A/N: Warning for use of outdated racial terms that are considered slurs nowadays. Also, a child displaying period-typical racism.
This chapter was edited by The Mountain Fairy, my wonderful beta. They're writing their own lovely HP fic, which can be found here: s/13536958/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Return-of-Lord-Voldemort
Gellert led them up a staircase to a long hall. The ceiling was high, and candles floated above, illuminating the pointed arches. Wide windows revealed the quickly fading evening light. The sheer size of the place intimidated Credence. It was nothing like the Graves mansion, which, while lavish and stately, had still been personable and homelike. Nurmengard radiated a sort of grim, imposing vastness, which made Credence feel like a flea in the shadow of a giant.
An assortment of people waited at the edge of the hall. A lovely, elegantly dressed, dark-haired woman sat on sofa by the window. Her striking green eyes surveyed Credence as though he was an intriguing object. A pale, glum-looking, red-haired woman stood beside her. On the other sofa sat two men, looking to be in their early forties. One had a long, narrow face, while the other had a bald head and a greying beard. A younger man, perhaps in his twenties, tall and dark-skinned, stood to their left.
All rose to their feet as Gellert approached. "My lord, it's good to have you back," said the beautiful, dark-haired woman, with a French accent. "And after such a successful trip, as well."
"Not as successful as it could have been, Vinda."
"Always the perfectionist," sighed the narrow-faced man. His voice immediately betrayed him to be an Englishman. His eyes flickered to Modesty. "I was under the impression that the Obscurial is male."
The beautiful woman— Vinda— gave a tinkling laugh. "The Obscurial is the young man, Black. Not the girl."
Black frowned. "An adult Obscurial? That's unheard of. My lord, are you sure?"
Credence's stomach sank as he realized that a demonstration would soon be demanded. But to his surprise, all Gellert said was, "I've seen him destroy half of New York City, so yes, I am certain."
"And the girl?" asked the bald man. He had a German accent.
Without saying a word, Modesty advanced slowly forward, her gaze hard and unflinching as she stared into the bald man's eyes. A tense silence fell upon the group. She let it stretch right until breaking point, when the bald man opened his mouth.
"My name is Modesty Barebone, sir. And I can speak for myself."
He blinked at her in faint surprise. "Indeed, you can."
The bald man exchanged glances with his companions, who seemed equally bewildered. Gellert's lips twitched with suppressed amusement, Credence noted. He, certainly, wasn't going to aid his followers.
"Well then, Modesty Barebone," said Black at last. "Care to explain what you're doing here?"
"Uncle Gellert adopted me." She raised her chin, as though daring any of them to challenge her statement.
Even Vinda lost her composure at the statement. "Adopted?" she echoed, incredulous.
Credence cleared his throat. "Um, she's my younger sister. Mr. Grindel— I mean, Gellert— discovered she's a witch." All eyes were on him now, and he fought the urge to shrink under the scathing gazes. "Gellert didn't legally adopt her, I think. He kidnapped her, technically speaking, after I killed my mother—"
"That's enough, Credence." Gellert placed a hand on his shoulder, and Credence instinctively relaxed to the touch. "Modesty Barebone will be living here for now. She'll be no trouble, I assure you."
The atmosphere surrounding the group seemed to lighten a bit.
"Sophia," Gellert addressed the glum-looking, red-haired woman who'd remained silent until now. "You have an older sister, don't you?"
Sophia inclined her head. "Yes, my lord. Her name is Maria Kaus. You may remember her husband, Johann. He was a devoted acolyte. You attended his funeral two years ago." Credence had to strain to comprehend her words beyond her thick German accent.
Gellert switched to German, and they discussed some matters rapidly. Vinda appeared to understand, her green eyes focused on the speakers in interest. Black seemed bored, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thigh. The young, dark-skinned man took a few steps closer toward Credence and Modesty. He didn't seem much older than Credence. In fact, Credence noticed with a jolt of surprise, he might even be younger.
"Yonas Hailu," he introduced himself, holding out his right hand. Credence was further surprised by the polished British accent. "Pleased to meet you."
Credence shook his hand. "Credence Barebone, but— Uh, you already knew that."
Yonas Hailu laughed easily, unperturbed by Credence's awkwardness. "You must find it strange here. Different from New York, isn't it?"
"Yes." Credence didn't know what to say. He wasn't used to strangers being friendly, and he felt pressured by the thought that he ought to reciprocate. "Um, how are you finding it here, Mr. Hailu? Is it different from your home?"
"Please, I can't possibly be older than you. Call me Yonas. " The young man smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. "Is it different from home? I should say so. It's nothing like Gondar here."
"Gondar? Where is that?"
"In Ethiopia. I wouldn't expect you to know it."
"You're a Negro," said Modesty loudly.
Credence winced in embarrassment. It wasn't so much her words, which were just a statement of the obvious, but the way she said it. Credence wondered if Yonas would be offended. The wizarding world didn't view race relations the same way No-Majs did. He remembered his own shock when Gellert had told him that Seraphina Picquery, President of MACUSA, was born of a union between a Scottish witch and a Nigerian wizard.
"Isn't that illegal?" he'd gasped at the time.
Gellert had snorted. "Not for wizards, no. The American wizarding community has its own share of prejudices. Thankfully they're not so stupid as to extend that to skin color."
Yonas kept his carefree smile, although now it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes, I am a Negro, little girl. You say that as though it's an insult. Why?"
"Ma said I shouldn't ever talk to Negros, because they attack white girls. She said they're the sons of Ham, who was cursed to be a slave—"
"Modesty!" Credence hissed. Flushed with mortification, he turned to Yonas. "I apologize. We grew up among No-Majs, and our mother was a very ignorant woman."
"Muggles must be taught better," Yonas stated evenly. His eyes darkened. "The wizarding communities of West Africa stood in silence while the Muggles sold their own people as slaves to European Muggles."
"Muggles?" Modesty repeated in wonder.
"Those you call No-Majs. 'Muggles' is the British term."
Credence thought about Yonas's words. "They were silent because of the International Statute of Secrecy?"
"No. Even nowadays, the International Statute of Secrecy isn't taken seriously in Africa. You'll find that most African Muggles are aware of magic to some degree. No, the wizarding communities just couldn't be bothered. They didn't think it was their place to interfere and tell the Muggles what to do."
"Is that why you joined the cause?" asked Credence, curious.
"One of the reasons," said Yonas.
"How did you hear about it?"
"Yonas was an exchange student in Durmstrang during his sixth year," said Gellert, joining them. Evidently, he'd finished his conversation with Sophia. "An old contact informed me that an extremely talented young wizard had joined the school. One of the most talented to ever attend Durmstrang."
"An exaggeration, my lord," said Yonas, although he seemed pleased. "I wasn't considered anything special back at Uagadou."
That was a magical school located in the British Protectorate of Uganda, Credence recalled. He'd read about magical schools in An Abbreviated History of Magic.
"That's hardly fair, considering Uagadou is the largest wizarding school in the world," said Gellert, his tone like melting butter. "Harder to distinguish yourself in such an environment, particularly if you show no interest in Astronomy, much to your teachers' disappointment."
Yonas grinned at Gellert, as if sharing a private joke. "I prefer practical subjects."
Credence shifted in place, agitated by a stab of sour emotion. That tone of voice… For some foolish reason, Credence had thought Gellert reserved it for him.
"So, you've met Yonas," said Gellert. "That is well. The others are Miss Vinda Rosier, Mr. Cygnus Black, Miss Sophia Steiner and Mr. Franz Hamerling." He gestured at each in turn.
"Your name is Black?" Modesty asked the narrow-faced man.
"Yes, I belong to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," said Cygnus Black, with the slightest hint of self-deprecation. "Why?"
"Shouldn't he be called Black?" Modesty pointed at Yonas.
During the following awkward pause, Credence wished he could bury himself under the hall's stone floor.
"Modesty, that was terribly rude of you," Gellert said, sounding shocked and disappointed. "Apologize to Mr. Hailu at once."
"Why was it rude—" Modesty stopped when Gellert gave her a look. She knew when not to test him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hailu."
"I was speaking to Sophia about her sister," said Gellert, contemplative. "Mrs. Kaus is a widow. She has a seven-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. I discussed with Sophia the possibility of Mrs. Kaus and her children moving here, to live with us in Nurmengard."
"I'll have friends to play with?" Modesty nearly bounced up and down in excitement, clapping her hands together.
"In the meanwhile, you're not showing me that you deserve friends," said Gellert coldly.
The enthusiasm drained out of Modesty immediately. She hesitated, her eyes moving around the room, as though searching for sympathy. At last, finding no escape, she turned again to Yonas.
"Mr. Hailu," she said, her head lowered, "I'm very sorry. Please forgive me."
Yonas knelt down, meeting her at eye level, and took her hands in his own. "I will forgive you, if you'll agree we can be friends too."
Modesty glanced up, trepidation morphing into relief and delight. She gave him a shy smile. "Do you know how to play Wizard's Chess?"
He returned her smile warmly. "Of course. That's my favorite game."
"Great. Credence is awful at it, and Uncle Gellert doesn't always have time."
"So, we've agreed on a game," said Cygnus Black, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wonderful. What a relief. My lord, may I speak to you privately? There have been some important developments in Britain."
"In a moment," said Gellert. He raised his eyebrows at Yonas. "Will you—?"
"Certainly, my lord." Yonas had already taken Modesty's hand. "Come, Modesty. I'll show you your room."
She skipped along with him. "Can we play now?"
Credence started to follow them automatically, but was stopped by a melodious laugh.
"You're not joining them, Mr. Barebone." It was Vinda Rosier, looking amused for some reason.
Gellert was already deep in a quiet conversation with Cygnus Black.
"Where am I going?" Credence asked Miss Rosier.
"To your room. I'll show you the way."
Credence followed her up another staircase, into a long, empty corridor. Unlike the Graves mansion, here no paintings or tapestries adorned the walls. It was all painfully bare and sterile, and all the corridors looked the same. For this reason, Credence instantly noticed the statue of a phoenix positioned in the middle of the corridor. Miss Rosier paused before it and held out a hand, signaling Credence to stop.
"There, touch its beak and say 'Against excellence unknown'."
"Is that a password?" To Credence it sounded like an incoherent phrase.
"Yes."
Feeling silly, but seeing no alternative, Credence pressed his fingers against the sharp edge of the stone beak and said, "Against excellence unknown."
The phoenix shook to life under his hand, spreading its wings in a graceful movement that seemed unbefitting of such a hard, unyielding object. The wall behind the phoenix faded away and revealed a narrow, steep staircase, lit by torches of blue fire.
"Up you go," said Miss Rosier.
The room at the top of the staircase was bigger than his room at the Graves mansion. More torches of blue fire lit it, revealing its somber coloring. Night had already fallen outside the narrow windows. Credence looked around the room in confusion. There was a large bed in the center, draped with black and silver. A desk in the corner was crammed with thick tomes, rolls of parchment and forgotten quills. Two tables by the windows were full of strange, silvery instruments that produced gentle hums, chimes and clicks.
"Someone lives here?" Despite Credence's attempt to phrase it as a statement, it left his mouth sounding like a question.
"Of course." Miss Rosier returned his bafflement with a perplexed stare of her own. "This is Lord Grindelwald's room. What were you expecting?"
"His room?"
Credence fought the urge to squirm under Miss Rosier's gaze. She was looking at him as though wondering if he was dimwitted.
"I— I thought I would have my own room."
"You're the Obscurial." Miss Rosier shook her head. "Haven't you already killed poor Mr. Graves? Not to mention three No-Majs. You think it would be safe to allow you to roam Nurmengard freely?"
To hear himself addressed thus, as though he was a dangerous animal, filled Credence's stomach with an ugly mass of shame and anger. Yet he couldn't argue with her. He'd killed his own mother. He was a monster.
"I'll be locked up here?"
"No, no, obviously not. You can go anywhere you like, so long as you have proper supervision. Lord Grindelwald isn't trying to trap you. He merely thinks it wise to keep an eye on you, at least until you gain some stability."
"Where will I sleep?" There was no additional bed in the room.
"The house-elves will take care of that," said Miss Rosier, turning away. "Settle in, and stop worrying so much."
As it turned out, Credence didn't have much 'settling in' to do. The house-elves had already dealt with his luggage. He found his clothes in the wardrobe, all neatly put away beside Gellert's robes. The books and parchments were all written in languages he didn't understand, and he didn't dare touch any of the instruments. Luckily, after some time spent poking around the shelves, he discovered a stack of familiar books. They were the books he'd been studying back at the Graves mansion, and not only the dry, scholarly ones, but also the storybooks. Credence seized one of his favorites, The Madness of Merwyn the Malicious, and sank into an armchair, happily losing himself in the gruesome, darkly humorous tale.
"Credence?"
Credence jerked up, startled. He'd been so engrossed in the book that he'd failed to notice the passage of time. Gellert was leaning against the doorway, his eyes focused on Credence with a bemused expression.
"I'd assumed you would be asleep by now."
"What time is it?" Credence suddenly noticed the stiffness of his neck and the dryness of his eyes.
"Almost midnight. How long have you been reading?"
"Oh. A long time, then." Credence stood and stretched. "There isn't… The house-elves were supposed to bring a bed for me?"
Gellert didn't answer. He stared at Credence intently, with an unfathomable expression. Credence didn't like it, although he wasn't certain why. Perhaps because the expression looked too much like pity.
"I'm worried about you." There it was, the tone Gellert had used with Yonas, like warm honey. "I can see Mr. Graves's death has affected you. You didn't kill him in self-defense, the way you killed the No-Majs. His death wasn't justified."
"The first No-Maj I killed wasn't in self-defense either," said Credence, his breath hitching at the memory. "He'd just called me a freak."
"His death was insignificant." Gellert's eyes hardened. "No-Majs aren't like us, Credence, no more than an ape resembles a human. We are born with an innate gift they can't even comprehend. We've been chosen by nature, or fate, whatever you want to call it, to rule them."
"Well, I can't access my gift," said Credence, more bitterly than he'd intended. "It just blows up in my face."
"Ah. That is what's troubling you." Gellert moved closer. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Or is it the visions of the future I've shown you? Or perhaps, everything at once."
Credence leaned into the touch before he'd even registered that Gellert was embracing him, fingers caressing Credence's shoulder. The proximity made Credence bold, and he leaned forward, landing a kiss on Gellert's cheek. It was chaste enough, like the peck he saw other boys give their mothers, but it sent a thrill of anxious arousal through him.
"Why is there only one bed in here?" Credence demanded softly, hope rising within him. "You said you'd reward me if I did as I was told. Is this—"
"I don't recall making any specific promises."
Credence stared at him, taken aback by the dismissive tone. "You said—"
"I know what I said, my boy. I promised you closeness, like that of a family member. Your carnal obsession with me is beginning to border on the unhealthy."
Credence blinked away tears of shock. He felt as though his heart was swollen and stuck in his throat. "You said— You said I shouldn't be ashamed of my desires."
"True. But I didn't say you should fixate on me. Your infatuation is no longer endearing, Credence. It's become alarming. I'm old enough to be your father."
That was correct, although it was easy to forget, since Gellert didn't exactly look his age.
"I thought—" Credence pulled away. "Then why is there only one bed?"
Gellert closed the distance between them, wrapping Credence again in a rather forceful embrace. "That terrible hag, Mary Lou, didn't offer you much physical affection, did she?"
Credence didn't resist. He couldn't. "Not since I was a very young child, no."
"That might've accelerated the development of your Obscurus. Giving you physical affection now won't undo all the damage, but it might help you control the Obscurus."
"So…" Credence swallowed, his throat burning from the effort to hold back a sob. "I'm going to sleep in bed with you? For… For physical affection?"
"Until you prove you're capable of self-control without my support."
Credence closed his eyes and shuddered. He could see nothing ahead of him but prolonged torture.
"I don't think this will help… with my 'carnal obsession'."
Credence felt Gellert's sigh against his ear.
"I was hoping you could be mature about this. The fate of the entire world depends on your ability to control the Obscurus."
Credence bit his lip. He was being petty and childish, but he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry. It's just very difficult for me…"
"I don't think you realize what I'm saying, Credence." Gellert led him to bed, and they both sat down, their bodies pressed against each other. "People use my phrase, 'For the Greater Good', as a platitude. They don't understand what it really means. They haven't Seen what I have Seen. What I've shown you in the mirror."
His fingers threaded through Credence's hair, one moment stroking gently, the other tugging painfully, forcing Credence to raise his head.
"'For the Greater Good' means sacrificing everything you have for the cause. That's what I ask my followers, my true followers, to do. They sacrifice their comfort, their future, their morals, their friends, their family, their life. Anything and everything that is necessary, because the price of failure is too high."
For the first time, Credence thought he fully understood why Gellert's followers called themselves 'acolytes'. He'd grown up in a church. He recognized this utter devotion.
"You're like their god," he said.
Gellert gave a dry, humorless laugh. "More like their prophet, foretelling doom." He dipped his head, allowing their foreheads to brush together. "But you, my dear boy, will be their salvation. You will be this world's savior."
The responsibility lay heavy on Credence's shoulders. He felt it almost physically crushing him. "I'll do my best."
"No." Gellert kissed him, trailing his lips from cheek to jawbone to neck, sending flares of confused, guilty passion through Credence. "You won't only do your best. You will succeed. And you'll be revered forever. People will swear by your name. They will immortalize you."
Credence stared out into the darkness that lay beyond the window. He remembered the days back at the Second Salem Church, the hours he spent awake in bed, dreaming of his future. He'd dreamt of leaving his dreary, painful existence behind, joining the magical world, all his problems gone forever. He hadn't realized that the magical world would bring its own set of challenges, in some ways even worse than his previous ones.
"I never wanted this…" he whispered, feeling hollow.
"We don't choose our struggles, Credence. Only how to face them when they come."
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you've enjoyed the story, please leave a review. I'll be glad for any feedback. :)