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.
Author's Note:
Hello everyone, I'm finally back! Thanks for all reviews and your patience, I do appreciate it.
I'll start by answering questions and clearing doubts regarding the fic, and then I'll make some comments regarding this chapter.
1. There's a good point brought up by one reviewer; What happened with the letter for Harry?
Well, just like I was too lazy and didn't think it was necessary to write what Albus did to Alice, regarding the spell he cast on her – the same one he used on Kathy- I didn't bother either to write what Albus must have done to Harry's letter. But since, when Albus followed Alice up the stairs to reach the Riddle's room, we can imagine he cast the spell on her, we can also imagine that he tapped his wand on the pocket containing the letters so that the Riddle surname was added after Harry's name, since by then he had already made the decision of perpetuating the lie about the boys being twins. He couldn't have done this before then because he still hadn't spoken to Kathy and thus made that choice.
2. Another important point made by a different reviewer; Why didn't Dumbledore recognize Harry as a Potter by looking at him?
Well, I think it's pretty simple. Even if we assume that Harry is a carbon copy of James Potter with only Lily's eyes – which I'm not making it so in this fic – I think it would be quite astounding if Dumbledore had thought Harry was a Potter. Firstly because if Dumbledore has seen anyone, he has seen Harry's paternal grandparents, and given the timeline, both of them are young and unmarried. Thus, Dumbledore would have to recognize in Harry features from a young wizard –Harry's granddad- and a young witch –Harry's grandmother- who aren't married or possibly even a couple, and who certainly cannot look, either of them, identical to Harry.
If anything, Harry must have features from the 4 of his grandparents, maternal and paternal, and Dumbledore certainly doesn't know Lily's muggle parents.
For instance, I don't think I look anything alike any of my grandparents. Perhaps I have the nose of one, the chin of the other, the eyebrows of the third and such, but if someone just knew one or two of my grandparents and then looked at me, they certainly wouldn't guess I was their granddaughter without knowing beforehand. So that's the logic that went through my mind when I didn't make Dumbledore recognize Harry.
3. Charlemagne McLaggen threathened Dumbledore about telling the public about Albus' past liason with Grindelwald because -even though McLaggen thinks there's no proof that Grindelwald is a Dark Lord- it would still be incriminating for Dumbledore because Dumbledore is giving speeches in the Wizengamot saying that Grindelwald is a Dark Lord. So if McLaggen comes out with the story of Albus and Gellert being together when they were young, while Dumbledore is out there saying that Gellert is a Dark Lord, then of course this would stain Dumbledore's reputation and the validity of his claims.
4. On another note, what we see regarding the happenings before WWII we see it through Alice's eyes, and sometimes through Mr. Hutchins and Tom. So of course it's not accurate; it's their opinion and feelings about what's happening. You can't expect Alice to know about what the politicians know or think about the matter, or what other civilians believe, either. There were many who thought that the Austrian annexation had no validity, and we can see this when Robert Hutchins gives Alice his opinion about it. And Alice saw this in the newspapers as well. Nevertheless, she took it at face value, because she is naïve sometimes, but mostly because she wants to believe that everything will go well and that no bad things are happening. And I think there must have been many people like her, back then. From what I've read, no one really believed that another war would start; everyone was still recovering from the consequences of the Great War and the Depression that followed. And after all, the public at large was kept ignorant for a long time. It was only during the Nuremberg trials of 1945 when everything finally came out into the open.
5. Oh, and Tom was born on December 31, 1926, (what Harry believes to be his birthday as well), taken from HP Lexicon. They are starting Hogwarts in 1938 - according to Lexicon timeline- and that's the current present year in the fic. They are turning 11 in New Years. Harry was born on July 31,1980, following canon, and he was thrown into the past when he was one year and three months old, in October 31, 1981, the night the Potters were killed. So Harry is 3 months older than Tom – wouldn't Harry love to know that he was actually the 'older brother'! Lol.
Note: This chapter is for Elelith, Happy belated Birthday! And thank you for always motivating me to write another chapter for this fic – I hope you enjoy it!
This chapter has no Tom/Harry interaction, it's basically loads of information so I hope you are in a patient mood. But everything is important, and in the next chapter there will be quite a bit more of the same thing, because Gellert and Konrad had been very busy in the last three years and even after reading this chapter we won't know the full extent of it. Thus, the rest will come in the following chapter.
That said, I'm sorry I haven't updated in such a long time. Several months ago I finished my thesis and started working, and let me tell you, I miss my student life! I barely have any spare time and when I do I either sleep or go out with friends, so I haven't had any time to write. But now I'm on my holidays, two weeks of it, so I'm taking the opportunity of writing again for this fic. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter ready in a week or less.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Part I: Chapter 9
The moment Albus Dumbledore disapparated from the muggle street, the blue eyes which had been observing him blinked once more, from a brickwall between a butcher shop and a dilapidated muggle home across the street from St. Jerome's Orphanage. In the next second, the small expanse of wall rippled as a body unmerged from it.
Konrad Von Krauss took a step forward onto the asphalt, his own muscles aching and his skin unpleasantly prickling as he peeled himself out of the bricks. Finally, he stood whole and unharmed, flicking his wand at himself to cast a Disillusioning Charm.
Now invisible to all eyes, he waited a moment as a motorcar rolled past him and then he crossed the street. Standing before the orphanage, he raised a hand and chanted a spell. The magical ward cast by Dumbledore minutes before, appeared before his eyes, vibrating and thrumming. With another muttered spell and an intricate weaving of his wand's tip, Konrad made a small adjustment to the ward which, per Ministry instruction, had to be cast on the homes of muggleborns so that any use of underage magic would be detected. Of course, with his unperceivable modification to the ward, he ascertained that he would be linked to the ward and not the English Ministry of Magic.
Indeed, it was imperative that when the time came in which the boys would have no choice but to break magical laws in order to ensure their own welfare and survival, it would be he who would be alerted and not the Ministry's Improper Use of Magic Office.
Once he completed this task, Konrad carefully stood before the orphanage's front door and trailed a hand over the wooden frame, making sure that the spell which had given him notice about a wizard crossing the threshold was still working. That the greatly vaunted Albus Dumbledore hadn't detected it, with all the rumours there were regarding the man's uncanny magical sensitivity, seemed quite telling to him. There was no doubt that Dumbledore had been in a hurry, but more importantly, it was clear that the wizard had had no reason to suspect that others might be interested in the Riddle 'brothers'.
Konrad himself didn't know all the particulars of why his Lord considered the boys to be important for his plans. Indeed, in the three years he had been spying on them, he still didn't know much.
Oh, he knew the boys were parselmouths; it was the first thing he had discovered, and quite easily too, given that they kept a pet snake in their bedroom. And yet, when he had reported back that most astonishing information to the Dark Lord, Grindelwald hadn't been surprised at all but rather pleased and satisfied, as if that alone proved something vital to him.
Moreover, Konrad knew the little there was to know about the boys' origins; twice he had abducted the caregiver who seemed to be most attached to them.
It had been on two separate occasions that, when the muggle woman by the name of Alice Jones had gone about grocery shopping, he had taken the opportunity to grab her and apparate her into an empty warehouse. Before giving her the chance to scream and attempt to fight back, he had rendered her useless with a Petrificus Totalus and he had delved into her mind, legilimizing every tidbit of information and duplicating every memory she had regarding the boys, sending the recollections back to Grindelwald in small flasks, as per the wizard's instructions. He had taken extra care of obliviating her after he was done, as well as taking her back to the same spot from which he had taken her.
It was also due to what he had seen in her mind that he had been able to establish an 'indirect link to the boys', as the Dark Lord had commanded him to do.
Indeed, one of his missions in England had been to create a muggle persona for himself with enough social standing and resourcefulness as to be able to influence muggle politics in England as well as to form a connection between his muggle identity and the orphanage.
It had been fairly simple to find a muggle 'Lord', as muggle decaying nobility fancied to call themselves, and to pose as the old man's long lost son.
Lord Arthur Ashcroft had been a recluse for many years, living in his country estate with a few servants, ever since his eighteen-year-old son had been reported as 'missing in action, presumed dead' by the British Army during the last year of the Great War. That the boy had died and his mangled corpse had lain, unrecognizable, in some ditch or trench in the Western Front, there was no doubt.
It was for that reason and due to Lord Ashcroft's precarious health, his wealth and his previous useful social connections before shying away from society due to his grief, that Konrad had chosen him.
For a whole month, during his first year in England, he had slipped into the old man's manor and bedroom, working on the muggle's mind as the man slept, creating new memories which supplanted the old. And thus, the man's son, Alistair Ashcroft, had been reborn.
According to the story Konrad had spun in the muggle's mind, by the end of the Great War, the man's eighteen-year-old son had been convalescing in a French army hospital, like so many other British soldiers. After recovering, 'Alistair Ashcroft', traumatized after his experience in the war, wishing to start anew, away from anything that would make him remember the brutality of battle, had written to his father from France, informing him of his decision to travel to America and settle there. Soon after, he fell in love and married a woman from a wealthy family from Massachusetts, as would be expected from someone of Alistair Ashcroft's social standing. Twenty years later, when knowing about his father's ill health, Alistair decided to settle back in England, bringing his wife along with him, to help his dear father and be with him during the old man's remaining few years of life.
Of course, Konrad had been careful to support this tale with years-worth of letters he had created and forged with Alistair's signature, which he had copied from missives the boy had so long ago sent to his father from boarding school. And having seen the many pictures of a young Alistair that Lord Ashcroft kept in his room, it had been fairly simple for Konrad to cast a glamour on his face, looking as Alistair could have possibly looked like, if he had lived to be in his early forties.
The wife had been easily attained as well. One trip to Whitechapel district in London, brimming with filthy, destitute muggle prostitutes, and Konrad had chosen one of them, paid her a couple of pounds, cleaned her up and bought her trunk loads of pretty clothes.
It was thus, with a richly clothed and beautifully groomed whore, clinging from his arm whilst being under his Imperius Curse, that a glamoured Konrad had appeared on the doorstep of Lord Ashcroft's country estate, three years ago. The invalid, doddering, old muggle had received them with open arms and teary eyes, nonsensically blabbering with joy.
Without the need of much persuasion, the muggle Lord had given the reins of his estate to 'Alistair', and Konrad had been quick to assign to himself and his 'wife' the entirety of the east wing of the manor, forbidding servants to enter with the claim that his wife, in her grief after a long succession of stillbirths and miscarriages, preferred solitude and seclusion since she had become a fervently religious woman who did little else but pray and read the Bible.
Indeed, Konrad had little use for her. He kept the whore sitting day and night in a dark room, saliva dribbling from her mouth as she unseeingly stared at a wall, while the house-elf he had brought from one of his manors in Germany spoon-fed her and bathed her from time to time.
After three years under the constant influence of the Imperius Curse, the muggle woman was little more than an empty shell, a puppet whose strings he could easily pull to make her dance to his tune; to make her say the shallow platitudes expected from a woman of her station and to make her behave in public as a 'lady' should, the few times a year in which he made her make an appearance by his side in some muggle social gathering or other.
Mostly, he preferred to make his incursions into the circles of muggle high-society alone, always taking care that his picture would not be taken by any muggle journalist, that Alistair Ashcroft's name wouldn't be mentioned in the papers, and, with Notice-Me-Not spells and the like, that no one would pay much attention to him or remember him later.
He only ensured that his inflammatory words regarding the dangers of German rearmament, and the need to put a stop to it before it was too late, were clearly remembered. In those occasions when he posed as Alistair Ashcroft and expressed such vehement and war-mongering opinions, during soirees and social gatherings in which the muggle politicians, the nobility, and the rich mingled, his target audience had been one man in particular: Sir Winston Churchill.
At first, Konrad had not been pleased that the Dark Lord had chosen that muggle in particular. Indeed, in his second report during his first year in England, he had expressed his serious doubts.
"He's an uncouth, ill-mannered, bad-tempered muggle," Konrad had said firmly, trying to make his Lord see some reason, his lips pressing into a thin, hard line, expressing his dissatisfaction and deep dislike. "He's not the kind of man who the people would choose for a Prime Minister, My Lord. The British muggles fancy themselves to be civilized and expect the same in their politicians, and Churchill is not that. But there are several muggles in high posts that would do-"
Gellert had shot him that crooked smile of his, the wizard's hawk-like eyes pinning him where he stood, as he interrupted him and said loftily, "And yet, from what you have told me, the current Prime Minister and those close to him prefer peace at all costs. In your own opinion, they'll attempt to negotiate with the Nazis, and we cannot have that." He had slapped a hand on Konrad's shoulder, as he added sharply, "There cannot be peace! Britain must be involved in the war, it's imperative for my plans. You know this."
"Yes, My Lord, but Churchill barely has any clout, at present. He's had a disastrous political career, he's never been loyal to any party, jumping from one to the other for years, and it ended with his own Conservative Party excluding him. He had to flee in shame to his country estate," Konrad had argued in brisk German. "And after several years living in ignominy and largely ignored, he's trying to resurface in the political sphere. But his attempts are unsuccessful, that is my point. Recently, he has even made another political mistake when the muggle King died and his firstborn and successor married an American woman who had divorced twice! And Churchill publicly supported such horrendous impropriety-"
"And Churchill lost in his gamble of which of the King's sons to support when the firstborn abdicated and passed the crown to his brother, yes," interrupted Grindelwald, his jaded smile widening as his hazel eyes gleamed. "It is due to that reason and everything you've reported to me regarding the man, that he's the best muggle for the job. He has made many mistakes, he's desperate to clear his name and bring it back from oblivion. He's only loyal to himself, his ambitions and British imperialist interests."
He had held up a hand when Konrad had tried to speak again, and added sharply, "He's loud-mouthed and pugnacious, and he has finally started making speeches warning the public about Germany's rise." His smile curved into a twisted smirk as he continued, now calmly, "As you know, from the start, I've made sure that there were leaks in the Nazi government. I've ensured that British spies were handed certain information. And you've told me that a muggle in the British Foreign Office has passed down some of it to Churchill. Use your muggle identity and your social connections as a Lord's son to acquire a post in the Foreign Office and use that muggle. Make sure that more secret information reaches Churchill's hands. Let him know about the German factories making guns and artillery, building tanks and airplane parts. Let him know that Hitler is creating the Luftwaffe to rival Britain's Royal Air Force. Let him know about the U-boats and warships being built."
He had grabbed Konrad's chin, skewering him with his gaze as he continued in an unyielding, commanding tone of voice, "Follow him to every gathering he attends, fill his mind with ideas, make him believe he can use the conflict in Europe to rise to power. Make him be a rising star again, and the only voice that cries out for war. And when I make Hitler break every promise and terms of peace with the current British government, England's muggles will only be able to turn to Churchill for leadership. And at long last, we will have our Muggle War."
And Konrad had done precisely that, all of it.
At present, after nearly three years of hard work in the muggle world, he could now say that he had left everything perfectly staged so that, soon, the muggle politician chosen by the Dark Lord would be elected as the next Prime Minister of England.
Furthermore, he had also created a useful connection between his Alistair Ashcroft persona and St. Jerome's Orphanage. In truth, he hadn't quite expected the way in which he would achieve it. Indeed, it had taken him by surprise and he considered it a fortunate coincidence when he had seen in Alice Jones' mind that the woman had a younger sister who worked as a maid for the Carringtons.
As Alistair Ashcroft, he had already been acquainted with Lord and Lady Carrington from the frequent dinner parties the muggle couple liked to throw for their peers, and which he had attended when Churchill was one of their guests.
In every of their gatherings his skin had crawled with disgust, as always happened when he was forced to endure muggle company, adding to that his suffering of having to listen to squashed-faced Lady Carrington as she mindlessly blabbered about her jewels and gowns, and to the porky and obese Lord Carrington, who had little conversation except hunting, the weather, and his precious dogs.
Nevertheless, after his second Legilimency of Alice Jones and having discovered with it about the muggle's sister, he had started paying attention to the maids who served dinner in the Carrington's home. And then he had seen her, Sarah Jones; a pretty little thing, really, quite to his taste if she wasn't a despicable muggle. But more importantly, he had noticed how Lord Carrington's gaze followed the maid as she went around serving the dishes of food.
After that evening's dinner, when the ladies withdrew to the main parlor and the men to the library to share cigars and brandy, it hadn't taken very long for Lord Carrington to slip away. It had been evident to Konrad that the muggle lacked subtlety and any form of restraint.
Indeed, when 'Alistair Ashcroft' had followed him into the kitchens, he had found all servants gone from the place except for a sobbing Sarah Jones pressed against the pantry, who for all her tears, remained still and silent, allowing her employer's lecherous hands to reach every inch of her skin under her shirt, certainly only because she couldn't afford to lose her job.
'Alistair' had loudly cleared his throat, pretending he had been looking for a bottle of cognac, and a flustered and red-faced Lord Carrington had mumbled something or other and fled the scene, leaving a wretchedly sobbing maid behind. Of course, Konrad had seized the chance and had tenderly consoled her, forcing himself to touch her in order to gently pat her back, whispering comforting words to her. And thus, Alistair Ashcroft's 'friendship' with the girl had begun.
During the whole last year he had been a frequent visitor of the Carringtons, several more times interrupting the Lord's unwanted sexual harassment of Sarah Jones, and every time offering to her a shoulder in which to cry on. Even when Alistair Jones stopped receiving invitations, he nonetheless kept visiting, knowing that the Carringtons wouldn't dare to forbid him entrance out of fear that he would reveal to others what he had seen. There was no doubt in his mind that the Lady of the house knew exactly what her husband did, and preferred to turn a blind eye to it.
During all his visits, he took the time to find Sarah Jones and have quiet conversations with her, telling her what maids like her wished to hear; praising her beauty, her intelligence, her fortitude, and so on. Soon, when he was certain that the foolish girl had become quite enamored with him, he had candidly disclosed his own tribulations; his wife's inability to bear him a child, his deep yearning for a family of his own, and the sorrow and grief that he felt due to it.
It had taken seed just as he had planned. Two weeks later, in his next visit, a joyful and bubbly Sarah Jones had confided that she had a sister who worked in an orphanage, and she had told him her 'brilliant' solution to his problem; how it would be very charitable and altruistic of him to adopt an orphan. She had written to her sister several times, telling her 'everything' about him, and what an excellent father he would make, how a kind-hearted and gentle man like him, and with his wealth and social station, could give any child a very happy life.
And so, a grateful Alistair Ashcroft had promised to discuss the possibility with his wife, and that someday they might visit St. Jerome's Orphanage - in which they would be welcomed with open arms by her sister, Sarah Jones had assured him.
Konrad had been careful, of course, of not giving her any time frame. After all, his muggle persona's connection with the orphanage might not be used. His Lord had told him that 'Alistair Ashcroft' would only have to adopt the Riddle boys if Grindelwald deemed at some point that it was necessary or useful for the boys to live in Germany, under his thumb and influence.
Thus, he had completed two of his missions in England. The third, contacting the spy in Hogwarts, giving him new instructions and making sure that the spy wouldn't waver in his commitments, had been simple and easy as well. The fourth mission, to gain more supporters to Grindelwald's cause in members of dark pureblood families and even some light ones, hadn't proved to much of a challenge either, since he had been Maximillian Malfoy's guest in many social events and such occasions had provided him ample opportunities to persuade English wizards to their side.
Nevertheless, his fifth and last mission had proven to be more complicated than he had expected, but he had done all he could and now could only wait for a resolution. Indeed, his negotiations with Maximillian Malfoy regarding the future marriage between the wizard's grandson and Konrad's own daughter had been tricky. Malfoy was a ruthless, cunning, and demanding negotiator, and it seemed that the man had previously arranged a marriage with a girl of Black House and his grandson.
Talking to other purebloods, Konrad had been able to glean the reason why Malfoy was so reticent to break that agreement between Malfoy and Black Houses; it seemed the Blacks owed the Malfoys a bride, due to some troubles between the Houses several generations ago.
Nevertheless, just as the Dark Lord had said, Konrad's daughter and what she would inherit from him and her mother, was a prize too tempting to ignore, thus Konrad was confident that Maximillian Malfoy and the wizard's greed would serve his purpose.
Furthermore, Malfoy had been very satisfied with the gifts Konrad had bestowed upon him to sweeten the deal; unique ancient tomes, precious magical artifacts, and even gems and stones to add to the Malfoy collection. And the old man had also expressed his satisfaction regarding Kasimira's looks, the many times Konrad had brought portraits of her, when he commissioned a painter to go to Durmstrang and take her likeness. The Malfoys were known to have very high standards regarding the beauty their brides should posses.
On the other hand, Konrad himself was content with the boy who would become his daughter's husband, fusing the Malfoy and Von Krauss lines and merging their fortunes and estates.
Maximilliam Malfoy's grandson, Abraxas, was everything he could hope for in a scion of a dark pureblood House as the Malfoy's. Though, he had discovered, through rumours, about the one fault the boy had. But Konrad was a Traditional Purist, and not a True Purist, as the faction called itself, so what Maximillian Malfoy saw as a grave and humiliating besmirch in the boy's blood and a shame to his line, Konrad saw it as a boon.
However, the boy himself had never seemed particularly thrilled about the negotations; young Abraxas' indifference towards Kasimira's portraits being obvious and the boy's dislike of having a wife two years his elder, palpable. Regardless, the boy would do what his grandfather commanded, as was his duty, Konrad had no doubt about it.
It was thus that Konrad allowed himself to feel a modicum of contentment and relief, as he finished modifying the ward on the orphanage. At last, he had completed all his missions in that horrid little country, after three unbearable years. As he prepared himself to apparate away, he hoped he would never have to set foot on British soil again.
Minutes later, Konrad's boots clicked on Nurmengard's polished stone floors as he approached his Lord's study, to give his last report regarding how matters stood in England.
Nearly reaching his destiny, he paused momentarily when he saw a uniformed young man standing guard not in front of Grindelwald's door but next to the one across the hall. The Dark Lord was visiting Anacleto Armonios' quarters, was he?
Konrad's lips flattened into a severe line. His opinion regarding the wizard was a low one, indeed – the man was a quack, as far as he was concerned. But before he could inwardly vent his displeasure, he paused to peruse the young man in front of him.
He had heard about Julian Ehrlichmann. The boy's father, after all, had a high position in the hierarchy of Grindelwald's Haupte Kommandanten. And, most importantly, Egon Ehrlichmann and those who followed his lead had always been Konrad's rivals, both of their factions fighting for power within the Dark Lord's ranks. The Ehrlichmanns and the Von Krausses had always been opponents, since time immemorial.
However, what concerned him the most was the boy's appearance. It was just as his allies within the Dark Lord's ranks had told him about. Julian looked like a young version of Albus Dumbledore; guileless, gentle, sky blue eyes, short curls of red hair which lent the boy an endearing look, soft features in a boyish and handsome face, and a noble air to his bearing.
During the three years in which Konrad had been away from Germany, he had taken particular care of visiting his allies whenever he briefly returned back to give his reports to the Dark Lord. And in those visits, his allies had warned him that Egon Ehrlichmann had shoved his son under Grindelwald's nose, clearly aware of the Dark Lord's tastes and preference in lovers and evidently wishing to gain more influence with the Dark Lord through his son.
That the boy had chosen to attend and graduate from Beauxbatons instead of Durmstrang, and that Egon doted on his son to such degree as to allow that, was already a negative mark, in Konrad's opinion. Even if Julian had graduated with top marks and had won the European Dueling Championship in his seventh year, quite an astounding feat.
That after Grindelwald took notice of the boy, the young wizard swiftly climbed through the ranks, becoming the Dark Lord's protégé and pupil, to the point that Julian was now Gellert's personal guard, was twice as worrisome.
Konrad wouldn't have cared if the Dark Lord had taken the boy as a plaything, but having him as both a lover and a trusted, close follower was another matter altogether. Mixing business with pleasure, given the high stakes, was not something Konrad viewed favorably, even less when Grindelwald's infatuation with the boy had already lasted for three years and didn't seem to be waning - that alone was already cause for concern. Gellert was one to get bored with his lovers very quickly.
All the while, as Konrad had been closely scrutinizing the boy with narrowed eyes as his mind flooded with troubled thoughts, Julian Ehrlichmann had bore it with a benevolent and patient expression on his face, not beeping a word.
This didn't escape Konrad's notice. Nevertheless, regardless of the boy's correct and polite manners towards a wizard who was his superior in rank, Konrad was in no particular mood to return the respect.
"Stand aside, boy," was Konrad's curt command.
"The Dark Lord asked not to be disturbed," Julian said softly, earnest regret flashing in his sky blue eyes, seemingly for having to bar entrance to one such as Konrad.
"He'll want to see me," retorted Konrad briskly, skewering the young man with an icy stare.
"As you wish," said the boy pleasantly, bowing low as he took a step away from the door he had been guarding.
Konrad pushed the boy out of his thoughts as he yanked the door open without bothering to knock. As he closed the door behind him, he swiftly took in the scene before him.
Gellert Grindelwald was comfortably sprawled on a winged armchair, nodding his head while a rail-thin, old wizard with a bald head and a scraggly grey beard was importantly giving a discourse, gesturing with his arms as if he was giving a speech before an enraptured audience.
"… so as you see, all my research during these years," was saying Anacleto Armonios, his thick Spanish accent mangling and butchering the German language to such degree that it made Konrad wince, while the wizard was too absorbed in his own words and brilliancy as to notice the new arrival, "has led me to believe that it is quite possible, theoretically…"
"Konrad! Impeccable timing!" welcomed him Gellert, springing to his feet with a bounce on his steps as he grabbed Konrad by the arm and led him further inside the room, looking like a giddy schoolboy who had had the most amazing day in his life.
Konrad was shot a sour look by Anacleto and he repaid it with a disdainful glance. Konrad had made it no secret that he thought him to be the most untrustworthy wizard in existence. Ever since Gellert had recruited the man, giving him fortune, and even quarters and a study in Nurmenrgard itself in which to conduct his research and experiments, Konrad had had his misgivings.
Oh, the old wizard was brilliant, of that there was no doubt. The Spanish wizard had, after all, been the inventor of the time-turner three decades ago. But it was what the wizard had done after that, which didn't set well with Konrad.
Ironically enough, it had all started with Gellert's own great-aunt, the renowned historian Bathilda Bagshot, who back then had been obsessed with finding the ancient, lost island of Atlantis – a much vaunted prize sought after by everyone of her profession.
After years of work and of speculation regarding the reason for the disappearance of the island and the magical community which had live on it in ancient times – whether it was due to indigenous clans of dragons waging a war between themselves, or the eruption of a volcano, or even some power-hungry wizard who had caused the catastrophe– Bagshot found incontrovertible historical clues regarding the island's location.
According to her discoveries, the island had to be in the depths of the ocean, right in the middle of the Gibraltar Strait, between the two Pillars of Hercules which had stood in ancient times, one in the tip of Gibraltar, the other in the North African peak of Ceuta.
Bagshot firmly believed that the island of Atlantis had been formed from the stretch of land that had once connected both regions. And thus, all the countries that had historical claims on those territories entered the political quarrel to see who would win the rights to explore the discovery.
The contenders had been Britain, since Gibraltar was part of their empire, Morrocco that had once had Ceuta, and even Argelia and Portugal. But Spain had won the argument in the end, being Ceuta currently theirs and Gibraltar having historically belonged to them before it was seized by Britain.
It was so that the task of proving Bagshot's theories had fallen upon Spanish 'Guardadores de Secretos', the Keepers of Secrets – the 'Ohne-Zunge', or tongue-less, as they were called in Germany, or Unspeakables, as they were called in English. And back then, the Head of that Department had been Anacleto Armonios, who had led the expedition into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
They had found Atlantis, with its beautiful structures relatively well preserved and a large community of merpeople having made it their home.
What none had expected was that one young Unspeakable, during his exploration of the submerged island, would feel curiosity towards a large array of iridescent clams which spread all along the one side of the island the merfolk didn't go near.
Presumably, the young wizard had the idea that he would perhaps find pearls inside the clams, to thus gift to his girlfriend. But the boy found no simple pearls, but small, golden, shiny orbs, which, at his touch, dissolved and exploded into golden dust.
The records about what the young wizard experienced then, when the dust encompassed him, were never made public. What is known, is that the Spanish Unspeakables reached an agreement with the merfolk, exchanging a continual supply of the clams for trinkets and cheap baubles merpeople fancied.
What they extracted from the clams was rigorously studied and experimented with for many years, and finally termed as the 'Sands of Time'. And it was Anacleto Armonios, and the team he lead, who invented the spelled device that could contain the Sands and control its magical properties.
Thus, the time-turner was created in the Spanish Unspeakable Department. And such invention was made public when Anacleto became greedy, somehow managing to break his Unspeakable Vow of Secrecy, and fleeing from Spain, with all time-turners and the instructions for their construction. He spent a whole year creating more and selling them to the wizarding public at large, making a vast fortune.
Thankfully, Anacleto wasn't able to break the 24-hour constraint of the time-turner, but the damage was already done, with countless wizards and witches using their time-turners to change a day of their lives, wreaking havoc.
When what was happening became evident, the time-turner was banned as illegal, all wizarding governments seized them from the hands of their citizens, and locked them up in the bowels of their Ministries, only allowing their use under authorized circumstances and after rigorously studying the petitions.
And so, Anacleto Armonios spent the following two decades of his life in hiding, fleeing from Spanish Aurors and having no choice but to spend all his ill-gotten fortune to ensure his own survival.
Until, Gellert Grindelwald snatched him.
Konrad only knew that, just a month after he had been sent to England, the Dark Lord had offered Anacleto terms the man couldn't afford to reject; protection from Aurors, an impenetrable, secret hiding place – Nurmengard Tower– and galleons enough to satisfy his greed.
Thus, Anacleto had been there for nearly three years, and still, Konrad had no idea what the Dark Lord had ordered him to do.
"Start over, Anacleto. I want Konrad to hear this."
Gellert's command yanked Konrad from his musings, and he finally took a seat on a plushy armchair, his lips thinning in distaste at the state of the office.
Anacleto's study was a mess, swamped with columns of books littering the floor, rolls of parchments on every visible table top, whizzing, thrumming artifacts which functionality was impossible to discern, puffing potions in cauldrons, and flasks with coiling glass tubes with multi-colored bubbling liquids. And most conspicuously, a tall hourglass tower occupied one corner, with golden dust nearly filling it entirely.
Anacleto simpered and sycophantically smiled at the Dark Lord, then shot a poisonous look at Konrad, and finally lifted up his wand and gestured with it as he spoke, as if pompously conducting the orchestra of his own voice.
"This is no longer a hypothesis, but a theory, which I have no doubt would be the Law of Time-Traveling if only I was able to prove it. But," he said, as he swished his wand upwards as if conferring more solidity to his own words, "if we altogether assume that there is no twenty-four hour constriction to the magical properties of a time-turner –" Anacleto then shot Gellert a guarded look "- and you must understand, my Lord, that this limitation is one which I see no way of eluding. However," he quickly added as he saw the Dark Lord's impatient expression, "for the sake of argument and to understand my theory, let us assume there is no temporal limitation to the use of a time-turner. Then, I can easily explain how a time-travel of any number of years into the past would work and what the consequences would be."
The former Unspeakable made a dramatic pause and peered at them, as if to lend a sense of excitement to his speech, and then continued in his snotty voice, "Then the start would be our current timeline, which I call the primal line." With his wand, Anacleto drew in the air a long, green line, its beginning and end diffused in the air, no doubt trying to convey that it was infinite. "And let us assume that this is point zero," he said as he poked his wand's tip in the middle of the green line, creating a white circle on it, "when we are right now and assuming it is the instant in which the time-traveler uses the time-turner to go back in time. His time-travelling creates the origin of the alteration of the space-time continuum."
"Listen carefully to all this," whispered Gellert, leaning towards Konrad as he shot him a wide, crooked smirk.
Konrad faintly nodded, with the little he had heard already having a sick coil in his stomach and a daunting, ominous feeling.
"And thus," continued Anacleto, "with his time travelling into the past, he appears in point 'minus one' –" a black circle appeared on the green line, far before the white one of point zero "– and due to his mere presence in the past, he creates an alternate time-line, the secondary, as I call it."
Now a red line grew from the green line, starting from the point 'minus one' and shooting outwards in an angle, increasingly becoming more distant from the first line.
"As you see, the longer the time-traveler remains in the past, the greater the differences between the primal and secondary timelines. Meaning," said Anacleto, piercing them with a grave stare, "that the ripple effects of his actions in the past grow exponentially the longer he remains there, making the two lines diverge at increasingly greater distances from each other. Thus, the secondary line would be a parallel universe much different from the original one. But-" he rose an admonishing finger "– this is not stable."
Anacleto paused once again to pierce them with his gaze, and started talking in a lecturing tone, as if explaining convoluted matters to dim-witted children, as he smiled at them, "Let me give you an example which will demonstrate what I mean. What happens when a wizard uses a twenty-four hour time-turner? The secondary line is created, but since it's only twenty-four hours into the past, it's infinitesimal in the grand scheme of infinite time."
He swished his wand and the red line shortened itself until it was barely one inch long. "The directional change, the differences between the two lines, doesn't have time to be too great. And what happens when there is a mutation or aberration in nature? If it's a one-time occurrence, it gets swallowed, it changes things very little."
As the wizard said those words, the green primal line curved slightly to trace the short bit of the red line, and then shot out in the same direction it had originally. "What was changed with the time-travelling becomes what always happened, and there is no alternate universe created – no instability. This is the case of a twenty-four hour time-traveling, and the very reason why no one has been able to breach that temporal limitation."
"Now, in the case of a time-travelling of years, it represents infinite changes –" Anacleto flicked his wand and the red line was a long one once more "– aberrations, which were not meant to occur. And by nature, Time will try to correct itself, thus."
The green line started to become wobbly, curves erupting from it and touching the red line, the red line also becoming distorted as the lines started to become closer together.
"You see, there would be a pull between the timelines, so that they become one and the same, because prolonged instability is not possible. Either they join, or both disappear – that's the danger of prolonged time-travel into the past. There can be no two parallel universes co-existing, it's an impossibility. Either both are destroyed or –"
"Exactly," interjected Konrad loudly, having increasingly paled with each word the old wizard had spoken, now no longer able to contain himself, his face showing an expression of absolute horror. "That's why even a three-year-old child knows that Time must never be tampered with! It's you and your invention which are an aberration-"
"Hush, Konrad," snapped Gellert, leveling at him a harsh glance.
Anacleto, for his part, shot Konrad a smug and superior look, as he intoned, "As I was saying, either both universes are destroyed or a way is found so that only the second universe prevails, taking the place of the original, assuming this second universe is the desired one which has been purposely created with the time-traveling. And I have found the way. This was part of the task appointed to me by the Dark Lord –" he politely bowed low in Grindelwald's direction "- and I have succeeded."
"Continue, Anacleto, I am indeed pleased with you," said Gellert placidly, as he cozily stretched on his seat.
Konrad shot him a sharp glance, but evidently he was the only sane wizard present, and the only one who had any respect for the forces of nature and magic. The whole affair was madness, and he could see no outcome but utter catastrophe.
Meanwhile, Anacleto pointedly ignored him and nodded at the Dark Lord, as he swished his wand. Now the lines formed their original configuration. A white circle in the middle of the long green line, the point zero, and much before it a black circle, the point 'minus one' in the past, and from it, the red line shooting outwards.
"As we see, the parallel universes resemble each other during the first years – there is not much distance between the two lines in the beginning. No matter what the time-traveller does in the past, he changes things but not to such degree as to make the universes completely dissimilar. The differences between the universes becomes much greater throughout the years; the red line growing further apart from the green one."
The lines started twisting and becoming distorted once again, and the old wizard said, "Now, we know this situation is not stable. Thus, to correct this and prevent the disappearance of both timelines altogether, we need to make the infinite aberrations in the time-space continuum, the red line itself, a fixture."
Anacleto shot them a glance, and asked rhetorically, "How do a series of mutations become part of nature itself? When are they accepted and become stable? The answer is simple; when those aberrations are successful. This means, when the red line is 'successful', when it becomes a fixture. And for that, an anchor is needed – an anchor between the green and red lines, their common denominator, that which cannot be changed in essence, no matter how dissimilar the two universes become."
The old wizard widely smiled with supreme smugness. "I found it. It's the time-traveler himself."
He magnanimously swished his wand, making the red line curve until its end connected with the white circle on the green line, with point zero.
"The time-traveler is immutable at the origin and the end of the curve," he said as he touched one circle first and then the other. Then he traced with his finger the curve of the red line. "The curve which represents all the changes he created when he was in the past. The red line has now a beginning in point 'minus one' in the past, its curvature, and then its end in point zero. It's anchored, it's stable, that universe will be the one which prevails, because the time-traveler who created it lived for years in it, and the only point he experiences in the original timeline, in the green line, is point zero – the moment he travelled to the past. Only that point of the green line will remain."
With a flick of his wand, the section of the green line which continued past the point zero disappeared, and then the green section which went from one circle to the other started vanishing.
"The red line becomes all what remains, it takes the place in the space-time continuum of the original timeline, because the time-traveler exists in the red line and now in the point zero - which no longer only pertains to the original timeline, but now is part of the red line."
With the green line gone, all what remained was the curved red line, stretching from one point to the other. "After only this timeline remains, it will curve again from the point zero and shoot out into the future, in the same direction it followed at first."
The wizard flicked his wand, making the red line curve out from point zero and then it continued straight, in the same direction it had been angled away from the vanished green line.
"See? The red line follows the same direction as when I first drew it, before being affected by instability. Indeed, the curves it makes to reach the point zero and then continue away from it, are really infinitesimal curves, which don't affect the direction of the timeline. Meaning, the universe created by the time-traveler, in the past, naturally progresses into the future, with all the consequences and changes brought by the time-traveler's presence and actions in the past. Thus, we are left with a universe vastly different from the original one as more time passes."
Anacleto paused, gravelly staring at them. "Now, this is extremely important." With the tip of his wand he traced the red line's first curve, which went from point minus one to point zero. "This section of the timeline, which is already different from the primal one but connects with it in point zero, will be unstable since it represents all the years the time-traveler is in the past. During this time, both the green and red lines will exist and there won't be such monumental differences between them. The greater differences start when the red line shoots out into the future departing from point zero. Thus, while the time-traveler is in the past, both universes will coexist, and we'll only be out of the danger zone, there will only be stability and balance, and we can assure that only the secondary universe remains, when the red line reaches point zero – when it becomes fixed and the green line thus disappears, that original timeline –the memories and experiences it represents, the births that might not exist in the new timeline- forgotten by everyone as if it had never happened, since truly, it doesn't and now never did."
He took an intake of breath, and then continued sternly, "What does this mean in practice?" He pointed at point zero. "For the red line to pass through here, and thus became stable, it means, as I said before, that the anchor had to be unchanged in essence. The anchor is the time-traveller, hence, he must never change anything in the past which would result in him not being born, or in not making the time-travel in point zero."
Anacleto pierced them with his gaze, as he added grudgingly, as if it cost him great effort to admit it, "He must have the same parents, the same ancestors, and just as importantly, the same soul – this latter is already impossible, since nothing can control souls nor is it understood how the mechanics work when a soul is infused in a life the moment it's conceived. Whether a soul is created at that moment, or whether a rebirth of a soul is what happens, is unknown, and thus, uncontrollable. Also, the time-traveler cannot continue existing after he is born, since if not there would be two of them and that cannot be sustained for long and it might bring as a consequence the destruction of the universes."
The former Unspeakable sighed. "And those are precisely the snags." He gestured widely at the red line floating in mid air. "All of this is possible and correct in theory, but in practice, it simply cannot be done."
Gellert suddenly let out a chortle, and then clapped cheerfully as he rose from his seat. "I congratulate you, Anacleto, you have indeed made a most ground-breaking discovery."
The thin, old wizard stared at him with perplexity, then he squirmed and said hesitantly, "Perhaps I didn't explain matters clearly, it is not possib-"
"I do believe it is," retorted Gellert contently, shooting him a crooked grin. "All of those problems are easily solved. The time-traveler cannot live for long after his baby self is born, and not only that, he must die even before then, because the time-traveler possesses the soul that should be in the baby when it's conceived, since if not, he would be a different person altogether." His twisted grin widened as he added, "Thus, the time-traveler must simply be killed beforehand."
Anacleto blinked at him repeatedly, before he mumbled choppily, "Yes, but there's still the matter of the soul being infused in the conceived life-"
"Which can be done with a magical artifact I know of -since it does exactly that, control and manipulate souls- and which I will have in my possession so that it can be used for that very purpose," interrupted Gellert placidly. When he saw Anacleto open his mouth, he brought up a hand, and continued pleasantly, "Regarding the ancestors and parents, why, it's simple. There must be a third party who is aware of the time-travelling and who will watch and influence matters to make sure that the time-traveler's parents and grandparents are precisely who they were. That third party is, of course, me."
The former Unspeakable stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Gellert let out a crow of laughter as he patted the man on the back. "Don't you see, Anacleto? The perfect time-traveler is one who doesn't know he's a time-traveler at all." A crooked smirk stretched on his handsome face. "A baby, Anacleto." He then gestured at the floating red line and its points. "Point zero will be after the time-traveler is killed and over one year later after the baby self is born."
"But then," said Anacleto slowly, a perturbed frown on his wrinkled face, "he will merely be a tool, to change the timeline and then be sacrificed and killed." He shot the Dark Lord a piercing glance. "You understand that if the time-traveler is killed, that is the end of his life. The baby will go through the same, he will not have a different life."
"I understand that perfectly," said Gellert, his hawk-like eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
The old Unspeakable shifted uneasily on his feet, and finally muttered with an apprehensive tone of voice, "There's still the matter of the time-turner. I have not been able to break the twenty-four hour limit-"
Gellert scoffed and then shook his head disparagingly. Shooting the old wizard a crooked smirk, he flicked his wand and conjured a pile of beach sand on the palm of his hand. In the next instant, he flung it at Anacleto.
The old man wheezed and sputtered, taken aback, while Gellert intoned, "It's as simple as that, my friend."
Looking like a drowned cat, Anacleto started dusting off the sand from his frilly robes, before he stared at the Dark Lord and grumbled, "If you mean to imply that the Sands of Time should be directly applied to the subject who is to time-travel…"
He trailed off and shook his head with dismay and trepidation, flecks of sand flying from his scraggly beard. "No one has dared to touch the Sands directly. Torres, the young Unspeakable who discovered the clams in Atlantis, simply - 'puff'!" He demonstrated gesturing with his hands. "He disappeared, never to be seen or found again. We only had an inkling of what happened because his partner was there, several feet away from him. There is no knowing what the Sands will do to a wizard, and even less a baby. It could affect his magical core, it could-"
"I KNOW it will work," interrupted Gellert sternly, now looking impatient and irritated. "Regardless, it's your task to discover how it will affect the baby, if at all, and take measures to prevent any serious harm to him. And of course, you have to create a spell which will control the properties of the Sands of Time, to make the baby travel precisely fifty-three years into the past." Imparting those new orders and information, he then waved a hand and added magnanimously, "I grant you permission to make use of any of my prisoners in the dungeons as test-subjects."
Then he nonchalantly turned around and commanded briskly, "Come, Konrad. We're done here and we have much to discuss."
A mute and pale-faced Konrad followed the Dark Lord towards the door, but then Gellert paused to glance over his shoulder at Anacleto, who was by then nervously dabbing his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.
"Oh," said Gellert to the former Unspeakable as an afterthought, "the spell must be wandless and nonverbal. There will be one witness, in particular, who will see what I do and he must never know what magic I used." Seeing the old man's dismayed expression, Gellert's lips quirked upwards. "Don't look so miserable, Anacleto, you have forty-three years to accomplish it, or what remains of your life if you die of old age before then."
And with that, the Dark Lord and his Right-Hand left a shaky old wizard behind.