I absolutely hate this. Over seventy years I have dealt with the bias hatred that is the wizarding community. For no reason other than the crimes of the man whose blood was in my veins, was I forced to live a muggle life...to never learn magic. I was sent away, cast out...and that should have been the end of the Magical Congress' involvement in my life.

But it wasn't.

MACUSA had somehow caught wind of how I had actually been taught magic. Not by anyone within their power, but by one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was the first person to ever reveal magic, wizards, and the truth about my father, Gellert Grindelwald, to me.

It had been forty-five years since that day when we crossed paths and came to know one another. I don't know why or how it was that this information just now reached the Congress, but it was infuriating. Of all the injustice I had suffered at the hands of wizards and their petty government, this...this was the worse.

I would have continued on unaware until they decided to arrest me, too, if it hadn't been for one lone witch who took pity on me. This woman, like many others from the American wizarding community, knew my story. At least as much as anyone knew of it. However, she happened to work high within the Magical Congress.

After they were informed of my involvement with Tom Riddle, or as they call him 'Lord Voldemort,' it was decided that I would be taken in for questioning and held, pending a deep investigation into my affairs both past and current. It all didn't sit right with her, so she sought me out.

As far as muggles go, I wasn't hard to find. My life most recently belonged to the entertainment industry. My main passion was writing and I had formed a metal band for which I wrote most of the songs, with another wizard and with a muggle. The three of us were pretty close, though I was decades older than both of them, whom were in their late twenties. Of course I didn't look my age so I fit right in with my bandmates.

The wizard's name was Oliver Smith. He was originally from Dunsfold over in Britain. It was near London, if I recalled correctly. We had met eight years ago after he first moved here. I was actually with our muggle friend, Brad Angston, at the time.

It was at some point in the following year that I accidentally saw Oliver use magic to clean the living room in our home. I had already revealed what I was to Brad a few years before. I had come to know the rules about showing the magical world to muggles, but their laws had never concerned me. They had chosen so for themselves by denying me into their world.

But I digress...the woman, who never told us her name, caught us leaving an after-party. Brad had departed only moments earlier with a couple of girls. Oliver and I decided to go as well since neither one of us were feeling the drunk up, drugged down scene that evening.

It had been a small show that lasted until just past midnight. Our band wasn't famous, but we always drew a good crowd...had a loyal fanbase. The city was also on the small side so it was fairly quiet as we walked down the cold street. We shared a comfortable silence until the older woman apparated in front of us out of nowhere.

Oliver immediately drew his wand, "Who are you?"

"That's not important," the witch replied calmly.

"What do you want then?" I turned to the side, hands in pockets, resting my back against a storefront, equally as calm.

"I came to warn you...you are Gerald Davis, correct?"

My vision narrowed. I had never grown comfortable hearing a wizard say my name, "I am..." I answered, pushing myself from the wall and retrieving my hands. Oliver took side steps closer to me, still armed.

"The Magical Congress has been informed of your involvement with Lord Voldemort," she continued.

"Wha-" I started.

"Tom Riddle," Oliver reminded me in a whisper.

I shut my mouth and stared at the witch, my hands twitching.

"They plan to arrest you...to interrogate you while you're prisoner...I don't know what else will come of it..." she trailed off.

"Why would you tell him this?" Oliver demanded softly, loosening his stance.

"I'm not sure," she hung her head. "But I don't like how you've been treated," she looked up directly into my eyes.

"Who told them this?" I asked, not breaking her gaze.

She shook her head and took a step back.

"WHO TOLD THEM?" I repeated, walking towards her.

The woman then quickly spun on her heel and disapparated. Afterwards, Oliver and I had continued walking. I was angry, yet remained calm. Oliver, however, was frantic.

"You have to leave. You can't stay here, Ger."

I was silent.

"Are you listening to me?!"

"Yes, I heard you..." I sighed.

"Good. I can take you to Dunsfold. You know I've been talking about moving back to the UK anyway. We'll need to hurry. Who knows when-"

"Ollie, I'm not leaving. This is my home," came my protest. I kept walking, but Oliver fell behind.

"Are you insane? Wizard governments can be ruthless when they think the safety of others is at risk and as far as I hear, the American version of the Ministry is even worse."

"MACUSA," I mumbled.

"What?" he barked.

"They're called MACUSA," I clarified.

He paused.

"I know what they're call- GERALD! These assholes have been against you since day one. I know you're a good guy, but do you think that's going to be enough for them?" he jumped in my path then and pushed me back.

I looked up and almost growled at him, but my expression immediately lightened. I knew he meant well. If I had ever had a real friend...it was him. Exhaling sharply, I relented, "What do you think I should do?"

He had smiled and gave me a 'bro-hug,' before carting me around the next few hours. We had gotten as much of our possessions together as possible before beginning our trek to the old country.

And that's how I ended up here...standing outside in the dark, wet streets of London as Oliver procured a room for us at a cheap motel. On my shoulder, a large white and black rat was perched, grooming himself. I had had a rodent companion every year since...well, it had been quite a while. Barkey was my newest friend, having acquired him from a breeder about six months prior.

My shoulders slouched as I picked up the suitcase at my side before shuffling my feet through shallow puddles toward the dimly lit inn as I saw Oliver depart from the office. I followed him to the near end of the long building. He halted at a door there, opening the cheap lock with the key he had acquired.

One room, two beds. There was no television or radio, the toilet and shower was hidden behind a thin partition, and the paint on the walls was chipping. I dropped my case and strolled toward one of the beds which was gaudily clad in a floral print. I noticed a bit of a musky odor as I sat on it, and then laid down on my back, arms crossed above my head. The rat crawled from my shoulder, sniffed in an uneven circle, and nosed his way under the ugly comforter. We had left America in a hurry, as to satisfy Oliver's worry. We would be able to find a proper residence later. For now, we would rest here.

I hadn't talked to Oliver the rest of the morning and still refrained from doing so even now. I wasn't really upset with him; I was just dissatisfied with the current situation and my life in general. I had tried to make it habit not to converse with anyone I wanted to maintain a positive relationship with while in such a mood. Oliver knew this about me and had given me space and silence. He had taken a seat on the other bed, pulling off his jacket and setting it beside him before retrieving his wand from its inner pocket. He pointed the stick to the lamps around the room, deluminating them, and then curled up under the covers, facing away from me.

I slid my hand underneath the head of the comforter where Barkey had crawled. The rat was cuddled in a ball next to the pillow. I stroked his back a few times while I stared at nothing in the dimly lit room. Once again, wizards had destroyed my life...and for nothing. My mind kept returning to who could have told MACUSA about me. My only living relative, my mother, was dead. Tom Riddle was dead. Everyone...it seemed every wizard I had even known was dead now. I was left with my two fellow musicians and a fat rodent.

The mystery kept me from sleeping at all. I would do my best to rest my eyes, but the thoughts of this unknown enemy kept returning. Who could it be? I tossed, turned, and muttered to myself for hours. I wanted to leave and find a drink, but I kept reminding myself that neither Ollie nor me needed a drunk Gerald right now.

By the time it was evening again, I was a grumbled ball of rage. Ollie had somehow slept until the mid-afternoon when he left after the simple announcement that he would be back shortly. I had finally reached the state where I was exhausted enough that moving was almost painful. My mind had never settled though, and the last thoughts that fluttered through it before I was unconscious were:

I don't know who did it...but when I found out...

They were dead.