Black
January 5, 1991
A loud burst shattered the silence of the quiet German air, as Grindelwald wand in hand, blasted away a tree root that was creeping too close to his limbs for comfort. He took a deep breath, feeling the life and magic that surrounded him, as he looked ahead at the ominous trees that lay ahead of him.
The Black Forest. His home when he had been expelled from Dumstrang.
He walked through the forest reminiscing on the countless experiments he had undergone there both with and without Albus, til he reached a small clearing. Holding his free hand up, he whispered a few phrases and suddenly the night was deadly quiet. He glanced at his wristwatch. He had maybe an hour until someone, likely Albus, would notice the intrusion.
Walking to the center of the clearing he quickly drew intricate lines into the ground, pouring small amounts of magic into each cut of the earth. Within moments, he had finished a sloppy recreation of the ritual for the Crown of Surtr. He glanced over it once more and nodded satisfied. The untrained eye wouldn't see it but Albus would.
And that was what he was counting on.
Scoffing he sat down in the middle of the pentagram and after a moment's hesitation pointed his wand at his foot.
"Auferro Os"
He grimaced in pain as his foot went limp and several glistening bones appeared on the floor beside it. For a long, silent moment, he allowed the pain to dance around as he mentally dissipated the dark magic cascading up and down his foot. Carefully pulling a glowing flask out of his cloak, he took a long sip and snarled as the bones in his foot regrew.
It was an arduous process, one filled with complicated stasis charms and stability runes, but it was not long until every one of his bones lay on the ground next to him. He groaned aloud, as he wiped the sweat from his brow and the blood from his nose.
Perhaps he should have brought the Potter runt for assistance.
Shakily getting to his feet he pointed his wand at the center of where he had just been sitting and lit the entire ritual on fire. As he stood at a distance watching as his old skeleton charred, a small bit of pride surged in his chest. He still had it.
And once more, he felt that familiar feeling of Dumbledore's aura approaching rapidly. Without a second to spare, he closed his eyes and disapparated from the forest, the gates of Dumstrang on his mind. With luck, Dumbledore and the rest of the world would believe him dead, fallen victim to a power-hungry ritual he could not sustain.
He opened his eyes and allowed himself a small smile as he walked through the familiar gates of Dumstrang. Nodding to each bowing sentry, he made his way up the stone stairs and greeted the waiting Vinda.
"How did it go sir?" she asked, as the two began walking through the winding halls.
"Well, my friend. The morning paper will report of my death, and Dumbledore and his lackeys will be off of our trail. This will buy us the time we need to grow as an organization."
The two stopped in front of a painting of an ugly old Russian wizard. Grindelwald waved his hand, flexing his new, strong fingers, and a secret door slid open, allowing the two to enter.
The door closed behind them as Grindelwald turned to Vinda gesturing to the table in front of them, beckoning her to sit.
"How goes the boy's training?" he asked, after pulling up his own chair to the table.
"He is undoubtedly the most powerful child I have ever met. He has such raw power," she said, before pausing. "But I'm afraid he lacks refinement, and if I say so myself, motivation. An aptitude for fighting, but little else."
Grindelwald nodded as he took this in. This was not unexpected. The boy had shown a great enthusiasm for dueling but not nearly as much for any of the other branches of magic, likely an unforeseen effect of being taught by a particularly more violent part of Voldemort. But nonetheless, the boy had potential.
"I believe, that I have a solution to this. After all, an unguided weapon is a useless one."
He paused and leaned forward, closer to Rosier. "Did you find the coordinates I asked for?"
Vinda nodded matter-of-factly.
"I had Druella get it out of Lucius. It cost a little more than what I expected, but I got the information nonetheless," she said, sliding a charmed parchment across the table.
He felt a small jolt of magic as his fingers brushed the paper. Heavily charmed and protected as expected. He smoothed the paper over with his hand and felt the magical protections melt away at his touch.
"And I presume-"
"Yes sir, the paper is a portkey."
Grindelwald nodded appreciatively and tucked the paper carefully into his pocket.
"May I ask why you asked for the coordinates to Azkaban?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes still trained on the pocket the piece of paper had vanished into.
"Not today I'm afraid my dear," said Grindelwald with a small shake of his head. "But I assure you, I did not have you go through all that trouble for nothing. I believe this will be key in my plan to keep the Potter boy under our control."
And keep the boy under his control he would, he thought to himself as he pushed the thought of another dark-haired powerful young wizard away. He was almost done with putting the final touches on the false memory he was creating. It would be one of his finest works undoubtedly, especially if it were to convince a wizard of Sirius Black's caliber. He flexed his fingers once more, admiring his own craft. Perfect copy of his old bones, down to the last minute details.
Hubris called. Perhaps, he was well enough.
He rose from his chair suddenly, startling Vinda.
"I will be heading off to Azkaban now. Prepare a room for a guest while I am away."
"My Lord!" she protested as she watched Grindelwald wave his hand, opening the room again.
"Azkaban has not been broken into ever. Countless have tried, and all have failed," she said as she jumped out of her seat. "And you have just finished a difficult ritual. You are in no shape to do such a thing."
Grindelwald tsked. "Why have you such little faith? And not just you Vinda. The stench of doubt throughout this entire damn castle disgusts me. Have I not proven time and time again that I am no ordinary wizard?"
He took a small breath, composed himself, and turned back around to Vinda, his eyes glowing with the raw power, belying a quiet rage.
"Do not fear Vinda. I will prove myself," he said as he reached forward and cupped her chin with his hand. "Have that room ready. And don't you forget who saved the entire Rosier line," he added with a whisper.
With that, he turned away and walked away. It was disheartening to see his chief lieutenant doubt him, but after a few more paces it did not bother him in the least. Their beliefs mattered not for in the end, they were all pawns in his greater endgame. He stopped as he reached the middle of the courtyard and breathed in the cold air. It did not matter he scolded himself.
He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the small parchment.
Alas, he had forgotten to ask for the trigger word.
No matter. He allowed his magic to flow slowly into the portkey and willed it to take him away. Within seconds there was a large implosion and he felt himself be carried away for what felt like a small eternity until he landed feetfirst on a small jetty.
A howling wind cut through his clothing and chilled him to the bone. Massive black waves crashed onto the rocks around him, narrowly missing him, nearly dragging him into the agitated ocean. Glittering ebony sand, like that of shattered obsidian, dug into his dragon-hide boots as he stepped smartly out of the way of another wave. This was an accursed place.
As he peered through the rain and waves he made out the shape of a large rock. The massive fortress that was Azkaban lay right in front of him. Vinda had done well.
The waves continued to swell, as Grindelwald brushed his damp hair out of his face. He stepped forward, allowing his magic to reach out into every crack and crevice on the forsaken rock. A sudden pass of mental despair shook him of his concentration and alerted him of the Dementors.
Quickly, Grindelwald pulled out his wand and began carving runes into the rocks in front of him. He would have very little time before one of the Dementors would sense his soul and raise the alarm. As he traced his wand methodically across the obsidian, he could feel the residue of Ekrizdis's magic. A legend in his own right for his Dark Arts. Now, Elkrizdis would help him once more.
He waved his wand across his finished runes and blasted off the debris. Pricking his finger with a precise piercing curse, he allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the runes, gasping as he felt the connection. Carefully, he pressed his wand to the floor and let his magic flow into the runes engraved on the floor. Then with carefully spoken spells crafted by a madman in Russia, he began to hide his soul.
The concept was not one to be attempted by an amateur. His magic was tied to his soul, so as he buried his soul beneath his magic, he felt his magic weaken. But this was his only way into the prison. As the blood drained from his face, he fell to his knees. It had been a mistake to come tonight.
With a snarl, he shook away his doubt. He was Grindelwald, the terror of Europe. No mortal could stand before him.
As his mismatched pupils grew darker, he took a shaky breath and broke the exchange. His soul was hidden. He looked up at the imposing fortress, rain cascading around him, riling the waves up like mad dogs.
Vinda's intel had revealed that Black was on the top floor. Squinting through the rain, he made out the entry dock.
Tapping his wand on his chest, he felt his features melt as he took on the appearance of Cornelius Fudge. He waved his wand, conjuring a small wooden boat, and before long he was at the entrance.
The guards looked at him confused, as they helped him out of the boat.
"Minister? What brings you here? This is highly irregular."
Grindelwald faked a cough as he gained his footing on the dock, taking the opportunity to whip his wand out.
"Imperio."
The dementors did not acknowledge his presence as he allowed the two guards to guide him through the dark halls of Azkaban. The whole fortress was cold, chilling to the bone and he took the time to reapply his warming charms as they went up yet another flight of stairs.
He flicked his wand indiscriminately, silencing the screamers as he peered through the bars of each cell he passed, recognizing a few faces.
Dolohov, his father had served him well in the first war. Inuoe, a founding member of the most irritating Cabal. He shook his head at how the once mighty wizard scurried away from the bars as he passed. Hopefully Black would be in a serviceable state of mind. After all, he had no use for a vegetable.
"This is Sirius Black's cell sir," said the guard, breaking him from his thoughts, as they stopped in front of a small cell.
Grindelwald peered through the bars of the cell.
Dark flowing hair framed a weary but regal face. This was the man in his vision. The spitting image of Orion, Sirius Black. Elegance was evident even in the way he lay on the dirty floor, but the man was clearly defeated. This would be to his advantage.
Touching the bars with his hand, they melted away into nothingness. Carefully he stepped forward, as Black got to his feet.
"I am your redemption Mr. Black, and that is all you need to know."
Sirius threw up his arms but to no avail, as the stunner put him to sleep.
With a flick of his wand the limp body of Sirius Black rose off the floor and floated behind him. As he turned back around he nearly crashed into the two expressionless guards. Alas they now served no more use to him.
"Avada Kedavra."
The first guard fell to the floor motionlessly. If Vinda's research was correct, the charms would detect the death of a guard.
A loud wailing noise split the silence of the upper floor. He broke the imperius curse on the second guard with his wand, as he pressed his free hand on the door of Black's cell, causing it to crumble away.
The formerly imperiused man shook his head confused, then looked up in horror at the sight of his dead partner and the minister of magic directing the prone body of Sirius Black.
The man's protest did not have time to leave his lips as he soon found his throat cut and blood pooling around him.
Grindelwald allowed the disguise and exchange to drop, and released an audible sigh as the warmth of his soul returned. Dementors swooped forward and guards from lower levels began running up the stairs, but it was too late. By the time they got to the cell, Gellert Grindelwald and Sirius Black were gone.
January 1, 1991
Headmaster's Office Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore had hit another dead end. Another new year, and still no trace of Harry Potter. For the past year, he and his many associates had been searching for Harry Potter, but it was as if he did not exist anymore. He and Severus had done extensive searching in both the magical and muggle worlds respectively. The only clue they had was the fact that Harry had been seen the day before the fire at his public school.
The only possible option was that Harry had been kidnapped. Every scrying spell and ritual he had explored had failed, meaning that the wards Harry was behind were that rivalling Hogwarts. Dumbledore frowned as he remembered the powerful fiendfyre that had swept the neighborhood. The enchanted flames had been oddly familiar but he could not remember why for the life of him.
If only he could still talk to Gellert, he would have undoubtedly had a way to find Harry, albeit in a dark and arcane way. He brushed the thought away, his old friend was dead and there was nothing that could be done about it, though regret permeated every memory.
He sighed and looked at the book once more. At least Harry was still alive.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Come in," said Dumbledore wearily, as he tucked the book back into his desk.
He looked up and saw the scowling face of Severus Snape, his dark robes billowing behind him.
"Any new leads?" inquired Dumbledore.
Severus took a seat.
"I am confident that the boy has not been taken by any of the prominent Death Eater families. I did my best to investigate and it appears that no one is aware that he is missing. I fear for the worst Headmaster."
Dumbledore slumped back into his chair. The wizarding world called him the greatest wizard of his time, but what was the title worth if he could not do as much as find a single boy.
"Thank you Severus for your input, I will look into some other avenues and update you once I figure out our next move."
Snape nodded stiffly and left the room.
A beautiful cry echoed through the room, as Fawkes swooped into the room and landed on the desk in front of him. Dumbledore glanced up and saw a very old envelope in the mouth of the phoenix. Reaching out with weathered hands he took the worn parchment.
It was his Hogwarts acceptance letter.
"But why Fawkes?"
His eyes read the address line. Of course! The enchantments on the letter system would bypass any ward and be able to locate the boy. If only he could figure out how to accelerate the writing process. All letters were sent out on the same day, but if he could send a letter out sooner...
He stroked Fawkes' plumage appreciatively and began to work on the enchantment immediately, his piercing blue eyes ablaze with a fervor that had been missing for some time.