Severus Snape was not a man who was given to feeling much in the way of guilt or remorse. It was a skill that had served him very well in life. Or very badly, depending on your perspective. Either way, aside from the glaring exception of having betrayed Lily by telling the Dark Lord about the prophecy, Severus usually was able to go through without feeling much need to feel guilty about anything. Until now.

It was fitting that it was Lily's child who caused those unwelcome and unfamiliar feelings to return. Potter's death had been completely unexpected. A part of him even wondered if it was even real, if it had all been some ruse to get him away from the tournament or kidnap him. But, no, he would have heard something if it had been a kidnapping and the boy who decided, at eleven, to face down a dark wizard with decades of experience on him and face Dumbledore's ridiculous obstacle course would never do something as un-Gryffindor as run away. No, Potter was dead, and it was all Severus's fault.

He had dismissed the danger to Potter, and with good reason, he had felt at the time. After all, for all he despised Potter's arrogance and the way he treated rules as if they were something that only applied to other people, there was no doubt Potter was extraordinarily good at surviving. Hell, he'd walked into that arena and had tea with a bloody dragon. Not an iota of fear. Compared to that, drowning in a lake seemed so…mundane. It was something that could have happened to a Muggle. It was an undignified end to Lily's child.

Severus should have tried harder, he knew. He should have passed along one of at least ten potions he could think of off the top of his head that would have enabled Potter to survive underwater. Anonymously, of course. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. In fact, he should have been using every trick in his arsenal to get Potter out of the tournament in the first place. He could have pretended his sole motivation was making sure James Potter's son didn't get glory he didn't deserve. But he hadn't. He had just trusted in the boy's luck to make sure everything turned out well and, like his mother's, it had run out.

But no longer. He may not have been able to bring Potter back, but he could make sure he didn't die in vain. It was time to get answers. It was time to confront Dumbledore and figure out just what in the bloody hell was up with him! If he had anything to do with Potter's death, he would choke him to death with his own beard.

Dumbledore had been a very busy man over the last few weeks. The death of Potter had created a political firestorm the likes of which Severus had rarely seen. It was strange how people who had gone out of their way to vilify Potter while he was alive became his biggest champion now that he was dead, but that was politics. Dumbledore, improbably, had basically become the scapegoat for the whole debacle, as his manifold political enemies on all parts of the political spectrum finally saw an opportunity to try to take him down. He had already been removed from his position of Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and was hanging onto his position as Chief Warlock by a thread. As such, he'd had to spend most of his time away from the school, leaving Severus effectively in charge.

Severus charged up the staircase leading to Dumbledore's office, only to hear him having a screaming argument with Hagrid of all people. The sheer unlikelihood of Dumbledore's most sycophantic supporter actually disagreeing with him, much less sounding like they were about to come to blows, caused Severus to stop in his tracks and try to listen in.

"My boy, you know I had nothing to do with young Harry's demise," Dumbledore said in a sanctimonious tone. Severus waited for the trigger phrase to do its, well, magic but it seemed to accomplish nothing but possibly making Hagrid even angrier. Come to think of it, the trigger phrase's effectiveness seemed to be very touch and go these days, ever since the Yule Ball.

"I may be a little slow, but I ain't stupid!" Hagrid roared. "You sent him to those…those animals! You kept him in the tournament! And now he's dead! Lily and James's kid is dead and I failed him, and I'll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life. But you don't care! All you care about is your stupid positions and your stupid power!"

Okay, this was starting to make a bit more sense. Hagrid wasn't actually starting to see through Dumbledore's façade; he was just lashing out at him out of grief and happening to get things right by coincidence. "Everything I have done has been for the greater –"

"STUFF YOUR GREATER GOOD!" Hagrid yelled and Dumbledore let out a strangled sound, which Severus realized a second later as his legs propelled him forward seemingly over their own accord, was quite literal. As he walked into the office, he saw that Hagrid had lifted Dumbledore into the air and was holding the physically feeble old man by the throat.

Severus would have dearly loved to let Hagrid continue strangling Dumbledore. It was the perfect solution, really. The old man would be dead, Severus would bear no blame whatsoever, and he could finally flee to someplace isolated where he never had to deal with idiotic Gryffindors ever again. But unfortunately, the magical contract binding him would not permit him to harm Dumbledore even by his own inaction.

"Rubeus, stop this," Severus said softly. "This is not what Harry would want."

"You don't know what Harry would want!" Hagrid thundered. "You didn't know him! You thought he was a copy of his dad! Anyone with two eyes could see otherwise!"

Severus looked at the floor, that horrid feeling of guilt flowing through him again. "You are…right, Rubeus," he said, the words costing him so much to get out. "I didn't know Harry. But I knew Lily, as you well remember, and this is not what she would want either."

There was dead silence in the room for the better part of fifteen seconds. Severus watched with sadistic glee as Dumbledore's face started to turn purple. He cheered Hagrid on internally. But much to his dismay, Hagrid dropped the old man.

"You will suffer dearly for this," Dumbledore snarled, his eyes filled with even more malice than average, which was a considerable accomplishment.

"He will do no such thing," Severus said with ironclad certainty. "The man is not well, Albus. Hagrid is a fixture at this school. You do not need to start another battle you may not win."

Dumbledore's eyes twitched repeatedly. "Fine! Mr. Hagrid, you are dismissed from your position as Head of Gryffindor House. I cannot have someone with such violent impulses around children." Severus almost guffawed. Almost.

Hagrid sneered at him. Severus could not help but be impressed slightly. It was an impressive sneer. It would have looked right at home with the champion sneerers of Slytherin. "Fine with me. You can take this job and shove it. Matter of fact, I quit!" He stormed out of the room.

"Half-giants," Dumbledore said with a half-smile. "So unpredictable. Never mind. Animals such as he do not have a place in the future that awaits us."

"Neither does Harry Potter," Severus spat. "What did you do? Why is Potter dead?"

Dumbledore put a pious look on his face that didn't fool Severus at all. "I can't imagine what you're talking about, Severus. I am not at fault for Potter's lack of preparation for the task."

"You've had a hand in everything that's happened in Potter's life since the day his parents died, and I fail to see why this would be any different."

"I thought you would rejoice in seeing James's wretched spawn finally finished."

Severus clenched his fists. "Well, you thought wrong. Albus, please. You know I have served you loyally through these many years, but matters have changed. Lily's child is dead and I must know why I should stay."

Dumbledore smirked. "Have you forgotten the contract you signed?"

"There are ways to get around every contract," Severus said, though he was uncertain if he was right. He hadn't found any ways to get around the contract so far, though he hadn't been trying especially hard either. Now, however, he was well motivated and if it was possible, he would do it. "If push comes to shove, I can always poison one of the brats and get myself sent to Azkaban."

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes carefully. Unlike most times he did that, Severus didn't think he was trying to use Legilimancy on him. He was just trying to take the measure of Severus's emotional state. "You have no great love of Muggles, do you, Severus?"

"They are filthy brutes," Severus said. It was a half-truth. While Muggles were awful, horrible people, so were mages in his experience. People were awful, and whether or not they had magic was irrelevant. "I see no reason to interact with them if I can avoid it."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with an approving nod. "Muggles are inferior to wizards from a moral perspective. They are animals, savage, unreasoning beasts. Their intelligence only serves to enhance their cruelty, not alleviate it. They have committed genocides on an unthinkable scale."

"Fifty years ago!" Severus could not help but protest.

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "Would it surprise you to learn that Muggles slaughtered more than half a million of their own in Rwanda not one year ago?" Severus sighed. Alas, it did not. "Severus, the Muggles are completely incapable of governing themselves effectively. They are slowly poisoning this beautiful planet. They have created weapons capable of destroying all life on this planet. I intend to rule them. I will collapse the Statute of Secrecy and install myself as the God Emperor of Earth, just as I tried to do fifty years ago."

Tried to do fifty years ago…? But fifty years ago, Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald and placed him in Nurmengard. Unless…unless he didn't.

The headmaster's grin was as unsettling as it was wide. "Now you're catching on."

"You're…Grindelwald," Snape said slowly and carefully, as if verbally experimenting with the idea.

Grindelwald – if it was indeed him – gave a quite un-Dumbledore like flourish. "The one and only! And you, Severus, can amount to much in the new order if you serve me."

"I…I don't understand," Severus said, his voice sounding jerky and clunky to his ears. Blood was thundering in his skull. He felt humiliated, because all this time, the truth had been in front of his very eyes. He should have known better than to think that the champion of the light could be that effective at hiding his true nature. It had never been him in the first place. "What – what does Harry have to do with this?"

"He has nothing to do with this," Grindelwald snapped. "His death was exactly what it appeared – a genuine accident." Did Severus believe him? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, right now, he had more problems, because he was unsure exactly what to do.

He understood "Dumbledore's" actions entirely now. Grindelwald had been trying his best to undermine the man while pretending to be him. Perhaps with a more effective blend of Polyjuice potion? Or perhaps Rasputin's possession spell? That had been a favorite of his back in the war. So now Severus had a choice. He could continue to serve the Dark Lord and be rewarded. Severus had no love of Muggles and would be happy to see them subjugated. Not exterminated, to be sure, but subjugated was fine. Logic dictated continuing to serve Grindelwald was the smarter option.

And yet…

And yet he had disappointed Lily too often over the last fourteen years. Lily would be appalled by his teaching habits, but Severus had been able to tell himself that he was doing it to help fight the Dark Lord when he rose in the future by placing himself in a position where he'd be an effective spy and thus able to protect Potter better. Protect Harry better. But it was all for nothing. Because he was serving the will of yet another Dark Lord, a Dark Lord who had twiddled his thumbs while Harry drowned. So if he wanted to have the slightest prayer of ever gaining Lily's forgiveness, he knew what he had to do. Fortunately, he'd prepared for this contingency. Or a similar one, at any rate. But everything would have to go perfectly. He would only get one chance.

"I am sorry, headmaster, but I, too, must tender my resignation from this fine institution," Severus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Come on, he thought frantically. Take the bait! Gloat! Give me time!

Grindelwald let out a bestial snarl and drew the Elder Wand. How, precisely, he had ever gotten it to work for him was a mystery, given that Dumbledore had won its allegiance in that fateful duel. "You will regret standing against me, Snape," he said in a harsh, guttural German accent. "You will regret it for the rest of your short, miserable life!"

Severus didn't say anything. He just uncorked the vial he'd withdrawn from his pocket while Grindelwald was gloating and quickly put the contents in his mouth. Nearly unbearable pain echoed through him as the poison did its work. "Short is right, Grindelwald," he said, his words distorted by the blood already coming out of his mouth. "You may be…a Dark Lord…but I've always been…a better chess player than you…"

Grindelwald gave a near hysterical laugh. The joke was on him. It would be Severus who would have the last one, either way. "Oh, Severus. You are gravely mistaken if you think your torment will end so quickly." He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a bezoar, and stuffed it down Severus's unresisting throat…

…and then Severus felt a jolt behind his navel as the Portkey he'd specially enchanted to only work for him and him alone teleported him away from the office to his safe house in the Faroe Islands.

Severus wasn't an idiot. His morality, teaching ability, and occasionally sanity was questionable at best, but his intelligence had always been top notch. He'd known all the while he might very well need to make a quick escape from the headmaster's office if he needed to turn against Dumbledore – er, Grindelwald. It had always been an extreme gamble – there were so many ways the plan could go wrong, after all. But in the end, Grindelwald had fallen for the plan hook, line, and sinker. His sadism had caused him to make a very dreadful mistake, and now Severus was, for the moment, out of his reach.

The safe house was dull and utilitarian, an apartment in the center of the small town and capital of Torshavn. It didn't have much to recommend it, which was precisely why Severus liked it. The Faroe Islands was around 200 miles off the coast of Scotland, had very little in the way of culture and a tiny magical population, and, most importantly of all, was in Denmark. Out of the jurisdiction of Grindelwald as Chief Warlock. He'd never look for him here. The idea Severus would be hiding in such an out of the way place without anything in the way of decent potions ingredients never would have entered Grindelwald's mind. He was safe. For the moment.

Severus could continue living in exile, but he knew that wasn't an option. He still didn't know what Grindelwald wanted entirely, but his infamous history indicated strongly that whatever it was would be very, very bad. Grindelwald's scheming had made World War II ten times worse than it otherwise would have been for both Muggles and mages alike. Now that Muggles had access to nuclear bombs, Grindelwald's new plan could potentially have literally apocalyptic consequences.

So Severus needed to tell someone. The problem was, there weren't all that many people who would believe him, much less be willing to help him. The Dark Lord – er, the most recent Dark Lord – might be able to stand against Grindelwald if he was returned to a body, but that would probably just cause matters to get worse no matter who won. Severus had made many an enemy during his time as a teacher. It was hardly his fault that the children of many influential individuals couldn't stand having their dunderheaded tendencies pointed out to him, but for some reason, a lot of people didn't see it that way. It was baffling, but so was much of reality.

Unfortunately, there was only one person he could think of who would both be likely to believe him and potentially had the ability to do something about it, although it was frankly going to be a tossup. But since he wasn't exactly overflowing with other options, Severus trudged over to the fireplace and made a Floo call to Narcissa Malfoy.

Narcissa had made a lot of mistakes in her life. The first mistake was falling for the superficial charm and good looks of Lucius Malfoy. She'd been young and foolish and had seen only what she wanted to see. By the time she realized Lucius was a narcissist and a fool with no conception of anything vaguely resembling long-term planning, she was trapped in a restrictive marriage contract. And then she got pregnant. Not that she was complaining about Draco! Why, he was the best thing that ever happened to her. But still, he had definitely limited her options.

It had been tempting to arrange an accident for Lucius, but Narcissa had decided against that idea. For one, Lucius may have been a wicked man, but he was not that bad of a husband. He never struck her or forced himself upon her. He took his sadistic impulses out on Muggles, and Narcissa was happy to keep it that way. There was no love between them, but things could have been worse. If he'd died, societal expectations would have mandated she marry someone else and that person could have been abusive towards her or even Draco.

Narcissa's second mistake was standing with Voldemort. With the benefit of hindsight, Lily's defeat of him (she did not believe for a second Harry was responsible) was probably the most desirable outcome. Narcissa approved heartily of Voldemort's goals, but his deepening insanity caused him to lash out against his servants with abandon, and she was terrified his homicidal tendencies would turn towards Draco sooner or later. He just wasn't the right man to lead a war against the Muggles. Narcissa wasn't sure who would be that ideal leader. She did know, however, that it would not be her. She vastly preferred to work from behind the scenes and not put herself at risk.

Narcissa also regretted not acting on behalf of her cousin Sirius, but not as much as the previous two mistakes. It had been a turbulent time, she hadn't spoken to Sirius since Hogwarts, and Voldemort was notorious for compartmentalizing information. It was not implausible he could have been the traitor everyone said he was. In any case, Narcissa simply didn't have enough political capital to advocate on his behalf successfully, and, in fact, could have made things even worse for him if she tried. It took a long while and a very considerable amount of money to get the luster of the Malfoy family back to where it had been before Voldemort's defeat, and they hadn't exactly been well respected back then. Feared, yes, but not respected.

But Narcissa's strongest regret, the one she'd probably spend most of her life making up for, was allowing Lucius to have a strong influence in his son's life. Draco grew up to be a spoiled brat and Narcissa was so consumed in her scheming and plotting she barely noticed. He gained all of Lucius's worst attributes without any of his better ones. Why, if Narcissa hadn't staged an intervention, Draco probably would have ended up in Azkaban. Fortunately, Narcissa was able to nip Draco's immaturity in the bud, seemingly for good.

And since then, her son had grown to be a man she could be proud of. A man who exemplified the cunning and ambition of Slytherin, tempered with a heart (where the hell he had gotten that from, Narcissa had no clue) and common sense. He'd delivered a masterful performance after Harry had faked his death, so masterful it took Narcissa a few days to figure it out. When she had figured it out, it was not because of any slipup on Draco's part, but simply because she'd been able to ascertain that the corpse was fake as she was preparing it for burial beside the Potters.

Narcissa wasn't quite sure why Harry had faked his death – or how he intended to bypass the magical contract forcing him to participate in the third task – but it would have been bad form to interrupt Draco in the middle of a scheme unless she deemed it to be a danger to him or her. She was more than happy to pretend she hadn't figured out that he was faking. The sheer depth of his faked grief was impressive. If it hadn't been abundantly clear before that Draco was madly, deeply, and genuinely in love with Harry, it certainly was now.

In any case, Narcissa had other things to concern herself with. Her plans were continuing apace. She'd finally done what she should have done years ago and placed Lucius under her thrall. Her original plan was to use him to attack the remaining Death Eaters, perhaps with Muggle explosives for maximum irony, but she'd soon revised it when she realized she could use Lucius's unique position in order to strike a dreadful blow against Dumbledore's influence. No one would ever see it coming.

And then Severus Snape contacted her with a shocking revelation and things abruptly started making a lot more sense. Dumbledore's erratic behavior made a lot more sense put into the perspective that it was, in fact, Grindelwald. Narcissa had been born after Grindelwald's time, but she had long respected and admired the man. He had the courage to stand against the Muggles and use their vicious, brutal tendencies in an effort to divide and conquer them. Unfortunately, he was defeated before he could get to the conquering part of the plan, but it was still more than people before him had done. He was strategic. Brutal, no doubt, but pragmatic and reasonable.

But all of this had been back during the war. Prison had addled his mind. His emotions had gotten the better of him and he'd wasted precious time trying to break everything Dumbledore had built out of spite. If Grindelwald had really tried, he could have broken the Statute of Secrecy in the space of a single afternoon with the influence he wielded. Heck, his own personal power could have put a sizable dent in it with the right display. Narcissa had no respect for individuals who let their emotions, rather than pure reason, lead them. (Draco was, of course, the exception; he was a teenager, anyway, and such behavior was to be expected at that age.)

"It's good you brought this to my attention, Severus," Narcissa said with a gentle smile as she served tea to the poor man in the living room of Malfoy Manor. His hands were shaking and he looked like a nervous wreck. Learning the truth of Grindelwald had clearly destabilized him. Naturally, Narcissa was made of sterner stuff. "In truth, this doesn't alter my own plans too much going forward, but this could be vital information for later."

"You don't understand," Snape said in a panicked tone. "It's – he's a monster! He destroyed Potter. He'll break this world if he wants to…"

Narcissa very carefully did not roll her eyes. Snape was useless to her now. At least in terms of what he knew about Grindelwald. But he was of use in another way. "Severus, my friend, I know a thing or two about how to properly handle monsters." He shivered, no doubt remembering some of Voldemort's more brutal punishments. "I do have need of your services as a brewer, however. I could have hired outside help, but few are as skilled as you."

Hearing his brewing skills praised seemed to relax Snape a little. Narcissa had been quite genuine too. She knew that Snape was a once in a generation potions prodigy. It was such a shame he'd mostly been focusing on teaching, which he was eminently unsuited for. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You're familiar with the unique oath spells of the Black family, I trust?" Narcissa asked. Some member of Black family centuries ago had mastered the art of making binding magical oaths, not unlike an Unbreakable Vow. It was proprietary family magic; none outside it had ever discovered its secret.

Snape nodded. Narcissa proceeded to utter the incantation. "I swear by my life and my magic to offer no violence against you while you are under my roof and to never direct any hostile spell against you. So mote it be!" As she cast a spell to prove she still had her magic, Narcissa carefully concealed a smirk at the thought of the glaring loopholes she'd left in the oath. Severus didn't appear to notice the loopholes one iota and visibly relaxed.

After Narcissa told him what she needed, she sent him to the basement to start brewing. The stronger the dose of the potion the better – she couldn't risk it being counteracted anytime soon – and Snape no doubt knew many useful tricks to make it stronger than most people could envision. They didn't call him the Half-Blood Prince for nothing.

Narcissa walked up to her bedroom where Lucius was sitting on the bed, staring off into space, as he had been ever since she had placed him under the Imperius curse, except for when she needed him to make an appearance, naturally. There was a beautiful irony in having him become what he had pretended to be: An obedient thrall of someone stronger and more worthy than he.

"Hello, my dear," Narcissa cooed in his ear. Lucius said nothing. He would say nothing ever again unless she willed it. "We're finally nearing the endgame. Isn't that wonderful? Finally, for the second time in your life, you can actually be useful." The first time had been fathering Draco. "You're going to have some meetings with old friends of yours. And you're going to give them a very special potion. One that will help me place the magical world precisely where I want it."

Narcissa liked to think there was some part of him that could still hear her, but it was unlikely. Narcissa was quite adept at enthralling people. She'd honed her skills over the decades. Right now, there was nothing in Lucius's head but her inexorable, indominable will. He was so much more palatable this way. Really, she should have done this years ago.

It took Snape the better part of a week to brew the potions, but Narcissa could afford to wait a while. Whatever plan Grindelwald had no doubt centered around the Triwizard Tournament, and the third task wasn't for months. Unless things radically changed – and with the success of her plan, they probably would – he wouldn't make his move until then.

"Thank you so much for your help, Severus," Narcissa said with a warm smile. She placed the box of potions on the coffee table in the drawing room. "This will change our world for the better. I genuinely believe that. Would you care to accompany me on a stroll around the grounds?"

"Certainly, Narcissa," Snape said with an almost courtly bow. He seemed much more relaxed and confident than before. Brewing clearly did him a great deal of good. It even crossed her mind that he may have had designs on seducing her. Well, if that was the case, he was to be sorely disappointed for more than one reason. Romantic endeavors, in her opinion, were just more trouble than they were worth. She'd have to come up with another husband eventually, but it would assuredly not be Snape.

The two of them proceeded to walk around the grounds of Malfoy Manor, which had an atmosphere that would put the greatest of Muggle country estates to shame. The secret to her incredible gardens was that house elf sweat made for the most magnificent fertilizer. No one else had figured that out, and if she had her druthers, no one ever will.

"If I may ask, how will these potions defeat Grindelwald?" Snape asked.

"Well, you see," Narcissa began, and then without changing the expression on her face or hesitating for a single instant, she pulled out a knife and rammed it into the side of Snape's neck.

Snape fell to the ground, his face wearing an almost laughable expression of pure incomprehension. "How…?" he managed to ground out despite the blood flowing out of him at an alarming rate.

"Oh, the oath, you mean?" Narcissa asked with a chirpy grin. "Oh, Severus. You'd think a Slytherin would pay more attention to the wording of a promise. I never promised not to harm you, merely not to do through a spell or under my roof. Well, we are not under my roof, and I used a completely mundane knife to stab you."

Snape pulled the knife out of his neck but that just made the wound even worse. He had mere minutes left. "Why?" he somehow managed to get out. Narcissa was impressed. It spoke of a very strong will.

She saw no harm in answering the question. "It's because I don't like you, Severus," Narcissa admitted. "I mean, I could say it's because I can't have it getting out that I know Grindelwald's true identity, but, heck, I could have Obliviated you if that was the true reason. No, Severus, it's simply because you're an odious man who's been a absolutely dreadful influence on Draco. You've aided and abetted his immaturity and I will destroy anyone who stands in the way of my son becoming his best self."

If he were in good health, Snape probably would have come back with a biting and witty retort, but he was too busy being dead to come up with anything. Oh, well. It probably wouldn't have been as clever as something Narcissa could have come up with anyway. "Dobby!" she called out.

Dobby appeared and gave a smirk at seeing Snape's corpse. "Mistress has trash to be disposed of?" he asked with glee in his voice. Really, Dobby was such a valuable employee – and he provided such wonderful services for a mere pittance. Narcissa couldn't think of a better bargain to save her life.

"Yes, make sure no one ever knows he was here," Narcissa commanded.

"Dobby will do as Mistress commands," Dobby said with a low bow. "But Dobby wished he'd suffer more. All enemies of the Great Harry Potter should suffer horrible, agonizing deaths, writhing in pain and agony as the flesh is flayed from –"

Narcissa cleared her throat. "Now, Dobby."

Dobby bowed even deeper than before, grabbed the corpse and apparated away from it. Narcissa sat in a chair and basked in the sunshine. It was a good day. It would be the first of many to come once her plan came to fruition.

Narcissa arranged to have Dobby drop Snape's corpse in a dodgy area of London and alter the memories of a random hoodlum who had the audacity to mug her into thinking he killed Snape, then sent an anonymous tip to the Aurors. She wanted to make sure Grindelwald's investigation into Snape's disappearance came to a definitive end before he decided to investigate if Snape had contacted her. She was confident no one would connect the murder with her. After all, why would the Lady Malfoy lower herself to use a Muggle weapon?

After that, it was just a question of sending Lucius to meet with the targets and subdue them on three days before the Wizengamot meeting. And bribing the orderlies at St. Mungo's to make sure word didn't leak out about their real condition. It was vital they be discovered before the meeting. Her entire plan hinged upon it.

Narcissa waltzed into the Wizengamot chambers with a smile on her face and a song in her heart, not even bothering to hide her happiness. Why bother? She wanted everyone to think she was responsible – she just wanted them to misunderstand what she was responsible for. Whistling a tune loudly, she took her place among her peers. Well, Lucius's seat, technically. She was merely his proxy while he was "ill." A pretense that would last not much longer. After she finally killed the lout, she would take his place as the Regent of House Malfoy until Draco came of age.

"Lady Malfoy, I see you must not have heard the news if you are so cheerful," Grindelwald managed to ground out, practically gnashing his teeth with fury. Oh, this was going to be so good. Narcissa was glad she owned a Pensieve, because she really wanted to savor this moment.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "You mean the incapacitation of 40% of the Wizengamot? Why, yes, that is precisely what makes me so cheerful, Chief Warlock."

"You may think this…egregious power grab has placed you beyond reproach, but I assure you, the majority of the Wizengamot is strong and arrayed against you," Grindelwald said sanctimoniously. "It was clever of you to forge the wills of so many of our most influential citizens so that their assets go to you." It was rather clever of her, actually. Narcissa was glad to be getting the praise she deserved. "But the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is investigating those wills as we speak."

Narcissa made a theatrical face of fear and allowed Grindelwald to think he'd won for about ten seconds. And then she winked at him. "You've clearly lost the plot, Chief Warlock. And I have gained it. Whether or not I forged those wills is irrelevant, because they were never activated."

"You cannot just think we would let go of the deaths of so many people!" Grindelwald snarled at her, cognizant that things were going off the rails for him, but clearly unable to figure out how.

Narcissa couldn't help herself. She giggled. Grindelwald stared at her, suddenly looking very uneasy. "Oh, Chief Warlock. You and everyone else have made one very dangerous assumption. You have assumed our honored peers are dead. They are very much alive."

"Then…then you have kidnapped them?" Grindelwald asked.

"I admit to nothing," Narcissa said with a vicious smile. "But you have misunderstood the situation on a variety of levels. The honored absentees are not dead, but under the Draught of Living Death. They are, in fact, in a coma. I do not wield their seats, whether through regency or inheritance. I am not the dominant power in the Wizengamot, because I have broken the Wizengamot."

Grindelwald blinked at her. "I don't understand."

"You should have that tattooed prominently on your body somewhere, Mr. Dumbledore," Narcissa suggested. "That way, when you are confused, you can simply point to it, thus saving you considerable time." She stood up from her seat, which was now just a chair. "Let me spell this out for you. The Wizengamot requires a quorum of two-thirds to function. With forty percent of its members permanently incapacitated, the Wizengamot can no longer meet. Until such a time as enough members die and are replaced to form a quorum once more, there is no Wizengamot."

Gasps and chatter filled the room as everyone finally got what she was getting at. It was really a simple act of pure brilliance on her part. And the best part was, it was completely foolproof from a legal perspective. There were precedents stating that the seats could not be changed while their owners were still alive without their consent. Not their regents' consent. Theirs. She'd been very careful to word it that way when she'd forged the centuries old precedents in question. And Narcissa would ensure that the incapacitated lords – Death Eaters and associated scum – would live very long, healthy, unconscious lives.

No one had done it before because anyone ruthless enough to think of it wouldn't benefit from having no Wizengamot and anyone who would benefit from it wouldn't be ruthless enough to think of it. No one until Narcissa, who now needed to cut Grindelwald's power out from under him.

"The Folkmoot will likely appoint new peers soon enough," Narcissa went on. "But the cost of that will be having this body's power severely reduced. Like its Muggle equivalent, when the Folkmoot is done with us, we will only be able to delay legislation, not prevent it outright. That assumes, of course, they simply will not reorganize the Wizengamot to be chosen some other way. I doubt they will abolish it entirely."

Narcissa directed a sunny smile at Grindelwald and then just waltzed out of the room as the former lords of the Wizengamot directed their ire and hatred towards her. She did not listen to a single word they were saying. They did not matter. Not anymore.

"Narcissa!" Grindelwald shouted at her as she walked towards the Floo station. There was a nearly incandescent expression of fury on his face. It was beautiful. "Why have you done this?"

Narcissa stepped so close to him that no one could hear the two of them speak. She was sorely tempted to snap his neck where he stood, but there were too many witnesses around. On the bright side, this also prevented him from acting against her. "Because, Gellert, I wanted to show you precisely what I am capable of."

Grindelwald's mouth opened and closed several times. "How do you know? Severus. Severus must have told you."

"Indeed," Narcissa said with a nod. There was no point in denying it now. "This is my warning to you. Stay away from Draco. And if I broke the Wizengamot to warn you, wouldn't you just love to know what I'd do if I really took the gloves off?"

"We don't have to be enemies, Lady Malfoy," Grindelwald pointed out. "Our ideals are aligned. You and your son could become royalty in the new era."

There was a time when Narcissa would have been seriously tempted by the offer. Thankfully, that time was past. She was a smarter, stronger woman than the person who'd been seduced by Voldemort's pretty words. "I will not serve you. I will not serve anyone. I will not kneel."

"I am offering you a partnership…"

"A Dark Lord does not have partners," Narcissa retorted. "And you are a plague upon this great nation of ours."

Grindelwald clenched his fists. "War between wizards and Muggles is inevitable."

"And you are sabotaging our ability to win it!" Narcissa snarled at him. He blinked. "You are distorting all useful information about Muggles, information we will need to win the inevitable war! You are plunging us headfirst into a war we are not ready for, and we are even less ready for it than before you started with your vengeance fantasy!"

Grindelwald gave a smile most would find charming and attempted to use Legilimancy on her. Narcissa cavalierly tossed him out of her mind with as much effort most would use to swat a fly. "Don't test me, Gellert. Make whatever plans you wish, but you will leave my son out of it, and I will stop you if I deem them to be counterproductive to our continued survival."

"You will suffer the cost of defying me!"

"No, I rather think I won't," Narcissa said serenely. "Have a nice day!" With a chirpy wave, she activated the Floo station nearest to her and teleported away before Grindelwald could say or do a single thing to stop her.