If you reviewed in this narrow 24-hour window since I posted the Grindeldore update:

8-Wolke-8: Hah, no problem! I didn't know you were inessencedivided. It makes me wonder how many other people out there reading this are Tumblr users I know...

parrillasquinn: I am a big fan of Queenie and Vinda for some reason right now, and I'm not sure why! And I don't know why I think Vinda is a lesbian, but I think I was cemented in that headcanon after my second viewing of the movie. But Queenie's not. But I am still really into the idea of them being friends. I will definitely write more of them in the future.

Anyway, the chapter. Enjoy.

November 1926

He knew that the Aurors were doing everything in their power, short of killing him, to keep him from escaping.

But they hadn't taken away everything from him. Not yet.

Gellert Grindelwald had been prisoner of the Magical Congress of the United States of America for one week, but it already felt much longer to him. He had memorized the patterns of how MACUSA's maximum prison system worked. Although there was no way for him to tell time, he was still able to predict which sounds - and which MACUSA workers - he would see and hear next. MACUSA operated smoothly, orderly, and consistently, and while that consistency was a sign of control, it was also a sign of predictability. Predictability was a good thing, if one could only be smart enough to find the flaws in the system.

They had, of course, confiscated the Elder wand, though they did not know that it was special in any way whatsoever. He was certain that they had it stored away somewhere with all of the other prisoner's wands, though he knew that his wand was most likely given maximum security treatment. Of course, he had no liked parting with his wand, it was losing the vial that bothered him more. He had tried to not let it show when he saw it in the hands of a MACUSA worker, but his jaw must have clenched, and his expression must have been tense, for the worker had looked at his face suspiciously.

"What's this then?" the MACUSA worker had asked.

Gellert hadn't answered. Another MACUSA worker looked toward him carefully before speaking to the MACUSA official who was holding the pendant in his hands.

"Better keep that safe," said the second MACUSA worker to the first. "It's probably full of dark magic. Picquery will want to have a look at it, I expect."

Dark magic, Gellert had thought with scorn. Why was it that everyone assumed that everything he had, said, or did, was evil? These people were brainwashed. He would work on un-brainwashing them, one guard at a time.

That had been six days ago, but he kept replaying that scene over and over again in his mind.

The door creaked open. Gellert must have been drifting in out and out of consciousness, but sometimes it was difficult to tell, as it was so easy to lose track of time when one was in a dimly-lit cell. Before he was fully awake, he felt himself be slammed into the wall. The chains that had already been at his feet were now at his arms and chest, holding him so tightly against the wall that it was difficult to breathe. His whole body ached.

An Auror entered. Gellert could feel his brain clunking along slowly for him, but it was still faster than most people's minds, despite the fact that they were using magic to suppress his ability to concentrate. (Apparently, they thought they could make his brain slow enough that his ability to form an escape plan would be diminished. This would never work, however.) But Gellert didn't have to operating on his full brainpower to already know what kind of man this Auror was. He was wearing a wide-brim fedora and a long traveling cloak. Gellert immediately suspected that this man was full of himself. And he knew this man was here to question him aggressively. That was why they were restraining him even more than usual. They were preparing to provoke him, enrage him with questions. He was confident, very confident, that they would be unsuccessful in getting any kind of a rise out of him.

His suspicion was confirmed as soon as the man spoke.

"Before you were placed in this cell," said the Auror in a tone that Gellert immediately disliked, "some items were taken from you."

Gellert waited. He did not acknowledge this statement. This man did not have an American accent. He was British. Why was a British Auror interviewing him? He had kept his campaign out of England. His mind was whirring with possibilities. He wondered if Albus was here, in this Ministry, just out of view. Watching this happen in the next room, which was conjoined by one of these walls. Would Albus be bothered by the sight of him being hurt and treated in this way, or would he be indifferent toward the suffering of the man he used to claim he loved?

"Your wand," the man continued, ripping Gellert from his thoughts of Albus. The man was placing his hands in his pockets and looking around the cell. "But also a pendant."

Gellert waited.

"Judging by the fact the pendant cannot be destroyed," the Auror went on, "it is clearly full of dark magic."

"Did you really reach that conclusion because it cannot be destroyed? Or did you reach that conclusion because of who was carrying it?" asked Gellert. His voice was hoarse, so much so that it sounded strange to him.

"Both," the Auror answered confidently.

"Or did you reach that conclusion because anything you cannot understand must be sinister?" asked Gellert snidely. "Just because you cannot understand something does not make it full of dark magic. Your inability to destroy it is more of a statement of your incompetence than it is of what kind of an object it is."

The Auror looked at him coolly. Gellert could tell the man did not like being told he was incompetent.

"Although," amended Gellert, "that is probably an unfair statement. No one can destroy that pendant. Not even me."

"Could Albus Dumbledore destroy the pendant, I wonder?" asked the Auror with malice in his voice.

Gellert fell silent. He had not expected to hear Albus' name. After careful consideration, he finally whispered, "No. No one can."

Silence fell between them.

"Who am I speaking with right now?" Gellert asked.

The Auror looked like he did not want to tell Gellert his name, as if keeping his identity a secret could be interpreted as a sign of superiority to Gellert. But he decided against the anonymity, and told Gellert his name was Travers.

"Then, Travers," Gellert told him coolly, "I suggest you stop trying to destroy my pendant and move on to other more pressing things. I can guarantee you that pendant will not give you any gain. It is a personal item of mine that is unrelated to my cause. There is nothing its destruction could give you."

"Are you afraid that we might destroy it?" asked Travers.

"No, I'm not, because like I have just told you, there is no way for you to destroy it."

Travers narrowed his eyes at him for a moment in consideration. "A personal item," he echoed.

Gellert did not elaborate.

Scoffing, Travers began looking around the cell again, hands deep within his pockets.

"On a different, though what I suspect is related, note," began Travers again, "I'd like to ask you some questions about Albus Dumbledore."

"Is he here, I wonder?" Gellert asked Travers. This position of being slammed against the wall was becoming too uncomfortable for him to think clearly. Please say yes.

"Albus Dumbledore? No, of course not," said Travers coolly, and Gellert felt bizarrely let down by the fact Albus was not here to witness this.

"I am currently investigating Albus Dumbledore, you see," Travers went on. "He is not on our side. He could stop you, yet he doesn't. So many people in Britain are so very convinced that he is a saint, but I believe otherwise. And I will prove it, with or without your assistance, Grindelwald."

"So then why should I offer you my assistance?"

"You don't have to. But I know some things about you and Dumbledore. The letters G and D are on the lid of the pendant's vial," said Travers matter-of-factually.

"Oh, well done," said Gellert coolly. "So because the letter D is on the lid, it must stand for Dumbledore. Is that your theory?"

"Oh, there is more." Travers looked outraged. "When we were hitting the pendant with the most aggressive spells possible, some memories came out of the vial."

Gellert didn't speak. His mind was racing, but he kept his expression passive.

When he did not speak, Travers continued, "Two young men, looking at each other. One is you. The other we had a slightly more difficult time identifying, but we eventually realized the other young man was none other than Albus Dumbledore, now a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - considered to be, magically speaking, your only equal... I have many questions. It is terrifying for us all to think what kind of damage the two of you could have done to the world together had you not been caught and successfully imprisoned like you are now. It would be quite horrifying indeed - the two most powerful men in the world, united in purpose, hellbent on destroying society as we know it."

Still, he did not speak. It would have been glorious.

"And yet," Travers continued, "even though we know that the young man in the memory is Dumbledore, we still are confused on exactly how that came to be. You went to different schools and lived in different parts of Europe, after all. The chances of the two of you meeting one another as teenagers had to slim to none, and much less of a chance of you actually becoming friends. But the proof is right here." Travers pulled the pendant out of his pocket and showed it to Gellert.

Now Gellert understood why they were restraining him so. Seeing it in Travers' hands was infuriating.

Travers flicked his wand.

Gellert was forced to watch his teenage self looking intently into teenage Albus' eyes. Anger surged through him, followed by pain. The memory was only the briefest of snippets, but to him, it felt like he was watching a memory that lasted for minutes rather than seconds. This was none of Travers' business, it was irrelevant to the crimes he had been charged with, it was private, it was a painful reminder of what he had lost, nobody else should be seeing this -

The teenage boys dissipated. He and Travers were alone in semi-darkness once again. Gellert's jaw was unconsciously clenched so tightly that his teeth slipped, and a short grinding sound followed. He wished he hadn't done that. It was a sign of anger.

Travers returned the pendant to his pocket and stepped forward, closer to Gellert than most would have dared.

"You are friends with Albus Dumbledore," Travers stated.

Gellert couldn't help it. He laughed. Friends. It was the first time he had laughed in a long time. Travers was a completely incompetent investigator. He wondered if Travers would question Albus too. How would Albus react to them being referred to as friends? Would he deny that he knew him at all, or would he confess that yes, they were friends?

Suddenly, Gellert felt a whip slash across his chest. He stopped laughing. He knew it wasn't an actual whip - it was a lash created by Travers' wand. It hurt just as much.

"I'm not done talking," said Travers.

Gellert bit down his retort.

"Albus Dumbledore is working for you, isn't he?" asked Travers quietly.

"No, he isn't."

"Don't lie to me."

"I am not lying."

"He is working toward the same cause with you, as your equal, then," snarled Travers.

"He is not with me."

Gellert felt the air lash with magic again, and he felt himself hit. He knew he was bleeding now. He swore to himself that he would not cry out.

"I already know the truth," Travers said coolly. "Now, I just need you to say it. You are Dumbledore are in this together. That is why Newt Scamander was here in New York. To protect the Obscurial... so you could use him."

"You've got it all wrong, Travers."

"Lie to me again, and you will get the Cruciatus Curse."

"I am not lying to you. If Dumbledore was with me, I would tell you."

"Maybe he is not working directly for or with you, but he is at least working to make your cause a reality."

"Oh, how I wish that were true," said Gellert bitterly. "If it were, we would have won already."

Travers glared at him. Gellert looked right back at him. He knew what was coming.

Gellert heard the single word, "Crucio," and then he could no longer see anything. He had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse before this, so he knew what it would feel like. The first time had been back at Durmstrang. He was only fourteen then. He felt like his entire body had been set on fire then. This somehow felt worse. He knew he was screaming against his will, not that he could actually hear or see anything. And then the curse was lifted, and he was limp. If he had thought his body ached before this, it was nothing compared to how it felt now. Every muscle was still screaming. All he wanted to was lie down on the cold floor until he fell asleep.

"Dumbledore is on your side," repeated Travers. When Gellert didn't say anything, Travers said, "Isn't he?"

Gellert took in a few deep breathes. "No," he said softly.

He was hit by the Cruciatus Curse again, and this time, Travers held it on him longer.

"Dumbledore is with you," said Travers in a remarkably calm voice. "Isn't he?"

Gellert did not respond.

A third time. When the curse was lifted, Gellert's heart was banging so hard and fast within his chest that he thought it might burst.

"He isn't with me!" Gellert shouted at Travers. "Yes, I knew him at one time, but we haven't talked to each other in almost thirty -!"

He was cut off by being hit with the Cruciatus Curse for a fourth time. He didn't know how long it lasted, but it felt like minutes. And as soon as it was lifted, his screams transformed from the sound of an animal to the sound of words.

"DUMBLEDORE ISN'T WITH ME," he screamed so loud he thought his throat would tear. "YOU AREN'T TORTURING ME FOR THE TRUTH, YOU'RE TORTURING ME UNTIL YOU HEAR WHAT YOU WANT, AND WHAT YOU WANT IS NOT THE TRUTH." He suddenly heard another man speaking, and Gellert realized that other people had entered the room while he was being tortured. He didn't know how many people were with them now, but they sounded angry. "DUMBLEDORE ISN'T - with me." The last two words were only air. His voice had given out completely. Suddenly, he hit the floor of his cell. He landed hard enough to bruise, and the floor was freezing, but he immediately felt relief flood through him. At least he was suspended against the wall anymore. Gellert was coughing, and then he started sobbing.

"He's right," a man was saying, "that's enough, Travers -"

"I only just started!" shouted Travers.

"And you're quite done now; he's our prisoner, and we will see to it how he is questioned. It's time for you to leave."

More angry words were said, but Gellert didn't care. Footsteps retreated from him, he heard the door slam, the voices of the men faded, and the only sound he heard was his own sobs.

He isn't with me. And he wouldn't care if he saw this.

Well, damn! This was short but thoroughly depressing.

Couple of things. We know it is at least probable that the Ministry never figured out what the blood troth/pact vial was. On a movie prop, it was written that the object was of unknown dark magic and "mysterious." While the movie prop isn't concrete proof, I do think that the Ministry never figured it out, because if they had... well, Travers would've asked Dumbledore why he had made a blood pact with Grindelwald. But I do believe they thoroughly investigated it.

And you know those memories Travers had? You've got to ask... where did he get them from? It's either Bathilda or from the vial itself. I don't think it was Bathilda. I think they extracted that from the vial when they were trying to figure out what it was. I don't have concrete proof on this, but I strongly, strongly believe I am right on this. Just like I strongly believe Travers questioned both Dumbledore and Grindelwald when he was in custody because Travers is the British Auror in charge of the Ministry investigation into Albus Dumbledore. We know that at least the British Ministry of Magic suspects Dumbledore of being a Grindelwald supporter and agent.

As always, I may make edits of this tomorrow.

Next chapter will take place in 1899.