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"-akin to this bubble's natural defensive ability, your body without magic is about as resilient." His grandfather remarked, a non-descript bubble floating just over his finger as the man locked eyes with him. He watched he used his free hand to pop said bubble with a finger before recreating another, this time a hue of magic surrounding it. "Of course, given you're not a muggle, your body is overflowing with your magic." He watched as the man repeated his earlier action, only this time pushing said bubble.
"That magic, Rodrick, is absolutely what separates us between them, but it is so much more than simple spell-casting, the ability to rewrite our world as we see fit is not what makes us truly better." The man paused, waving his hand with a shrug as the bubble disappeared before he poked him in the chest. "It's is the very fact that nothing short of itself, nothing short of magic, can truly harm you."
He frowned at the words.
"I dunno, a bullet to the head seems pretty effective." He deadpanned in response- The Orphanage did have a television, old as it was.
The older man chuckled.
"An uncultured wizard perhaps, one without talent or creativity might find themselves at risk." The elder Grindelwald narrowed his eyes as he removed said finger. "But the truth is, we each make our own fate- The very same applies to our bodies and minds. If you believe yourself to be at risk to a muggle weapon, then your magic will adopt that very belief as well,"
He frowned at the words, crossing his arms, yet before he could respond, the elder man rolled his eyes and continued.
"Muggles for all their fancy toys, lack one fundamental aspect that makes them ineffective- Magic. The very power to make your own rules, believe that you can survive-" The man snorted. "-as you say, a bullet to the head and your own magic will accommodate you for the simple fact that there is no outside force opposing it."
"...I don't see how that helps you survive a gunshot."
"Perhaps the bullet disappears before entry, perhaps your head will repair itself- It does not matter how you survive Rodrick, only that you believe you will. Because in the end, the only thing that truly matters is whatever belief is held against you, and muggles for all their ingenuity cannot fight back against such a force, simply because they lack the magic for their own beliefs to use against your own."
He hummed along in thought.
"In the end Rodrick, you must remember one thing- Our bodies, no matter how useful, are simply vessels for our souls, and vessels in the worst of cases can be replaced."
On that, he simply had to disagree, a frown rapidly filling up his own face as he processed the words.
"What about the killing curse then? How does that work?"
"The Killing Curse is a curse." Gellert crossed his own arms as he tilted his head the slightest bit. "Curses, as I've said before, have the power to rearrange what your own magic believes to be the natural state of being- Which is why it is almost impossible to remedy." A single beat passed. "And the Killing Curse has only one purpose- To remove your soul from an earthly existence, though you might wander the world as an unseen ghost, you will never be able to walk amongst it physically, for your magic has been rearranged to believe itself to be apart of the spiritual world."
Rodrick blinked once at the words, narrowing his eyes in the process.
"...But you can still use magic?" He questioned curiously.
A shadow of a smile filtered through man's face at his words.
"The Killing Curse doesn't prohibit you from doing so, even as a spirit." The man chuckled. "Yet, nearly all who fall to it cannot comprehend the thought that they could- Most of them never even move past the fact that wandless magic is possible for them to begin with, forever relying on their wands, and such an attachment makes it far too easy for them to simply give up whatever grasp they hold on the world the moment it falls around them. Magic, after all, comes from within, and for all the power held by the green light of death, it is not the curse that destroys it."
"...Is there one that does?" He couldn't help his curiosity.
The man didn't answer verbally, simply smiling at him as he raised an eyebrow.
"There are no limits Rodrick."
The gulp that came out, even in his dreamscape, or whatever the place was, felt all too real for him.
"Only a lack of creativity."
Yet for all his words, he couldn't help the next question he'd asked.
His grandfather had once recalled to him about how he'd convinced so many wizards to fight for him and his cause- The dangers of muggles and their breakthroughs... And yet here he was telling him that for all that they might've advanced, the fact they had no magical force behind it meant it wouldn't matter at all.
"...Why'd you start the war then?"
His grandfather's answer, which been a question on its own, was so very telling in all honesty.
"Which one?" The older man remarked, a hint of a grin on his face.
He frowned as he let loose another gulp.
"So you did start the muggle world war? The second one I mean..." In all honesty, the timing of said war should've been a complete giveaway, the fact most thought it a coincidence was... Oddly naive in a way. "Why?"
"Because of mudbloods," The man shrugged, without a hint of insult to his tone, eliciting a wide-eyed look from him. "The first world war the muggles started, for some inane reason, had convinced a certain demographic of idealists to... Well, participate."
He could practically feel the coldness that started seeping out of his grandfather.
"Truth be told, the statute of secrecy had been broken so many times due to them that... Well, when the war ended and all that was mostly left were the muggle children that grew up in it... A few groups for a single moment in history considered the benefits of leaving it broken."
The man paused for a moment, a disgusted expression showing up on his face, one that had him feel the urge to run.
"Those mudbloods found, well, rather great success in helping their sides and those few muggles that knew about our society thought them a benefit to their society. Thought that, given the start of a revolutionizing century, it was past time that both societies... Met as equals."
And in an instant, all that coldness, that disgust disappeared as the man simply shrugged to finish his point.
"And... Well, I thought otherwise." The man snorted. "It wasn't particularly difficult in truth, to sow the seeds of distrust between the two worlds, to give them a taste of the worst of what both sides had to offer... A wizard here, an uprising there... Megalomaniacs ignoring the whims of their people- Truthfully Rodrick, I could care less for them and what they had to offer, for nothing would ever compare to my birthright."
The man started chuckling shaking his head for a moment, his mismatched eyes seemed lost in memory as Rodrick felt the tenseness in his skin rise.
"I was more than happy to pretend they didn't exist... But to let them ever consider me and my kind their equal..." The man let out a bark of laughter. "As if."
He watched as the dreamscape started wavering, figments of it disappearing slowly as patches of darkness swirled at the very edges of it.
"By the time that so-called final battle between your headmaster and I came to be..." The man chuckled again, the sound reverberating in the wavering realm.
"Oh, I'd long since won the true war."
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