A Soulless Angel

-8-

When he woke up, he felt as if he had been reborn; like muggles, witches and wizards suffered the same ailments, but thanks to their magic, they were largely able to resist them, and things like the pain of arthritis were things that could be handled better. Still, like with muggles it depended on just how strong the magician was, and whether or not they were receiving the proper medical potions to help them cope.

Gellert Grindelwald had not enjoyed the attention of a Healer in a very long time.

Waking up, Grindelwald shivered a little, and he gazed down at his body; it was covered with a thick, glutinous jelly-like potion. He grimaced at the feel, it made him nauseous just to look at it, but his stomach was empty, reminding him he needed to have something to eat, and quick. He didn't want to begin his new, fresh life on an empty stomach. Suddenly he remembered, he had woken up in the cloning tank which had been waiting for him to arrive in spirit for decades, and the procedure had knocked him out for six, and he had left the tank and collapsed onto bed and he'd been sleeping.

Grindelwald shifted around, wincing in agony as he felt the cramp before he gradually moved and slowly his body stopped aching. After rousing himself out of entropy, Grindelwald slowly stood up, flexing his legs and arms as he did, taking in deep breaths. To his delight his new body was not aching and suffering from so many health issues like his old body, now he was in this new one long enough.

Stepping into a shower after deciding it was going to be nicer being in a bath and besides he had been on his back enough lately, Grindelwald started it up and he spent the next hour in the cubicle washing off the slime on his body. Sighing in contentment and delight, Grindelwald reflected on the past week.

When he had gotten the newspaper article saying Harry Potter had killed his successor in the dark side, Grindelwald had considered just killing himself and fleeing to a new clone body, after he had acquired the secrets to essence transfer.

Like Voldemort from what he had picked up over the last few decades, and to a lesser extent, Albus whom he had been a confidante to before that mess that saw Ariana Dumbledore dying tragically, Grindelwald was frightened of death, which was to say he didn't want to die until all of his work, everything he had wanted to do, everything he actually wanted to see, was done.

Grindelwald had not been idle when he had been studying at Durmstrang - yes, granted, the results of those final experiments in the dark arts had been too extreme and had resulted in his final expulsion after the many stern warnings he had received but it showed there were just some things Durmstrang just refused to allow or tolerate - he had known, more or less what he wanted to do. His truest regret was letting Dumbledore get too close; if he hadn't, then perhaps their relationship would not have soured.

But while he had been attending Durmstrang, Grindelwald had used his silvery tongue and his talents for speaking to others to head into the archives of the school for his search for knowledge.

While he had been down there, he had discovered many ancient texts of dark magic, and he had become an expert in many arcane forms of magic, some of them were so difficult to wield he had never really bothered without taking proper precautions. Disguised as another book, there was an instruction manual on the lost magical art of Essence Transfer.

Grindelwald had quickly understood what essence transfer was, and he had seen so many delightful prospects in using the ancient magical art which so many ministries had tried to destroy when so many dark wizards had used it to hijack the bodies of those who crossed and defeated them, as a last insult against them.

With Essence transfer, he could live, more or less, forever if he chose to do so. He could continue to transform the magical world and move it beyond, after destroying the muggle world and making it impossible for them to become a threat once the Statute of Secrecy was repealed. Muggles became the underclass, where they belonged.

He had killed himself, or rather he had let his soul and magic be transferred to a clone body he had prepared before his final defeat. Grindelwald had set up dozens of safe houses in scattered and remote corners of Europe, protected from muggles and magical spies. In all of them were spare wands, caches of preserved potions, all the comforts of home and plenty of reading material to keep him from growing bored; during his rise to power, he had acquired them under false names or had them built up, using money he had stolen over the years before he added the materials and equipment he needed to grow a clone, or a number of them.

Grindelwald had never allowed anyone to find them. They had been one of his greatest secrets, and luckily because nobody had an inkling of their existence, they had been left alone.

Or rather he hoped they were.

But upon waking up here, a part of him had been seriously frightened when he had killed himself then he would be left in limbo. But his fears were for nothing. His experiment had worked.

The only problem was Dumbledore knew about essence transfer, and he was positive the fool had used it.

During their last battle, Grindelwald had been exhausted. He had spent weeks fighting the wizards Dumbledore had sent to weaken him sufficiently, and he had been fighting virtually every single day. Sometimes he would barely even get enough sleep. Sometimes he would be attacked by highly explosive potions which were very hard to deal with. Some of his followers were turning on him, so every moment that passed by, the stresses of the war were making him paranoid.

All that Dumbledore wanted.

By the time the battle came between himself and Dumbledore, Grindelwald had found himself fighting not one, not two, but twelve witches and wizards, including Charlus Potter and Arcturus Black. He had gotten lucky and he had hit Dumbledore with a spell which was slowly killing him. But Dumbledore had gotten lucky and he was injured himself. But things turned.

Grindelwald had spent weeks before his trial brooding over his losses and his regrets when he saw for himself Dumbledore waltzing into the courtroom. For hours, Grindelwald pondered over what was going on when he realised Dumbledore had used essence transfer, but he couldn't say or do anything, lest that reveal his own use of it, and could potentially endanger his own clones.

But ever since the article came talking of Voldemort's death, Grindelwald had toyed with just activating one of the clones and just going out and enjoying life. He had spent too long locked up, and he didn't have any desire to go down that dark path again unless he had no choice. If he went out openly it could result in too many complications.

Grindelwald left the shower, but as he towelled himself off, he realised something was wrong.

Quickly heading into his study, he stopped when he found himself looking at Natalia. "Ah, so my hunch was right, you did use essence transfer," she smirked.

"You? I thought you were dead. You died in Berlin!" Grindelwald gasped.

"Did you think I didn't know what you were doing?" Natalia snapped, losing her coy manner instantly and replacing it with a malevolent demeanour. "I was one of your acolytes and I truly thought you could do it. I followed you to this place, and others, and discovered your secret."

Grindelwald stilled in shock as he stared at one of his once loyal followers who told him without words how she had lived this long. Natalia was a witch from Russia who had joined his army, quickly becoming one of his most elusive but powerful followers. Born to a lineage of dark witches and wizards, her blood was purer than pure, and she was not sorry about her aims and didn't care who died in front of her unless she got what she wanted.

But he had underestimated her.

He had never known she would follow him - why, he didn't know, but he guessed she had secretly been looking for his caches of magical lore before finding out about essence transfer and his clones, and she had simply copied the plan on her own. Was that how she had survived Berlin? Was that how he escaped, survived?"

Natalia leaned back in her seat, friendly once more, "Sit down, Gellert. We have much to discuss," she said.

Without a wand, he couldn't fight back. So he sat down.