Grindelwald plays host to some unwilling guests. I have removed some of the details from the earlier version.

The Cold Fortress

His Lucia was suffering from the cold. Bedivere allowed her to coil about his neck to draw on his body heat. Their clothes were meant for the muggy bayou of the Deep South. Now they were on some snowy mountaintop, where all reptiles should be in deep hibernation. The accommodations also left much to be desired. A cell in the highest tower. Grindelwald had been waiting for them when they arrived in the castle's great hall. Galahad had been taken away. The healer ushered to this cell. There was a magical brazier but that did little for the cold. There was no glass in the window. Only bars through which drifts of snow tumbled into the cell.

Bedivere opened his bag. They had searched it of course, but not thoroughly enough. Galahad's dagger, mixed in with the implements of his profession and lightly-bespelled to hide the blood he had drawn that summer in Paris. Izzy should recover from the Stunner in due time and get help for Squibby and the others. Graves girls were born and raised tough. He would not be surprised if their sisters would be the ones to muster the search party to look for them.

He grabbed the thick woollen blanket and wrapped it around himself and Lucia. He noticed there was only a single cot. They had not expected have more than one prisoner. Perhaps he could negotiate, convince their captor of better accommodation for Galahad's health.

Gingerly, he touched the wards of the fortress and was impressed by what he found. Once, he had considered a career in Curse-breaking before the Healing Magic claimed him for her own. With the blood of the castle's master, he could leave it should he choose, but not without Gal. Without a wand, he was limited in what he could do. He sat by the brazier and closed his eyes, beginning his meditations.

When they arrived in the hall with the Snatchers, Galahad had stumbled and dragged Bedivere down with him. It was an undignified entry and Galahad was smarting. They searched them both. Poor Lucia had slipped into his underpants at that point to hide from the rough handling. The little lady had made her displeasure known once they were left alone. Grindelwald had called in a surprised Queenie Goldstein, who was likely dragged out of her bed at that unearthly hour. Her hair was in rollers, and she had on a fluffy dressing robe over her negligee. He felt the slightest touch of legilimency on his mind, enough for him to throw up some shields. Yet Queenie had chosen not to mention Lucia when questioned. She had been truthful enough about them not having any portkey or tracking spells on their persons.

Despite the late hour, there were others awake and about other than Grindelwald's thugs. A dark-haired youth peered cautiously down from the top of the stairs, apart from the small crowd that had gathered in the hall. They were quickly separated. Grindelwald, all smiles, and charm, took charge of Galahad, while Bedivere was bundled off by the Snatchers.

Miss Goldstein did not appear to have been too shabbily treated. Friend or foe? The young man on the stairs. He put Bedivere in mind of a hunted animal. Desperate, trapped. They had joined Grindelwald by choice, so Nimue had reported. Perhaps they are starting to see the truth of what he is now? Hard on the elder Goldstein and that No-Maj baker though.

The headmistress of Ilvermorny, Fleur Delance - friend or foe? She would be on her way back to Mt Greylock, if not already there. Likewise, her lackey - or not-lackey. That exchange of bows in the shack with Gal. It was the exchange of a master duellist with an opponent deemed an equal, the acknowledgement of a fellow wizard of equal rank and prowess. There was something about her gait. An old injury, perhaps even a lost limb cunningly hidden…

An inhuman scream snapped him out of his thoughts. Bedivere hastened to the window. A grey winter dawn had broken. A bird of flame swooped over the snowy landscape. A phoenix. The healer gasped in awe. The bird wheeled around one last time before alighting on the arm of a figure in the courtyard. The same young man who had been peering down from the stairs. Two other wizards approached him as the bird took flight again. A brief exchange later and he followed the pair out of Bedivere's view, perhaps indoors.

"He is under the protection of the Monseigneurs. We cannot extract his memories," his acolyte cowered. Was it Henrietta or Harriet? "He has to willingly offer them up," the witch blurted.

Galahad sat bound, head bowed with exhaustion and pain. Crucios always hurt, and it rankled to show any weakness in front of a dark lord. He was cold and he knew he looked a mess in his grimy flannel shirt and corduroy pants.

"You need me. Can't have my body giving up yet, eh?" he managed a weak smirk. He wondered where Bedivere was. Bee was deceptively canny when push came to shove. He had chosen his House in Ilvermorny by standing on the Gordian Knot demanding entry to the House of Healers rather than having the statues choose him, so the seniors claimed. The Pukwudgie had responded by firing its arrow at the Horned Serpent, which caused quite a stir. Perhaps he might have ended up in the same House as Percy had he not stated his choice so clearly.

"You will fail, no one can be brought back from beyond the Veil, not for long," Galahad stared at the ancient parchment before him. The runes were ancient, but he had read of this ritual before on his mentor's estate.

"The bones of a master necromancer and the core of his chosen apprentice… you need me alive as an ingredient, though I doubt I can be of use," Galahad continued placidly. "Le Barone was buried at sea. I have no apprentice acknowledged." A lie that – a secret he would keep to his death if needed. He had already passed on the mantle before he left for Paris.

"We do not need your friend," Grindelwald countered, a veiled threat. "Do you really believe your master buried at sea?"

"I was not honoured to oversee his funeral," Galahad's mind reeled. He had been in prison for trading in illegal potions. The paddle steamer had stopped at many wizarding towns en route. At any point, the coffin could have been replaced, or the bones stolen away to a secret crypt. A necromancer's bones were a powerful ingredient for potions and rituals. Who had been there in the band of pallbearers? There had been eight sturdy men, all masked and hooded. Caradoc? Gawain? All dead.

Back in the States, the Graves were in a frenzy. This was not improved by having two outsiders present. Izzy regarded the older witches with suspicion. At least Silverfoot had helped with the raft. They had found Tristan and Hector. Tristan had been concussed in addition to being Stunned. Arthur was still weak from his blood loss. Hector had gone ahead to call for a family meeting. Gal and Bee were gone. So soon after they lost Percy and Moggy too.

Now they gathered in the smoky room above a riverside tavern. The turnout was disappointing. Some like Nimue chose not to reply. Others were stationed back at plantation house watching the children and the wounded. Jenny would have kicked both greycloaks out, were it not for the years she spent in Ilvermorny under Delance's tutelage. Instead, she focused on the problem at hand.

"Gal and Bee have been taken," she announced before smashing down her tankard to silence the shouts of outrage that arose. "We need to determine who and where."

"Grindelwald," the reply came from the younger greycloak. "He seeks a necromancer for a rite. His base of operations is in Continental Europe. Unplottable."

"If you had gone through with what we had set out to do…" Delance chided.

"You meant to kill Gal!" Izzy shouted. "Squibby told me." Wands were drawn.

"Stand down!" Jenny shouted. Satisfied with the lowered wands and voices, she turned to the headmistress and smiled sweetly. "Now, Professor, a word if we may. What rite does Grindelwald seek to carry and what are our chances of carrying out a rescue?"

"More likely he needs a skilled necromancer to conduct it," Silverfoot explained. "Your brother Is more useful alive than dead. How likely is it he would be persuaded?" Delance had already informed her of Galahad's blood tie to the dark wizard, but she did not wish to bring that to the Graves' attention yet if they were unaware. Galahad was a Wampus. Such students yearn for companionship. To be part of a pack, something greater…

"Gal's health is fragile. One must account for that," Pellinore interjected. "Perhaps that is why they took Bee as well. He is a master healer."

"There are rumours that Vogel will step down as Supreme Mugwump. Something is happening in Europe, and he wants to get his ass out of the firing line," Delance cut in. "Picquery will not survive to serve another term, not with the debacle with her righthand man and now Paris."

"Look, Ma'am," Kay growled. "I don't bloody care about Ministers and politicking. What I do care about is getting my brothers back, even if we gotta rip up half of bloody Europe to find them!"

"Stand down, Kay…" Jenny grumbled. If need be, she would cast a binding and silencing hex, but she would prefer Kay's input. It was going to be a long meeting. Afterwards, she promised herself she would take on her animagus form of a mule and kick a few fences to splinters in place of a few thick skulls.

"The dagger!" Pellinore leapt to his feet. "We have Gal's dagger. He drew Grindelwald's blood in Paris. We can use a track…"

"It's not with the kit Gal left behind. I think Bee took it," Izzy added. "Moreover, the blood's likely too old by now."

"Drat!" There was no way they could track down both Galahad and Bedivere in Europe. It had taken them a lot to arrange to travel to Paris, and that was with Galahad himself taking care of the logistics, and they knew their destination.

"Auror Goldstein, we need to Floo-call Goldstein," Jenny said.

"Absolutely not! Bee will hex us into the next millennia if we get MACUSA in on this," Kay protested. "He'd be booted out from Marie de Lourdes! Or sent up to the Tombs!"

"And they lose their best healer where dark magic-related injuries are concerned? I think not," Delance muttered quietly.

Grindelwald was frustrated. The rite was obscure enough and the ingredients near impossible to gather under most circumstances, but it was the most effective for his purposes. He had expected Galahad to be defiant yes, but not dying of multiple magical injuries. He had to keep his prisoner alive until the next ICW election and pray his magic would suffice. As for the old necromancer's bones…

First, he had to work on his own exoneration. Vogel was surprisingly easy to persuade. The minister had suffered much from the Muggles' Great War. They needed time to win support from other factions. They would need to find a Qilin… There had been talk of reviving the old tradition after the chaos of the Great War. No one gave it any weight until Vogel expressed his desire to retire. Grindelwald was certain Albus would find a way to interfere… as always.

"Perhaps a stasis spell or a transfiguration…" some hapless acolyte suggested.

"Dummkopf! We cannot keep him transfigured until the next election." A stasis spell would not work either, not with Galahad's chaotic magical core. As if on cue, Galahad went into a seizure. His eyes rolled back in his head. He started spasming.

"Where is that healer? Fetch him now!" Grindelwald barked the order, and someone hastened to comply.

From her room, Queenie peered out warily at the commotion of several lackeys tackling the stairs leading to the tallest tower. After being summoned by Grindelwald, she was unable to return to the land of dreams. There had been screaming from the dungeons. Sound travelled in the castle. The house-elf had brought her breakfast in bed at her request, but she had little appetite. She had recognized the new prisoners. They had met during the memorial for the late Director Graves.

Galahad Graves had been a cocky scoundrel who had danced with her when the jazz band started up, much to Teeny's annoyance. Healer Bedivere a polite gent with a snake he wore about his forearm. Lucy or Lucia? Galahad had lost a leg since then. She skimmed enough of Bedivere's mind to know Galahad was seriously injured and possibly dying, and that her former DADA professor Silverfoot had come close to executing a mercy-kill. For Galahad, she had seen nothing. It was like a wall had been erected as strong as Vinda's occlumency. She had kept quiet but answered truthfully when questioned about tracking spells or portkeys.

Author's Notes:

Queenie is quickly learning to keep information from Grindelwald. The Graves clan are basically stuck at this point as they have no idea where their leaders have been taken to.