Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Please don't get discouraged if more 'mysteries' pop up –like Arian's existence in the last chapter- because Orion is going to discover a few things in this chapter, plenty of more things will be unraveled when he goes to Zraven Citadel, and the last few knots will be tied at the very end of the story. So, even if it seems kind of slow, we've now entered the phase where most 'mysteries' will be explained, and the end isn't that far away. We are now at the beginning of what would be the seventh book in canon and I won't make it as long as Orion's sixth year.

And, to Beast of the Sea, you were right about the existence of the Vindico Lumen *winks*. I couldn't tell you at the time when you send your review speculating about it but I was very satisfied that you correctly suspected it. Some hints about the VL's existence were dropped in previous chapters, but I had to wait a long time before introducing Arian in the fic. And finally, I could introduce him at the time planned *grins*.

Nevertheless, however 'charming' Arian might appear, he is first and foremost Orion's enemy, so I don't think there'll be any romance going on between them. For Orion, Arian is not a Lezander, Tom Riddle, or Draco.

This is a 'short' chapter, compared with the other ones, but much will be explained in the next update.

I hope you enjoy it!


Chapter 25

Before he even asked Grindelwald where they were, or before he continued inspecting their surroundings, Orion closed his eyes and deeply concentrated. He hadn't contacted Voldemort in this manner in ages, but he felt it was necessary now – they could gain something from what he had to tell. Therefore, he delved into his own mind to find that link between them.

At first, he felt a thrumming of dark, Necromantic magic coming from one of the deepest recesses of his mind. He immediately recognized it as the 'block' Vagnarov had formed. It felt as if it were a cork which had been plugged into a hole, with something relentlessly pushing against it from the other side. He didn't dare to even go near it. He was simply relieved that it seemed that it would hold despite that its creator had died. It was evident to him that Komorov had been right; Vagnarov had put into it vast amounts of his own magic, and it had certainly drained the old wizard and further debilitated him. Nevertheless, it still held so he quickly explored another source of alien magic. Then, he felt that strange yet familiar connection, and he briefly lowered his Occlumency shields and plunged into it.

'Voldemort!' he called in his mind's voice. 'Are you there? Tom!'

Orion gritted his teeth when a flare of pain sizzled in his forehead, just as a furious, demanding hiss reverberated in his mind, 'Where are you? I've been waiting for you to report about what happened to Draco Malfoy and his whereabouts-'

'Dumbledore's alive,' interrupted Orion hastily, scrunching his eyes tighter since the pain didn't diminish but seemed to intensify. 'I found him. I know where he is. I saw him about five minutes ago but there's still time. Send some Death Eaters to muggle Paris, Rue des Gravilliers, number fifteen, third floor. That's the old man's headquarters. Muggle police are around the area and the light wizards have surely already left, but the Death Eaters could still find something of importance left behind in hastiness-'

'Where are you?' snarled Voldemort's hissing voice. 'You are trying my patience-'

'Just send your Death Eaters, we'll talk later!' snapped Orion impatiently, and he swiftly cut short their mind-to-mind connection, slamming up his Occlumency barriers.

A stabbing pain exploded in his scar, and Orion gritted his teeth and fiercely rubbed his forehead. Yes, Voldemort was certainly furious… Abruptly, in the next second, all pain dissolved into nothingness, and a small smirk curled Orion's lips. Evidently, Voldemort was now too busy and distracted with other matters... Good. It bought him time, and perhaps the Death Eaters would find something useful concerning Dumbledore's war plans.

He glanced at Grindelwald, who was still gazing into the horizon with a relaxed and melancholic expression on his face, and then he inspected the scenery before him. They were on top of the highest crest of some mountain ridge which surrounded a valley. Their peak had a pyramidal shape, of steep slopes, with patches of rock and snow here and there, with different layers of sedimentary rock at its base. To his left, he saw another peak nearby, but it was lower than the one they were standing at; in the distance, he discerned a muggle resort town; muggle climbing routes trailed around the rocky ridges, and a large lake reflected the scenery on its smooth surface, not far away.

Orion's boots sunk into the soft snow as he reached Grindelwald, and he sat by the wizard's side, with their legs dangling from the ledge of the steep, rocky peak. All around them, in the highest peak of the highest mountain, they were enveloped by layers of clouds. An orange lining stretched along the horizon, the last remnants of the dusking sun. And the snow, the quietness, the waning sunlight, the chill and the mist of clouds, encompassed him with a sense of peacefulness and beauty but also with an eerie ominousness. Why had Grindelwald chosen this spot to spend his last minutes of existence? Something gripped his chest as he silently observed the lights and shadows playing on the wizard's face.

"Where are we?" he said quietly, as he removed the sheathed sword from his back, settling it by his side and flicking his wand to cancel its parsel-invisibility spell.

"At the Swiss summit of the Matterhorn," replied Grindelwald, shooting him a crooked smirk, "one of the highest and deadliest peaks in the Alps."

Orion wanly smiled at him. "Another one of your favorite places in the world?"

"Ja," said Grindelwald, taking in a deep breath of cool, fresh air and sighing contently. "This is the only place in which I have a… 'good' memory of my father. He brought me here right after my mother's death, when I was twelve." His lips quirked with a wry twist. "My father didn't say a word to me, of course, but I think it was his way of showing me some type of sympathy after my mother succeeded in her third suicide attempt. Antigone, her name was."

Orion's eyes marginally widened as he stared at the old wizard, but he remained silent. Grindelwald had never told him anything about his parents, and he wondered why the wizard was choosing to do so now. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to break Grindelwald's unusual forthcoming mood, so he kept quiet as the German wizard continued.

"My father, the influential and greatly feared Gerald Grindelwald, was the most vicious and cruel dark wizard I have ever met," said Grindelwald, letting out a low, harsh chuckle, with his gaze still staring out into the dusking horizon. "Regardless, he brought me here after my dear, sweet mother killed herself when she was merely twenty seven years old. Oh, she was a woman of unparalled beauty and refinement, but I always understood why he treated her with such cruel indifference. Ja, she came from a prominent German dark wizarding family, and was quite powerful herself, but she had been brought up to simply bear children. When she was made to marry my father at age fourteen –which wasn't that unusual back then- she was a gentle being with no Dark Arts education and minimal magical formation. She was simply what everyone expected of her – a delicate, beautiful trophy wife who couldn't do anything but fade away under my father's stern and oppressive shadow. I always remember her, sitting in her boudoir, staring at herself in the mirror while she quietly combed her beautiful, long hair. Always so sad and quiet, but she never protested when my father brought his mistress to live with us in our manor. My mother accepted her place with solemn dignity, but also with silent grief. Therefore, I never blamed her for killing herself to escape from her gilded prison." He shot him a side-glance, and added in a mutter, "I never blamed my father either. Despite all his failings towards me, I respected him – admired him, even."

"What happened to your dad?" asked Orion, frowning. "I don't recall having heard or read anything about him-"

Grindelwald let out a low crow of chuckles. "He was poisoned by his mistress, months after he had made her his wife. Ironic, isn't it?" He shot him a feral, vicious smirk. "Her, I did kill, thus thwarting her plans to become the sole inheritor of my father's fortune. Admittedly, I also killed her in vengeance for my mother's death."

Orion's frown deepened as he intently regarded the older wizard. "Why are you telling me all of this now, so suddenly-"

"Ja, you're quite right, mein junge," interrupted Grindelwald, placidly smiling at him. "It's quite inconsequential, isn't it? You have much more important thoughts in your mind. But first, before I answer your questions, tell me about this Arian you mentioned… tell me about Ariana's grandson. What is he like?"

"There isn't much that I can tell you," said Orion, huffing as he leaned down on the snow, propping himself up on his elbows, frowning as he stared at a passing cloud. "He is… strange. He felt very powerful but also as though he was barely controlling his magic. He's disturbing, and I dare say, perturbed…" He grimaced, and added shortly, "He's very handsome too, deceitfully so because his countenance is one of goodness but I think he lacks it. He was right about one thing, he isn't like any light wizard I have ever met. He's dangerous." He snapped his gaze up to pierce Grindelwald with his eyes, and muttered acidly, "Put wings on him and he would look like one of those archangels that religious muggles like so much. You know? Gabriel, or one of those… And I think he is aware of what his angelic looks can do for him. I think he knows how to wield it."

"I see," said Grindelwald, toothily grinning at him, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement and interest. "He's the kind of wizard who has all the appearance of goodness which light wizards idolize, the kind of wizard to whom all others of his kind would rally to, correct, mein junge?"

"Yes," bit out Orion, kicking his boot's heel into the peak's rocky slope. "Surely you can see the danger in that."

Grindelwald's grin widened. "Indeed I do."

"He disturbs me," grumbled Orion, a dark frown spreading over his forehead. "He's more powerful than Dumbledore, he knows things about me that he shouldn't, I don't know how, and I believe that Dumbledore knows so much about Vindico Atrum matters because Arian told him, not just because of what Slughorn might have told the old man in his letter." He cocked his head to one side, and staring at Grindelwald he added gruffly, "He calls himself the Vindico Lumen, Gellert. He says he's my 'nemesis', and that he wants me to become the VA in order to defeat me, because I'm no challenge to him at present. Apparently, he despises Dumbledore and wants me to kill the old goat. Furthermore, he doesn't seem as principled and morally bound as most light wizards are. I think he's capable of anything."

"This Arian sounds like a worthy adversary, indeed," said Grindelwald with a chuckle, his expression one of untroubled curiosity. Abruptly, a frown marred his handsome, aged features, and he added quietly, "Albus' grandnephew wants him dead, you say?"

"Yes, Arian told me that himself," replied Orion shortly. "And I don't doubt that he was being sincere. I don't think he had an easy life and Dumbledore must have probably wanted to control him, mold him or train him… I'm not sure, but there's no love lost between them, at least not on Arian's part. Dumbledore is afraid of him, Gellert, I saw it in the old goat's face. Dumbledore seemed troubled and nervous when Arian approached me. He's scared of him."

Grindelwald's frown deepened, but the old wizard remained silent in his musings, and Orion finally pierced him with his eyes, and demanded, "What do you know about Arian, Gellert? Is it true that there's a Vindico Lumen as opposed to the Vindico Atrum? If so, what does it mean? The Spirits have manipulated minds for centuries in order to cross numerous bloodlines to produce the Vindico Atrum, and to purify the lines of other Houses. So, does it mean that someone in the Light's side has done the same to yield a Vindico Lumen?"

He shook his head, confused and troubled. "Who? How? Why? And what kind of powers would a Vindico Lumen have? I'm a VA candidate because I can use and control the wild dark magic in me, like yourself, so what can the Vindico Lumen do? What kind of light magic does Arian have if it's true that he's the Vindico Lumen? I don't understand-"

"I know as much as you do, mein junge," interrupted Grindelwald quietly, his lips set into a straight, tight line as he gazed at the darkening skies. "From what you tell me, Albus' grandnephew seems to be like his grandmother, like Ariana. I hope not traumatized into insanity as she was, but there seems to be similarities in the magnitude of their power. And I-"

"And you killed her intentionally, didn't you?" interjected Orion in a low whisper, as he intently gazed at him. "That summer day, decades ago, when Aberforth, Dumbledore and you started arguing and when Ariana lost control of her magic, you sensed the power in her, right? Just as I have sensed it in Arian today. The intensity of the power I perceived coming from him unsettled me, as if my own magic recognized him to be the most dangerous threat to myself; an opposing force, so to speak. There's something wild and uncontrolled in him as well, as if he was barely capable of restraining his own magic. And you felt the same thing from his grandmother. And that day, you didn't only cast stunning spells, as Dumbledore did. You felt her power, some deeper sense of your awareness recognized her as a threat, and in the midst of the chaotic casts of stunning spells, you casted something more powerful, knowing that it would kill her. Am I right?"

"Ja," replied Grindelwald shortly.

Orion nodded, and said curtly, "I don't know why you didn't tell me this before. Did you think I would have condemned you for it? I don't. If Arian is anything like his grandmother, I completely understand why you did it."

"I don't know what she was," said Grindelwald sharply, snapping his head around to pierce him with his hawk-like gaze, "but I knew that she had to be destroyed. When I felt England after her burial, I told the Spirits about her and about the baby she had had. They seemed troubled, but when I asked why, they wouldn't answer my questions." He shook his head, and added calmly, "I don't know if there's any truth in Arian's claim. I've never found anything which led me to believe that there's an opposing figure to that of the Vindico Atrum. Vindico Lumen, he said?" He arched an eyebrow, his lips twisting. "I don't know if it's possible or if something or someone could be behind it, mein junge. The Spirits are unique, they are Morgana and Mordred, by Dunkelheit! They are the architects behind the production of the VA, but who could be behind the production of a Vindico Lumen? Merlin himself?"

The German wizard scoffed snidely. "That light wizard was killed millennia ago, he died childless, and I can assure you that his spirit didn't linger on this earth. I would have found out about it if that were the case. Nein, mein junge, on this matter, I can give you no answers." His lips quirked into a crooked smirk, and he added loftily, "But, if there's someone who knows anything about Ariana's descendants, it's Komorov and the Spirits. I have no doubt that the Spirits have been monitoring the comings and goings of important light wizards throughout the ages, and every Aux Atrum leader keeps a logbook detailing the endeavors undergone by the Aux Atrum and their discoveries. Do you think that in The Archives there are only records concerning the crosses between dark bloodlines? Nein, the Aux's logbooks are also there and I know that every leader is granted access to them. Therefore, months ago, when Vulcan Vagnarov was demoted and Roman Komorov took over the leadership of the Aux, the Spirits must have granted Komorov access to read the logbooks. He's the one who could tell you more about Arian if the Aux Atrum have indeed been monitoring Ariana's descendants after I told the Spirits about her."

Orion shot forward to sit straight up, and he snapped, "Are you telling me that Komorov knows about Arian's existence? That the Spirits have known about him all this time and they never told me?!"

"Ja, it's highly likely," replied Grindelwald impassively.

Orion seethed with anger, but he instantly forced himself to calm down to quickly muse about the old wizard's words, and he finally said slowly, "I don't think there's anyone behind the 'production' of the Vindico Lumen, as you put it. Arian distinctly said that he considered himself to be the Vindico Lumen, not that he was hailed as such by others. Thus, he must know what he is due to his own knowledge about those matters, not because someone has told him about it. And it's obvious that he knows much more than Dumbledore does. Arian must have a way of knowing things…"

He frowned, and added pensively, "And I can deduce from his words what a Vindico Lumen is - what he is. He put it very plainly, he's the Vindico Atrum's nemesis and it's only logical to deduce that if I have unique dark magic then he has unique light magic as well. If I can use my dark magic to turn it into the power of the elements, he must be able to do something similar, yet, light in nature." His frown deepened further as he continued, "And if I have visions about my future as the Vindico Atrum then… then perhaps he does too, about himself… Perhaps, that's the way he knows about stuff… yet, the visions are given to me by the Kraljica Mati and there's no reason to believe that she has anything to do with Arian. After all, she's the Mother Queen of the Sdravkul Clan, a vampire bloodline with dark wizarding blood. She's dark and would have no reason to help a light wizard like Arian, quite the contrary."

"Indeed," interjected Grindelwald coolly, "but you don't know if she's the one giving you the visions, mein junge-"

"Who else could it be?" snapped Orion crisply. He pinned the old wizard with his gaze, and added shortly, "But one thing is certain, Gellert. Even if Arian doesn't have ancient Spirits backing him up, I know there's much more to him than simply being Dumbledore's grandnephew. It's clear that he now has the reins of leadership of the Light's side. The light wizards didn't dare attack him or go against him when he blocked the spells casted at me. It's obvious they know, to some degree, what he is. And you said it yourself in the past, there're many thing we don't know about light wizards. They have their share of secret societies as well, such as the Covenant of Alchemist. And if the Dark has the Spirits, the Aux Atrum and the Vindico Atrum, then the Light could have something similar; they could have legends we don't know about, tales about an all-powerful leader, beliefs about a 'Vindico Lumen'. And perhaps only a select few light wizards know about it. I never heard anything about a Vindico Lumen at Hogwarts, but that's hardly surprising. I wouldn't expect light pureblooded students to yap about their secrets, in the same way that dark purebloods don't do it either. After all, the Slytherins know about the legend of the Dark's prophet, but I've never heard them openly discussing it. It's a mere legend for them, and they certainly don't know that the 'prophet's' proper title is Vindico Atrum."

His jaw clenched, as he continued sharply, "Now that I think of it, this whole Vindico Lumen matter doesn't surprise me at all. Indeed, I should have expected something like this, someone like Arian." He shot the old wizard a shrewd glance. "And that's what you wanted me to consider when you told me about the Covenant of Alchemists, Gellert. When you told me that some powerful light wizards would oppose me when I became the VA, that unknown Light parties would be a threat to me, and when you said that matters would be harder for me once I became the VA. I see that now. You didn't know about Arian, per se, but you had an inkling that I would come across with someone like him."

Grindelwald merely met his gaze with supreme calmness, and stoically nodded, his lips quirking upwards with a hint of mischievous slyness. Orion narrowed his eyes at him, his mind rushing with convoluted thoughts and suspicions. But finally, he pushed them to a side for later perusal, and he sighed as he carded his fingers through his hair.

"Alright. I'll follow your advice. I'll ask Komorov what he knows about Arian." Orion's lips twisted into a grimace of loathing, and he muttered, "And I suppose I'll have to interrogate the Spirits about it too. Not that I'm looking forward to it. I simply want to kill them once and for all, but I can't, I need them still. And now, with Arian in the picture, more than ever, it seems." He waved a hand dismissively, before he bore his gaze into Grindelwald's and commanded shortly, "Now, explain Dumbledore's strange words to me."

The old German wizard sighed, letting out a grumble of tediousness. "Mein junge, once more I have to inform you that you'll find my knowledge lacking. Nevertheless, I will shed some light on those matters. Mind you, it's what I can conclude from Albus' words, nothing more. You'll find that there isn't much mystery to Albus' words, and my conclusions are plainly obvious."

"That's good enough for me," interjected Orion impatiently, staring at him expectantly.

Grindelwald shot him a small smile, a hint of fondness in his hazel eyes, before his face adopted an indolent expression. "Very well. Let's see. Last night you demanded to know why Albus asked how far along you were in your 'transformation' and what he meant by this. The answer is quite simple, mein junge." He pierced his with his hazel eyes. "You have been, indeed, 'transformed' during the development of your dark magic. At certain levels of power, our own magic does change us. When you use your Necromantic abilities, your eyes turn all-black, this is an outward manifestation of what that type of magic does to you. When Voldemort used his dark magic to produce one extra horcrux, his appearance changed as well, giving him snake-like features, since he has obviously used some magical ritual using snake blood or something similar to make his body stronger. This is another representation of how magic changes us. The same applies, of course, to other types of magic; namely, in our case, to our unique dark magic. That was what Albus was asking you about. And you do feel it, don't you, inside you? And you, above all others, will keep feeling it. That detachment, that coldness of feelings, as you develop further your Necromantic abilities, as you become more powerful in your dark magic. And, as you very well know, you'll be further changed when and if you survive the Vindico test."

He held up a hand when Orion was about to pipe in a question. "Nein, mein junge, I don't know the particulars, but I have told you repeatedly that it's believed that you'll be changed in essentials. By asking you how far along you were in your 'transformation', Albus simply wanted to discern just how close you were to your goal of undergoing the VA test. In other words, if you were powerful enough to succeed in becoming the VA." He shot him a crooked smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And no doubt that Albus was trying to scare or worry you when using the word 'transformed'. Perhaps he wanted you to believe that you'd turn into a monster, but I don't think you have to concern yourself about that. What does it matter if your appearance is changed during the VA test if it makes you more powerful than any wizard in history!"

Orion frowned, a grimace twisting his lips, and Grindelwald let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Mein junge, such vanity! From what you told me, Voldemort didn't seem to care much about his snake-like features, and neither should you even if you're disfigured beyond recognition, which I doubt. I believe the VA test changes a wizard in essence, in mind, in awareness, which is much more relevant than any physical change. And if there's a physical manifestation of those changes, it's inconsequential, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess," muttered Orion grimly.

Grindelwald toothily grinned, patting Orion's shoulder. "It is, mein junge, it is. Dark wizards price power above anything else, and that's something you'll never lack. You'll always have a flock of admirers trailing after you, no matter what you look like."

Orion scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's the least of my worries, old man. Alright, that's one question answered, I suppose. Now tell me why he said that my blood was worth more than his, and why he was scared when I told him about the voice in my dreams."

"Regarding the first," said Grindelwald placidly, "it's safe to assume that Albus was referring to your exalted bloodlines." A crooked smirk stretched over his lips. "After all, you're not only the Black Heir but also the Potter one, and I believe Albus knows this too. Therefore, you have the blood of Cadmus Peverell and also Ignotus, and it's clear which one Albus values the most. After all, it was Ignotus' descendants who at some point married into light families to produce the Potter bloodline, which mainly contains light magic despite that its 'tainted' with the dark blood of its first ancestors. But again, I don't think that Albus' comment was straightforward at all. He was never one to care about bloodlines – in public." His smirk widened. "I think his words were a mere reflection about what he was musing at that time, and Dunkelheit knows what that could have been. Indeed, the twists of Albus' mind sometimes stun even myself."

Orion intently stared at him, a frown on his forehead. He wasn't convinced one bit with the wizard's explanation, but as Grindelwald continued he didn't have a chance to voice it, and he decided that it was obvious that he wouldn't get much more concerning that matter.

"Regarding the second point, it's obvious that Albus was scared when you told him about your visions, the 'voice' and what it said, because its unmistakably a sign that you're very close to becoming powerful enough to undergo and survive the Vindico test." Grindelwald toothily grinned at him. "After all, didn't you tell me that the voice says that you're so close, so very near, as she calls for you? That she tells you to accept what you see in your visions and what you'll become?"

A chilly shudder ran down Orion's spine, as he remembered what he had seen concerning what would happen in a few minutes, recalling the crooning and triumphant 'yes' that reverberated through his mind. He curtly nodded at Grindelwald, gesturing for him to continue.

The old German wizard eyed him with satisfaction, as he said calmly, "Albus also said that it would be your end, namely, that if you proceeded with your goal of becoming the VA you wouldn't like the consequences. Again, this is a mere presumption on Albus' part, believing, probably, that you might not survive the VA test. And more importantly, like most light wizards, he believes that power corrupts. Perhaps he fears that you'll turn into someone like Voldemort in his worst years; a bloodthirsty madman who wants to annihilate all muggles. Indeed, Albus would see this as your end, as well as the end of the wizarding world as he knows it. This comes in hand, of course, with why he thinks that if you or anyone else becomes the VA, it would be catastrophic. It's simple. He knows that if the VA arises, the wizarding world would be thrown into a series of wars. Not only in England, mein junge, but in all the wizarding world and we have never had such a war before. Unlike muggles, there are no World Wars in wizarding history."

He pierced him with his hawk-like gaze, and added gravely, "Indeed, it's something that cannot be prevented. The VA has the duty to change the world for the Dark's benefit, and such changes can only be attained by means of war, mein junge. As the VA, you'll be the one to orchestrate and seize the reins of leadership of the Dark. And given recent events, it can't be stopped. The wizarding world will soon be involved in an all-out war, you'll have to learn to cope with many deaths in the near future, mein junge."

"I know," said Orion quietly. "But is that all what Dumbledore fears? The countless casualties of war? Surely he knows that-"

"Knowing Albus, every death at the battlefield will heavily burden his conscience," interjected Grindelwald wryly. "He'll even grieve over the deaths of dark wizards who he considers to be too young and thus naïvely innocent." He clicked his tongue in disapproval, before he waved his hand dismissively. "But, what he fears the most, mein junge, what he sees as potentially catastrophic, is for all the wizarding world to be propelled into a global war. That's where the body count will rise to unprecedented heights. And he'll see it as a cost which doesn't justify the end." A large smirk curled his lips. "Albus is all for das Größere Wohl, the Greater Good, as long as it doesn't mean that his kind, mudbloods or muggles will be the ones who will suffer the most. He believes in the sacrifice of an individual for the whole, but not the sacrifice of the whole for the higher aims of one sole individual. And he certainly thinks that the VA will bring about the latter. He believes that the VA will do anything in order to secure his own power over all wizarding kind. And he's right, mein junge, that's what you'll have to do, but you'll do it for the benefit of the Dark, for your own kind. Will you turn into a despotic ruler? Ja, certainly! But you'll accomplish much more than anyone could ever hope to. You will not be able to establish a democracy, mein junge, I'm sure you're aware of that. Nothing ever gets done in such organizations of a civilization. You'll be a tyrant. Thus, bringing forth the changes required in an efficient and quick manner. Surely, it will mean that you'll be loathed by many, that enemies and rebels will always pop up, but that's precisely why only the VA can succeed since you'll be powerful enough to dispose of anyone who goes against you, even of whole armies!"

Abruptly, he gripped Orion's chin, lifting it up as he pierced him with his eyes, and he said sharply, "And I don't want you to contemplate, to even think, that you would lose focus, that you aren't prepared to take such a position because you might turn too ruthless or merciless. That's not something a powerful wizard should ever concern himself about. You have your ideas straight, mein junge, I know that." He widely smirked at him. "And you'll always have people bothering you with their unrequested opinions. Indeed, I don't think that sour-faced guardian of yours would allow you to become a mass-murderer. Nor do you have the inclination, much to my chagrin. Nevertheless, your scruples will do you credit and the Aux Atrum will always be there to support you, even if your allies and close ones turn against you if they're bland enough to believe that your means don't justify your ends." He flashed him with a toothy grin. "And if you ever doubt yourself, I give you permission to use those Necromantic abilities of yours to summon my soul, and I'll point you towards the right direction. However, I hope you don't, mein junge. I hope you'll have fortitude and confidence in yourself to never doubt the choices you make."

"Thanks," said Orion, wanly smiling at him, "but becoming a tyrant, as you put it, is not something I'm afraid of, Gellert." He chuckled softly. "There're many who wouldn't permit me to 'abuse' my power. Snape, as you said, but also Remus and my dad." He shot him a large smirk. "And I can always make them see things from my point of view, so there're no worries there. And even if they oppose my methods, well, I'll always do what I think is best."

He paused, and cocked his head to a side as he pierced him with his eyes. "You've answered all the questions I made to you last night, except one. You said Dumbledore fears a wizarding world war, due to the amount of casualties, but I think there has to be a bit more to it than that, Gellert. Obviously, Dumbledore doesn't want the Dark to win over the Light, he doesn't want a VA to triumph. It's understandable since he's a light wizard, but he knows that Slytherin was right. The Treatise he wrote came to the same conclusions as Slytherin's research journals. He knows that if wizards keep crossing their bloodlines with muggles and muggleborns, the subsequent offspring of those matches would be magically weaker. And he must know that the VA's primary aim is to stop this from happening. Alright, the VA supports the Dark, but he's also someone who fights for the purity and thus the strength of magic in the bloodlines. Light bloodlines are also being affected, so why doesn't Dumbledore at least agree with that aim of the VA? Why did he stop his Treatise from being published worldwide? Why doesn't he want his conclusions to be known?"

"Because he rather have uniformity of magic than dissent, segregation, and war," replied Grindelwald coolly. "Ask yourself what a light wizard like Albus can aim for. What would his ideal wizarding world entail? Dark and light wizards have been fighting each other since the dawn of times, mein junge. For someone like Albus, wouldn't it be better if all of us were the same?" He arched an eyebrow, pinning Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "Even if it means that our bloodlines would be muddled with muggle blood, with our future children being magically weaker since the neutral magic of muggles and mudbloods debilitate the light and dark magic of our lines, all future wizards and witches wouldn't be light or dark anymore. They would all, at some point in time, only have 'neutral' magic in their blood, as you call it. Mudbloods are a minority, but half-bloods are swiftly becoming a majority at present, and if we kept having children with muggles, in a few centuries, there would be no light or dark wizards left. All of them would have the same type of neutral magic, all of them would have the same low level of magical power, and all of them would have the same customs and beliefs, which would be largely influenced by the beliefs and customs of the muggles their ancestors married. Thus, there would be no factions within the wizarding world, there would be no struggles for power except in the political arena regarding inconsequential matters, and there would be no dislike of muggles either. Most probably, they would agree to fuse their world with the muggle world as well. Albus wants a world of complete integration. He wants to annul that which differences wizards. Think, mein junge. What is that which defines us?"

"The type of magic we carry in our blood," muttered Orion, a deep frown spreading over his forehead. "So if we're all the same magically, there would be no fights between us. I see what he wants, and in a way, I can understand it. The type of magic we wield is what makes us different from one another and that which makes us fight for dominance. Much like happens to muggles, only that they have created more differences between themselves. They fight over religion, economic interests, civil rights in their respective forms of governments and even stupid things such as race and skin color. If those differences were diminished throughout the decades, they would still fight for economic power, but nothing else." He gazed up at the old wizard, his frown deepening. "There wouldn't be able to easily find reasons to go to war-"

"Who cares about the muggles, Dunkelheit blast them!" interrupted Grindelwald acerbically. "They'll always find some motive or other to kill each other, mein junge. They'll always blame others for their own problems and incompetence, and they'll always try to impose their pathetic beliefs on others. They're vastly inferior to us. Filthy ignorant savages, all of them! I want you to think in terms of the wizarding world, mein junge. Would you like to see us reduced to a bunch of wizards and witches who have all the same type of weak magic? Who have forgotten the customs of our ancestors, and the knowledge that comes from ages of magical study and understanding?" He tightly gripped Orion's chin, narrowing his eyes at him, and demanded harshly, "Would you, mein junge? If it only meant that it would spare us from wars? Is magical uniformity better than heterogeneity?"

Orion slowly pulled his face away from Grindelwald's clutching fingers, and he frowned as he mused in silence. He could feel the wizard's incensed gaze boring into him, but he remained quiet as his mind rushed with thoughts.

"No," he said at last, glancing up at him. "But I can understand why Dumbledore wants it, Gellert-"

"If Albus' intentions prevail, in the future the wizarding world would end up being integrated with the muggles, junge!" snarled Grindelwald, angrily narrowing his eyes at him. "Their disgusting, decadent beliefs, prejudices, superstitions and traditions would taint our society-"

"I know that," snapped Orion, leveling him with a hard gaze. "I don't want us to 'integrate' with muggles, as you put it. I don't want wizarding bloodlines to dwindle down in power and I certainly don't want light and dark magic to be extinguished, Gellert. I simply said that I can understand Dumbledore's point of view, not that I shared it. He wants the wizarding world to sacrifice magical power for the peace that comes with uniformity, as you said. This peace he wants would come at a high cost but it would certainly hold forever, Gellert. Nevertheless, I rather attain peace without sacrificing our types of magic. I rather withstand decades of war to establish a strong leadership which will be able to keep peace, by force if needed. But what would happen afterwards, Gellert? If I succeed, if I become the VA, win the wars for the Dark, make the Dark hold the political power over the wizarding world and then defend it for decades, what will happen after I die? It would all repeat itself! Light and dark wizards would fight against each other again, leaders would rise on each side, and there would be war, and later peace, once again, with the victor of turn. I would have accomplished to make the bloodlines purer during my period in power, but in the end, it would be all for nothing. Some new leader could destroy my work, and the same would happen over and over again-"

"It's unavoidable, mein junge," interjected Grindelwald solemnly. He narrowed his eyes at him, and demanded sharply, "And I see that you're still thinking about the matter. Pray tell me, what is it that has you so pensive?"

"That perhaps there's another way," replied Orion curtly.

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed to slits, before he smirked and said loftily, "Such as?"

"Bloody hell, I don't know!" said Orion impatiently, carding his fingers through his hair. "You can hardly expect me to find a solution in two damned seconds, Gellert! I just…" He slightly frowned. "I just wonder what Arian thinks about this matter. Does he share Dumbledore's aims? Is that what the Vindico Lumen is supposed to do? To make sure that wizarding bloodlines are completely neutralized by muggle blood, to make all wizards have the same type of magic in the distant future? Does he want to merge the wizarding and muggle world as well?"

Orion glanced up at the old wizard, and saw him staring at him with a strange expression on his face. "What?"

"Exactly how have you been affected by meeting that young wizard, mein junge?" said Grindelwald quietly, intently observing him with a troubled expression on his face. "Why would you care what Arian wants? According to you, he wants to defeat you, to kill you, to become the victor in the war. And it sounds to me that he seems to have some type of hold over you-"

"Hold?" bit out Orion angrily. "He has no hold over me whatsoever. I was simply curious, Gellert. As you're very well aware, it's always imperative to know your enemy as much as you can."

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow skeptically, but then the wizard merely nodded and gazed out into the horizon, apparently having nothing more to say and deciding to spend his last minutes in silent contemplation of the view afforded by their surroundings. Orion frowned as he averted his gaze from the wizard to thread his fingers through the snow, his mind a mess of convoluted thoughts. He couldn't help but feel that everything Grindelwald had said had some deeper purpose, as if he had been fed food for thought. It was very like the German wizard to give him information, for him to digest and come to his own conclusions, without straightforwardly telling him what, exactly, were the conclusions in question. And more often than not, the old wizard didn't really have the answers but expected him to find them. Grindelwald was as tricky and sly as ever. And some of the explanations for his first questions didn't utterly convince him.

"You know, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly, pulling Orion out of his musings, "from everything you've told me about your life-" He side-glanced at him, and shot him a crooked smirk. "-which has certainly been most adventurous and entertaining, there's one thing in particular which has always piqued my curiosity and given me much to wonder about."

Orion blinked at him, puzzled. "What are you referring to?"

"To the way in which your father broke out from Azkaban days before, and just in time, to find you escaping from the Dursleys," replied Grindelwald calmly, turning his face to gaze at him. "Indeed, it's most peculiar. Was it just a coincidence that Sirius Black suddenly felt an urge to find how the 'son' of his best friend had been faring? He didn't know he was your father, you were merely his godson, as far as he knew. And I think that the timing was very… interesting." He arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you agree? Furthermore, I've always found very curious the way you reacted when you discovered you were a wizard and also a Black. The way you instantly poured over Dark Arts tomes, the way you staunchly decided to support the Dark side, even when your father was against it and when you knew that Voldemort had killed your mother. Indeed, despite all of this, you were always curious about Voldemort, you always wanted to know more about him and about the problems faced by dark wizards, and you always showed a disposition to fight for your kind."

"What are you trying to say, Gellert?" asked Orion, gaping at him. "Sure, the moment I knew I was a Black, and thus, a dark wizard, the moment I began understanding more about the wizarding world and the differences between Light and Dark, I wanted to stand side by side with my kind. I was ten years old, granted, but I wasn't an idiot, Gellert. I could decide for myself who I thought was right, and who to support. And ever since, I've believed in the Dark's cause. Why do you find it surprising?" He deeply frowned, intently gauging him. "Are you trying to tell me that you think that I was… influenced - somehow? That the choice to support the Dark wasn't my own? You told me yourself that the Spirits couldn't break into my mind, and they didn't know who I was at that time. From the Aux Atrum, Ragnarok and Gregorovitch were the first to see me, and the Spirits didn't start suspecting that I could be a VA candidate until the moment in which I saw them in the Chamber of Whispers at Durmstrang, to be sorted. So how or why would they have-"

"Nein, I don't think the Spirits had anything to do with it," interrupted Grindelwald, piercing him with his eyes. "I simply find it puzzling that when you were ten years old you decided to staunchly support the Dark, mein junge. I do find that decision intriguing, no matter how well informed you became in matters of Light vs. Dark when you purposely read all the books you could from Grimmauld's Place's library. Indeed, that hunger for information, to know about the Dark's history and plights, is also strange for a boy that young." He slightly frowned, a pensive expression spreading over his face. "Someone as young as you were, with a dark wizard turned light for a father, with reasons to hate the Dark since your mother was killed by a Dark Lord, and with no previous pureblood education… someone, someone like that wouldn't have easily decided to support the Dark, mein junge. I have no hypothesis on the matter. It's simply something which has always been in my mind, puzzling me."

He shot him a pointed glance. "And I think it's something which should be in yours as well, mein junge. There's something unaccounted for in the whole matter. I don't think your mind was tampered with, it's not possible. But I do think there's some factor there which we don't know about."

Orion stared at him in stunned silence, his mind speeding, but he honestly couldn't find anything strange about the whole issue. Perhaps, it was peculiar, he supposed, but he really didn't know what to make of Grindelwald's suspicions.

"Simply keep it in mind, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly. "Maybe you'll solve the mystery someday."

"Er – alright," muttered Orion under his breath, slowly nodding at him.

Grindelwald pointedly fixed his gaze on Gryffindor's Sword which lay by Orion's side, and said placidly, "I have no more words of wisdom to impart. We should get on with it, mein junge."

Abruptly snatched away from his entangled ponderings, Orion snapped his head up to stare at him, and he mumbled, "Oh – yes. Right. This is it, then? The time for me to keep my end of our bargain." He stretched his lips into a forced, nonchalant smile. "I'll… I'll miss you, Gellert."

"Of course you will, mein junge. I am, after all, unforgettable!" exclaimed Grindelwald, crookedly smirking as he patted Orion's back. "I'm unique, exceedingly charming and awe-inspiring. There's only one Gellert Grindelwald in the world, and I know that my starling presence will be sorely missed. Indeed, the world will become quite a tedious place without me." He lifted Orion's chin up, and intently bore his gaze into his. "But fear not, mein junge, there will be others who will fill the void I'll leave in your life."

"I suppose," muttered Orion sullenly, before he did his best to grin unconcernedly.

It seemed that he didn't quite manage it; must have turned out a grimace instead of a carefree grin, because the German wizard was now frowning at him with a crossed and disappointed expression on his face.

"I will not have you moping about after my death," said Grindelwald sharply, piercing him with his hawk-like gaze. "I don't want to be mourned, mein junge. I want to be celebrated!" A toothy grin spread over his lips, his eyes sparkling with excited deviousness. "So what I want you to do after my death is to get stupidly drunk and then fuck senseless whatever handsome man or boy you find. That's what I would do in your place, and that's how I want you to celebrate my demise. In the meanwhile, I'll be laughing my ethereal arse off, finally untroubled from mortal coils." He widely smirked at him, his expression turning leering and lecherous. "And of course, I'll be waiting for dear old Albus."

Orion let out a bout of ringing laughter, sniggering in amusement. "You're incorrigible, old man. I'll do my best to please you and to kill Dumbledore as soon as I can."

"That's all I ask, mein junge," said Grindelwald contently, as he swiftly stood up and raised his arms into the air to stretch himself. "Pick up the sword and let's get on with it. I want you to slice my throat-"

"But... but," spluttered Orion, gazing up at him from his seated position on the patch snow, "but you said you would tell me your personal reason-"

"And I will," interrupted Grindelwald, his lips quirking into a sly smirk, "after you slice my throat. That's how I want to die. I'll bleed to death quickly but I'll have time to say my last words to you."

Orion jumped to his feet to stand face-to-face with the old wizard, and said heatedly, his tone accusing, "And that's the best way for you to die without allowing me to stop it once you said whatever it is you have to say to me." He narrowed his eyes, piercing him with his gaze. "I don't like this one bit, Gellert. I'm not stupid. Whatever your personal reason is, it's something I won't like. It's something which, once I know it, will make me change my mind about killing you, isn't it? Why else would you ask me to kill you in this way-"

"You said you would do it!" spat Grindelwald, his voice sharp and piercing, his expression furious. He painfully grabbed Orion's face in his hands, and hissed out, "It's my right to decide when and how I tell you, and how I want to die, and you'll do as I say. Do I need to remind you what you owe me-"

"No," interrupted Orion curtly. "It isn't necessary. I'll…" He thickly swallowed, and then nodded as he said quietly, "Fine. Have it your way."

He swiftly spun around and grasped the sword from the snow-covered ground. Tightly grasping its ruby-encrusted hilt in his hands, he turned to face the old wizard once more, raising the sword into the air.

"Now what?" he said tightly, his shoulders tensing as he stared at the wizard.

Grindelwald shot him a wide, crooked grin, before he sunk to his knees in front of him, with the sword's tip inches away from his neck. "You know what to do now, mein junge."

"Will I regret this, Gellert?" whispered Orion, his throat constricting and something piercingly clutching his chest as he gazed down into the wizard's hazel eyes.

"You shouldn't, mein junge," said Grindelwald sternly, "because you know it's necessary and because I want it." A soft smile touched his lips, and with his face still turned up to gaze at him, he added quietly, "I'm proud of you, mein junge. I want you to know that. And I'll be even prouder when you become the VA. It's your destiny, mein junge. Promise you will, no matter what."

"I will," rasped out Orion.

Grindelwald's smile widened, a fond expression flickering across his handsome, aged features. "Gut. And perhaps… perhaps I should also tell you that, surpassing my expectations, I've come to love you as a father loves a-"

"Don't," gritted out Orion through clenched teeth, his fingers jerkily tightening around the sword's hilt. "If you want me to do this, Gellert, don't say anything of the sort."

"I feel it's important for you to know," interjected Grindelwald sternly, arching an eyebrow. "Did you know?"

"I do now," bit out Orion curtly, while he felt a burning prickle behind his eyes, stiffness spreading throughout his body.

Grindelwald shot him a toothy grin, before he narrowed his eyes at him, and said suspiciously, "You will not try to resurrect me, will you, mein junge?"

Orion's eyes slightly widened, and he said honestly, "It wouldn't cross my mind, Gellert. Cadmus tried it several times with Eloise and she ended up killing herself. I wouldn't wish that for you. I cannot disturb the Balance between the Planes, not to mention that if I tried it every Dementor would launch themselves upon me and Merlin knows what the Guild would do to me. No, Gellert, in that, I will obey the rules of Necromancers. And if I take your magic, there's nothing for your soul to return to, just an empty, magicless body. And I think you'd rather be dead than a squib."

"Ja, precisely," said Grindelwald, with a nod of satisfaction. Then, he threw his head back to stretch out his throat, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Very well. Go ahead, mein junge."

Orion stiffly nodded, bringing the blade's tip to the wizard's neck. His heart was loudly hammering in his chest, and he felt as if he was an executioner going on autopilot, as his thoughts and feelings turned into a messy turmoil. Through his glazed vision, he saw as he swiftly slashed the sword's tip across Grindelwald's throat, a deep wedge instantly opening up, with flows of deep, crimson blood immediately gushing out copiously. A gurgled and pained groan issued from the old wizard's lips, before he toppled backwards, crumpling with a muted 'thud' on the pristinely white, soft snow.

Letting out a startled gasp, Orion dropped the sword to the ground, before he hastily sunk down on his knees by Grindelwald's side. An expanding pool of bright red blood was quickly covering the snow surrounding the old wizard, and he saw how the veins around the wound in Grindelwald's throat were standing out through the pale skin, turning into a lattice of web-like black tendrils – the basilisk poison of the sword's blade acting in the wizard's bloodstream.

Heavily breathing, Orion gently lifted Grindelwald's head to his lap, and he comfortingly caressed the wizard's blonde and grey-peppered curls of hairs, as he whispered with a tight voice, "Tell me, Gellert. Tell me your personal reason."

Grindelwald's eyes widened to stare up at him, his pupils slowly dilating as his labored pants of breath made more blood gurgle and gush out from the gash in his throat.

"Look… into my eyes," said the wizard slowly, his voice turning hoarser as his face slightly scrunched in pain. "I want to see them… soothes me… they're hers…"

"Like my mother's?" whispered Orion confusedly, not understanding what it had to do with anything.

"Ja… from what I've heard... but also… also, like mine's."

"Your mother's?" croaked out Orion, his eyes widening as his fingers jerkily tangled into the wizard's hair, his mind spinning in a havoc with the implications of the wizard's simple statement.

Grindelwald's pale, blood-stained lips stretched into a small, crooked smile. "Ja... that's the reason… mein junge… you were always mine… mein Enkel... that's the reason for everything… why you are what you are… you're mein Enkel..."

A painful twist churned in the pit of Orion's stomach as the German word echoed in his mind. 'Enkel…Enkel… Enkel…', he knew what it meant, but he couldn't understand it. His mind dizzily rushed with a tumultuous assault of why's and how's, and he could hardly cope with the horror of what he had done as he stared at the wizard's dilating pupils. Suddenly, he felt out of breath, something suffocating him, as comprehension, a sense of betrayal, anger, grief and rage took over him.

"You had no right to keep that to yourself!" he spat furiously, tears streaming down his cheeks as he violently shook the wizard's shoulders, making his head snap to one side and the other. "You fucking devious, lying bastard-"

A hand shot forth to grip Orion's collar, and Grindelwald groaned as he pulled his face close to his, and he hissed out, a splat of blood gurgling from his lips, "Make me proud!"

The wizard's hand limply dropped to the ground, his unmoving body weighed down on Orion's lap, and all became silent while the only thing Orion could hear were his own panted, loud breaths and all he could see was the red of blood amidst the snow. Orion remained frozen, his eyes wide, staring unseeingly into Grindelwald's dead eyes, as he understood everything -yet, in some ways, nothing- while a horrified, slacked expression spread over his pale face.

"Enkel… grandson," he whispered, at last voicing his reality, yet still shocked into stillness.

But before he could wrap his mind around it, trying to put his wild thoughts in order, trying to find some sense to all of it, he gasped out when he saw what was forming before him. A black mist seemed to be oozing out from Grindelwald's body, but it was no mist at all. He could feel it, tingling all over his skin; the dark magic scorching, burning in intensity. Tendrils snapped and coiled, swiftly forming a violently spinning whirlwind, a thick, shapeless black mass expanding, growing without pause. But it didn't feel threatening or frightening; it felt deeply familiar. His own inner magical core seemed to be thrumming and singing out in wild excitement and agitation. The small hairs of his nape and arms stood up, goosebumps covered every inch of his skin. And Orion bit down on his trembling bottom lip, remaining seated on his haunches in complete stillness as the mass of Grindelwald's unique dark magic kept flowing outwards, expanding as if searching for something.

He knew what was happening; he knew that if he dissapparated right then, the magic would simply sink into the ground, theoretically going back to the Source of Dark Magic in the Earth's core. Of course, he didn't go anywhere. This was the whole purpose of having killed Grindelwald. He was now the nearest focus of the same type of dark magic and Grindelwald's would soon detect it and plunge into him. His chest heaved, and his loud breathing became labored with anticipation but also frantic trepidation when he saw a tendril of black magic stretching out to touch him from the mass of blackness. He kept rooted in place, and a soft gasp escaped his lips when the coil of magic froze inches away from his face.

Suddenly, with a violence he hadn't expected, the whirlwind of dark magic rushed towards him. It looked like a leviathan force bent on swallowing him whole. And indeed, when it completely covered him, plunging into him with ramming brutally, he felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside out. He couldn't see anything but absolute darkness, and his eyes scrunched shut with a volition of their own when he felt ravaging waves of pain assaulting his body. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, but the scream he tried to stifle ripped itself from his throat before he could stop it. He had never before felt such a degree of pain. It was savage, brutal and violent, consuming, possessive and relentless - and unbearably scorching.

He felt as if he was being burned alive. There wasn't a single fiber in his body which didn't contract and twist in pain, he felt his limbs jerkily flailing and snapping against the ground, his body convulsing. And amidst the assaults of pain, he felt as if he was being forcibly filled beyond capacity. His inner magical core was expanding with frenzied and animated swiftness, as it welcomed the new dark magic. He felt it inside himself, inexorably getting larger and larger, violently wild but also soothingly familiar. But soon the pain became unbearable, worse than any Cruciatus Curse he had ever experienced and he felt his mind shutting itself down, darkness encompassing him as his awareness started to slither away from him. And the last thing he became aware of was a crooning, enticing voice crying 'yes!' in his mind, echoing victoriously, making a chilly shudder run down his spine.


Orion slowly opened his eyes with considerable effort, groaning in pain. Everything in his body ached and tingled. He felt dizzy and feverish, he felt scorching heat sizzling throughout his body. It was painful, and he wanted the heat to stop. He felt something cold against his face, and he discovered that he was lying on blood-covered snow. He curled up and frantically rubbed his face into the snow, digging his arms and hands into it, feeling a small modicum of relief as the coldness of the snow seeped into his body, mollifying the burning heat inside him. As he lay prostrated on the chilling snow, he discerned Grindelwald's corpse a few paces away from him.

It made a macabre, horrifying picture. Thin black veins could be seen spread under the dead-white skin of the wizard's face, the blue-tinted lips were parted open, the deep gash in his throat had caked, dried blood covering the neck and the wizard's robes. The hazel eyes were wide open, staring up, the pupils completely dilated. And around him, the snow was tinted red, the pool of blood having already seeped into it.

Without moving an inch, since every breath he took seemed unbearably painfully, he rolled his eyes to a side to glance at the skies. They were black, littered with stars that could be seen through some parted, dark clouds. It was already night time, so it was obvious that he had lost consciousness for several hours. Orion groaned again when he slowly tried to get to his feet. Despite the chillness of his surroundings, he was sweating, his body was trembling and his hands were shaking. He felt physically weak, sick with feverish heat, but also as if he was full and about to explode.

He felt as if his skin would rip open at any moment, there was something colossal inside him. His inner magical core was swelled, enlarged, spinning, sizzling and coiling animatedly inside him, but it felt too much. A soft gasp escaped from his lips when he saw misty blackness covering him, undulating around him, encompassing him like a mother rocking a child. It was his dark magical aura, but it shouldn't be visible so soon. He had stopped taking the potion to suppress his magical aura, as planned, but he hadn't expected the outward change to happen so quickly. It was obvious that what lingered of the potion in his bloodstream could no longer suppress the new magic he had taken inside him. And during the following week of detoxification, he knew that his magical aura would keep getting thicker, more evident, and awe-inspiring.

As it were, he already felt the potency of the magic he was now harnessing within him. Despite the feverish and aching weakness of his body -which was also caused by the first hours of detoxification that he was experiencing; it was undoubtedly already taking it's toll- he felt a staggering strength within him, a pulsing, vibrating power thrumming all over him. It left his breathless, joyously dazed and deliriously astounded; there was a wild, potent power within him that made him feel unmatched and invincible, yet, he also hungered for more. It was addictive, enticing, soothing, and also slightly scary, because it felt barely controlled.

Indeed, he was wary of casting any spell. He didn't know if he could control the amount of power he put behind it. He knew he would have to learn again how to restrain his own magic. Merlin knew what a simple levitating charm could do if he wasn't able to quickly adapt to his new potency of power. Yet, on the other hand, he wanted to know, as soon as possible, just how powerful he had become. The best way to find out was, unequivocally, to cast something and see what happened.

Orion groaned as he finally finished standing up, slightly swaying when he took his first steps towards Grindelwald's body. He felt that his eyes were swollen, and he touched the puffiness underneath them with his fingertips, and blinked. He had shed tears at some point. He couldn't remember when. He didn't feel like crying at all, at present. He simply felt emotionally empty and exhausted. As he stared down at Grindelwald's corpse, he just felt a pit of grim dejection plunging in his chest. Yes, he felt sorrowful grief as well as his gaze trailed along the wizard's body, but also anger, and it was all muffled under the numbness in his mind, which slowly revolved with his thoughts.

He understood many things now, after Grindelwald's confession. Perhaps not the particulars of how it was possible –though he did have some suspicions- but he comprehended the essentials. Namely, that Grindelwald hadn't told him before that he was his grandson, because the wizard had known that he wouldn't have killed him. Oh, yes, Grindelwald knew him all too well. He had done the impossible to have his father back with him, and if he had known that he had another family member, he would have done the impossible as well so that it wouldn't be necessary to kill him in order to obtain more power.

He realized, as well, with a grimace on his face, that Dumbledore had known all along that he was Grindelwald's grandson. He had lost count of the number of times in which Dumbledore had implied that he reminded the old wizard of Grindelwald, that they were alike, in some aspects. And he also realized that Dumbledore thought that he had known about Grindelwald being his grandfather. That was why Grindelwald was certain that the old coot would never imagine that he would kill Grindelwald. And Dumbledore was right, if he had indeed known, he wouldn't have.

Orion frowned, and slowly rubbed his forehead, his lips twisting. Or perhaps he would have. After all, Grindelwald had wanted this all along; this was why the wizard had waited for him in Nurmengard, why he had trained him, why he had mentored him to become the Vindico Atrum, and why the wizard had supported him in every decision he had made. Indeed, like a grandfather grooming his heir.

Several questions in his mind had also been answered: like why Grindelwald had told him about his mother, Antigone; why Dumbledore was so bent in 'saving' him -the old man wanted to save the grandson of the man he had loved and lost, to succeed when he had failed with Grindelwald; and most importantly of all, why Dumbledore had said that his blood was worth more than his. Indeed, Grindelwald's explanation had purposely skipped the most important fact. And he had no doubt that the Spirits were behind the whole thing. He had a very good idea why, as well. Hadn't he once said that 'Corelus Pommel' was the key? Yes, but not just Cadmus Peverell, but all three of them. He should have known; he should have realized it before now. The Spirits were nothing if not deviously thorough in all their endeavors and manipulations.

He shook his head, pushing all thoughts to a side, and glanced down at himself, grimacing. His magnificent robes were wet and covered with dried blood – Grindelwald's. He whipped out his wand, and clenched his jaw as he whispered a cleaning charm on himself. He yelped and jumped when he felt as if he was being scrubbed raw by the spell. The influx of magic which had rushed out from his hand and along the wand had been too great.

Orion sighed, and, despite that his robes were now impeccably pristine, he casted the cleaning charm several times, until he got it right. Then he experimented with a drying charm, to warm his snow-soaked robes. It took him several minutes to learn how to harness and efficiently wield the new power he held. He even tried to wrap within himself the dark magic which pulsed around him, but that was a lost battle. It simply refused to quietly lie inside him. If he didn't know better, he would have believed that his magic had a mind of his own and was purposely showing off, vibrating and thrumming all around him. Of course, the simple reason was the aura-suppressing potion had started to lose its effects on him.

Once he was sure that he wouldn't destroy everything in his path with a simple spell, he crouched by Grindelwald's side and proceeded to cast charm after charm to clean the wizard's robes and body. He then dug his hand into one of the wizard's pocket and snatched out his Phoenix Wand, tucking it inside his left arm wand holster. With a last glance at Grindelwald, he planted a soft kiss on the wizard's cold forehead, and then stood up and aimed his wand at him.

"Incendia mortem," he whispered, since he wouldn't leave behind a single hair of the wizard, just for precaution, as dark wizarding tradition demanded.

Instantly, a great, blazing, burning pyre engulfed Grindelwald's body, and in a few seconds, everything turned into scorched ashes, lying like fine, brown specks on the red snow.

With a flick of his wand, Grindelwald's ashes rose into the air, and with a snap of his left wrist, a deep, small pit was dug into the ground, plunging into the rocky foundations of the highest peak of Matterhorn mountain. Once the ashes flickered down into the pit, he covered it with rocky soil and snow. He flicked his wand again, cleaning the area and leaving no trace in the snow of Grindelwald's blood, and finally, he prepared himself for the last touch.

He sunk to his knees and plunged his right hand into the snow in front of Grindelwald's 'grave'. Without a second thought, he concentrated to call forth his unique dark magic, quickly willing it to fuse with the rocks, ice and snow under him, to course through them, raise them, transform and shift them, simulating the elemental power of earth. His breath hitched when his wild magic rushed from his fingertips, more potently and swiftly than he had ever experienced before, it responded to his thoughts and will with ease, becoming completely malleable. It left him breathless and stunned, but he kept making it flow forth, to obey his implicit commands, and in the next second, loud cracking noises issued and echoed from the depth of the mountain. Distantly, he heard a rushing, crumbling sound to one side of the mountain, and he realized that he must have caused an avalanche in one of the slopes of the Matterhorn – all the better, the muggles in surrounding towns would certainly come to investigate the following day, if some alpinist didn't beat them to it.

Before his eyes, as he kept picturing clearly in his mind what he wanted to create, a mass of rocks, soil and snow shot upwards from the ground, rising high up into the air. It cracked and shifted as it started to gain a clear shape; rocks forming the core and foundation of the statue he was erecting, snow covering it and freezing to form layers of thick ice, making the figure sparkle when the moonlight reflected on it. Orion kept imaging how he wanted Grindelwald to be represented and it was instantly mirrored in his 'work of art'. At last, he gave it the last details and touches, and finally flicked his wand at it, casting a charm which would permanently protect the 'statue', so that it never melted, cracked or withered, no matter the weather.

Indeed, he had just created an eternal commemorative monument for Grindelwald. It shone and sparkled, a detailed representation of the German wizard, larger by several feet than Grindelwald himself, but all greater for it. It almost seemed alive. Standing on top of its base, the statue Grindelwald looked as if he was about to launch an attack upon some enemy: an arm of ice raised up threateningly, with a long, thin wand in hand –representing the Elder Wand; a fierce expression on the wizard's face, a crooked smirk oozing self-confidence, smugness and vicious amusement curled his icy lips; and curls of ice stood messily around his head, looking like wind-blown hair.

Orion stood up and gazed at it in silence. Yes, it was beautiful and imposing, but he didn't feel any emotion in particular while inspecting it, making sure that it satisfied him. He had raised it for his benefit; it served a specific purpose.

Aiming his wand at the base of the monument, he flicked it, and muttured a spell, and the words in his mind were immediately elegantly carved. The epitaph was short and simple. Under the dates of Grindelwald's birthday and the date of that day, it read: 'Lord Gellert Grindelwald', and underneath that line, 'Dark Lord, friend, mentor and beloved grandfather.'

And he knew, without a doubt, that by the following day, or the next, some muggle would see it, some articles would be written in their newspapers with the news of a strange statue of ice inexplicably standing on top of the Matterhorn, the Swiss Ministry of Magic would hear of it, they would send Obliviators to wipe the memory of the muggles who had seen it first-hand, they would try to destroy the monument and fail, and then, they would cast so many muggle-repelling wards around the peak that not even the most accomplished muggle alpinist would ever find his way to one of the highest and deadliest peaks of the Alps.

Orion smirked. Perhaps it would become a muggle legendary mystery, like the so called Bermuda Triangle. His smirk widened, because the most important thing was that wizarding newspapers would soon be speculating about the grave's monument, about the words 'mentor' and 'grandfather' and about the date of Grindelwald's death. He couldn't have his gathering of students at Durmstrang, therefore, this was his way of letting them know. And not only them, but every dark and light wizard as well. Everyone would realize that Grindelwald hadn't been killed when Voldemort destroyed Nurmengard, that the German wizard had been mentoring someone and that he had a descendant. Furthermore, he knew that many dark wizards would piece the clues together and realize that he had done this, and thus, they would know a little bit more of who he really was and just how much power he had.

Voldemort and the Dark Allies would certainly figure it out, not to mention Snape, Remus, Sirius and the DA. And most importantly, Calypso wouldn't waste this opportunity to help him out. He knew her well enough to be sure of that. The young, shrewd witch would instantly understand the implications of the epitaph and she would make sure that every student in Durmstrang knew it as well. And it was one large step to gain their steadfast support and loyalty – in Durmstrang, Grindelwald had always been venerated, thus, so would be his grandson.

He glanced at it one last time, and muttered grimly, "Well, old man, is it good enough for you?"

By Circe that Grindelwald had to be looking down from the spiritual plane, crowing with amusement and satisfaction, with a wide crooked smirk undoubtedly plastered on his ethereal face.

Orion sighed, feeling the exhaustion and physical weakness creeping through his body. He felt a tightness clutching his throat, a hint of his sorrow, but above all, he was simply tired, emotionally numb and fiercely angered. He swiftly picked up the sheath and sword from the ground, shut his eyes and instantly dissaparated, not wanting to ever gaze again at the commemorative statue. He didn't want to mourn, he had his share of deaths for the day –first Vulcan Vagnarov and now Grindelwald- and he didn't want to think about the loss of either of them, about the gaping void they left in his life.