"I'm sorry, who?"
Some of the friendly demeanour fell away from Dumbledore's face. "The Vulgar Lord. The man who conquered Kitezh, and is expanding into all of Russia." Sirius didn't allow any reaction to show. "Surely you can't deny any knowledge. News of his rise has even reached these shores, it must be widely known on the Continent."
"Yea, I've heard mention of something like that," Sirius answered in a bland tone. 'Where's he going with this?'
"Is there any rumour of his identity? His goals?"
"You're the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. Why ask me?"
"Russia has not been a member-state since the Bolshevik Revolution, and the Vulgar Lord has denied all requests for an audience."
Sirius shrugged. "That's too bad. I still don't see what it's got to do with me."
"I was hoping you might be willing to visit Kitezh, to, ah, 'put your nose to the ground', as it were."
He gave a droll look at the bad pun. "I'll pass, thanks."
"Are you certain?" Dumbledore pressed. "A rogue ministry could threaten stability well beyond its own borders."
"No offence, but I've got better things to do."
"I'm not asking you to do this out of nothing but goodwill. You haven't even heard what I'm offering."
"I've already got plenty of gold, Albus." He moved to step around Dumbledore and leave the conference room.
"So does the von der Decken family. They've mobilised quite a lot of support within Hanover to bring you in for questioning regarding the death of their eldest son." Dumbledore paused, as though evaluating the impact of his statement before continuing, "And where exactly are you living, if I may ask? Certainly not Calenburg Court, not any longer."
"It's not really any of your business," he bit out, put on the spot with this new information. "And, what, if I agree to your little espionage mission, you'll make them go away?"
"As you said, I am the Supreme Mugwump. I'm happy to offer my assurances to the von der Deckens that their suspicions are misplaced."
Sirius considered this offer for a long moment. "I appreciate the news from Hanover, but if the von der Deckens haven't caught up to me by now, I doubt they're going to. Excuse me."
Dumbledore's hand twitched, and the privacy bubble around them dissipated. Sirius stalked off towards the public fireplace.
"I'm not sure I understand."
Masha made a frustrated noise, but Maksim - who shared classes with Harry and was more familiar with his… less than rigorous academic dedication - simply laughed. "What don't you understand?"
"So Grindelwald was- he wanted to end the Statute of Secrecy?"
"Yes."
"But wouldn't that cause a big headache? I mean, muggles weren't all that accepting of wizards in the past, were they?"
Masha answered this time. "It depends on when in the past you mean. It's true that, at the time the Statute was instituted, the Mudla were actively attempting to do us harm. But before, in other places and different times, we were treated as gods, ruling over the Mudla."
"You can't deny we are their superior, in every measurable way," Maksim added.
"What, just because we have magic?"
"It isn't just our magic. We are better, so we have magic. The two are not mutually exclusive," Masha said. "Have you ever met a Mudla?"
"Well, no. But aren't some wizards and witches born to muggle parents?"
"An insignificant number," Masha waved away his question.
"So… whatever happened to Grindelwald?"
"There are many who benefit from the magical world's current arrangement. Together, they united and managed to defeat Grindelwald's movement, erecting a prison where his headquarters once stood. It was not enough to incarcerate him, they insisted on mocking him as they did." She spat upon the ground, and both she and Maksim wore dark looks.
"Why?"
"Because Grindelwald was right. There were many who supported him, and many who would have continued to do so. It was not enough to humiliate the man, no; those who fought in defence of stagnation also needed to denigrate his ideals."
Harry didn't know what to make of this, but considering how sensitive the topic seemed to the Semonov siblings, pursuing a topic he was so ignorant of seemed risky.
"Maksim says there are rumours about your father, that he is the Volga Lord. Is this true?"
Harry considered, for a moment, denying the assertion but decided against doing so. Maksim and Masha were at the pickup point near Kitezh, they were Russians and likely well aware of Father's efforts to change the Invisible City.
And besides, they liked him! His first friends! "Yes, it's true."
Masha stepped closer, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I think you should start spending more time with us, Haraldson."
"It's time to go," said the spectral blue dog that collided with his chest.
Dung tugged at his hood, pushing his firewhiskey away and rising from the stool he sat on. Leaving behind a handful of Sickles, he made his way to Knockturn's disapparition point and rejoined Sirius in Grimmauld Place.
"'ow'd it turn out?" he asked upon arrival.
Sirius shrugged, looking to be in a foul mood. "As expected. Lily lost. Are you ready to leave?"
"Where's the Abbott girl landed, then?"
"With the Diggorys. Andi says he's angling to run a challenge to Minister Ogden in the next election, I'm sure taking in a war orphan will up his perceived compassion," Sirius said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Bones went somewhere else, I can't remember which family. Do you have the portkeys?"
"They split 'em up? 'ow come?"
"Too many pureblood lines concentrated in a single household is probably too big a target."
"Must be 'ard on 'er, to be stuck with strangers like that," Dung mused, a sickening guilt burning his insides. "Don't seem right."
"Yea, it's a real tragedy. Let's get moving, I want to get back to Blackriver. Did you get the portkeys or not?"
Dung made a face, fingering the pair of broken quills he'd acquired the day after they arrived in Britain. "Erm, not just yet. Was waitin' for my contact when you messaged."
Sirius' nostrils flared in annoyance, like a dragon huffing impatiently. "Hurry up."
A quick apparition brought him to the alley outside the Leaky Cauldron, where Dung quickly tapped out the pattern to enter Diagon Alley. The need to do something was like an itch beneath his skin, an unpleasant sensation that he couldn't stand. There must be a reason why Lily Potter sought custody of the girl. The two could certainly share grief at the injustices life handed them. But instead, the child was shuttled off to someone else.
Didn't seem right.
His feet carried him through the Alley, evaluating and dismissing the various shops and stands he passed by. Despite the urgency of the moment, Dung's stroll was slow and thoughtful, seeking out something, anything that might make this easier to bear.
A bell above the door clinked as he stepped inside. "What do you want?" the shopkeeper said in a gruff voice.
He cleared his throat. "I'm lookin' to buy an owl."
"Post owls aren't cheap."
"I've got coin," he retorted. Not a lot, but hopefully enough.
It wasn't that Sirius didn't pay him, and obviously living at Blackriver negated any basic living expenses. Nevertheless, after four years in Russia, he was nearly as broke as when he lived in England. Too much free time to gamble away his earnings, Dung thought in a rare moment of honesty.
He strolled through the aisle full of owls. "You're an agreeable chap, ain'tcha?" he muttered to an energetic tawny owl that preened against the bars of its cage. "How much for 'im?"
The shopkeeper, who hadn't let him out of his sight since he came in, spoke up from behind him. "Twenty-five Galleons."
Digging out his money pouch, Dung counted out the coins inside. It was far lighter than when he'd arrived in England; he'd run into more bad luck than usual in his old haunts. "I'll give you nineteen Galleons an'..." he jingled the bag, as though hoping more would appear out of the ether. "Four Sickles."
"No chance."
"C'mon, guv, how many owls you gonna sell til next summer, anyway?"
The man scowled. "Why should I cut you a deal? You hardly look to be able to care for a pet!"
"S'not for me, mate! I wanted t'buy a gift for a student that started at 'ogwarts. She's a First Year, and 'aving a 'ard time adjustin'."
After a moment, the shopkeeper muttered under his breath and looked away. "I suppose if it's for a child. I sent three of my own to Hogwarts; not easy having them so far away."
He gestured for Dung to follow, leading him to the next aisle. There, amidst a row of nifflers and puffskeins, was a brilliant snowy owl. "I'll give you a deal on her."
"What's wrong with 'er?" Dung asked, reaching to the cage, crying out as the owl snapped at his fingers with her sharp beak. "Oi!"
"She's a bit temperamental. Had to move her away from the other owls. Nobody wants an owl that's as likely to take a finger as she is to take a letter."
"Did you miss the part where I said the owl's for a little girl?"
"Did you miss the part where I said post owls cost twenty-five Galleons?"
"I want a bag o'treats t'go with 'er, then."
"Fine."
Dung made to pull out his coins from his money pouch, but thought better and simply tossed the whole thing to the shopkeeper. "Got any parchment you can spare? And a quill to borrow?"
The man gave him a disgusted look, but nonetheless produced a scrap of parchment and held out a quill. It was easy for Dung to ignore his disdain - his opinion certainly couldn't be any worse than Dung felt about himself at that moment. He scrawled out a quick note, then stepped outside the shop and opened the cage. Whispering the destination to the owl, she accepted the parchment in exchange for a line of bloody furrows in Dung's hand. Damn blighter.
Some of the intense discomfort faded as he watched her fly off into the clouds, replaced by a deep melancholy. Even when he tried to atone, it was still woefully inadequate.
But it was something, at least. He held onto that notion, apparating back to Grimmauld and handing Sirius one of the broken quills. "'ere's your portkey, boss. I'm ready."
"Miss Abbott, come with me, please."
She'd only just returned to the dorms after another lonely dinner, finding Professor Sprout waiting outside the common room. "What is it?" she asked, terror seizing her insides. "What's happened?"
"It's nothing bad, dear, I just wanted to update you with news from the Ministry. No one's been hurt."
"Oh. Okay."
The two of them walked through the corridors, exiting the castle and making their way onto the grounds. "I didn't want to tell you in front of your Housemates, but the Department of Family Welfare held a hearing on your and Miss Bones' custody this morning."
"About us? But- they haven't contacted us…"
Professor Sprout winced. "Yes, well, over the last month the Ministry has evaluated a series of applicants in an attempt to find the most suitable arrangement for you. The school received word of their decision today."
They came to a halt outside the greenhouse. "Shouldn't Susan be here?"
"Professor McGonagall is speaking with her now." She opened the door, allowing Hannah to enter first. "We wanted you to hear the news on your own without an audience present."
"But why? Shouldn't we be told togeth-" she closed her mouth upon seeing the older boy waiting for them, giving her a wave with a wide smile on his face.
"Hey there! Hannah, right?"
"Er, yes," she said slowly. The boy was tall, blonde, and very handsome. She felt her face heat up just looking at him, and quickly turned away "Professor Sprout? Someone's already in here."
"Yes, I know. I asked Mr. Diggory to wait here after dinner. You see, it was his family that was awarded your custody."
"Just call me Cedric, though," he said, stepping closer. "I'm in my Fourth Year, so if you need any help finding your way around the castle, let me know."
"Um, okay," she said dumbly. "So- we're going to live at your house from now on?"
"It's your house, too, now," Cedric replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. If he noticed how slick her palm was, he gave no reaction. "Listen, I can't imagine how you must feel, all of this happening the way it has. But I hope you and I can become good friends, and maybe even eventually you'll think of me as a big brother. It's just me and my parents, I never had a sister or brother."
No matter how nice he seemed, this was all overwhelming for Hannah. She glanced at her Head of House once more. "When is Susan coming? You said Professor McGonagall is bringing her, shouldn't they be here by now?"
"Who's Susan?" Cedric asked.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Professor Sprout said. "Susan's meeting her new guardians with Professor McGonagall."
"New guardians…? She- she's not going to live with me?" Hannah whispered.
"The Ministry thought it best-"
"No!" she cried out. "You can't take her away!"
"Miss Abbott…"
"Please!" she begged, tears blurring her vision. "I need to be with her! I don't want to go without her!"
"Hannah, it's not my decision-"
"I'll be good, I swear I'll never misbehave! Just don't take her away! Please!" she sobbed.
"I'm sorry," was all she said.
Everything was a blur after that. Hannah was vaguely aware of being escorted back to the dormitories, with Cedric offering an awkward goodnight before she stumbled to her room. Ignoring her roommates' questions, she crawled into bed and shut the curtains tightly.
The next morning, Hannah awoke with a wince, her head throbbing from crying herself to sleep. She crawled out of bed, mechanically showering and dressing for the day. She packed her things in her bag and threw it over her shoulder before leaving the dormitory to head to breakfast early.
Halfway through her meal, a stream of owls poured into the Great Hall, one of them circling her. The snowy owl landed in front of her, dropping a bag of owl treats and a piece of parchment next to her breakfast.
"Is that for me?" Hannah picked it up, looking sceptically at the note. It wasn't even a complete roll of parchment, just a torn off edge with a short message scribbled.
Miss Abbott - no matter where you land, your home is always but a short flight away. I hope this owl helps you remember that. She's fast, but watch that beak!
- A friend
She looked between the words on the parchment and the owl in confusion. The owl cocked its head at an unnatural angle, staring back with large amber eyes. "Are- are you mine?"
The owl hopped closer, and Hannah - cognisant of the note's warning - hesitantly held out a hand. The owl immediately nuzzled against it, her feathers soft against Hannah's skin. She smiled, stroking the bird's plume, opening up the bag of treats and holding one out. "You're beautiful!"
Hannah knew just who she wanted to send her first letter to, now that she had her own owl. Maybe Miss Lily could help her think of a name! She hopped out of her seat, pausing as the owl launched itself off the table and fluttered after her, landing with a firm hold on her shoulder.
Halfway to the staff table, she slowed down, eventually coming to a halt. If she asked Professor Sprout to enchant another letter to speak aloud, that would mean she'd have to read everything Hannah wrote. How could she be honest and open in her letter, knowing someone else was going to read it? If she could write her own letter to Miss Lily… if only-
"Hey Hannah, good morning!"
"Oh. Hi, Cedric."
"Is that your owl? It's gorgeous!"
"Thanks. I just got her today." Her previous excitement was all but gone, now. "I don't really have anyone to send mail to, though."
"Ah, right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." She looked around, hoping Susan might have arrived for breakfast, but there was no sign of her.
"So," Cedric said, as they stood awkwardly in the middle of the Great Hall, "How are your classes going so far? If you ever need any help with your schoolwork, I'm more than happy to give you some pointers."
"That's okay, my classes are fine," she answered, distracted by the ups and downs of the morning. She wished she had the instructions for the spell Miss Lily tried to write out for her. What had she called it? "Hey, Cedric?"
"Yea?"
"Are you good at transfiguration?"
He grinned, some of his discomfort from before disappearing. "I'm an ace! What's giving you trouble?"
"Can you help me learn a spell? I need to make a letter speak its message aloud."
"Like a Howler?"
"Kind of, but not so loud."
"I don't think that'll be a problem. I'll check with Madam Pince in the library - want to meet me there after classes?"
"Sure, okay."
"Digg-or-y!" Someone called loudly, and they both turned to see a group of rowdy boys enter the Great Hall.
He turned to greet his friends before pausing halfway, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Hannah, let me introduce you to my friends."
Lightning flashed across the night sky, piercing the blackness and illuminating the dark clouds that hovered over the mountain. Albus momentarily paused at the sight of the castle - his first look since its reconstruction - before lowering his head and pushing through the sheets of rain that fell around him.
It wasn't long before he reached the gates of the castle, the jet-black stone of its walls seeming to swallow all light and sound. A muted hail reached his ears, and he stood straight and lit his wand.
"Who goes there?"
"I am Albus Dumbledore, here to visit the prisoner."
Two men approached, clad in heavy cloaks with their hoods raised. "We were not informed of any inspections."
"My arrival was unplanned, and therefore unannounced." His lumos intensified, allowing him to see the guards' faces.
"Right this way, sir," the older of the two said, gesturing him forward.
"We'll need your wand before you proceed," the younger broke in, stepping between the two with his hand held out expectantly.
Beyond raising his eyebrows, Albus didn't move. "Are you crazy?" the older guard said quietly. "That's the Supreme Mugwump!"
"No visitors get inside these walls carrying a wand!" the younger man insisted.
"It's Albus Dumbledore, you idiot! Who do you think captured our prisoner in the first place?!"
"The rules governing Nurmengard Prison are for everyone, even politicians-"
He grew tired of standing in the rain and listening to them argue. "I'm going inside. If you think you can take my wand, you're welcome to try," he challenged, "But I will not surrender it willingly."
"Back to your post," the older guard ordered, then he lowered his hood and motioned once more for Albus to follow. "My apologies, sir, but you must understand we take our duties very seriously."
"As you should," Albus replied. "Is the Dark Lord the only prisoner in the castle?"
"Since 1975, yes sir."
"Ah, yes. The year of his attempted escape."
"That's right. It was decided keeping his followers in the same prison represented too great a risk, so they were sent back to their home ministries. I understand most of them have since been paroled."
The guard sounded unhappy at that. "It's been a half-century since they committed their crimes," Albus pointed out.
"Every guard employed here lost family to those monsters. Respectfully, sir, the world would be better off if you'd just ended him for good that day." There were times Albus thought the same, but he elected not to give voice to such sentiments, instead following in silence as they entered the castle.
For whatever reason, those responsible for the decision to incarcerate the Dark Lord in his former stronghold also chose to rebuild it in a nearly identical fashion to the original. Albus shivered involuntarily as he passed through the massive doors to the castle's entrance hall, forcing down memories of the apocalyptic battle that occurred here not quite fifty years before.
They spent the better part of a half-hour walking through the castle, ascending to the highest tower. He saw a number of guards along the way, most of them doing a double-take as he walked past. From ICW reports, he knew the prison garrison boasted sixty men, twenty per shift; at the time he read that, he'd thought it excessive.
Now? Walking through the corridors of this castle, ensconced in the nightmares he'd thought long past?
He wasn't so sure.
Climbing one last staircase, the guard paused outside of a set of locked doors, bound with interlocking lengths of silver chains. "Goblin silver," he remarked, and they waited for a few minutes, catching their breath until a different guard arrived to unlock the doors.
"We'll wait here to escort you back," the new arrival said, before the doors closed behind him.
Faint muttering was audible in the newfound silence of the tower. It sounded like… arithmancy, Albus realised, but the formulae being spouted off were all incorrect and nonsensical. Padding silently forward, he saw the edges of a circular cell, encompassing nearly the entirety of the tower. A frail, emaciated figure rocked back and forth on a thin mattress, his ramblings abruptly coming to a halt, his back stiffening.
"So. Come to finish the job and put me out of my misery, Albus?"
"Hello, Gellert."
Grindelwald spun around to face him, and Albus couldn't contain his reaction. He blanched, seeing the thin, weathered face, his snarl revealing rotting teeth. He wore manacles, also constructed of goblin silver, in hand and leg cuffs, and a tan prison uniform. His golden eyes, the ones that once shined with a clever intelligence, now danced with madness.
"You've come to kill me, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?!"
Albus held one hand out in a calming motion, but the other squeezed his wand inside his robes. "I have not. I came only to talk."
Grindelwald's head whipped from side to side, peering around the empty tower. "You think I don't know? I can see, I see it all, you can't hide from-"
"Gellert, please. It's Al. I just want to talk to you."
HIs ravings continued for some time, long enough that Albus wondered if coming here was nothing more than a fool's errand. "Gellert. Look at me. I need you to focus."
Some coherency appeared on Grindelwald's face. "What do you want?"
"I came to talk to you about the shadowed man. The one who gave you the pamphlet."
His wrinkled face crinkled in confusion. "The shadowed man?"
"The man in Berlin. Do you remember? You told me about him the summer after our sixth year. He gave you a pamphlet that you showed me. A new way of doing magic."
A trace of recognition flickered across Grindelwald's face. "Mastering the Void," he muttered.
"Yes, that's what it said. What happened to it? Could someone have found it?"
"It is where I made my mark. For another to find, for those willing to channel the beyond, to trace my path…"
"Where, Gellert? Where did you make your mark?"
"You don't know the free-dom of cre-ation, Al-bus," Grindelwald said, an odd cadence to his words. "You never were willing to take the risk. But there will be others who aren't so closed-minded."
"Seeing what it's reduced you to, there is no doubt the risk was too great," he shot back. "Very well, the shadowed man - can you tell me anything more about him? His name, where he was from?"
"No man at all, just shadows. Formlessness, peering out…" Grindelwald's head suddenly swiveled to his right, then his left, and he attempted to scramble away, falling off the mattress and crawling along the floor. "I can feel their eyes, they're looking for me. Can't let them find me, can't let them get me!" He attempted to stand and immediately collapsed, handicapped by his manacles. "Please, Al!" His voice was desperate, terrified. "Please, I'm begging you, don't let them kill me! If you ever cared, you won't let them take me!"
Albus watched impassively as his former friend, the man he once loved, screamed incoherently in unbridled terror, a cloud of madness again casting its shadow over him. He withdrew his wand, intoning "Somnus", rendering Grindelwald unconscious, and safe from his demons.
For now, at least. This was the end result of the bargain Gellert made, all those years before. Wizards and witches were not meant to channel chaos.
Albus turned and left the room, knocking on the door to alert the guards he was ready to leave.
Somewhere, at this very moment perhaps, there was a child taking steps down the same path. Seeing what Gellert had become, what he'd been reduced to only cemented Albus' resolve. Eventually, the child would reveal himself.
And when he did, Albus would be ready to save him, to spare him from the pitiful existence his former friend now languished in. To free him the only way he knew how.
'For all of our sake, for the child's sake,' Krafft had said.
Yes, Albus decided, resolute after this meeting. The chaos had already taken root in that unknown, unfortunate soul.
When the time came, he would not hesitate. He would send the boy off to the next great adventure.
A/N: 4300 words before author's note.
Hoo-boy. Dumbledore's not going to be merciful in this fic, not when it comes to stopping another chaos mage from rising.
I think... this is the first time I've written Grindelwald as an actual character in a fic. I've always thought he made for a much more intimidating Dark Lord than Voldy (who, really, was more of a psychotic killer than an evil mastermind).
Just remembered, Grindelwald's in A Straight Flush. Never mind.
Idk what i'm going to update next, but based on how 2023 has gone so far, it'll probably be this fic.
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles