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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 214: Historical Recurrence
🕑 Added 2024-02-06 14:34:03 +0000 UTCChapter 214: Historical Recurrence
1 May 1994, Hogwarts, Scotland
“Hello, Albus. Did you miss me?”
The headmaster paled as he turned and saw the recognizable face of the man who he had doomed to a fate worse than death, the man who secured his ascension, the man who he once loved, Gellert Grindelwald.
This was a face he never expected to see again, a face that haunted his nightmares. His relationship with Gellert was complicated for many reasons. Albus’ sister, their dream, their separation, their friendship turning into rivalry as they interpreted their dream of peace that they had as teenagers together, their greater good.
Albus couldn’t help but feel a mixture of rage, fear, and hope when he spoke back, “Ah, Gellert. I must say that I am surprised to see you so far away from Nurmengard.”
“Ah, you mean my prison. Don’t worry you did a good job at binding my soul to it. I have to admit that as punishments go, that was an especially cruel one. Death would have been more merciful.”
“If I did such a good job, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
The true Dark Lord replied with a smirk, “Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Albus. Your spell worked magnifically. The energy requirements to undo it were insane. Like for example, around centuries of backlogged ambient magic surging all at once.”
“Azkaban was your handywork then?”
“I always did have a fondness for vampires. But I am not here to speak to you about how I escaped, but why I did so. You know, Albus, when you beat me, I was more than happy to let you have your moment. We fought and you won. You deserved your opportunity to achieve your version of the greater good. Now, fifty years later, and I can’t help but pity you. Was this truly all you hoped to achieve? You have weakened our species, neutered their magic. But where is your vaunted peace? Where is your promised Eutopia that you liked to rave about? When you look inside yourself, are you proud of what you became?”
Albus gritted his teeth and growled, “Where is Neville Longbottom?”
“Ah, your sacrificial lamb, your prophecy child. You often mocked me, the seer, when we were younger. You used to snort at the mere mention of prophecy and yet now you cling to one, hoping to use it to your own ends. Don’t look so surprised, Albus. I have been keeping tabs on you for decades.”
The headmaster did not let Gellert’s words bait him and asked once more, “Where is Neville Longbottom?”
“Safe with a dear friend of mine. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly fine. I just wanted a way to get your attention. You’ve become so prickly in your old age.”
An Auror moved forwards, trying to grab Gellert. Albus did not have the time to warn him as the moment he touched the Dark Lord, he turned into dust.
That’s when the screaming started. Thousands of wizards and witches started to run away, scared, while a small minority gripped their wands and pointed it at Albus’ former friend. He tried to stop them from doing anything rash, but Gellert beat him to it and yelled out with an enhanced voice, “SILENCE!”
The entire stands quieted suddenly, and the Dark Lord continued, “I don’t know if any of you know who I am. Maybe a few old veterans could remember my face, but my name is Gellert Grindelwald.”
Pandemonium followed making Gellert wave his wand producing a loud deafening gong, startling them, “Now, most of you probably think that I want to do something evil or fiendish and rightly so. But I am not here to fight; I am merely here to talk. Specifically, I am here to talk about Albus Dumbledore.”
Before he could continue Elphias Doge ran forward and yelled, “I will not listen to you! Avada Kedavra!”
Gellert simply swerved to the side and let the spell continued past him until it hit the outer wards of the castle. Albus paled as he felt what happened, cursing the impulsive man. He really should recruit better wizards into his order.
Just as he expected, the moment the killing curse touched the wards, the war wards were activated with a loud bang, “Well, my good man, you have just officially screwed yourself and everyone over. You see, when the castle wards detect a killing curse coming from the outside, they immediately move to their highest security, and since our lovely headmaster here has removed the quidditch pitch from its boundaries to let you people in to watch the task, we’re not included in the war wards. We can’t leave our unwarded bubble. At least without a very real risk of dying. Well, I suppose you’re all stuck with me for a while. Now, now, there’s no need to panic. I’m not really here for you. I’m here for Albus here. You see, we have a very long history, he and I…”
“Gellert, there’s no need for any of this,” Albus protested, “We can deal with whatever you want after all those good people leave.”
“You mean after you activate your ritual and cripple this nation. Look, I don’t mind you manipulating these people using politics. But I draw the line at what you’re doing. Do you think I didn’t recognize what you were going to do, how you forced the Potter boy, someone that you failed in many ways, into one of the worst fates imaginable. Dippet told me the moment you took the fey’s attempt at imitating Solomon’s crowning achievement, the Garden of Avalon. An unescapable prison that forces the prisoner to channel magic until they die and do it again and again until their very soul wear out and burst from the effort, all in a fraction of a second, leaving the artifact with every ounce of magic that user could channel, all existing at once. You did that to a child because he made fun of you? How petty could you be to do something like that.”
Albus immediately understood what Gellert was doing. The Dark Lord was a master orator; he could command an audience’s attention like he was born to. After all, during the Great War, he had the ears of half of the wizarding population.
The headmaster could not afford to fight the other Archmage with so many people around. It was probably why Gellert even revealed himself so publicly. Albus wouldn’t have been able to stop him speaking. No one would without suffering grave consequences.
Albus did not respond, he did not rise to the bait, and let Gellert continue, “And all of that for what? To power a ritual so heinous aiming to destroy these people’s legacies? How much you have fallen, old friend. I cannot help but pity you.”
The headmaster froze as he realized that there was a chance that Gellert could reveal things Albus definitely didn’t want to be known. Previously, all he had revealed was circumstantial at best. It was information that Albus could deny and claim that it was to attack his character.
“That’s enough!” Albus yelled, releasing his grip on his magic, and casting a privacy charm around them, “I will not stand here and let you…”
The Dark Lord interrupted him, “Let me what, exactly? I’m only saying the truth, removing all those masks for everyone to see what you are. They don’t even realize what you wanted to do. Nobody would have probably noticed for a long time, but you would have won. Honestly, I wouldn’t have gotten involved, out of curiosity and respect more than anything, but I can’t afford having you going through with your plan. With what is coming, I cannot let you an entire nation’s family crests.”
Albus stiffened when his former friend uttered those words. Damn it, Gellert knew what he was planning. It made sense, in a way, he was the one who suggested this idea to Albus when they were younger. Sure, it was just some foolish thoughts that youngster had, but the plan itself was brilliant. Instead, it attacked just a portion that would create a small bud of itself in their offspring. It was a long-term attack, where children will grow up without their ancestor’s legacy, without the harmful knowledge of the past, without any hang-ups to enter his new world.
No one would have ever suspected him, nor the tournament for anything, probably blaming some kind of curse or anything similar. He had designed the ritual with the philosopher’s stone in mind as the power source. Nicholas Flamel, his previous mentor, had created it with the essence of thousands of people, mages and muggles alike. The ritual’s reach would have been global, affected every continent and magical nation. After all, family crests were based on the same principles when it came to being passed on. It was just too efficient to be replace, and knowledge of soul magic became very sparse ever since the Statute of Secrecy was put in place.
Albus had planned on using the stone a couple of years back. It was why he had killed Nicholas in the first place. He knew his mentor. He knew that the Immortal Alchemist wouldn’t have let him go through with the ritual, especially at the price of his precious stone. However, Albus did not expect him to hide the stone with his dying breath.
This meant that he had to settle with the garden of Avalon, reducing the range of the ritual to the British Isles only. It was still enough to turn Britain into the utopia he hoped it would inevitably become. He would just need to use the artifact multiple times all over the world to suit his needs.
The artifact itself wasn’t something as groundbreaking as the Philosopher’s stone, and it was nowhere as powerful. But it was well enough. The fey tried to replicate Solomon’s feat of imprisoning and gaining the power of both light and dark champions in ancient times, by trapping them inside his rings. However, they did not succeed fully. They just created a battery that could hold all the potential magic that anyone could have, not their true power. The Dark and the Light were more than that. From the legends, they tried to trick Morgana Le Fey into it, only for the Black witch to reverse the curse somehow and trap the fey themselves inside it. She later used the power to artificially empower her child, Mordred, to match Arthur Pendragon in might.
And yet, Albus couldn’t help but mourn as years of planning were wasted. It was a shame. It was just so elegant, though. He was almost there, the only place of problematic knowledge in Britain came solely from family libraries and family crests. Albus was about to eliminate one of them. He would need to think of another way to achieve his dream, probably by using the European tournament as the catalyst. It would need a lot of work though, and Gellert’s presence was an unforeseen variable.
He would need to get back to the drawing board, especially with Gellert coming back. He could be far more damaging to Albus’ plan than anything else could. Still, there was something in his former friend’s tone, something that niggled his brain the moment Gellert said it, “And what is coming? What made you decide to leave your hole?”
“The World Serpent was slain. You knew exactly what that means, don’t you?”
Albus froze in his track, “No! It was just a story.”
“Not a story, no. A prophecy. A very old one, for that matter. We’re running out of time. Your dream is a beautiful one, Albus. Sure, it was extremely naïve, but it was still beautiful. But, right now, we can’t afford for you to neuter the magical population further especially with what’s coming.”
“I refuse to give up on my life’s work for a children’s story, Gellert.”
For the first time since he saw him, Gellert’s face turned angry, “It’s not a children’s story. How blind you have become that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you. It’s coming. You can’t deny it. You can’t run from it. The first seal was broken, the world serpent is dead. Ragnarök is coming. We need to be ready, Albus. Or everything we have, everything we are, will be gone, forever.”
