would see them again even as hunger has set in you" His words were penetrating, his eyes shone brightly with each spoken word.

He wasn't the only one whose mind flashed back to those days from the volume of murmurs that radiated anger and hate that was emanating from the crowd.

Sayre strode forward slightly, his eyes seemed to glow, the paleness of his skin only contrasted the brightness of his eyes. "But I do know what it is like to lose something at the hands of Grindelwald and his men" Sayre's voice no longer had the soft, mild quality that it had. It was cutting and it was laced with fury.

"The consequences of his actions have wrought within me a fire that burns everlasting, ever raging, fuelling, driving me to seek justice and to bring him and his men low just as he attempted to bring me and mine low" Sayre's eyes were a tempest of purple fire as he spoke with passion that brought the crowd to life, their lifeless eyes fading with each moment, when the words registered in their minds and their souls agreed with his rage.

Just as his own soul understood.

The crowd rose in volume, truly agitated now. Sayre wasn't done.

His eyes were a dancing pair of purple fire as his expression changed into one of mild contempt "And yet, where others would keep that fire burn until justice has been achieved, until the enemy has been brought low, you, instead, have conceded the loss of your dignity, your honour and your pride and would rather slink away into the good night as if you were little more than terrified children hiding under the beds from your fears!" Sayre hissed out and he was animated, his hands waving in a wide arc amidst an angry mob that were deeply insulted by Sayre.

Hirahito narrowed his eyes.

"How DARE you?!"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!"

"SILENCE" Sayre's words cracked like a whip hitting against the rear of a bull, the harsh and jarring sound of his voice shook them all.

Sayre stood there, his eyes, eyes that were wide, were a turbulent miasma of power, wisps of magic surrounding him as the air grew heavy with the young man's magic. Magic manifested itself and surrounded the boy as he was made of it, such was the strength of his magic. The pressure emanating from the young man was unreal, the effect he was having on the crowd was immediate and they all calmed down, their eyes looking to Sayre with shock and fear.

Hirahito watched stone faced, seemingly unbothered with the display though shivers had run down his spine at his display, of his power. He glanced at the guards, at his men who stood there in silent vigilance, as if this was all but a normal occurrence.

For one to have such control at such a young age…

He'd only seen one man in Japan that could do anything like this and that man was considered to be a once in a millennia talent.

The pressure receded almost just as soon as it arrived but the impression left.

'The boy's control is immense' was a thought that dominated Hirahito's mind.

The courtyard was as silent as a grave.

Waiting for the next words, the next sermon, most of them in cold seething that threatened to turn infernal once more.

"What do I know…?" Sayre's voice was a whisper but it was heard by all, none needed to strain to hear it.

Sayre drew himself up, slowly, deliberately as he took a step back from the edge of the podium, his eyes dulling into gemstones, their shine losing their vibrancy "I lost my father at the hands of his followers, I nearly lost my entire maternal family at the man's hands, uncles and cousins are dead because they were simply convenient targets, targets of opportunity" His voice turned gravelly, his grief and rage had shone through.

"I do know of the hate, the anger and the fear you feel at your captors." Sayre said almost raggedly as he looked at the crowd with eyes that were sizzling in front of him "Some of you might have received word, of the fate of your families, news that I can see on many devastated faces" Sayre's voice was remorseful, sympathising, his face morphing into one of sorrow though Hirahito did not know if it was genuine or not and that was something truly impressive to him.

His eyes went to the crowd and he could see the hate etched on many faces, hate that hid the deep pain many of them felt poorly. He could also see the worried faces of those who had not yet heard back and the relieved faces, some of which had guilt, of those whose families had survived.

They were the most eager to return.

After all…

They had a home to return to, unlike many.

But it wasn't those he was targeting.

"You hoped, you prayed to Mother Magic, did all you could to behave to ensure that you would not be punished, or worse your family punished and for many of you all of that went to waste." Sayre's eyes dulled and his words resonated with many in the crowds, many were trembling with anger and grief as his words sunk into them as if they were the teeth in the maws of wolves.

"I have seen the defeat that has creeped within your souls, that the hate, the anger you feel cannot compare to the fear you feel, the fear they've induced in you. You hope it will go away, that you will forget as you distance between yourself and the places of your nightmares but it doesn't, it won't" Sayre's eyes shone brighter.

"It will gnaw at you, it will sink in you as it if were an incurable poison, that hatred, the anger in you will turn inward rotting you from within if you let your fear conquer you" Sayre's eyes were radiant as galaxies, seemingly able to burn for endless time as he set his gaze to them, observing, dissecting them all.

The crowd were dangerously simmering, Hirahito could feel the building rage, the turbulent storms Sayre's words were invoking in them, for it was happening to himself.

The boy's stance changed, the ferocity with which he stood fluidity changing into one of false laxness.

"You will always wonder…what if?" he whispered to them, his voice was caressing as he glided forward, the robes flowing like water as he neared them.

The atmosphere morphed, the simmering rage that was in the air turned to anticipatory as hundreds of eyes fixed on the man that was barely a man but yet stood as imposing as the tallest of mountains, unshakeable.

He leaned forward, almost if he were about to impart a great secret, his eyes holding a shard of hidden knowledge.

"'What if I had stood to repay those who had taken from me of which they had no right to?'"

He whispered into the air, his words were light but the meaning of them jarring.

"'What if I stood tall, to regain my honour that they besmirched, my dignity that they chipped away, restore my pride that they had broken? Would I no longer feel so empty, so broken?'"

Hirahito saw the flickering emotions on many faces, their eyes unseeing as their minds whirled with the torment of the words Sayre has said.

He leaned back, his back straight, his eyes gleaming with knowledge, with understanding.

"It does not have to be this way, my comrades." His voice was alluring, beckoning, the words he spoke sought to hook them all, drawing them out of the torment he's induced them into.

Hirahito saw more than one face with eyes gleaming with hope.

Hirahito knew what the boy was doing. He knew the intentions, the acts he was performing, the great manipulation of their emotions, of their minds.

And yet…

Sayre's eyes gleamed like a million stars "You do not have to wonder if you were ever to regain what you have lost!" His voice rising with each word, like the sound of a herd of stampeding wildebeest growing as they drew nearer.

Magic began to swirl around him, as if he was the eye of a tempest, wisps of emerald greens and violet purples licked at his form, as his gaze bore down on them.

"It is there for the taking, it is in your hands, your fate, the vengeance your blood calls for, the justice you deserve, it is all in your hands, COMRADES" He fiercely said, voice teeming with passion, his words seeping with entreating power.

Entreating power he could see drawing more and more of them all in as he spoke.

The furore was rising, the emotions that were contained, caged, were breaking their holding amidst the charged atmosphere, the atmosphere that the young man was whipping up.

"Break free from the mental prison they have put you in, the prison that is smothering your rage, that is feeding your fear and fight!" He snarled out the words, his words laced with fury.

Fury that the crowd felt, were made to feel. It was fury at themselves, fury at their enemies.

"Fight and cast away your doubts and fuel that righteous fire within you!"

The crowd exploded like an avalanche, the words ripped apart the cagey fury and smouldering passion soared out. Wild shouts, wild agreements were unleashed into the world, hundreds of eyes burning in agreement.

Sayre's magic rose and rose with each shout of agreement, the air was rich with magic, even from this distance.

"Fight and overcome your fears and shatter the remnants of the shackles they attempted to put on you!"

The crowd grew fervent, he could see the flames of fanaticism growing into an inferno that drowned all else out.

"Fight and prove to them that you are unbent, unbroken, UNYIELDING!"

The crowd were a cacophony of uncontrollable furore, as if the pent up hatred they'd held has finally been allowed an outlet. He could now feel the magic of the crowd, all so incited, all so lost in their delirious rapture that their magic has charged the very air even more than Sayre's did.

"Join us, COMRADES, free men and women, join in our war against a man that cares for nothing, holds nothing sacred, a man who would destroy countless of families for a sliver of power and knows nothing of what it is to fight for something greater than oneself.

We fight for justice, we fight for honour, we fight for Mother Magic, my comrades, my friends and we will prevail.

WILL YOU JOIN US?"

"YES" Hundreds of voices thundered out.

Sayre's eyes alight with triumph, the infinitesimal hints of the curl of the lips.

"When Grindelwald and his misbegotten followers are imprisoned just as you were imprisoned, when they are dead and buried just like their countless victims, you will remember this day, the day you've started to retake what you have lost!"

The crowd roared in approval.

Hirahito suppressed the part of him that wanted to join in, to join the call to arms for that was what this is.

The men and women around him, even those who only moments ago had faces filled with pain and grief were now sporting expressions of righteous anger, of belief.

There were some who knew what this was, of course, the practiced politicians, the ones who had likely seen something like this before, likely Grindelwald, who looked on apprehensively and had more than a little bit of fear in their eyes.

He now understood why the young man had all of his men gravitate to him. His personal power paled to the power of his words, the alluring charisma he wielded, that he could bring to bear.

Luminous purple eyes stood there with his arms aloft, his glowing orbs of power casting its long gaze down at the crowd.

A crowd that were in exultation, in raucous furore ready to follow him to the depths of hell, undismayed of any danger.

And, from the look of his eyes, the triumph that shone so clearly, it seems that Sayre knew it too.

-Break--

14th of February 1943

Grindelwald POV

Thousands of torches lined the columns of walls, the flames flickered, danced, as if to cast away the encroaching shadows.

Trays floated around, the glasses they carried held nourishing and vital succour as they passed by the clusters of crowds that were assembled here today.

Their eyes were not on him, no…they did not need eyes to watch his every move. Why would they when they could hear every heartbeat?

Predators such as they did not need to see where their interest was, whether they be prey or rival.

Amusement filled him.

'What a surprise I have for them…'

A tray floated passed him and he lazily looked at the content.

"Curious, isn't it?" he heard whispered in his ear, the voice sickeningly saccharine, the hot breath touching his earlobe.

He tilted his head, his eyes remained half lidded but didn't answer.

He heard a feminine chuckle and she moved with beautiful grace into his voice. Her skin was porcelain pale, the black hair flowed like rivers of obsidian into the greater body of a black dress that hugged her figure.

Her skin was without blemish, her womanly figure was toned whilst it kept its femininity.

His eyes returned to hers but he took the moment to take her face in. Her face was taut and had a slight angular shape, perfectly symmetrical whilst her nose was small but sharp, just as her cheekbones were.

In truth, there rarely was a more beautiful woman than the one standing before him.

Of course, whether or not she quantified as a woman was up for debate as blood red eyes stared at him with a single emotion leaking from them.

Her eyes went to the glass and with a deft, deceptively delicate hand, picked it up. Her eyes, briefly, returned to his before she took a sip, her eyes closing in contentment before her lips left the rim of the glass, the glass sporting the imprint of her lips.

Her lips were now sangria red that contrasted with her pale skin to startling degree. Her eyes shone in malevolent excitement, her pupils were dilated.

"How much of life is centred on blood" she continued before trailing a thumb along her lips in a sensual, slow fashion.

His eyes sparkled in amusement "Life?" he mused curiously, willing to play.

His head turned slightly, his eyes surveying the crowd that present on this day, on Valentine's day.

The place was crawling with vampires, all of them part of this coven he decided to approach.

He was not alone, after all, he was no fool to enter alone in a Vampire's Coven, no matter how powerful he might be. Oh, he could raze the place down but the chance of failure of culling the entire coven was rather high, especially given who the leader was but it was best to remove temptation where it might be.

He was here tonight with half a dozen of his men whilst the Vampires were perhaps quarter strength, as agreed.

He watched as the creatures that posed living beings faded in and out of conversations, moving fluidly from one conversation to another, as if they were something alive. He saw as female Vampires spoke with his people, as they tried to lure them into giving up their blood, the only way that would not cause a war to descend in this very castle.

Not that it would work he thought with amusement.

"What makes you think life centres on blood?" he posed to her, his eyes though half lidded, keenly studied her.

"This glass" she said holding it up "Represents the culmination of human existence. In blood, there is bond and there is war. Even the muggles who know nothing of blood purity believe in it, in the power that blood has, the value it holds in both your societies. It is the supposed difference in blood that you humans war over, and matters not if you're magical or not" Her eyes gleamed "Do you know what difference the taste of your blood is?" Her smile cut into a small grin, one that was savage and brutal.

"Nothing"

Grindelwald tilted his head slightly, unfazed by the insult before his lips curled "And yet, what…creature" her eyebrow twitched at the word "requires it to remain in existence? You claim that blood" he shifted his eyes to the glass she held in a contemptuous, dismissive manner "represents the culmination of human existence…is it not truer instead, that, blood, is the only thing that allows yours existence?" the lines of his mouth were sharp, his teeth were showing in a toothy, wide smile that was lopsided, the challenge being set for it was a grave challenge to bare your teeth at another in Vampire culture.

"What does it say about your culmination of existence when you need blood like a tick needs blood?" His eyes gleamed as her eyes shifted into cold hateful ones.

"You speak of life…" he rolled the word on the tip of his tongue "As if you could speak of it, as if you could understand what it means to be alive." His dark chuckles were soft but ever so biting. He met her gaze with dark humour in them, the despise she was showing fazed him not.

"You and I, we have very different definitions of life, my sweet Carolina" he drawled, his tone seemingly innocent but the barbs were there to be seen in the open.

Her eyes harden for a moment before they return to a more…playful glint.

"Oh?" she said innocently but the dangerous undertone was there.

Before she could respond, the sounds of heavy doors opening filled the spacious ballroom.

He was clad in black robes, his black hair was long and flowing whilst his vermillion eyes shone as bright as a Blood Moon in a clear night sky.

As he reached the end of the stairs, scores of vampires, all of them, bowed deeply, including Carolina.

He paid no attention, merely made his way to Gellert.

"Lord Drakul" Gellert said politely, his head inclining ever so slightly. He could hear Carolina bristle at the lack of more reverence.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. As if he were meeting a better…

He was not even meeting an equal, no matter how deluded these creatures were.

Lord Drakul's eyes glinted for a moment before they set into cool indifference "Lord Grindelwald" he returned and just like that, the party continued as if nothing was amiss though Carolina seemed to have slink away.

"Was a ball truly necessary" Grindelwald couldn't help but ask as Drakul grabbed a glass of blood in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other which he offered to Gellert.

Gellert took it but made no attempt to drink it.

If Drakul found that insulting or not, he made no effort to show it.

"A ball is never necessary" Drakul responded idly, his expression remaining neutral before he sipped on his glass of blood "But I have found the…moment to be apt." Drakul glanced at Grindelwald "After all, it is not often I am being courted on Valentine's day" Drakul's lips twisted in mocking fashion, his eyes alight with satisfaction.

Gellert narrowed his but made no comment to the assuaging nature of this…visit.

Drakul was not wrong after all.

He was being courted…in a fashion as much as it galled him to admit that though the subtle implications did not escape Gellert.

"Your people do have excellent discipline" Drakul commented, changing the subject.

Gellert's lips twisted in a facsimile of a smile "They are mine." He simply responded, the words enough to explain everything.

Drakul glanced at him for a moment before he smiled a cold smile and dipped his head. If there was one person who understood ownership…it was the oldest Vampire in Europe, likely the world.

"Do enjoy yourself, Lord Grindelwald, we do have the rest of the night to talk" His mocking eyes trailed over Gellert. Gellert only returned a mocking smile before Drakul departed.

It was not long before the ball, thankfully, ended and he was seated away from Drakul from the opposite end of the table, three of his followers on either side, with an equal number on Drakul's.

"You want us to join your petty war" Drakul began, bluntly as he leaned back in his chair.

Gellert sat back in his chair, his long spidery fingers entwined in his lap, gazing at the Vampires.

"Yes." He answered simply after a delay.

"And why should we, after I refused you years ago?" Drakul posed uninterested to Grindelwald.

"Perhaps because the situation has changed" Gellert returned to Drakul, their eyes meeting. "Before, you preferred to play it safe, to operate in the shadows" Gellert extended his arms "You now have the opportunity to operate in the open. The ICW is weak, weaker than it's ever been"

"The shadows suit us fine, safety never mattered to us." Drakul responded dismissively. "The terms of your offer of countless of muggles to give to us is of little value given that we can simply take what we need…what we want. Besides" Drakul's eyes glinted like jade gemstones "This offer reeks of a desperate man" Drakul's words dripped out of his words, his teeth showing slightly.

Gellert ignored that "Who said it would be the same offer?" he drawled, his words carrying smug certainty.

Drakul narrowed his "So you've come to offer something else?"

Gellert leaned forward, his eyes dancing with anticipated victory "Yes" his answer was short, his lips curling ever so slightly.

"And what is this offer…?" Carolina interjected annoyed, contempt clear on her face.

Gellert's eyes remained fixed on Drakul, ignoring the beautiful creature "Because I can now give you what you've always craved for."

Carolina made to speak but Drakul raised his hand and her jaw snapped shut, much to Gellert's amusement and he made sure to let her see it, before his eyes returned to Drakul's eyes "Your soul"

The room stilled, a suffocating presence grew in the room. Gellert lazily batted away the stifling power of Drakul and stared him down.

The others were not so lucky as they struggled to deal with the bloodlust that was rendering them immobile.

"Do not offer so freely what you cannot give."

Gellert laughed "Who says that I will offer it freely?" His smirk was dark, his eyes flashed.

Vampires only had but a tenuous grip on their souls, a result of nature fighting back against the abomination the creatures were in the face of magic…of life.

It made most of their emotions, most of their existence a pale imitation of what it was when they had been truly alive.

Drakul's long life has allowed him to simulate his expressions, much like a child mimicking their parents, unknowing of the meanings.

To offer them their souls…well, there was little any of them would do to get it, if only to achieve what they have the faintest of memories of when they had been human.

Grindelwald lips curled and he turned his eyes to his nearest companion. "My dear…if you would" he glanced at his follower and she made way to remove the pendant that hung around her neck.

Drakul watched her with sharp eyes, no doubt grasping every miniscule detail.

The pendant fell over, and Gellert could feel the shock from the seven Vampires in front of him.

"…How" Carolina gasped in mesmerised shock.

A blur rushed forward and Gellert, almost just as quick stood to his feet, his followers following him and the other Vampires did the same.

The tension in the room rose dramatically though Drakul paid no attention, his eyes fixed on Gellert's companion.

Drakul extended hand, slowly and caressed his companion's cheek before it travelled to her neck.

"Magnificent…" Drakul uttered, his entire being oozed greed. He was standing for some moments simply staring at his companion.

Drakul's head swivelled towards Grindelwald who stood satisfied, observing the situation.

"I managed to find a way to…reconnect the tenuous links between your souls and your bodies" Gellert smiled and it wasn't a nice one. It radiated darkness as his eyes glinted "It wasn't easy" Gellert began "To determine where the issues lied" That was true.

It had taken the combined minds of himself and De Galle to figure out the curse of Vampirism.

And it had taken them years to determine if it could be warped. Only in the last year or so had De Galle been able to figure out a way to…stabilise the curse in a way that was useful.

A direct result from his more…exuberant experiments.

He'd made numerous nightmarish creations, all of which were useless beyond a certain degree – for all that he wanted weapons, he did not want out of control creatures that could infect a great many people.

He did need coherent, sentient people in his empire after all.

"But it was achieved" Gellert waved imperiously at his followers who all took off his pendants.

"These men and woman volunteered for the cause and they achieved a stable form of Vampirism that removes the…dissociate nature of Vampirism" Of course, they didn't exactly volunteered…but these Vampires didn't need to know that.

"How do we know that this isn't a fraud, a scheme by a desp-" Choking, gurgling sounds replaced the irritating voice that exited Carolina's mouth as three of his Vampires grappled at her, her throat ripped out by one of them.

Blood dripped on the stone floor, the sound of the dripping blood could be heard clearly apart from the sounds of her struggles.

She snarled a wet snarl and threw off her assaulters.

"Stop" she stilled mid action as Drakul's word ceased her as if she were a puppet tied to the strings.

The gnarly wound on her throat began to heal, strands of muscle formed before moments later skin grew before they met other skin tissue and knit themselves back before leaving an unblemished neck.

Drakul stared her down and she changed her expression into one of neutrality just before she bowed her head. Drakul stared at her for a moment before he returned his gaze at Gellert.

"Satisfied?" Gellert asked with humorous eyes.

Drakul's eyes hardened "If this is false…" Drakul's words hung in the air, the threat and the implication clear.

The truth was, any Vampire that underwent this process would see their life shortened dramatically. He wasn't entirely sure what the impact would be on centuries old Vampires but he expected that it would be drastically different to what they'd expect.

Of course, he wouldn't tell them that and he wouldn't let them find out until the war was over. At that point he'd rid his lands from Vampires completely. There was no need for such…uncontrollable elements to remain in his world.

"The terms of the offer is that I will grant you this in exchange of services rendered complete" Gellert smile was predatory and Drakul snarled, his Vampires hissed.

Gellert's eyes gleamed darkly "I am the only one who can do this, my research has been destroyed, there is nothing you can do to extract it from anyone or anything." Gellert paused for a moment as they stared at each other.

Gellert could see Drakul sizing up the challenge before him…whether or not Gellert spoke true…and whether to throw caution into the wind and attempt to take it now. After moments passed, Drakul's countenance changed as the glint in his eyes vanished though not completely.

"So…" Gellert drew out, savouring the coldness that radiated from Drakul "Do you agree?"

Not long after, he arrived back at his base and soon enough he was descending down the dimly lighted stairs towards the dungeons. He passed several of his men before he finally arrived at the thick metal gates.

He glanced at the guard who bowed before opening the gates with a clanging.

The sight that greeted him was pitiful, the man was hoddled over into a corner, his head bowed between his legs that were bare. He was wearing tattered tartan prison clothes much like the muggles made the Jews wear.

He approached slowly, savouring the sight of his enemy so low.

He bent down, his eyes surveying the broken form of his opposite. "My, my…" Grindelwald drawled with sadistic glee creeping in his voice.

"Who knew, the mighty American, the mighty American Hero would only take a few days to break" The words dragged as Grindelwald spoke softly yet they held jagged edges, intent on bleeding him further.

A smirk began to split the seams of his mouth as his words received no response, no indication that there was someone present in that pretty little head of his.

"Perhaps this will bring you out of your dazed state" Grindelwald's gleamed in dark anticipation as his hand went into his robes and he brought out a mirror, a fascinating creation.

Truly, the boy was a creative one. It was nothing terribly special, merely an application of certain magicks that he had not considered though he doubted he ever would have, even if he saw the merits of.

"Sophia Sayre"

"Charles! Finally! I've been so wor-" She stopped.

"Why is the room dark?" She said in a huff "And why aren't you talking? Do you know what they're saying? They're saying you died! I knew you didn't, you promised you'd get back to me!"

Gellert remained silent as he listened with cruel anticipation.

"Charles?" She called out concerned "This isn't funny" She said in an frustrated tone, one that was bordering anger.

"No my darling" Gellert drawled as he flexed his magic and the flame of the single torch roared alive, illuminating the dark, damp cell.

Her gasp of horror almost melted his heart.

He smiled at her, her face full of horror painted a beautiful mosaic. "Hello Lady Sophia Sayre" He bowed theatrically.

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

The mirror fell from her hands.

"No…"

He chuckled softly "Yes…"

"Sophia…If I were you, I'd pick up that mirror…after all…you do not want to miss seeing your intended…do you?"

He angled the mirror to the broken man in corner of the cell.

"Who's that?" she whispered brokenly despite knowing who it is.

Gellert dipped his hand under the mane of hair and caressed the man's face. "Sophia, Sophia, Sophia" Gellert spoke with tender softness in his voice, the contrast of the horror that was etched on her face was stark.

"Do you not recognise who…this is?" Gellert hand travelled to the man's crowned before he, with slow deliberation grabbed a fistful of his hair until with a swift move, Gellert jerked his head back.

"Charles…N-…No…nononononononononono NOOOOOOOO" Her screams were a delight to his ears, the satisfaction he earned from it was visceral.

He turned his eyes to the mirror, the cries she was letting out was halting, they were broken and he delighted in seeing the devastation of the woman at the other side of the mirror.

"Yes, yes, yes" he mocked laughing with delight before his eyes shone with malicebefore he turned to the man in front of him.

His eyes were lifeless, dull and blank. His face was left pristine, on purpose but the gloss of life was distinctly missing. The hinges of his jaw went unworked, his mouth was ajar, the only thing his body controlled was the breathing.

There was little presence of the man that he was, the courageous, the certain, the crusader.

"This is your intended, my dear Sophia, the intended who thought he could play at war and believe he could come out on top, believing his righteousness would see him prevail" Grindelwald began his furious tirade, each of his words hitting her like a blow.

"Monster…" she managed to get out and he laughed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOH

How. He. LAUGHED.

"Oh yes Sophia" His eyes sparked a dark fire in them "He called me that too when he begged for you, when he cried for his dear Sophia, the emerald jewel of his heart" Gellert's laugh reverberated in the chamber cells, the echoes of his laughter were haunting, malicious, filled with dark satisfaction at the sound of the cries of someone in agony.

Gellert's laughter simmered, they ebbed into nothing as he turned the mirror completely to himself, his eyes shining with malevolent promise "And it is what fate will befall your darling little brother" His voice was low yet filled with restrained hatred.

The boy and his ilk were costing him far too much, having to deal with vampires just so he could have enough time to deal with Xavier Charleston.

They did not have enough time to mould Vampires into little weapons, not in numbers that mattered. De Galle was needed elsewhere.

Dubevsky was talented, powerful but he was not certain he could fell Sayre, not when Vermeer fell to the boy.

Rosier was too valuable out East in stemming the tide of the Eastern ICW forces and so he would need to slow down the boy's advance.

The boy was powerful, the memories he'd gotten from the followers that escaped proved that and unless he dealt with him himself, which he would in time, if the Vampires could not, he needed to unbalance the boy.

It was fortunate that Charles Etherton fell into his lap, the intended of Sophia Sayre and the grandnephew of Xavier.

"I will break him, I will destroy everything that he is and even then, I will not grant him death" Black wisps of magic surrounded him, his mismatching eyes glowed in the dim light of the cell and he looked every bit the Devil in that moment.

"No, he will be a cautionary tale, a tale that last the ends of time itself." Gellert brought the mirror close to him, the woman at the other end of the mirror having stilled having been terror struck "And you…darling Sophia" he drawled her name with violent delight, his eyes gleaming with unbridled malice "You...you will have a fate not too dissimilar"

The mirror shattered in his hands, the shattered pieces falling to the floor. Black wisps of magic continued to surround him.

The mirror was of no use to him, it would not let him find where she was hidden, unfortunately. Neither did Etherton know where she was, annoyingly Sayre was astute in charming the mirror in preventing anything being leaked.

"Oh well…" he said dramatically before he started chuckling to himself.

This should grab the boy's attention and it should send him into a rage that would have him seek out a battle with him rather than systematically dissembling his territory whilst he was busy in Belgium where Xavier Charleston had landed.

He'd studied the boy, though brilliant, he had a tendency to deal with matters himself.

The north would be fragile in the weeks to come and he needed the boy to come West.

He'd lure the boy into a trap and deal with him once and for all. Whatever magic he was capable off, no storm would be able to help him in the traps that would rip him apart.

His chuckling ebbed away before he glanced down at the broken form of Etherton.

"Etherton…Do not die on me yet, I still have use for you." Gellert said with dark amusement.

Etherton's eyes stared blankly at the high ceiling, his mouth remaining ajar in the pale face that was devoid of life.

Etherton's eyes were focused on the flickering flames of the single torch that dimly lit the cell up.

As Gellert left the cell, the gulf of air that came from the closing of the cell, nearly blinked out the flames but it held strong, just long enough for the dying dancing flames to reflect on the eyes that once belonged to a Charles Etherton.

The flames died and engulfed the cell into pitch blackness and so…

And so…

The last remnant of Charles Etherton died.

-Break-

Atticus POV

The vibrations of his mirror alerted him, and he slowly drew himself out of his meditation. He slowly reopened his eyes.

He was seated cross legged in his chambers on the cold stone floor in a lotus position, having been like for…

He glanced at the window and saw it was still pitch black though he could see some of it receding. Likely at least a few hours.

He didn't need much sleep each week, courtesy of his rituals. It gave him more time to connect with his magic, something that always comforted like nothing else. Magic was a gift that most would never truly understand – not until they had none of it.

The past few days had been a busy one, the forces that liberated much of Switzerland congregated at Genelum Castle and much to his surprise, he and his senior knights were in charge of the ICW followers – much to the displeasure of the ICW commanders.

It had been tiresome to play politics and he'd wanted to just overwhelm them with his magic but he could not. It wouldn't be long until they'd go out into Austria and take it from Grindelwald and he needed them all to be…friendly.

It didn't help that the followers he'd gained…and yes…they were most definitely followers – rubbed the ICW the wrong way.

He'd spent days with them, training them, speaking with them, mostly trying to determine what made them tick, what he'd need – or say – to do solidify their cores to the cause they'd pledged themselves to.

It seemed that it paid off. Of course there were plenty who knew what he was doing. After all, many of them were politicians who knew what campaigning was – if he was being kind to the manipulations he was doing. His own knights weren't blind either, particularly Bones, Parkinson and Potter. Longbottom likely did not care one whit.

He'd have to dial it down lest he cause problems were none were needed.

How amusing that his problems were that he was doing things too well. He banished those thoughts away.

His mind went back to earlier in the night. He'd visited Emily after curfew – local time – so they could have their own private Valentine's day.

His lips threatened to curl. For all of the cruelness she had in her, she did like to be treated in a special manner. She'd refuse to admit, ever, nor would she ever initiate it, but he knew she looked forward to those moments they shared.

His hand went to his inside pocket and he fished out the mirror and frowned when he saw it was his sister calling.

"Sophia?" he questioned after he answered the call which had her name on it. It was very late for her to call. The mirror was facing towards the familiar grey silver ceiling, one that marked that she was likely in her quarters in Moira's Facility.

His eyes widened in shock when the mirror was picked up and what greeted him was a pale faced Sophia, tears running down her face.

"Sophia!" He said in startled concern and shock. In one smooth motion he got back up to his feet.

"Atty…" she said her nickname for him, one that was reserved for annoyance or fondness, never like this, never in this broken whisper as her lips wobbling.

"Sophia, what's wrong, what happened?! Are you OK? Is mother OK?!" he questioned hastily, his concern rising each moment.

She brokenly shook her head, her hair, which was a mess, swivelling with the motion. She looked at him, some of her hair obscuring her face as she looked down at the mirror.

She must be on the floor.

"Mother is fine…I'm…" she trailed off, fresh tears sprouting from her eyes.

"Sophia…tell me" he asked in a pleading tone, filled with concern…resisting the urge to order her. She was his sister, he would not order her.

"He…" she tried and he waited, impatiently but he waited.

"H-…He…He has Charles, Atty" she cried out loudly, her voice in agony.

Chills ran down Atticus' spine. She could only mean one person…but he hoped…he hoped for his sister that he didn't.

She'd been frantic, miserable when word of Mannheim had happened when Grindelwald decimated them.

She'd hoped…she'd prayed that he was still alive…

Atticus had hoped, perhaps callously, that he was dead for if he was captured…

It seemed, all his hopes were for nothing.

She continued "Grindelwald has him Atty. He..." she sniffled, her hands shaking out of grief…or terror, he didn't know. Probably both.

"…He destroyed him, Atty, Charles…Charles is gone" she explained what she saw…what Grindelwald made her see.

Rage had built in him and he struggled to keep his magic calm until he saw his sister, his dear sister who was shattered.

He tried to console his sister but he wasn't getting through, not like he should be able to. For the first time, he was considering visiting his sister and mother.

"I'll rescue him, if I can" Atticus promised. He knew it was a bad idea. Grindelwald likely wanted him or Xavier to rescue Charles.

"NO!" she screamed, startling Atticus before she looked at him with such intensity, eyes filled with fear and…concern.

"Please…Just…stay away from him." She begged him, her hands clenching on the mirror with such intensity, it was shaking.

He narrowed his eyes "Sophia…what did he tell you?" Atticus' voice was low.

She looked away and remained silent for a while.

"Sophia…" Atticus said warningly, his voice carrying urging in it.

"He threatened you…" her words were said with a fragile whisper as she continued to look away. She spoke again, this time her words…her words were said so low that she might not have spoken at all "And me"

Magic surged from his core, the air was drenched with the furious hatred that overwhelmed him. Wisps of magic began to swirl around him, with enough strength, with enough vigour that it began to create the beginning of a cyclone, such was the potency of his magic.

His free hand was clenched, trembling with rage and before he knew it, crackles of lightning surrounded his closed fist.

HOW DARE HE

Sophia turned her head towards the mirror and her red eyes widened at the sight of him.

"He dares…" Atticus words were a whisper radiating with fury.

"He dares threaten you?!" His voice grew in strength, the rage behind it much alike the rage of the storm as his face contorted into a hateful snarl.

He was already responsible for the death of his father, for the attempted kidnapping of his mother and now…and now his SISTER?!

His eyes bored down at the mirror, rage filled determination settling in his core being "Sophia, I promise you he will not touch you nor will he ever touch mother either. He dares threaten you…" The words crashed out of his mouth like tumbling tonnes of stone, the room descended into dark purple shadows, emerald embers danced against a sea of purple fire in his eyes.

The contents of the room began to rip from their locations, the stones of the walls, the ceiling and floor groaned and creaked at the tremendous pressure he was causing, unconsciously, unknowingly.

"He will know what it means to fear…to know that death is coming for him, that a SAYRE is coming for him" his voice a thunderclap, his words made the very walls tremble. Atticus drew himself up, magic saturated the room even more, the magical turbulence he'd created turned into a raging storm that began to whistle.

GRINDELWAD DARED?!

No longer…

No longer would he hold back, to play this game of restraint until it was time to put him down. No longer would he allow politics to hold him back, to overthink all that he was doing.

No…

He would tear down everything Grindelwald held dear, brick by brick, stone by stone, pebble by pebble.

He would hunt him down to the ends of the Earth.

Atticus turned his fury filled eyes to his sister who looked at him in shock. She had never seen him unrestrained.

Only his mother had.

His eyes soften though his magic did not abate "Sophia…" His voice was power incarnate, his magic reacted to his voice and the storm shook and rippled from it.

"Do. Not. Leave. Promise. Me." Each word was said with a cacophony of voices merged.

"I…I promise" She got out.

Hours later, his rage had not abated, even if the storm he conjured up quieted down.

"Grindelwald…" Atticus snarled, his face morphing more like a ferocious wolf.

"I promise you…you will die" Atticus spoke out to an empty room, his eyes gazing out the window towards the rising sun.

No more.