A/N: Thank you, everyone, for deciding to read the second chapter of my little story.
I was extremely overwhelmed when I saw to overall great reception this story received and couldn't help but write a second chapter.

I've made it similar to the first chapter. I left the chapter open-ended, so it gives me the ability to stop writing this after this chapter, yet I left things open to writing another chapter. Please Follow and Favorite as well as Review the story to show me that you are interested in another chapter.

I greatly appreciate criticism or any other form of feedback. Please think about giving some, it will help me improve the story and possibly create a better reading experience for everyone.

Again, Thanks to everyone who decided to click on the second chapter of this story and had the patience to read through my ramblings. I hope you enjoy this new chapter as much as I did writing it.

Enjoy.

Chapter Two

The Orphanage

It had taken some time to find the small village on the welsh west coast. The storm, that had rolled over the British Isles the last three days, had done well for the green hills.

It was a breathtaking sight, the beautiful coastline that cut at some parts deeply into the ocean only to give way for a large cove the next hundred yards out. The rain had softened the grass, which made it feel like walking on water once your feet touched it.

There was a strong eastbound wind blowing. The small rows of trees slowly moved in the wind and gave up a soothing sound of rustling leaves and bird songs. The fresh air that was brought land inwards from the sea was refreshing.

Harry took a deep breath to clean his lungs from the polluted air that had been circulating in the city.

He walked to the edge of the cliffs, as far as he could without losing his balance or slipping, and looked down onto the rocky beach at its feet. There was a good three-hundred feet drop bellow him and the cliff was very steep.

The beach was only a few dozen feet broad and was nearly completely moist from the waves that washed over the rocks who recently had been covered by the high tide. The rocks were smooth, sleeked and shaped by smaller rocks and the smooth water.

Harry looked out onto the sea again. He wondered if, on a good day, he possibly would have been able to see the Irish coast from here. He smiled, closing his eyes and spreading his arms, feeling the wind blow against him.

He enjoyed the feeling of blowing wind in his hair, the loud rushing and howling in his ears, the cold breeze that blew in from the sea and the smell of salt and water. He'd never been so close to the sea before. His parents had always been on the run from the death eaters, ever since he could remember.

Neither did he have any friends growing up. They had only recently moved in when he had been born. It had been a small cottage in northern Scotland.

They had only lived there for about nine months before they had to move again. He, back then, had been too young the remember or even realize what had been going on. They had found a small wizarding village in south-west England, not too far away from the cliffs of Dover.

There, in Godrics Hollow, they had spent their last three years.

Of course, that had only lasted until they had been betrayed by their secret keeper. Lily had once explained to him in simple terms what the Fidelius Charm was and how it worked. Harry, being only three years old back then, had only partially understood how it worked. It basically was a secret that had to be kept. This secret would be hidden through magic and could hide buildings, names and other things if applied right. The one who was in charge of the secret, usually someone you would trust, then would have the ability to convey this secret to anyone else through text from. No one who was directly or indirectly influenced by the charm would be able to talk about it or reveal it unwillingly.

James and Lily had chosen their closest friend, Sirius, to be the secret keeper. Then, after three years of living at Godrics Hollow without incident, they decided to change their secret keeper and recast the Fidelius Charm, as pressure grew on the others.

This time, they had chosen another, a different one of their closest friends, Peter Pettigrew, because they thought of him to be least likely to be suspected of being selected for being responsible for hiding such precious information.

It had turned out to be the wrong decision, as only days after recasting the charm He-who-must-not-be-named, Lord Voldemort, had stepped onto their property and killed his parents and nearly him and his little sister.

No one had known what had happened that night in their home. The magic that had been at work had been so unique no one knew how Voldemort truly fell.

Dumbledore only had suspicions and his new mentor and father Gellert Grindelwald could only guess as well.

It had taken two days for him to officially, or at least by magic and blood, be the son of the German wizard. They had undertaken a blood ritual, which would change the blood and genetics in his body, which in turn would basically change all his father's genetics into those of Grindelwald.

He first hadn't understood why he would have to undertake such a ritual, but the old man had quickly explained to him that he now legally was dead.

Karkaroff, who had killed the Dursleys before Harry's very own eyes a few days ago, had created a replica of his own body. The Delacour matriarch had enchanted the body to replicate all of the needed identification methods and their results as if they had been taken from him, should one try to use magic or muggle methods on the corpse.

He touched his face again. It was a strange feeling. While most of the change was yet to come over the years until he reached maturity, he could feel a strong shift in his appearance already.

He now had far smoother skin, something that he seemingly got from his mother this time, as well as white-blond hair and higher more defined cheekbones. He also had a slimmer head in general, but his yaw line showed to be a little more chiselled. But the strangest change was still his eyes. While one remained the unique emerald green of his mother, the other changed into the cold and icy blue of those of Gellert.

While this would have been unique in and of itself, there was something strange going on with both of them. Depending on his current mood or emotional state, or as Grindelwald called it his inner magical flow, both eyes changed into either of the colours.

For example, when he felt angry or happy his eyes shone in a bright green. When he was sad or thoughtful his eyes turned blue. There always was a slight hint of their true colour in either eye, but it was only so marginal that one wouldn't notice without knowing it was there.

There were still a large number of things he had from his mother. His features and facial structure largely where those of his mother. While somewhere tinted with those of Grindelwald, he had seen quite clearly that he had his mothers nose and ears. Grindelwald had provided him with a larger chunk of bodily change though. He had grown an inch over the last few days and also now had a slightly broader chest and shoulder area. Furthermore, he felt far more comfortable when standing and sitting straight like a plank, unlike before.

It had felt like a large part of his bone structure had been reshaped completely. The ritual had undone four years of work and redid them in only a few days, hours even. It had taken him half a day to recover and a whole nights sleep before he felt up to shape again.

His father had mentioned to him that this usually would have taken two weeks and only showed how resilient and strong he now was.

Harry still felt rather uncomfortable calling Gellert father, which he once had mentioned to the old man, who seemingly found the whole thing rather amusing more than anything.

'Well, sooner or later you will have to anyways -' he had said '- better start early and get practice in.'.

That hadn't comforted him really, but he still did it. He had already noticed that it rolled easier of the tongue then before, still, it didn't really feel right.

With the word father, he still connected a six-foot-five tall man with wild raven black hair and sharp eyes combined wit a trashy sense humour. It would take years and years for the old man to fit into that role.

Harry had spent the last few days in France, or more pacifically in a manor south of Orléans. The manor belonged to the Delacours, who had been very hospitable towards him and the older wizard.

Of course, they had only spent time there for a very short period, but Harry had already formed the beginnings of a friendship with the young daughter of the family. While neither of them was able to speak a word of the other language, they seemed to get along on a more spiritual level. He was able to say something in English and she would be able to answer or do what he said as she somehow understood him. The same was the other way round.

That was something he had brought up with the adults, who only said that things like that where possible, as was everything was with magic.

He had to confess that he hadn't been really satisfied with the answer. Not that it really changed anything. He couldn't yet read or write more then his own name and one or two other words and short sentences and even if he could, most of the books were in French anyway.

Harry opened his eyes again, an especially sharp breeze caught him off guard and he nearly lost his balance. "Watch out!" Gellert reprimanded him sharply "We don't need you to fall to your death just after all that work I have put into you!"

Harry's heartbeat quickly.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

All he could hear was the blood circulating through his ears, his brain, his head.

He blushed from embarrassment at his own idiocy. The loud reprimand by his mentor didn't help much either. He only mumbled an apology and took another large step away from the edge. As a response, he only heard a sigh from his father.

Harry hadn't even heard him coming back. Gellert had told him to wait here for him, as he would quickly take a look at the orphanage they were supposed to be visiting.

There was a great warmth at the thought of seeing his little sister again. She had been his only friend in their time of hiding. She may have only been a few months old and he may have only been three, but she was so joyful.

He clearly remembered her in his inner eye. She had already started growing her first spots of hair. They had been a beautiful auburn red, as her mother had called it, which certainly was a rather unique colour.

Of course, they had come from their mothers' side of the family. Lily had a similar colour herself, as, supposedly so, did her mother and her grandmother.

Iris had hazel eyes and that certainly was a testimony to James' fathering. But as he had been the carbon copy of his father, Iris had almost entirely taken after her mother. Only little pointers, as for example the eyes, had shown James in her. That this was visible after only a few months already showed how beautiful she would grow up to become.

Harry was looking forward to seeing her again.

"Is it safe for me to go there now?" Harry asked, still slightly shaken by a completely unnecessary near-death experience.

"Yes, -" the old wizard said, though no joy or even remote satisfaction at finally having found the elusive orphanage was audible. "- it is safe, but it is pointless to go there."

Harry's face, formerly lit with joy at the thought of seeing his little sister again, fell. "She… She's not there?" Harry asked, sounding defeated "Didn't you say you were sure she was the-" "Yes, I told you that I believed her to be there if that was the truth or not still remains to be proven to be or not to be truthful!" Gellert snapped at the young boy. "Don't be disrespectful towards me boy!" The warning that lingered in those words were only to clear to Harry. He only quietly nodded to show his understanding and apologies.

"I don't know if she was there or not, which is most infuriating based on the fact that I can't prove it." Gellert murmured, this time a lot calmer than before. Yet Harry could clearly hear how furious he was after seeing what he had seen.

"Someone was there before us." Grindelwald sighed after a short pause. "Whoever it was burned it down with Fiendfyre, the building is still burning, but whatever was in there is now most likely dead."

Harry was shell-shocked. He knew by now that something similar would have happened to his house if he hadn't agreed to go with Gellert when he did. But the simple idea of his little sister being trapped in some burning house made his stomach turn.

.oOo.

There was something about the boy that interested Grindelwald greatly. His way of dealing with things, if they went wrong was rather unique for such a young man.

He possessed quite the resourcefulness and was a rather resilient boy. He attributed this to the fact that he was already born on the run.

But the fact how he handled the possible death of his sister was far more unique and mature then the old wizard would have expected from a snotty four-year-old brat.

Gellert himself never made much use of his skill in the more obscure fields of mind magic, mostly only to protect his mind from going insane over the decades in prison or some other useless application for such a broad field of talent.

This had been the first time in a long time that he actually used his Legilimency against someone else. Usually, he created space in his head to think while using the more common and far more applicable subject of Occlumency, but he hadn't made use of either in a long time.

The boy had shown only little outward signs of distress. It surely was more the shock than any superior act of self-control that rendered him stunned like this.

While there might not have been any general signs of distress visible from anyone simply looking at the boy, his mind was in a far more chaotic state. Still, even in his currently rather unflattering state of mind, he possessed great structure in the way he thought.

This was a sign of someone who spends a lot of time thinking and usually was only found in the mindsets of older, more experienced men or women.

There was a somewhat hypnotic structure to the way some of his thoughts played out in his head. They were strangely ordered and in perfect symmetry, flowing next to each other, until they got dispersed or replaced by another stream of thought that went into a totally different direction, lining itself up with another set of thoughts.

Grindelwald grabbed onto one of the thought streams that was currently passing him and let himself go. He started flowing, following the near-automatic rhythm of his thoughts and jumped from thought to thought, evading those that dispersed by losing focus or got replaced by new thoughts and memories. He could only compare this experience with walking on water during a heavy storm.

Then at some point, each and every thought went a little grey for a few seconds. During this time there was some form of soothing melody coming from one of the parts further in his mind.

It was a strange sound, like some sort of distorted lullaby or some de-harmonized nursery. Then there was crying and screaming, a bright green flash of light flooded the mind of the young boy, before turning into an abyss like darkness.

Then the light came back and everything continued as if nothing had happened. The electric buzzing of the thoughts and memories were back and the steady pressure on his mind was noticeable as ever.

Suddenly he could hear a voice, a distant one, this time not from inside the mind he was currently invading but more from the body of the boy.

'I… nt… o to th… nage'

Grindelwald didn't understand, it was like his ears were underwater. The voice was there, noticeable even, but yet so distant, so far. Not audible, like screaming over a far distance while the wind blew.

'I w… o g… e orph...'

He still couldn't understand. He tried to free himself from the mind of the boy, a task that should be as easy as it was saying it. Yet the simple thought of leaving this place was too complex or too unstructured to make sense to him now.

His own mind had taken on a similar structure to the one that Harry possessed now, yet for a man that had spend half his life in prison didn't think like that.

Every thought he made left a silver trail in the boys head. It was like holding a quill over a spinning piece of paper.

'Fa… re yo… ight?'

A long, red piece of yarn appeared before him. It fell like a rope from the ceiling, allowing him to climb up if he wished to do so.

Gellert pulled on the rope, he climbed up, it felt like an endless climb. He almost thought he made the wrong decision, he was about to give up when he suddenly stood on the cliff again.

He felt like he could breathe again. The wind whipped around his face, a surprising cold and harshness were in that blow.

Grindelwald tried to orientate himself again. He was standing a few meters away from the edge of the cliff, he remembered what hat happened again. He remembered the burning orphanage again. He remembered returning from his trip only to see Harry nearly falling off the cliff. He remembered how his face fell when he found out about his sister's mysterious disappearance. Lastly, he remembered falling into a mind trap.

It was a vicious little trap that usually wasn't to be found in any shape or form near any normal human being, let alone a child with no Occlumency training what so ever.

It had been ages since he had magical creatures and dark arts classes in Durmstrang, but if he remembered correctly there were three creatures in the world that were able to create such a mind trap with more or less of the strength of the one he just witnessed.

The first creature that was able to create such a mind trap, while a lot weaker, yet far more effective was none other than the Antipodean Opaleye. A dragon, native to New Zealand and highly resistant to any form of mental manipulation. Should one ever be idiotic enough to challenge an Antipodean Opaleye to a battle of the mind, they would find himself soon to be trapped in its very mind. The dragon would simply tear the soul from the body of the opponent and would be done with it.

The second creature was far more vicious than the first and even more dangerous. A Basilisk, similar to the dragon, possesses the ability to create a mind trap so far stronger, painful and even more unbreakable then those of the dragon.

The only difference in being trapped by the Basilisk in comparison to the dragon was the pain. The dragon was quick and done with it. The Basilisk takes its time. Making sure every single second feels like a painful eternity, slowly torturing the victim into insanity.

The last one Grindelwald could recall was the common Boggart. A non-being. A demon-like creature, able to turn its physical form into the greatest fear of the opponent through Legilimency. Due to that, simple Occlumency was rather helpful when fighting a Boggart, as it will have no fears to go off on when being faced with an impenetrable shield.

But should some unfortunate soul ever get the idea of using Legilimency on a Boggart, and through that successfully smashing its mental shields, they would find themselves trapped in a maze larger than anything. Each corner riddled with the greatest fear of the challenger.

The mind of the man or woman who dared to enter such an infested soul would simply seize to exist. There were only two recordings of that happening in known history. In both cases, it was rumoured, yet not confirmed that those who lose themselves in the mind of a Boggart become demons and shapeshifters themselves, as their soul would be forfeit.

Understandably so Grindelwald was rather disturbed when he returned from the strange mind of the boy.

"Father? Are you alright?"

He could hear the voice now clear as they. The same voice that had talked to him in the trap. Harry had asked him something, that had been the reason why he was able to escape. Hadn't he spoken, he would have most likely lost himself in the depth of the mind of the young man.

"I want to go to the orphanage!"

This had been the other thing that he had heard. He only slightly shook his head, regaining his focus before looking sharply at the boy.

Harry faltered under the sharp gaze of his mentor, looking down before meeting the eyes of the man again, this time asking a little downcast.

"Can we please go to the orphanage? I want to see it with my own eyes."

Grindelwald only looked down onto the boy before garbing his arm and apparating him away to the burning orphanage. He would have to look into this at a later time, now they would have to find a way to locate the boy's little sister if she even was still alive. While she wasn't as important, she could provide additional pull for the boy.

.oOo.

They reappeared a few miles to the north-west of their former location. The shoreline was now a decent few miles to their east.

They stood at the edge of a deep forest. Birds could be heard chirping in the trees nearby as well as the distant crackling of a fire. A thick column of smoke rose to the sky, slowly taking on the shape of a deformed skull the higher it rose.

They had just about reached the orphanage, only burning remains were left of the building that had been once standing here, as they could hear a loud snapping sound a few hundred yards out.

Grindelwald, not hesitating a single second, pushed down Harry into the wet forest soil, dropping down next to him shortly after. He had his wand at the ready, one he had acquired by disarming a sleeping Auror that had been resting in an inn near where they had been looking around. It wasn't a great wand by any measure.

It was made out of ash and seemingly had a Dragon heartstring core. Twelve inches long and rather whippy weren't the best properties for a wand the old wizard thought. Yet it allowed him to cast spells with little to no problems and now would be able to hold his own against any opponent again, should he have to.

Yet he wished he wouldn't need to duel. He much rather would like to remain hidden for as long as possible, licking his wounds as themselves Muggles would say.

More, this time louder, popping sounds could be heard. Judging by the array of voices and popping sounds a contingent of Aurors had just arrived. A good dozen men and woman, all armed and on high alert, would soon be roaming this area.

But then he heard something that made his heart stop for a short second, holding his breath and making sure to catch everything that was said.

Albus Dumbledore had arrived. Grindelwald cringed.

While this may not be optimal it also helped him greatly with his search progress, as he now knew a few things that otherwise would have taken time to find out.

Firstly he knew now that neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore had anything to do with the mysterious fire that had destroyed the orphanage.

Secondly, what didn't help him much with his investigation but with other matters, was the fact that he now knew where he could find his wand. The elder wand was currently held by the bony fingers of the chief warlock and headmaster of Hogwarts.

And thirdly he was now completely informed about both the connection and knowledge of the ministry of magic concerning Dumbledore and himself. The ministry workers were still too lax about their minds and even a base level mind arts student would have been able to read them like books within seconds. This was a somewhat comforting and concerning thought at the same time.

While he would need less experienced forces to successfully ensure the revolutions progress and battle strength to fight alongside him, it also meant that Voldemort and his little group of annoyances would have free reign should they figure out how to use their manpower properly.

They would have to get out of here, quickly, if they didn't want to be noticed by any of the Aurors or the Warlock himself.

Grindelwald grabbed the arm of the boy rather forcefully and slightly pulled him deeper into the forest. It took some time to be entirely out of earshot of the by now round two dozen Aurors that had appeared near the orphanage's ruins, where the fire still ransacked.

There was silence around them, Harry, who was still somewhat shocked at the recent events anxiously looked around the nearby forest, keeping an eye out for stray Aurors who decided to look in their direction for any abnormalities.

Gellert was searching through his coat pockets, before pulling out a necklace that was crowned by a little animated silver dragon.

"Get over here, I've found it," he whispered over to the boy, deciding to be careful in case they still would be heard at the clearing where to the orphanage once stood. He pulled the necklace over his head hand again grabbed the arm of the boy.

"What is it?" Harry asked in a quiet voice. "Emergency Portkey, now be quiet and ask questions when we're back." Grindelwald hissed his answer before whispering the code phrase to the little silver dragon, who promptly pulled both of them out of the forest.

This hadn't been the first time Harry had used a Portkey. It had actually been the third time, first travelling from London to France, then from France to Wales and now this time. He still couldn't get over the strange feeling in his naval area.

The first time they had used said Portkey, he instantly vomited and felt nausea for a solid half-hour. When they had arrived in Wales today, he had felt some strong headaches for an hour, but nothing worse.

This time though was a completely different experience. This was a lot harsher than the first to times and it nearly felt like someone had completely ripped off his entire lower and mid-body. Nausea and headaches from before came back but tenfold and an immense giddiness overcame him.

He felt a numb pain from slamming into to floor of the Delacour manor. He probably would have vomited then and there again. This time he couldn't.

Harry was only able to cough. Then, suddenly as seemingly usual recently, he had spit a large amount of blood onto the floor.

Grindelwald, who had been until now only standing aside, letting to boy gather his breath, now felt a strange wary rising in him as he saw the blood trifling down the boy's nose and mouth.

The opening of a door and the sharp gasp of a female voice pulled him out of his trance. He looked up and saw the daughter of the residing family standing in the door frame. She had her eyes fixed on Harry with an extremely concerned expression.

"Cherche ta mère Fleur, vite!" 'search your mother Fleur, quick!' Grindelwald bellowed to the girl in French before going down onto one knee next to the boy, grabbing his face and looking at it carefully, evaluating any injuries that could possibly have been visible. He pulled out his wand and cast a few simple diagnostic charms, hoping to find something.

The loud clacking of the quickly approaching Madam Delacours shoes informed the man of the girl's success in locating her mother.

He got up and holstered the wand in his sleeve before picking up to boy and turning to the lady of the house. Casting one look at the boy, the French witch knew exactly what to do. She ordered the by now passed out Harry carrying, Grindelwald to follow her to the guest room the boy had been sleeping in.

Arriving in the room and putting the unconscious boy onto the bed the Delacour matriarch cast every diagnostic spell at her disposal on the boy, finding out little more then what the German had found out before her.

"Je crois..." she started in French before she switched to English "I believe ze boy 'as splinched 'imself."

"But we didn't Apparate, we used a Portkey," Grindelwald muttered. "Also there is no visible wound. Unless of course, you are talking about the possibility that he splinched himself internally."

"Zat is what I believe 'append. I know you used a Portkey, yet zat is all I can zink about." Apolline said, her voice wavering a little, unsure about her verdict a little bit herself. "Tous les symptômes correspondent." 'The symptoms fit.' Apolline muttered, more to herself than to the two conscious occupants of the room.

"Then give him a healing potion and we shall let him rest for a few hours." the German wizard decided sternly "I still have business to discuss with your husband."

With that, he left the room without another word. The two remaining witches hesitated a little.

Fleur Delacour was a very bright witch for her age. She had been tutored reading and writing for a few months now by her mother. This, of course, made her rather proficient in talking and listening already. And while she wasn't able to speak or understand English, she still got the gist of most of the conversations around her. She, for example, had understood that the boy was supposed to be given something to make him feel better.

She hadn't understood what but guessed it had to be some sort of potion.

Then the man had said something more to her mother, which she hadn't understood and which had left her mother clearly unsure of what to do.

The older French witch grabbed a vial which was filled with an orange-like coloured liquid. She uncorked it and took in the smell of the contents before trifling a few drops of the liquid in the mouth of the boy, who unconsciously swallowed the fluid and seemingly relaxed a bit.

His features smoothed and even got a slight smile tugging on the corners of his lips. Fleur got a little closer to the bed and looked more closely onto the features of the boy. Henry or Harry or something was his name.

In their brief time together so far, she had never heard his exact name. He once, of course, said it, as he had introduced himself to her, but he had been rather shy back then, so he had only murmured it out.

She could hear a slight laugh coming from the part of the room where her mother stood. Fleur glanced over to her, with a questioning look in her eyes. Apolline was looking at her with an adoring expression gracing her features.

"Pourquoi ne regardez-vous pas Harry pendandt qu'il dort?" 'Why don't you look over Harry, while he sleeps?' her mother asked her "Il devrait se réveiller bientôt." 'He should wake soon.' the older veela added before she left the room, closing the door behind her. She already knew that her daughter wouldn't leave the boys side anyways.

She turned out to be right. As she found her daughter sleeping on the bed, next to Harry, as she got back. With a smile on her face, she left them to sleep out this day's events and went to make herself ready for bed too.

.oOo.

It had taken a few days for the boy to recover. In the meantime, Grindelwald had been active. Snatching up capable followers and helpful allies left, right and centre.

The majority of his newfound followers came from either the British Isles, where those in the known of his possible return and as enemies of the new Dark Lord saw him as an opportunity to bring Voldemort's fall. It was a rather interesting experience to be seen as the lesser evil or better person.

He, of course, had no interest in saving the wizarding world form some lunatic just for the sake of it. But it gave him an interesting opening.

He could, together with his son and followers, take on the role of the defenders of the people. He would unite Witches and wizards, Purebloods and Muggelborns alike.

The inbreeding puritans that were Tom Riddle and his merry band of misfits, while greatly annoying him, helped him in acquiring allies and followers alike.

His plans had changed drastically since they got set into motion and by now he though in a few years he would be able to take magical Britain by simply running for minister. Yet his plans where far greater than conquering only magical Brittain.

This was pleasing news, as he feared any innocent bloodshed could cripple helpful and profiting alliances all across Europe.

But at this point, he could be nothing more than a whisper in the dark. A murmur in the shadows.

If Dumbledore would get wind of his plans, he wouldn't have such a clear pathway. The old traditionalists would probably even support Dumbledore in his little campaign. It didn't help that he now lost every trace of the youngest Potter child. Harry would have to do, he didn't have to time to start searching for the girl months on months just to find out she died in the house fire.

No, he had to concentrate on three things already.

His first priority would have to be the gathering of followers, allies and supporters. This would be the turning point in his campaign, as they would be crucial on both ends of the plan. Should he manage to go all political, they would be his yes-men, his important fallback option. And while he didn't strive for a direct dictatorship, it certainly wouldn't hurt if he had agreeable political allies.

The Delacours, for example, were part of that plan. They wouldn't be much help during the direct confrontation on the British Isles. But if he won and if he took on Europe, or more specifically France, they would be a great help in both cases.

But should diplomacy and politics fail, he would need capable followers who knew their wand tip from handle.

This is were Harry sooner or later would come into play. The young boy steadily worked himself up the importance list in Grindelwald's eyes.

While he started up being only little more then a simple follower when they stood before the door of Privet Drive number four, he left as his son. By now, he would no doubt, after fitting training and preparations, of course, be among his most trusted advisers, generals, allies and friends.

Currently, he may be his son by blood and magic. But by heart, he was still a Potter. Still Lily and James' son. Still brother to Iris and the golden boy of the wizarding world.

'In a few years,' Grindelwald mused, 'the boy would truly be my son. And when that time came, he would undoubtedly be my successor.'

His son. His heir.

Until then, he would have to work on the boy's name. He couldn't be called Harry Potter and be the son of Gellert Grindelwald. His name alone, amongst his presence at his side, would rile up hundreds and thousands of witches and wizards against him.

No, he would have to make sure the boy couldn't be traced back to the Potters or the Durslies or however they were called.

Something more Latin would help, or more olden English. That would appeal to those traditionalistic idiots. Preferably something with H and similar enough to Harry for the boy to easily adapt.

Henry? No there have been enough Potters to be called Henry. No, it had to be something more unique.

Hadwin? Something about a friend in wartime was the meaning behind that one. The name of a born leader and with great focus on personal independence. A good choice, yet he was sure it wouldn't be Hadwin. No, he needed a better name. One with great meaning behind it.

Hadrian? Maybe… It would fit after all. He remembered once reading somewhere that people with the name Hadrian usually desired for people to join them and inspire them to act on a higher cause. They also usually had strong personalities and where great leaders. Aggressive, proud and stubborn as well as impatient and rebellious. A perfect fit.

Grindelwald smiled largely. Hadrian was a good name for a young child and a strong name for a great hero.

Now the only thing the boy would need is a new surname. He couldn't wander around being called Hadrian Grindelwald, at least not until he would come to power. Potter was of the table as well, for obvious reasons.

He briefly played with the thought of simply giving him the surname 'Töpfer' which basically was Potter in German. But besides that being a dreadful name combination it was also to easy to guess.

Dumbledore was a smart man after all. He may hate the man, but he had to admit that he had a brilliant mind, the old fool. To top that, Dumbledore also spoke German, so that was off the table anyway.

Giving him the Delacour surname would certainly be the easiest choice for now, but that would have great political issues in a few years. Then again, he could have been the son of madam Delacour just as easy, as they both shared similar hair colours and some remotely similar facial features.

It still wouldn't make up for the possible political problems. He would be branded a bastard and shamed out of politics.

Another option, one he would rather not bring up, would have been to simply mask him as a son of one of his followers. Karkaroff wouldn't do. As wouldn't Dolohov or Rosier.

The later had only recently joined Grindelwald, seemingly urged by his mother and former supporter Vinda Rosier who recently joined him again as well.

Then a grin formed on the old man's face. A plan had fallen in place, perfectly and Idea sprouted in the form of a great bright candle where before had been nothing.

Queenie Goldstein.

She would be perfect. The only trouble was in him not having heard from her in a long time.

She had been a very powerful witch and, more importantly than that, far younger than him. She would be around eighty by now, but that didn't matter much, as the magic in the wizards and witches granted them unusually long lives. But more powerful ones where those that lived even longer.

Grindelwald himself expected to remain in the world of the living for another two or three decades and that at the young age of a hundred years old. Not that these predictions mattered greatly, as he had multiple plans that would greatly extend his lifespan.

This brought him back to the third point in his priorities list. While only being a mystery or even legend to most, to him the Hallows were a reality, having held the elder wand with his own hands. But he had been brought back to zero, having lost all and every progress in his hunt for the Hallows he had made before being shut away from the world for half a century. This had been the only reason he was putting them last on his list, as it wasn't realistic to be aiming to regain his decades of lost knowledge ins such a short time.

He would much rather focus on the other items on the list, especially his son and the hunt for his long lost advisor Queenie Goldstein. Just her attendance alone would solve great many of his problems. Until then, Harry might just be called Bagshot, the surname of his great-aunt, but that could only be temporary.

.oOo.

Months later…

Harry and Grindelwald stood before the entry of a little inconspicuous shop.

Harry had spent the last few months learning to perfectly read and write, as well as complete his language training in English.

Soon he would begin learning French as well as German and Bulgarian, the old wizard had claimed it to be important to have as many languages at his disposal as possible.

Harry, or Hadrian as he had to now learn to use, believed French to be his first choice as a second language, as he had spent a large amount of time in France with the Delacours.

Both German and Bulgarian would do him good if he were to attend Durmstrang Institute over his current first-choice Hogwarts. And while Beauxbatons was a nice choice to make as well, the thought of a heavy focus on charms and enchanting wasn't a great interest of Harry.

Since he had completed his reading training, Harry had constantly been reading the most different and interesting magical books at his disposal.

While yet being unable to train with magic, he had started to grasp most theory work and started to read into non-wand subjects, like Herbology, Potions or Care of Magical Creatures.

He wasn't greatly interested in any of them. The only one of those he had read that even remotely piqued his interest had been magical creatures.

The only non-wand subjects he seemingly got the hang off only while reading was Ancient Runes and Divination.

Later seemed to have something to do with the fact that his father, Grindelwald, was a seer and his abilities had been passed down with his blood and his magic.

Currently, they found themselves in Germany in the magical part of Cologne, the German equivalent of magical London.

There was a noticeable difference though. The architecture of the magical part of the city was far more modern. While still nowhere near the muggle world and its comforts, the magical population of Germany didn't have to fell as many drawbacks as those in England.

The books that concerned itself with Muggles where far more recent than those found in Diagon Alley. The magical tombs, some containing spells far older then one would expect, dating far beyond the first century, deep into the centre of Roman magic, still strong with the Latin language.

The shabby shop they stood before had the dark silver lettering 'Gregorovitch Zauberstäbe' imprinted on its door. Gellert had explained to him that they would be going to buy some things needed for his pre-school education.

On the very top of that list was the reason they were here. To buy a brand new wand for him to learn, train and perfect casting spell with it.

Slowly entering the shop first, Harry took a look around the dimly lit old shop.

There was a small counter at the centre of the shop, a few old seats and benches were standing around like in a waiting area.

A few shelves graced the room together with animated pictures of a few people, none of which Harry could recognize.

"Wer seit ihr? Was wollt ihr in meinem Laden?" 'Who are you? What do you want in my shop?' a stern, yet old, a voice yelled from the back room.

Harry looked behind him and saw that Gellert hadn't entered the shop with him. In his hand, he found a few gold coins that should cover the cost of one wand.

"I -" he started looking at the, only partially opened, door "- am here to buy a wand," Harry said, sounding more confident than he actually was.

Silence.

"That is usually the reason come into this shop, isn't it?" Harry asked, coming off a little snider then he wanted to.

"Correct." the voice said, this time coming from a door on his right side. Which was completely open. From there, he could see a tall man coming out.

He had white hair, which was reaching his shoulders, and a beard that was covering his chin and cheeks. He wore a grey coat over a leathery brown coloured vest and pants as well as a blue shirt.

"You are far from home, Herr Potter" the wandmaker spoke with extreme malice in his voice. "Rumour has it you're dead! And still, I find you standing in my shop as if you owned the place."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Harry said, this time his uncertainty reeking through his voice more then he feared it would.

"No worries, I can keep a secret," he said nodding to the door, his tone suddenly changed completely. "So you want to get fitted for a wand? Good, let's get you measured up and then you will feel the wood, yes?" Gregorovitch asked, an inquisitive look lurking in his eyes.

"Sure? I guess?" Harry answered unsure of what to expect. "Good!" the old man said and pulled out a simple-looking wand from his pocket pointing it at the boy. A few tape measurement roles flew out of the tip of his wand and started measuring his arm, hand, head and upper body while an enchanted quill took all the information down into a book that had been resting on the centre counter.

"Left or right?" the old man asked, looking at the measurements in his book, which were still being written. "What?" Harry asked, looking slightly confused.

"Which hand are you using to cast? Left or right? It's your dominant arm, you usually should also write with it..." he paused looking expectantly at the young boy.

"Oh, yeah… uh... right." He answered, still warily looking at the flying tape. "Good, now step closer, I want you to touch each of these woods until you find the one that calls for you."

"How will I know it calls for me?" Harry asked, fascinated by the large selection of differently coloured woods. "You just will!" the old man said, sighing impartiality before pushing the first selection of woods over to the boy.

It was a long process of trial and error until the very last piece of wood was before him.

"Yew." the old man said, watching the boy take the piece of wood in his hand. "Either it is this one, you didn't feel the reaction or you are just one -" the old man started his little rant, but was cut short by a loud vibrating sound coming from the piece of Yew wood in the hands of the boy.

"Thank god, took long enough..." Gregorovitch muttered before snatching the piece of wood from the hands of the boy again.

"Now I need some blood of yours. It has to be charged with magic, your own magic, so you will have to bite yourself a wound in your finger or something, as long as it doesn't tamper with the magic flow in your body." the old man said, already writing something down next to the measurements on the piece of parchment.

Sensing the boy was hesitating, he looked up into the boys blue eyes. Strange, he could have sworn they had been green when he last looked into them. "What are you waiting for, boy!" he bellowed, "I don't have all day."

Harry took a deep breath, focus, and bit down onto his finger until he could taste the coppery liquid running down his teeth. He wiped away the saliva and pressed down onto the finger with his thumb and index from the other hand to spill some more blood onto the small tray that had been handed to him.

The old wandmaker finished off his notes and took the little bowl into the back room while saying "This'll take some time. Be patient!", he didn't emerge from the side room for quite some time after that. After an hour the man came back, holding a simple-looking, yet so magnificent piece of yew wood. If Harry had to guess, the wand was a good thirteen, maybe fourteen inches long.

"Yew wood, very rigid and sechsunddreißig centimetres long." The old man said while handing him the piece of wood.

A rush of warmth overcame him as soon as he touched it. He could feel it spreading from his hand to his arm to his body. A gentle golden aura radiated from him for a second before the effect was lifted.

"You have very strange magic, Herr Potter, you are certainly no nicht-Zauberer." the man intoned the last bit as if to assure the boy of something. "I have rarely ever seen such a core that was supposed to be in a wand, Herr Potter, but it is even rarer to posses one like this." He made a great pause before continuing, trying to find the right words in English.

"You see, usually these cores aren't sold, as they are immensely difficult to control and nearly impossible to acquire. There was never a wand with more than one-fourth of this amount in its core. No one has used this as a singular core in over two millennia. Last recorded possession of a pure Chimera scale core wand was during the time of the Roman empire. When Chimeras were more common than today." The craftsman got quieter and quieter while losing himself in the perfected imperfections of the wands wood.

"You know, Herr Potter, there have been more slain Basilisks over the past century, then there have been chimaera sightings." he sighed slightly, looking up at the boy, before pointing to his book.

"You will have to pay me and be done with it." Harry was unsure of why the man was so unhappy at just having made a seemingly potentially amazing deal.

"How much will this one cost me? I am not sure I will be able to afford such a luxurious wand." Harry asked, slight suspicion in his voice.

"That is the part that greatly annoys me you see, -" the man started explaining "I recently changed my prices to a fixed price per wand." Harry had a creeping suspicion at what he was about to hear.

"Because I was losing customers at the thought of having to pay to much for certain wands or to little for others, fearing their quality. So I changed the price, similar to that old crazy Olivander, -" a man being called crazy by Gregorovitch had to be a really insane person, Harry thought "- to ten of your British galleons a wand who don't have one of the more usual ingredients. Well, I am magically bound to my work as a wandmaker to deliver my promises, so you will owe me ten golden coins for a wand worth thousands of galleons."

Harry counted the coins in his hand and gave the man ten, who seemingly didn't even realise that he did, as he was currently wailing in his misery. He quickly turned, wand in hand, and left the little shop.

Standing on the street, he looked around hoping to see Grindelwald anywhere. A large man with dark hair and eyes and pale skin stood near the corner of the store he had just spend a good two hours at.

Their gazes met and Harry quickly recognized a short change in eye colour to the ice blue of his father. A gentle smile grew on the man's face as he looked down onto the wand in his hand.

"Father," Harry said as he approached the man. "I've got it. What's next." Grindelwald only held out his hand for the wand, looking expectantly at the boy to comply.

The second the wand touched his hand he felt a burning hot sensation as if he had just grabbed a molten piece of metal or steel.

Without a seconds hesitation, he dropped the wand back into the hand of the boy, slightly surprised at the magical properties of the boys' wand.

"Hadrian -" he sounded slightly stunned, as he looked down onto his now burned hands. "- what kind of wand is that?!"

Harry, remembering what the old wand-maker had said, only shook his head and whispered something about 'not here'.

Gellert, usually not someone to be surprised by such simple things, only nodded took the boy with him to the next store they would have to visit before they could start the schooling of Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly Potter, to Hadrian Grindelwald, Son of Gellert Grindelwald.

A/N: There we have it, another chapter done.

Please let me know what you thought about the chapter, as said before, criticism and any other form of feedback are greatly appreciated. Please show support to this story by following, favouriting and letting me know you want a new chapter.

I currently am slightly Ill and have pain in my arm and back, so there might be no chapter for a few days, but I currently have two and a half weeks holidays so please let me now you want a new chapter, I will get on it, as I now have long enough Freetime at my disposal.

Hope you enjoyed reading this far. Thank you again for taking the time to read my story it means a lot to me.