Chapter 27
Numengard's Prisoner
Numengard had once been a magnificent German castle perched atop a mountain, its towering walls protecting it from all threats. A formidable aura of magic enveloped it, ensuring its strength and safeguarding its inhabitants from the world beyond. But today, Numengard appeared eerie and foreboding.
Lyra and Albus passed through the gates, and the guard stationed outside stood and saluted Lyra as if he already knew her.
"At ease, Mr. Trobes." She said, causing the guard to relax and resume his seat.
"No prisoners today, Captain Marks, or is he one?" The guard inquired, eyeing Dumbledore with suspicion.
"We're here on official duty from the 27. Don't worry about him; he's with me." Lyra responded with a professional air.
"Not wearing your pretty white robes today, I see." He chuckled, earning a stern look from Lyra.
Trobes drew his wand and stood before the heavy iron portcullis. With a complex wand movement, he unlocked it, using both his wand and a magical goblin silver bracelet to raise the gates.
"There's only one way in, and only one way out, so don't get lost. They'll find your bones years from now." Trobes joked, baring his yellowed teeth.
The doors beyond him parted, and Lyra and Albus entered the dimly lit halls.
"Stay close." Lyra instructed as Albus walked beside her. The pervasive dark magic in this place sent felt unnerving. He remembered Numengard differently.
Albus had vivid memories of Numengard. It had been Gellert's stronghold during the war. Grindelwald had slaughtered the German wizards guarding it and claimed it as his fortress. This was where Albus had confronted Gellert, where he had defeated his former friend in a fierce and historic duel. The war had shattered Albus's life, leaving him feeling lost and broken.
They ventured deeper into the castle, arriving at the entrance to the dungeons. Lyra halted and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a snap of her fingers—a talent that always impressed Albus.
"Is this really the time for..." He began, but his words were cut short when the flame from Lyra's fingers suddenly trailed towards a dark corridor leading to the dungeons.
"This way," Lyra said, taking the lead while continuing to smoke.
The trail of the fiery apparition led them to a cell.
"You've improved, Ms. Marks." Came a raspy voice from within. Albus strained to see through the darkness, realizing they were standing in front of a cell.
"You've taught me well." Lyra replied curtly.
"But not well enough, it seems. You still require the ring to control your powers, rather than setting yourself free." The voice retorted.
"It's an expensive affair to set them free. An expense you never told me about." Lyra replied.
"I can teach you to control it once more. No element is inherently good. Not all magic needs to be used for good." The voice continued.
"I believe I'm managing just fine." Lyra said, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. Candles along the corridor lit up in response.
"Or perhaps you're compelled to keep them in check."
"Hello, Albus, my old friend. My...haven't you grown old!" Grindelwald smiled knowingly at Dumbledore.
"Enough of this banter. Do you have a cigarette for me?" Grindelwald asked casually turning his head to Lyra. He scrapped his wobbly feet over to the cell bars.
"I can give you an entire box." Lyra responded.
"In exchange for?" Grindelwald smirked and inquired.
"In exchange for answers." Albus declared, taking control of the conversation.
"Oh, don't sell me short, Albus. You've always believed you were superior to me, but you've never been this forthright about it." Grindelwald taunted.
"It's nice that you decided to show up after so many years. Have you missed me, old friend?" He continued.
"What about your fiancée...or shall I say, your wife? How is she? Any children?" Grindelwald probed further.
"Keep her out of this!" Dumbledore snapped, his temper flaring. Another tremor shook the ground beneath them.
"What a joyous reunion this is, isn't it, Lyra? All three of us, together." Grindelwald laughed menacingly.
"Let him go, Albus!" Lyra hissed, her hand on his arm. She seemed afraid, he might do something untoward, before they got what they came for.
Grindelwald laughed as another tremor jolted the ground.
"We had grand plans, Albus, but you abandoned them for your sister." Grindelwald accused.
"You killed my sister!" Albus thundered back.
"The Muggles had already done that, Albus, long before I did." Grindelwald responded, unapologetically.
"What about Credence? Did the Muggles kill him too?" Albus asked with anger in his voice.
"Credence, the Muggles turned him into an Obscurial, just like your sister. But you could never see how cruel Muggles could be, how fearful and narrow-minded they were toward anything or anyone who didn't conform to their limited view of the world. That boy had immense power, Albus; he could have been so much more. But we both know that any offspring of Aberforth's would never be particularly bright. Now, if he had been yours..."
"He was my family!" Albus interjected.
"You were always weak when it came to your family! Is that why you let go of that pretty little girl who was always on your arm?" Grindelwald provoked. Albus clenched his jaw.
"You never had what it took..." Spat Grindelwald muttering.
"Our agendas were different, Gellert. Mine was not yours."
"We made a blood pact!"
"And I paid for it dearly, Gellert. I lost everything I held dear because of your madness." Albus responded with bitterness.
Lyra stood there, silently listening to the heated argument. The ground trembled beneath them as powerful magic flowed through both wizards.
"What brings you here, then?" Grindelwald spat, turning his head away in disdain. Lyra could sense his pride wavering, just as Tessra had predicted.
"I doubt we're here for a stroll down memory lane." He scoffed sarcastically.
"And you..." He sneered, his gaze turned to Lyra.
"...be the human torch that you are and light that cigarette!"
"I require answers first." Lyra responded curtly.
Grindelwald contemplated for a moment, baring his teeth like a madman while twitching within his tattered, tightly bound magical straightjacket.
"And I require comfort first." He snarled back at her.
"What do you want?" She asked, stepping between him and Albus.
"I'm an old man, Lyra, with little time left of my miserable existence. These conditions have given me a terminal disorder with no cure, not that I wish for one. All I seek is respect and dignity for my remaining days."
"The top floors of the castle are not meant for prisoners." Lyra began.
"Move me back to my rooms, and I'll tell you everything you want to know." He said miserably.
Lyra regarded him with a mix of pity and doubt. One of the greatest yet darkest wizards of their era was now desperate for nothing more than a comfortable bed. A man who had once possessed everything now sat there dying, bargaining for just a few days of comfort.
"Those rooms were sealed long ago." Lyra explained.
She knew the kind of dark magic that had pervaded those rooms. Curse breakers had lost their lives while trying to seal them, until Erasmus, one of the 27, had managed to capture the darkness and lock it away within those chambers for eternity. The process had taken a year, and Tessra had been concerned about its effects on Erasmus, who had found his Grim soon after. Now, wherever he went, death followed. A curse, he could not get rid of.
"I'm sure a powerful witch like yourself can persuade MACUSA. And if you can't, there must be someone above you with the power to..." Grindelwald suggested, sounding as pitiful and miserable as possible.
"I'll see what I can do." Lyra said, placing a cigarette in the man's mouth and drawing her wand.
"Lyra! What are you doing?" Dumbledore protested as Lyra waved her wand, undoing Grindelwald's magical straightjacket. Lyra understood that to gain this man's trust immediately, she had to put him at ease.
The madman attempted to move his arms, but years of immobility had rendered them nearly useless. Nevertheless, he maintained a proud look while he smoked the cigarette using only his mouth. Once he finished, he spat out the butt and stared at it intensely. To his surprise, nothing happened. He turned his head to glare at Lyra, who had twisted her ring in anticipation, predicting his attempt to unleash fiendfyre using the fuel she had provided.
"You dare to use my magic against ME!"
"I am a master of fire. That night, when darkness consumed me, I nearly lost my brother. But he lost his face... and he was a handsome man. It left me with scars I could never shake of. It left me cursed to be destined to control an element that destroyed me!" Lyra snarled, causing the butt to catch fire and turn to ashes. Sparks flew dangerously close to Grindelwald's face, and eyed her curiously.
"But, I'm not that foolish girl you manipulated years ago. I figured out how to fix what you broke."
"I not only control fire, but I control every particle that starts one."
"As arrogant as ever, aren't you? You don't control it, you're still discovering what your powers can do." Grindelwald laughed. Lyra clenched her jaw, he had seen through her lies.
"Do you want to be comfortable for the rest of your pathetic life, or do you want to cast me aside and rot here?"
Grindelwald stared at her unblinkingly, trying to read her thoughts. She met his gaze defiantly, daring him to.
"You are indeed a powerful witch. You could accomplish great things." He remarked, studying her with a charming smile, despite his disheveled appearance. Lyra couldn't deny he must have been a handsome fellow, back in the day.
"I have every intention of achieving greatness, just not the kind you value." Lyra retorted.
"Now tell me, what do you know about splitting one's soul?"
"Splitting one's soul?" Grindelwald asked, surprised by the question. He struggled to keep his mouth shut, but it was futile. He began to mouth something incoherent.
"You...clever...cunning...little witch...you drugged me with Veritaserum, but how?" Grindelwald smirked and exchanged a glance with Dumbledore, who appeared impressed by Lyra's resourcefulness.
"It's an old trick used by Aurors during interrogations. Your cigarette was laced with it—just enough to prevent you from lying, and with your magic waning, you can't resist it. Since your hands are useless, I knew you'd use your mouth to smoke the cigarette. The potion mixed with your spit and entered your system when you swallowed it. Now, answer the question."
"Can one split their soul?" She inquired forcefully.
"Splitting your soul is forbidden magic." Grindelwald replied gravely. It wasn't a topic of discussion he had expected. He hesitated for several minutes.
"You mean dark magic?!" Albus retorted, his voice carrying incredulity.
"No! You fool! The dark arts remain an enigma to us, even after a thousand years of witches and wizards trying and failing to fathom the depths of its power." Grindelwald shot back vehemently.
"We seek dark magic as a path to power, a means to achieve greatness. But it exacts a toll. We're all aware that dabbling in the dark arts comes with its own consequences. Yet, there are facets none of us can truly ever comprehend. Fear...the fear of those aspects is what makes us fundamentally human."
"To split one's soul...is forbidden, even amongst those who practice the dark arts..."
"Why?" Lyra pressed.
"Splitting your soul isn't a simple feat, Ms. Marks. Only the supremely powerful and skilled can execute such magic. Consider your soul as a single entity... dividing it means surrendering a part of yourself, relinquishing a portion of your human essence...it's a magic beyond the point of return!"
"Can someone split it more than once?" Albus asked, his curiosity now fully engaged as Grindelwald focused on him.
"Yes, but with each division, you become progressively less...you turn into a creature...a homunculus!"
"Homunculus?" Lyra inquired, struggling to grasp the concept.
"Our souls define our humanity, irrespective of their moral orientation. They tether us to our bodies; splitting a portion of your soul gradually erodes your humanity. Homunculus, in Latin, means 'little man'. Fragmenting your soul reduces you to the barest semblance of humanity. It's similar to what dementors represent... soulless, dark wraiths." Grindelwald explained, his tone unsettlingly calm.
"Have you ever known anyone who has...?" Lyra's voice trailed off, laden with uncertainty.
"No. Nor would I ever wish to. Even dark magic has a code of conduct."
"So, what occurs when you split your soul? What is done with it?" Lyra tried to understand, her inquisitiveness getting the better of her.
"You conceal it! Bury it deep so it remains undiscovered. As long as a fragment of your soul persists, you remain impervious to death. These concealed fragments are called Horcruxes...and they can be anything...but they must be cherished possessions."
"Anything?" Lyra asked tensely.
"Yes, anything...anyone...individuals...creatures...living...inanimate..."
"How does one create a Horcrux?" Lyra questioned, her curiosity outweighing her caution. She could sense Dumbledore's intent scrutiny.
"I don't possess knowledge of the mechanics...all I can reveal is that...a life...for a life..."
"How does one destroy a Horcrux?" Albus interjected.
"Only...spells steeped in darkness...creatures steeped in darkness, capable of breaching the world's barriers...beyond one's control! Such as..."
"Fiendfyre..." Lyra whispered softly, her expression deeply troubled. Grindelwald grinned maniacally at her revelation.
"Yes, but not the kind you can command...true fiendfyre, born from absolute darkness!"
Lyra fell silent, her gaze averted.
"You remove that ring, and you can destroy them...not many in this world possess the artistry that you and I do, Lyra. Fiendfyre is an exceedingly rare spell... not everyone can master its manifestation...give up that ring, and you can destroy them." Grindelwald tantalizingly proposed, as her fingers toyed with her ring.
"And everything else in my path..." She muttered, a sense of dread washing over her.
"And everything else in your path!" Grindelwald reiterated, his glazed eyes now penetrating deep into her soul. Lyra swallowed hard, feeling herself being ensnared by his words, by his knowledge.
Lyra could sense the effects of the Veritaserum beginning to wane. She glanced at Albus, who acted swiftly. She wasn't sure whether the dark magic in the castle had affected him, but he retrieved his wand and resealed Grindelwald's magical straightjacket.
"Albus...no...we promised him..."
Grindelwald began to snarl, howl, shake, and shiver upon detecting the betrayal. His screams reverberated throughout the castle, rousing the other silent prisoners as well.
"We are leaving!" Dumbledore declared blankly, gripping Lyra's hand firmly and pulling her away.
Lyra protested, but his grasp remained unyielding until they were outside the wretched castle. Both of them gasped for breath as the cold wind hit their faces again, gradually freezing them.
"I promised Tessra I'd keep you safe, Lyra..." Albus warned in response to her objections.
"There was so much more to ask, Albus. He'll never speak again. He's going to die in there, with all that information we could have used...that we could have..."
"That's enough! A few more minutes in there, and you'd be making one yourself!" Albus snapped.
"But he's..."
"Going to die. I know...he deserves it!" Dumbledore spat darkly as he walked toward the guard's cabin.
Dumbledore and Trobes lit cigarettes and exchanged casual conversation while Lyra stared at the now-closed portcullis of the prison behind her. A shiver ran down her spine, and it felt as if she could still hear his screams.
Perhaps Dumbledore was right. Maybe putting Grindelwald to rest was for the best. However, the knowledge the man possessed was truly priceless.
What a waste, Lyra thought, burying the face of the man who had helped shatter her world deep within the darkest recesses of her mind, hoping he would never resurface again.
AN/- Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots more to come! :)