The Wandering Devil
Chapter: 51
Disclaimer: I don't own High School DxD or any other universe used in this story.
(The Auction)
I sat cross-legged in the centre of the training room that Reginald had arranged for me.
It wasn't all that special. A repurposed basement beneath one of our safehouses, warded heavily enough that I could actually let loose without alerting half of magical Britain.
The memories Grindelwald had given me were still settling. Not the raw information itself. That had transferred cleanly through the contract. It was the understanding behind the powerful spells that I had gained.
I was slowly parsing through it all, the individual spells and how I could use them. And the more I understood, the more I found myself genuinely impressed.
To say I had underestimated wizarding magic would be an understatement.
Again.
These wizards and witches were wasting it all.
Having magic in the hands of humans like this was still absurd to me.
Back in my original world, humans could achieve magical feats through contracts, sacred gears, or years of dedicated study. I had heard how complex human magic systems were, and I didn't envy them in the least.
But this? This was different.
It was like magic, so incredibly limited yet powerful. Every child born with the gift could shape reality with a stick and some words, but they couldn't manipulate it too far, or the spell didn't work.
I had always known wizarding magic was strong yet malleable.
That was why I had come back here in the first place. And I knew it would synergise well with my Imagination Magic. Learning other magical systems with it as the base allowed me to use them all much more efficiently.
A smart enough Devil could mimic most of these spells, sure. It would cost five times as much magical power and take ten times as long to prepare. There were most definitely ways to get around that with dedicated training, I am quite sure of that.
But I didn't need to learn them, as I can now shortcut the entire process.
The spells themselves were what impressed me most.
Ventus Mortis stripped the air from a target's lungs while simultaneously locking down apparition in the area. A combination effect that would require two separate high-tier spells back home, cast in perfect synchronisation.
The knowledge of transfiguration was even more absurd.
Grindelwald hadn't been at Dumbledore's level, he'd admitted as such in his own memories, but he was close. And even "close" meant casually turning stone into living serpents, metal into binding chains, air into solid barriers.
That was considered close to a God-level ability in my original world. Not quite on that level, since it was still only changing matter rather than outright creating it, as Gods could do. The Devils could probably do it as well, as I knew Ajuka had done some things like that.
But with this amount of ease? This little cost, comparatively anyway, since it drained a lot of magic.
Here, a sufficiently skilled wizard could do it mid-combat without breaking a sweat.
If this world were ever opened up to Devils, they would ravage it. Hell, any faction from back home would ravage it for all it was worth, even the Angels wouldn't hesitate to try to recruit the magical humans.
And I had gained access to it through a fluke, and now held the keys to its gates.
I shook my head and refocused on the task at hand.
That left the most powerful piece of wizarding magic I had encountered so far.
"Protego Diabolica."
Black flames erupted around me in a ring, curling and twisting with a life of their own, forcing me to pull them back instantly as they began eating into everything around us.
The spell's function was elegant in its simplicity. The fire distinguished friend from foe through the caster's intent, consuming enemies while leaving allies untouched.
That was to say, the biggest problem with high-powered and destructive spells had somehow been side-stepped, and the fact that the only explanation I can think of is the power of friendship makes this situation even more absurd.
I had gained mastery over an ability that was incredibly strong, destructive and would allow me to leave my allies unharmed. I had always loved the fire element, but this was probably one of the best abilities in my arsenal right now.
I raised my hand and tried to direct the flames. To move them independently of the spell's basic overview, I knew I could create them into living beasts as an attack, but could I make a simple fireball with them?
I paused after a second. They were resisting my manipulation.
Not in the way normal fire would resist, where you lacked the control or power to manipulate it.
This was different.
The flames seemed to have a strange sort of intelligence to them, which was naturally not a normal occurrence. The signs of intelligence were also marred by an amusing stubbornness that pushed back against my will.
I tilted my head slightly, pushing harder with my energy. The flames flickered, shifted slightly, then snapped back into their original pattern.
I had felt the same way when I first tried to use them. I tried again. This time, I channelled more power, wrapping my will around the fire like a vice. For a moment, just a lone moment, I felt them give up.
A tendril of black flame stretched toward my palm. Then it collapsed back into the ring, the spell's structure reasserting itself. I let the flames die and sat back, considering what I knew.
Even the most powerful flames could be manipulated if you had enough raw power and control. That was true across every magical system I had encountered so far. Hell, with enough energy and willpower, you can wrestle control away from your opponent.
But these flames...
I cast the spell again, this time not trying to control them. The fire blazed around me, and once more, I could only allow it not to target the walls around me as black fire raged around.
I observed, feeling the way the magic flowed and interacted with the surrounding matter.
That's when I came to a slow realisation about the flames that surrounded me.
They weren't just magical in nature… They held a concept. The revelation came as a jolt, and I almost lost my focus, feeling them burn away some of the wall.
Huh… I can only assume that Grindelwald hadn't known this aspect about the flames, and I didn't think such things were even possible in this world.
It wasn't unheard of for fire aspects or for flames to hold different abilities in my world, but for fire of any kind to hold a concept… especially this world? That was just plain weird.
If I tried to summon this with imagination alone, I'd be sucked dry instantly. There was a reason the Devils weren't just God-like beings that had taken over the world.
Conceptual manipulation was the domain of Gods.
Divine beings could imbue their attacks with meaning, with ideas that transcended physical reality. A God of Death could kill with a touch, not because the attack was powerful, but because the concept of Death was woven into it.
It was another layer of power, one that can't be defended against without possessing a strong enough will to resist, and even then, the damage one would suffer is high.
Normally, one wouldn't be able to sense such a thing, especially at such a small scale. Even I had barely managed to recognise its presence in the flames, mostly because of the connection I had with them at the moment. Even knowing of its presence, I couldn't decipher exactly what concept it was.
Their existence was just that elusive.
Regular humans, or honestly, anyone outside of the divine, couldn't do that. Perhaps Dragons and other powerful enough beings could, but I wasn't part of that group, nor was any wizard of this world.
Especially the wizards, since they lacked the connection to the fundamental aspects of reality that made such a thing possible at all.
But here was Grindelwald, a human wizard, who had somehow created a spell that carried conceptual weight.
I stared at the fading embers of black flame.
Seriously, what the fuck made this monstrosity possible?
I could just imagine if the wizarding magic system existed in my own world, we'd have every faction attempting to claim it for themselves for all it was worth.
It almost made me want to stay and keep looking.
Protego Diabolica would no doubt become one of my main spells for the foreseeable future. Even if I couldn't manipulate it how I would like to, a dome of expanding flames that could be targeted at specific targets was useful enough alone.
I clenched my fist.
With this, I had gained a massive boon; this alone could act as a bloodline power that would create a prominent noble house within the 72 pillars. Hey, if the Sitri could make do with increased affinity as their bloodline, I can definitely see my power being worthy of such honour.
Anyway, there were still those two Deathly Hallows I wanted to get my hands on, before I could leave in peace.
For now though…
I cast the spell again, letting the flames form their ring. I studied them.
I was going to go out on a limb and guess the concept wasn't as strong as a true Domain. I couldn't confirm this, but I did have a Goddess at home who I imagined would be very well-versed in this subject.
Hmm, I wonder what exactly the implications are here. Oh well, Hestia must know.
Imagination magic already lets me learn and integrate other magical systems.
It was somewhat of a hidden perk of having it. And I have already proven I could use the wizarding magic system through it, casting spells without a wand, simply by understanding the underlying principles.
The possibilities were endless, given enough time.
Perhaps I could bring this up with Demiurge or even use the few wishing rings I had left for something.
I spent the next hour experimenting.
Casting Protego Diabolica over and over, each time focusing on a different aspect of the flames. The color. The heat. The way they responded to my intent.
Grindelwald's memories had the knowledge to cast the spell, but they didn't have the underlying theory, and I wasn't sure if he knew just how insane these flames were.
Grindelwald himself might not have fully understood what he had achieved. This had been his life's work, a spell that for him had only worked so well with the Elder wand.
It did lead me to the question.
Where exactly did wizarding magic come from?
I guess that was kind of a useless question since that could be asked for most of the worlds I had been in.
That would be a project for another time.
For now, I had other spells to examine.
The magical black flames were drying up my demonic power at a huge rate. Beyond that, I didn't have much time. I wanted to get something else done on my list before going to the Ball that Reginald had mentioned.
I let the flames die and moved on to Ventus Mortis.
The Death Wind. This one was more straightforward, just suffocating your enemy. Brutal, effective, but ultimately just a well-designed combat spell.
It'd be resisted, but having the air sucked out of your lungs is still a major distraction.
All of this was done with my wand, which, while annoying, saved me a bit on the cost. I'd have to find a way to upgrade that as well or turn it into some sort of ring.
I was not walking around and using a wand outside of this world. Without a wand, the spell required more direct magical manipulation. I would need to shape the curse through pure will, which meant understanding every component intimately.
Twenty minutes later, I cast it for the first time.
A wave of force rippled outward from my palm. The training dummy across the room shuddered as the air around it vanished. Simultaneously, I felt the space lock down. No apparition would work within the affected area.
I released the spell, and the air rushed back in.
Effective. Very effective. And I could already see ways to modify it. The area denial was the more interesting component.
I tried out a few more spells before a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
I dispelled the residual magic in the air and straightened.
"Enter."
Reginald stepped inside, his posture as composed as ever. He glanced around the training room, noting the scorch marks and displaced training dummies with a raised eyebrow.
"My Lord." He inclined his head. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Just finishing up." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the pleasant burn of a productive training session. "What is it?"
"Your apparition to the Auction has been confirmed," Reginald said.
I nodded.
"When?"
"A few hours, if you wish. Or we can delay if you need more time."
I considered it. There was still so much to explore with the spells I had gained. But Hestia was waiting. Artemis was waiting. And I had already been gone longer than I had intended.
-Scene Break-
I still wasn't quite sure why I was attending this massive social event.
Reginald's explanation did make sense.
"After Nurmengard, every magical family on the continent knows your name. Most are terrified. Some are intrigued. A few are already positioning themselves. Right now, they're forming opinions based on rumour. If you attend, you control the narrative."
A true statement. I didn't really care for it, though. Then again, it would be best if I allowed links to be made not solely on my power. I wasn't here over half the time, and it had come to my attention that the varying magical newspapers had been trying to alienate me further.
I am not sure what to feel about the fact that it was not just limited to Britain. I suppose it's kind of flattering.
Especially with Reginald's words on the lovely way the papers had begun addressing me.
"One French paper called you a 'demonic entity of unprecedented classification.'" Reginald said dryly, then paused. "Perhaps that isn't as offensive as it was intended to your ears."
"No, no, I understand," I said, with an amused smirk painted across my rather handsome face. Their claims about my devilish looks were definitely true.
Reginald recited some more parts, and I noted down the name of a particular paper, planning to send them roses for their high praises.
Then the final point came, the main selling point of all of this.
"There's the auction as well," Reginald continued. "Rare artefacts, tomes, things you won't find elsewhere. Formal declarations. Alliances announced publicly. It's where the actual power in magical Europe shows its face."
That is what had led me here, dressed up in comfortable form-fitting robes and ready to go. Attending a ball for the first time since being away from my devil family.
The meeting was held in a castle in the Swiss Alps. That castle I had come to learn was more of a magical fortress.
I arrived by portkey with Sebas, who was walking one step behind me, hands clasped behind his back, looking like the definition of demure. I shook my head in amusement, turning the portkey in my hand around. I should bring some of these home.
Finally, my gaze was drawn around me at the fortress I was standing in.
Outer walls lined a small village that led up to the hill we stood upon, a palace lavishly decorated, its doors opened as guests poured in. My interest was drawn to the walls that surrounded the small village, more specifically, the huge amount of magic that I could feel packed into them and the many wizards in battle robes that stood around.
I couldn't say I had fully mastered Sensing Magic yet, but even my base sensing capabilities could tell that they weren't just random mooks.
"They sure aren't messing around with their defences," I commented with a smirk.
Sebas nodded. "Hundreds of strong magical humans are patrolling the entrance, and I can sense caged beasts of all kinds just waiting to be unleashed on whoever decides to attack this place. There are also many packed forces dotting the landscapes."
"Oh? They're keeping magical creatures around?" I asked with interest. "That's pretty clever if they have a way to direct their rage and make sure that their own forces don't get confused for enemies."
It didn't escape either of our notice that our arrival had already been noticed.
Just who owned this place?
No wonder it was considered a neutral zone.
I did have to wonder how much damage I could do before I was stopped, but if memory served me correctly, Reginald said even the entire British Ministry would fail if they attempted.
A pretty big claim, but that made sense if you were hiring hundreds of top wizards and witches from different countries.
Reginald didn't take long to find.
He appeared with his family, his wife, Elara Greengrass, and his daughter, Ana Greengrass, soon followed by the familiar visage of Lord Abbott with his wife and their son.
The Pureblood Lord straightened his robe, eyes taking in the area around him.
Naturally, the conversations stopped. Not even gradually or in any display of subtlety, all conversation merely died at the spot as heads turned.
It was then that Reginald caught sight of me, a flash of relief passing through him as he made a beeline for me. His wife, as did Lord Abbott's wife, shared a nervous glance.
To be honest, it was all a little funny to me.
Less than a year ago (Well, in some version of the timeline. Time gets funky when travelling between dimensions), I was a weak Devil with barely any experience, and his potential behind seals.
"My Lord." Reginald reached me first, dipping his head. His composure was intact, but the relief in his eyes was obvious.
I think he'd been worried I wouldn't come.
"I'm glad you could make it."
"Reginald."
Lord Abbott was a step behind him, straighter than usual, chin raised in that way men carried themselves when they wanted to look worthy of the company they kept.
A Pureblood act.
He bowed, slightly deeper than Reginald had.
"Lord Gremory. It's good to see you again."
"Lord Abbott." I looked him over, ignoring the twinge of annoyance at just how formal it all felt. "You look well."
"Thanks to you, my Lord."
Their families stood a few paces back, clustered together the way people did when they weren't sure what was about to happen.
Reginald turned. "My Lord, let me introduce you to my entourage. This woman right here is my wife, Elara, and the young lady beside her is my daughter, Ana."
Elara stepped forward.
She was composed enough, but her eyes betrayed her.
They went to me, then to Sebas, and then back to me, and I could see her running through every story her husband had told her, trying to reconcile them with what she was looking at.
She curtsied. "Lord Gremory."
"Lady Greengrass." I greeted her with a nod.
Something in her expression shifted. I caught it.
The slight widening of her eyes, the barely perceptible release of tension in her jaw. She'd expected something else.
Which wasn't surprising, since the times I had met her were brief, and I was meant to be some evil, dark Lord according to everyone.
Their daughter was beside them, and I paused for a moment. She was beautiful as well, with blonde hair, her mother's blue eyes, and she was about eighteen. She curtsied with less practice than her mother, and when she straightened, she looked at me properly for the first time.
"It's an honour, my Lord."
Are all Purebloods supposed to be hot?
It was a good thing I had Hestia, or I might have actually tried something. Flirting with your subordinate's wife is definitely how you get stabbed in the back.
Well, even if I can definitely survive some stabs, it's still too scummy for my tastes.
She shifted nervously, and I gave her a casual nod.
Lord Abbott gestured his family forward.
His wife, a slight woman with kind eyes and the permanent look of nervousness, dipped into a curtsy that was more nervous than Elara's. Their son, fourteen maybe, stared at me with open fascination and had to be nudged by his mother to bow.
"Lord Gremory," Abbott's wife said. "I am unaware if my husband has properly expressed our gratitude to you, but I must once again thank you."
"You don't need to thank me twice," I replied easily. "I needed some way to show Reginald he didn't have to worry."
She smiled at that, her eyes observing me with a curious glint, as if she was taken off guard by me as well.
Seriously, what was being written about me? I guess the words "demon " and "devil " are only good in my dictionary.
Elara and Abbott's wife exchanged a glance.
Good.
That was easier to work with.
Sebas stood behind me through all of it politely, as he had come to do normally, earning himself glances while Ana had stopped trying to be subtle about looking at me.
"Shall we?" I said.
I couldn't deny that an auction of this level held my interest.
A man in purple robes intercepted us.
"Lord Gremory, your presence here is a welcome surprise. I am Henrik Schulz, Head of Security for this gathering. I trust you're aware of the protocols?"
"Don't break anything. Be civil. Don't do Dark Lord things…"
His eye twitched at my words, and I was forced to keep a smile away from my stoic face.
"That might be... an oversimplification, but essentially correct." The man said carefully, eying me.
His eyes flickered to Reginald and Lord Abbot.
"Lord Greengrass, Lord Abbott." The man greeted them. "I see you find yourself in interesting company this year."
"I imagine many are," Reginald replied easily. "I guess we finally decided to join in."
Neutrality isn't really an option in the current status quo, and Reginald and Lord Abbott had still somehow managed to stay out until I came onto the scene.
"Indeed." He nodded, then he turned and walked away.
"I don't think he's very pleased." I mused.
Reginald smirked. "Good."
The main hall was massive.
Enchanted ceiling showing the night sky. With long tables that held food and drink.
A raised platform at the far end with a podium and seats for speakers.
An auction stage to the left, curtained off.
The people in the hall numbered in the hundreds, with dozens of witches and wizards in clusters, grouped by country, allegiance, or habit. Reginald didn't hesitate to take my side, much to the curiosity of his wife and daughter, as he told me about them while Sebas remained silent.
According to Reginald, the French held the centre, the Nordics kept to one wall, the Germans occupied a corner, and the British families had staked out territory near the auction, as if they owned the place.
All of them came to look at me
Reginald steered us through introductions, an easy endeavour since not many approached us. This all led to me being approached by a wizard, Reginald, who quickly whispered was none other than Arcturus Black.
The elder man's face was framed by silver hair that fell over a cold, pale face; dark eyes assessed and probed me.
"Lord Greengrass, Lord Abbott." He addressed them briefly, his eyes flickering back to me. "Lord Gremory, I didn't expect to greet you here first when I had decided to attend."
"Lord Black." They both greeted.
"Why not? It would appear everyone else is arriving." I replied curiously.
"Perhaps, though with your recent endeavours and fame, I assumed you would follow your predecessors." The wizard said with an amused smirk. "It took him years to come, and when he did, he ended up trying to attack everyone."
"Oh yeah?" I said, mildly surprised. "How did that work out?"
"Not very well." The man said, tilting his head. "Are you here to try the same thing?"
His voice changed slightly, and I noticed the people around him flinch a bit and stare between him and me.
Reginald stared flatly. "You're going to have to do more than that to get a rise out of us, Arcturus."
Arcturus chuckled. "I must say, I am surprised you, of all the people, joined. I wonder how you feel about it, Lady Greengrass? I understand the Abbotts after their most recent encounter, they must want some security in a powerful wizard, but you?"
"Seriously, Arcturus?" Theodore Abbot sighed. "Must you try to cause problems wherever you are?"
"How could I not? Nurmengard is all over everyone's tongue," he said. "The ICW is furious. The Ministry is in a frenzy. And here you are, drinking wine and surrounded by two prominent houses."
The little group I had found myself in glanced towards me.
"I've had better."
Reginald turned away.
"I do believe the auction will be starting any moment if we wish to proceed." Theodore offered.
"Ah, I imagine you'll be going to the VIP booths, so I hope you don't mind me accompanying you."
"What of your wife, Lord Black?" Lady Greengrass asked.
"She has no desire to be a part of this particular part of the ball." The Lord Black easily responded.
We were led to a small door, which gave me time to look around.
This mostly seemed like some sort of political war, and I guessed the auction helped enforce it. Hopefully, that meant that what was being presented would be worth my time.
I had the money for it.
"I'm told you came into a considerable sum at Gringotts' expense. Is that what drew you here, or perhaps there's a house Gremory out there?" Arcturus probed.
"Amongst other things," I replied. "I'm curious if this auction will hold anything for me."
Arcturus leaned in.
"Do you intend on pulling another stunt as you did at Gringotts? If so, I approve."
The many wizards that we passed, lined up in pairs against the walls, tensed at his words.
I nearly wanted to roll my eyes.
So these were the games Reginald was talking about?
"And I noticed you're very quiet, the both of you." Arcturus chuckled. "I did wonder what a Lord would do to the both of you, it suits you well, Reginald, this right-hand man look."
Ana Greengrass' gaze finally removed itself from my back and focused on someone else for a change.
"Lord Black, isn't it true that one of your sons pledged himself to the Dark Lord? May I inquire about your views on his actions? Do you intend to follow his example as well?"
Reginald sent her a certain look.
While Arcturus blinked.
"Your son is serving the other Dark Lord?" I asked with extra pity laced in my voice.
A hint of annoyance flashed through those dark eyes.
"And if that is so? What's the difference between Greengrass and Abbott's allegiance to you?"
"I beat the other Dark Lord in all ways possible. I don't kill servants for not existing properly. In fact, there are tangential benefits to being under me, other than some vague promises." I paused. "Do you want me to continue? Don't mistake a rushed and easily bestowed title for incompetence, lest you risk finding yourself wrong about hasty assumptions."
I'd fought off Dumbledore without using any of my Yggdrasil spells or rings. I had considered killing him, but without a further reason, it almost felt wrong; if I were going to get the Elder Wand, it'd be without his death.
He smirked. "Is that a sore spot?"
"No." I leaned in. "That wasn't meant for you."
He glanced back at the two wives of the two respective pureblood lords, both of whom looked mildly shocked by my words.
Finally, we reached a grand door.
A wizard looked over at us and opened up the grand doors with a flick of his wand.
The room formed a wide, half-circle balcony suspended high above the main hall. Thick crimson carpets covered the floor and muffled every footstep.
The room was filled with comfortable-looking armchairs and low sofas upholstered in deep velvet, arranged around small dark wood tables.
Enchanted crystals floated near the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow that shifted gently like candlelight. Along the curved outer edge, a waist-high wrought-iron railing provided a clear view down onto the stage.
The auction platform sat directly beneath us. Its polished oak surface gleamed under bright spotlights while the auctioneer's podium rose at the centre.
Below that, the main floor spread out into tiered seating, where hundreds of bidders shifted in their seats. Private booths lined the circular perimeter of the lounge.
Each one featured heavy velvet curtains in midnight blue that could be drawn for complete privacy. Small enchanted plaques beside each entrance displayed the reserved names in glowing wording.
To top it all off, a singular, discreet attendant in matching black robes appeared at our side and bowed once, with only a small shiver of trepidation sent my way.
All in all, to my eyes, it reminded me of my own family and of the auctions that happened in my world. Of course, they were much larger in scale, and most importantly, featured too massive displays of status for the wizarding world even to comprehend.
Did Reginald seriously pay more for this?
I sent a look toward Reginald, who looked away, earning a small laugh from his wife, who clung to him and appeared infinitely more comfortable with my presence now.
Their daughter looked at them in bewilderment, then back at me, calculatingly.
Lord black turned to me. "It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance. I do believe I shall be taking my own seat in case my wife decides to join me. I bid you a happy auction."
I nodded.
"Farewell," Reginald said.
"The pleasure was mine." Lord Abbott replied respectfully.
It was weird; I knew both the lords didn't like Lord Black.
I guess this was politics.
It was just when we said that, when another figure caught my sight, a gothic woman who strolled in with an almost giddy aura, somewhat contrasting against her appearance.
The biggest reason she caught my attention was probably her path, her quick steps taking her forward and, most importantly, directly towards my table.
The booth consisted of me at one side with the rest of my entourage on the other side, all of whom had ordered drinks and held soft conversations amongst themselves.
That paused at her appearance.
She slipped in next to me, dark violet eyes staring unblinkingly at me.
"My Lord." She said slyly.
"Miss Bellatrix…" Reginald addressed her. "Your presence here is quite surprising. Shouldn't you be with your father, Lord Black?"
She looked aghast.
"No, he likes his peace and quiet, beyond that, why waste time on that with the Dark Lord himself here?" The woman said, then addressed me almost shyly. "I'm Bellatrix Black, it's a pleasure to meet you, My Lord~."
Recognition flashed through me.
"What brings you here, of all places, Bellatrix?"
She smirked at the usage of her name.
"I've come to volunteer myself, of course." She said, an undertone I couldn't quite identify, lacing her words.
"Volunteer yourself?" Lord Abbott questioned.
"Yes." She nodded quickly.
Ana Greengrass sent all sorts of strange glances her way. Her pale eyes were twitching, her ears unable to comprehend the words coming out of Bellatrix's mouth.
"And why would you do such a thing? You understand that would make your upcoming marriage… rather problematic." Reginald chided. "Such a move would come with some dire repercussions."
Bellatrix's nose scrunched up at the mention of her approaching marriage.
"Bella, what are you doing?" Ana whispered warningly to 'Bella', then flinched at my gaze.
"I saw you at Hogwarts, my Lord." Bellatrix explained, her voice slightly strained and shaky, "Your power… It's worthy of having good subordinates. I could make House Black yours if you kill-"
Ana yanked her.
"Bella." She hissed.
Bellatrix pulled away, regaining her composure.
"What exactly is bringing this on?" I asked.
It was obvious there was something else to this entire conversation.
She chewed her lip.
"She doesn't want to be married," Ana said from beside her. "And she's just being overly dramatic right now. Please forgive her, my Lord."
"Don't air my problems out," Bellatrix said coldly. "And that's not the sole reason."
"You should go back to your father." Lady Abbott offered kindly. "Marriage contracts are never as bad as they seem."
"I'm being punished." Bellatrix scowled. "The House Black doesn't need an alliance with a lesser House, and they definitely do not need to offer up a daughter for it."
She sighed.
"Will you not allow me to join you? I am the most talented in my year, I assure you, my Lord, I can be of use in whatever way you need." Bellatrix offered, her violet eyes shining, and her voice turning ever so slightly seductive at the end.
"I'll think about it," I said, slightly taken aback.
I had to admit, I didn't know why wizards and witches kept falling onto my lap.
Was this the power of a third option out of the so-called sacrificial 'light' and the murderous 'dark'
She looked at the table, dipping her head slightly and quickly leaving.
What a troubled woman.
The auctioneer was a thin man with an oiled moustache. Who stepped onto the stage with a bright smile?
"Shall we begin?"
The Auction began in earnest, with the first item a 500-year-old wand worth nothing beyond its historical value, but it gave me an insight into how bidding worked.
The next was a goblin-forged hand mirror, a rare enchantment that was hard to apply permanently to it.
"Authenticated by the Bern Institute, ladies and gentlemen. One of only three known to exist."
"Ten thousand," someone from the French delegation called.
"Twelve." A witch, tall, silver-haired.
"Fifteen." The Frenchman again.
The auction went on in the manner; the items were mostly historical, but a few particularly strong items caught my eye. Not enough to bid, but it was curious to see wizarding magic used in that manner.
"A particular favourite up next." The announcer said. "A magic tome containing runic theory all the way from the ancient Chinese dynasty."
My interest was caught, as was that of many others, at the tome that lay on display.
There had been strong items, but runic stuff was hard to find.
"How much do you think it is worth?" I questioned.
Reginald perked up, a mildly relieved look at my first sign of interest as he leaned away from his wife and towards me.
"It would be quite pricey, my Lord," Reginald whispered. "Books such as these are hoarded by Noble Houses, especially the rich ones. So there will be some tough competition for this."
"How many Galleons do we have?"
Was it bad to admit that my sense of their currency was skewed?
"I do believe the amount stockpiled is within the 200,000 mark, but if needs be, I can dip into my own funds." Reginald offered.
His wife sent him a surprised look.
"No need for that," I replied, patting his back, a weird scene considering he looked older than me. "
"Starting bid. Fifteen thousand."
"Sixteen thousand." A wizard rose.
"How much do you think it'd go for?" I asked, watching Lord Abbott and his wife as they had a private conversation.
"It could find itself in the hundreds of thousands," Reginald replied.
This alone would be worth it. I had been interested in the runic language for a while; that interest had died a bit with the visit to Satomi and the fact that I had gotten myself a divine weapon.
"Thirty thousand." I offered.
The collective look my way made Ana Greengrass shrink away. The many other nobles whose names I hadn't bothered asking glanced towards me, and for a moment, no one said anything.
How awkward.
"Thirty-one thousand." Arcturus raised his hand.
That gave a few other Nobles some courage, and I watched as the bidding went up to forty-five thousand in a few blinks of my eye. It was then that I noticed many people were masked, especially in the booths we presided over.
Some figures wore decorated masks that covered only the tops of their faces, offering little protection.
"Reginald," I said, gaining his attention. "Why are people wearing masks?"
Reginald looked around and realised what I was asking. "Oh, yes. It's a tradition and a way to keep anonymity for the few who are… not legally allowed in magical society."
I blinked. "They allow anyone?"
"My Lord." Reginald chuckled. "This is a place of pure political power and status. Not that I consider it a bad thing, but you are considered a dangerous law-breaking Dark Lord, and you are still welcome within the premises, given you don't act too aggressively."
"Oh, right… Then why am I not wearing a mask?"
"You need not, with your power," Reginald said.
"Then why aren't you wearing a mask either?"
"To show my support and to threaten them," Reginald replied. "They know you have powerful allies through us, but they don't know the extent of your control. Who knows, many among this party might just be your secret supporters. It adds a further deterrent and prevents them from trying anything rashly."
I blinked and fell into contemplation for a bit.
It wasn't lost on me that this would paint a big target on him. Was he willing to risk that for me? How… intriguing.
I focused back on the situation at hand, shelving away the plans for the future in a corner of my mind for now.
I glanced back, and Sebas was watching the scene with a displeased frown.
"Fifty thousand."
I watched the smirk on Lord Black's face increase, and I could see him lifting his hand to bid even higher than me, prompting me to turn to Sebas.
"Sebas."
Lord Greengrass and Abbott both tensed. Both the ladies who had been talking among themselves froze as well.
Sebas moved forward, and an aura of killing intent washed across the place. I could see with my own eyes as the people in attendance all froze and stared in the general direction of my booth with trepidation. The place devolved into a deathly silence, where even the sounds of breathing were causing light echoes.
The Lord Black found his mouth shutting and his wand instinctively appearing in his hand. With my enhanced vision, I could see sweat forming on his forehead.
"It really is cold in here, isn't it?" My voice sliced through the silence and echoed through the room, and Sebas understood the message and stopped exerting pressure on everyone.
The announcer coughed, trying to regain his composure, but I could see his legs shake slightly.
"Sold. Fifty thousand galleons to Lord Gremory."
Everyone's eyes were still trained on our booth, but they retreated the moment the announcer announced my victory. The crowd fell into murmurs and whispers. Reginald and others also let out silent, distinct sighs of relief that I still heard.
Heh, I sure do know how to win auctions.
-{Ana Greengrass}-
Ana Greengrass didn't know what to make of the Dark Lord.
His existence confused her.
She had had many expectations about the enigmatic Dark Lord her family had found themselves in the service of. Everyone did after all, especially with how much had happened since his sudden appearance in the Wizarding world.
The stories that reached their estate painted a quite terrifying picture.
A being of impossible power who'd torn through Nurmengard. Someone who commanded over a thousand wizards, who'd walked into the most fortified prison on the continent and walked out with Grindelwald himself.
The most absurd part was that her father was in the middle of it. Just who could make her father get involved in something so… ludicrous? He had always been firm about staying out of the murky politics of the Wizarding Ministry, for better or worse.
And yet, here he was, breaking his own self-imposed rules.
With only the descriptions in the paper to help her, she had expected a truly fearsome and aged wizard. Even when she had seen the photos in the newspaper, she had assumed it was a disguise.
She had expected someone like Dumbledore or Voldemort.
All of her expectations evaporated into thin air, as they utterly failed to fit the image of the 'boy' sitting three rows ahead of her.
With crimson hair and soft, handsome features, he lounged in his chair like he'd bought the place and was deciding whether to keep it or not. She averted her gaze fast when he turned his head to murmur something to her father, and managed to catch her staring.
Rainbow.
That was the only word to describe his beautiful gem-like eyes. Colours shifting in his irises like light passing through a prism, impossible and beautiful and wrong in a way that made her stomach tighten, and her heart beat faster.
How someone could have eyes like that was beyond her.
Even the few witches she had met with purple eyes looked weird. This was an entirely different look, and somehow those eyes didn't feel like a cosmetic charm.
Most of all, she couldn't feel his magic.
That was what unsettled her most. Every powerful witch or wizard she'd been near gave off something. A pressure. A warmth. Her father carried it. Dumbledore supposedly filled rooms with it.
Even Lord Abbott had a presence. This one had nothing. Nothing she could feel. It was like staring into water so deep the bottom simply wasn't there.
If it weren't for everyone else, she'd have thought it was some kind of joke.
But it wasn't a joke.
Not with the way conversations died when he glanced in a direction. Not with the way grown men, men who ran families and sat on war councils, straightened in their seats when he shifted his weight.
Not with the way her own father, Reginald Greengrass, one of the most composed people she'd ever known, leaned toward him when he spoke like the words were something to be taken with the utmost seriousness.
That confirmed it more than any display of power could have.
She looked back to see if he was still looking at her, and felt her face burn as she caught him smiling at her. Before she could avert her gaze, he turned his face away from her.
The auction had entered a lull.
Her parents had drifted into conversation with Lord Abbott and his wife, the four of them standing near the refreshments, exchanging the slightly too-loud talk that fills nervous silence.
They'd moved without realising it, pulled into their own orbit.
Which left him sitting there. Watching the room with amusement and keen interest, like the entire place wasn't filled with wizards and witches who would love nothing more than to lock him up.
She should have stayed with her mother. Every instinct from her eighteen years of Pureblood upbringing told her to stay where she was, and to be still. To let the adults handle things.
She didn't care about any of that right now.
Ana moved closer, and he noticed her before she'd taken less than three steps. His two beautiful eyes turned towards her curiously, and she found herself nearly stopping her march.
She managed to move after a second or two; she honestly couldn't be asked to keep track of time, with her head running with a thousand thoughts, all drowned out by her desire to move forward.
In no time, she found herself sitting in the empty chair beside him.
He looked at her with an expression that was more curious than anything.
"Hello." Ana greeted.
The butler turned to look at her, and she didn't know the meaning of the look in his eyes, but she was sure it wasn't anything particularly good for her.
"Hey there." He replied, not bothering with any pureblood decorum.
"At the risk of sounding rude, my Lord, may I ask you a question?"
"Hmm, sure, go ahead, " he replied, and it felt like he didn't quite care about her asking in the first place.
It was still better to be safe when dealing with a Dark Lord, if someone asked her.
"How does it feel?" She asked nervously, then mentally hit herself for her stupid phrasing.
He blinked. The colours in his eyes caught the chandelier's light and shifted. "What does 'what' feel like?"
"All of this." She gestured vaguely at the hall, the crowd, the clusters of wizards who kept glancing in his direction and pretending they weren't. "Knowing you have this many enemies. Holding this much responsibility. Everyone in this room is either terrified of you or trying to figure out how to use you."
She took a breath and shrank.
"May I ask, how does such a position feel? I understand if I am out of line for questioning you on such matters, and apologise if this is way too presumptuous on my part." She dipped her head slightly.
The crimson-haired man smiled. "I don't mind at all."
She relaxed a bit at that.
"I guess… it doesn't feel too bad."
"Not too bad?" She stared at him, echoing his words, confused.
"It could be a lot worse." He considered. "Beyond that, I know I can fight my way out with all of you so close by."
She didn't know what she'd expected him to say. Something profound, maybe. Something dark and foreboding about a plan he had in place if the officials tried launching an attack on him.
Instead, she got a handsome teenager of her age who looked at her with a grin that made her forget what she'd been thinking.
Was it his strength that gave him such freedom?
"Then is it all true? If so, how did you get so strong?" she asked rapidly in a whisper. "The things they say you did at Nurmengard… are quite incredulous, my Lord. The wards themselves have been considered all but impossible to bypass till your appearance. My father studied ward theory, and he said what you did shouldn't even be possible."
"A bit of luck and a lot of hard work." He said, considering it himself. "I guess I am in a strange position."
"You make it sound so simple, my Lord."
"Some of the most complex answers are better said in a simple manner." He shrugged.
She pressed her lips together. "Then may I ask further if it is true? What happened to Lord Abbott? That his family was taken, and you brought them back?"
He looked at her properly.
"Yes."
"You saved the Abbotts?" Ana leaned forward.
"I did."
"Why…" she said, before stopping herself.
Perhaps she was emboldened by that comfortable aura he gave off.
She reminded herself not to be deceived.
He tilted his head. "Why what?"
She bit her lip. "How are you so different?" It came out faster than she'd meant it to. "From the other ones. From the Dark Lord everyone is afraid of. He takes. He terrorises. People follow him because the alternative is worse."
He looked at her for a long moment. Those impossible eyes were steady and fixed on hers.
"It just… hasn't appeared to be the case."
"As I said earlier, the label doesn't mean anything," he said. "Dark Lord. It sounds impressive, but all it really means is a strong wizard who goes against the Ministry." He shrugged. "That's it. The rest is just reputation."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He was still relaxed.
She felt… small in front of him. Was this what true power looked like? A lack of care for the society that relied on many as a whole, while he could do all of that by himself?
"Ana."
Her mother's voice.
She flinched.
"Come sit with me," Elara commanded.
Ana stood, glancing back at him as she moved across the booth
She sat down. Folded her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead at the auction stage.
Her heart was hammering.
-{Zephyrion Gremory}-
Well, that was interesting.
I hadn't expected Reginald's daughter to be so curious, but I supposed I would be, maybe even doubly so if my family joined a random person who had popped up only a few months ago.
As for the auction.
A few items of interest had come in, but most remained historical. It was most amusing when they used 'Merlin-era' to sell low-quality items that had been used during that period.
"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards. I must say this has been one of the liveliest auctions we've had for a few years." The announcer smiled. "Many items of power and historical value have found themselves in new hands, which urges me to make a special thanks to the many personalities involved in these donations. Lady and Lord Flamel, the British, French and Chinese Ministry Curse-Breaking divisions-"
"I'm curious, why do the Ministry, and anyone for that matter, donate such items?" I questioned with confusion. "I can kind of guess, but surely giving away a tome on Runes isn't a good move? It would be best to keep a hold on that."
"Indeed, but it's political posturing mixed in with bluffs or traps. It's a means to showcase the depth of their coffers without giving away more than they want." Reginald replied. "Perhaps it sounds and maybe even is a bit illogical, but they can't afford to look bad right now. This event isn't exactly private."
He nodded to the corner, revealing the dozens of reporters who wrote down every word with floating quills.
That made sense.
I had only bothered with the tome, but a few items like the Basilisk Venom, a potion-vial that could make the liquid inside slowly mimic another potion's effect at the cost of each attempt costing six months, and an aged shield that was highly resistant to magic had certainly caught my attention.
"I believe they are leading up to the final item," Reginald said. "It's normally considered to be a legendary product, which is what attracted so many attendees in the first place."
"What was it last year?"
I couldn't help but ask.
"A crown," Reginald replied sheepishly.
"A crown?" I asked.
"Yes, a crown that amplified magic, could hold spells and form a wandless Protego when worn… along with the ability to make multiple of them. It was apparently a prototype made by Lefay during the Age of Merlin."
"…"
"With all this said and done, let us move on to the highly anticipated ending of this auction." The announcer grinned. "In the hidden stash of a… former and defeated Dark Lord,"
And everyone was looking at me…
Still, I leaned forward, staring at the announcer with slight confusion.
"We found a pensive and a scroll. After a quick examination, we have determined that they have the ultimate guide to physical enhancement. A ritualistic work on enhancing your body and attributes through delicate magical work." The announcer laughed.
They're just selling something that belonged to a dark Lord? Weren't 99% of rituals banned according to Reginald?
I hummed a bit to get his attention.
"I must also say that this auction is able to bypass the normal laws due to the land we are on. Another reason it's so anticipated is due to the items that can be bought, most of which you can't buy in any Ministry-related lands." Reginald chuckled. "Do not be confused, though, my Lord, it's rare for anyone besides the Ministry to win."
"The starting bid is set at fifty thousand galleons."
The room erupted.
"Fifty!" The French delegation responded quickly.
"Fifty-five." A Nordic representative.
"Sixty thousand." Lord Abbott called.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Sixty-five." A British man called, dressed in official ministry clothing,
"Seventy." The Frenchman leaned forward, hand raised high.
"Seventy-five." Reginald offered, earning a worried look from his wife.
"Eighty." The Nordic again.
"Eighty-five." The Italian.
"Ninety." A German witch entered the battle next. Her jaw was set. She was digging in.
"Ninety-five."
The Frenchman allowed himself a small smile.
"One hundred thousand," I announced.
The smile died.
The hall turned rather silent for a moment, and I had to resist another flare of annoyance. Why was everything I did received so dramatically?
The remaining bidders faltered.
The Frenchman's hand lowered slowly. The Nordic representative glanced at her colleagues and shook her head. The Italian touched his ring one final time and folded his arms.
Then a calm voice broke the silence.
"One hundred and twenty thousand."
I could see them visibly regaining their courage after hearing the rather peculiar voice.
Every head swivelled towards the Ministry box.
The same stiff-backed official who had bid earlier now stood ramrod straight, Ministry seal glinting on his collar. Beside him, a sharp-featured witch in midnight-blue robes nodded.
"One hundred and thirty," she said coolly, glancing at me.
That would be the Ministry.
This could be tricky.
"One hundred and forty," a French official countered, eyes locked on mine.
I raised an eyebrow, slowly. "One hundred and fifty."
The witch didn't blink. "One hundred and sixty."
Reginald's wife actually hissed at him to sit down when he twitched. At the same time, Lord Abbott's face had set into a look of contemplation.
"This is the ministry's attempt." Reginald offered.
"They will be especially willing to spend if it's against you, my Lord." Lord Abbott said. "They will want to put on a show, and most of all stop you from claiming such a thing; in fact, I imagine if they had known, they wouldn't have allowed this to be auctioned."
"One hundred and seventy-five," I said, voice flat.
Lady Abbott bit her lip. "Are you sure this is a good idea? My L-lord? Wouldn't this escalate?"
Her eyes flickered to her son, who had been watching me with shining eyes in silence.
"For their sake, I hope not," I muttered.
I'd burn this place down if they attempted to ambush me.
The Ministry pair exchanged the briefest glance. The official's jaw tightened. "Two hundred thousand galleons."
The Pureblood nobles, whose names I hadn't bothered to register in the ten booths that lined the area, all watched with a surprising lack of care in their expressions.
I felt the familiar flicker of irritation crawl up my spine. I tilted my head a fraction toward the shadowed alcove behind my chair.
Sebas understood.
A low, soundless pressure rolled outward from him, and a more subtle yet more potent pressure began pressing against the people in attendance.
The effect was immediate and similar to the previous one, even though everyone was less tense this time.
I really needed to learn this ability from Sebas. It seemed to be relatively simple as well. Killing intent was directing an energy to attack a person without any form, so it was basically hostile energy pricking harmlessly at someone.
The many delegations recoiled. At the same time, Reginald and Lord Abbott smirked as one.
Cheating was worth the time and effort it would take to outbid them.
Silence crashed down again. Then, from the very back of the hall, where no one of importance ever sat, a calm, grandfatherly voice rang out, warm and so irritating to my ears.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand galleons."
The entire room swivelled as though yanked by invisible strings.
Albus Dumbledore rose slowly from a simple wooden chair tucked between two anonymous-looking wizards in plain travelling cloaks.
The man I had been fighting a mere day ago in a massive clash of magic stood there calmly, his half-moon spectacles catching the light, and those infernal blue eyes twinkled with what might have been amusement.
He smiled at me warmly.
Oh fuck off. I didn't come here to deal with this old geezer.
"Three hundred thousand," I said.
"Three hundred and thirty." His reply was immediate, carrying no hesitation. A murmur ran through the crowd. People were looking between us like spectators at a duel, which in a sense they were.
"Three hundred and fifty."
Reginald pursed his lips.
Dumbledore tilted his head. That grandfatherly expression didn't waver. "Three hundred and seventy."
Reginald leaned toward me. "My Lord, at this rate..."
"Four hundred thousand," I said.
Dumbledore's smile didn't change. He studied me for a long moment.
I couldn't deny it. I was a bit annoyed.
Sebas' trick wouldn't work for him, and I suspected he could very well outbid me. Even now, this was going to take some time to recover from.
The auctioneer looked like he was going to be sick. His gavel hand was shaking.
"Due to the bid becoming so high, would you gentlemen like to come closer?" He chuckled nervously.
An easy attack area if we both ended up fighting.
That was better.
"Ok."
I jumped down, landing on the lower floor with a small showing of strength.
"A good idea." Dumbledore chuckled merrily, his electric eyes going up to the stands and meeting the gaze of the Flammels.
"Mr Gremory."
"Dumbledore." I greeted. "I don't suppose you can let this go?"
"I wish I could, my boy, but my old age has so terribly left me in need of a solution." Dumbledore offered with a warm smile.
"Truly? With the way those old bones were creaking around during our spar, you'd have never caught me guessing such a thing." I commented, looking him over. "It's nothing, a bit of cardio can't solve, I've got a few fitness plans in mind if you want me to refer them to you?"
The announcer gawked at us.
"As good of a cardio plan as it may be, the fact remains that looks are so deceiving and this old man in his old age finds himself in need of the wondrous aid, magic can bring, to those that use it for such a manner," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "On that note, four hundred thousand and fifty."
"It's a shame," I commented. "Four hundred and sixty thousand."
"Oh?" Dumbledore asked. "How so? Four hundred and seventy."
"Well, you're operating on silly laws." I chuckled. "It's a big disadvantage. Five hundred thousand."
Dumbledore paused. "Truly?"
"Because the thing is, I've been pretty reasonable when you think about everything I've done. I make a point not to kill and to defend myself." I explained it easily. "But I'm not above taking from the bank, as we know."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened.
"So all of this is coming out of your pocket, and don't get me wrong, it will be out of mine, along with my followers… for a while," I said, my tone even. "Now I don't take more than I need, and I wouldn't have needed much at two hundred thousand."
"What are you insinuating, my young friend?" Dumbledore replied, his voice cool and unbothered.
"What I'm saying is, every push you're giving doesn't hurt me." I shook my head. "It hurts the bank that I'm going to take it from. You know a bit about me by now, while you want to see me locked up, I noticed you were a lot less harsh in your attempts to kill me. But you are pushing me."
Dumbledore remained still.
"I'm going to leave this place intact. Now I'm sure you've enjoyed my silence." I reasoned. "I haven't gone overboard, but when I rob Gringots and people's hard-earned money is stolen, know that action was caused by your decision to challenge me. So continue, raise it to a million, maybe two? At the end of the day, it's not my money."
I didn't like being this way, but Gringotts could afford it. If I needed to find a vault, I'd scout a rich Noble House from the Dark Side.
I wasn't so far gone that I'd try to hurt innocent people if I could avoid it.
Dumbledore's wand was already in his hand, and I could see him clench it. "Dangerous words, my young friend, do not mistake our recent encounter for softness. You are immensely powerful, but pride such as yours is the path to downfall."
I shrugged.
"My pride isn't hurt in the slightest. I wasn't planning on doing it either, to be quite honest… but I'm getting that ritual set and if I need funds then we will have to hope Gringotts has a good insurance plan." I said with a frown. "You and your cohort have already named me a Dark Lord; I might as well live up to it, no?"
"Is this truly the path you wish to take?" Dumbledore asked direly.
"It wasn't my intention to do so," I admitted. "But you and your corrupt Ministry do love pushing me."
"Corrupt?" He raised an eyebrow. "These are rich words from the wizard who invaded a prison and released a Dark Lord, who will no doubt go to kill many."
"Rich words from a wizard who supports the Ministry that enjoyed killing a lot of the people under me," I replied casually. "How many Aurors died again?"
Dumbledore's lips pursed.
"That's right, none. While your side killed multiple of mine." I finished.
That should be about time.
"Sold to Mr Gremory!" The announcer exclaimed.
Dumbledore's head shot towards him.
"Thank you, sir." The announcer ignored him, along with the gasps and alerted looks from the Ministry officials. "We will arrange payment details in just a few moments."
"Thanks for the chat, buddy." I smiled. "I enjoy our chats. You are so eager to ignore your surroundings when you're speaking about a serious topic."
Dumbledore, in all his elder and powerful wisdom, was left gaping like a goldfish.
I briskly walked back to my table.
Lady Greengrass and Lady Abbott both stared at me in disbelief.
"That was fun."
There wasn't much to do after that.
Both Reginald and Theodore almost appeared relieved to split the remaining three hundred thousand Galleons I had just spent, leaving me feeling scummy for asking them.
I'd have to make it up to them.
I could use the one wishing ring I had with me for emergencies to summon a bunch of Galleo—
A devious plan formed in my head.
Oh, that would be fun.
I stood up.
At that moment, a figure standing at the doorway made me pause. Reginald and Lord Abbott froze, as did Arcturus Black and noticeably many of the older Lords, while everyone else appeared vaguely confused at the reaction.
At the doorway stood none other than the Dark Lord's whose memories I had stolen.
Gellert Grindelwald.
His eyes met mine in an almost mocking display. He turned away, addressing a masked man nearby, who stared in abject horror.
"Magus…" Grindelwald greeted. "How long has it been?"
"Lo- gellert." The man stuttered. "You l-look well?"
"Truly? I have been on a rather harsh diet." Grindelwald chuckled. "How have you been? You look… horrible. Has someone been using too much pixie dust?"
A force of Auror's was in the doorway, shifting between the both of us.
The revealed wizard shifted nervously.
I sat back down, watching as Grindelwald went in an almost amused display, moving table to table.
He eventually arrived at my table.
Lady Greengrass and Lady Abbott looked ashen, while their respective husbands prepared for a fight.
He gasped. "Zephyrion? Is that you?"
"No, I'm his cousin Roberto," I responded dryly.
I enjoyed the slight way the wind was taken out of his sails.
"Such a dry reception, everyone seems so surprised. I almost didn't notice you over here." He said, taking a seat next to me.
"Not when we locked eyes? Perhaps I dazzled you out of your wits. I do tend to cause people's memories to react that way." I commented. "With all the rumours about Dumbledore and your private broomstick handling sessions, I imagine you would be pent up. I hear Dumbledore is retired as an official teacher, by the way, you may want to find someone else for that, I imagine Knockturn alley has a few-"
Grindelwald sighed. "Must you go on?"
"Just trying to help a fellow Dark Lord out, akin to my aid in allowing you to leave-"
"Allowing is a rather broad term; you left me wandless in an Auror-infested, destroyed castle that is set in a constant snow storm." Grindelwald dryly replied.
"Character growth." I offered. "You're not going to repeat the same mistake now, are you?"
"Of trusting you?"
"Yes!" I chirped.
Grindelwald rolled his eyes.
"I must admit, I really didn't expect to see you here."
"Why not? I wouldn't miss the advantage of coming here. I did watch your little show earlier with Gellert, quite the little bidding war." Grindelwald praised.
"Thank you very much. I'd have asked you to join, but that's not a three-way I want any part in."
Reginald spit out his drink slightly.
"So crass." Grindelwald chided. "A poor showing in front of your followers. A Greengrass and an Abbott, I wonder, do you approve of such a leader?"
By now, Dumbledore entered my view, a comical sight as he picked up his robes and quickly made his way towards the stairs, a genuinely alert look set on his face.
Sebas shifted, his presence made known once more as he stood like a shadow.
"Do you?" Grindelwald asked.
Sebas' dragon eyes glowed. "A far more worthy candidate than any I see before me. Questioning a being far above your mere mind and far greater than you shall ever be."
"Now that's a devoted follower." He laughed.
"Are you trying to poach? I'm afraid Sebas would rather die than do that, maybe try Reginald? Or Lord Abbott… but wait, there is something that makes me more worthy." I said with a grin. "I didn't let all my followers die."
Grindelwald's face became passive.
"Careful."
"No, you should be careful," I said, holding down that oily burning rage at his words.
Damn sin.
"Don't make an unnecessary enemy, you already have two Lords to take care of now. Don't make it three." I said, the warning in my tone quite clear.
Grindelwald stared seriously, then smiled.
"Of course, despite these words, I don't hold any negativity for your child; this is just the way the game presents itself, and I was curious if you would try to attack me." He admitted.
Grindelwald threw a look over his shoulder.
"It's best I leave. I came here to find some old allies…" Grindelwald muttered, flashing a smirk. "With varying success, might I add."
The former, or perhaps more apt, term, the other dark Lord, made himself scarce.
"In that case, I was just leaving as well," I replied. "I've gotten what I need."
Reginald stepped forward, bowing his head. "My Lord, is it time to go?"
I nodded, and we swiftly left the ball.
"That was rather eventful," I commented amusedly.
"The most eventful few hours." Reginald agreed.
We were outside the estate and ready to apparate back.
That's when Bellatrix Black burst from the nearby doors, eighteen and wrapped in sweeping black lace, her dark curls framing a face that fought to stay cold.
Her eyes locked on mine with raw hunger.
"You're leaving?" She asked frantically.
"I am," I confirmed, before Reginald could even respond.
"Take me with you," she begged, voice cracking on the plea. "Please. I don't want to be forced into another side."
Reginald's wand was out in a flash, tip pressed to her throat. "You dare-"
"Stop," I said calmly, raising one finger. Reginald lowered his wand at once, though his grip stayed white-knuckled.
I studied her.
The obsession burned beneath that icy mask, the kind of loyalty that could be forged into something unbreakable. She had power, fire, and a willingness to throw everything away for me.
Perhaps this was a small blessing?
I would need to learn more about her.
"Very well," I said. "You may join."
Bellatrix's lips parted in a flash of triumph she barely contained.
Reginald shot me a surprised look.
"My Lord?"
Yes, this could work.
Having another powerful Pureblood in my faction while I was gone could only be a boon.
"Reginald," I ordered, "take us back."
He seized my forearm with one hand and hers with the other, reluctance plain on his face. The world twisted with a sharp crack, and we apparated.
We reappeared in the torch-lit entrance hall of my stronghold.
I turned to face her. She stood straight, trying to look composed, but her fingers trembled with excitement.
A scroll materialised in my hand, dark parchment covered in blood-red runes. "This is the loyalty contract. If you're going to be coming with me, I want some assurances."
She nodded hesitantly.
"Tell me one secret your father would kill to keep from me."
She answered without hesitation. "He is negotiating with the Minister to keep the Black name clean if the Dark side falls. He plans to disown Andromeda quietly if she refuses the Malfoy match. He has already moved gold to a hidden vault in Switzerland."
My grin was sharp.
I extended the scroll and a silver dagger. "Sign it in blood."
Bellatrix took the blade, pricked her finger, and let three drops fall onto the parchment. Then she signed her name in a bold, flowing script. The runes flared crimson, binding her to me forever.
"Welcome, Bellatrix."
That secured a witch.
A bit of a rushed job, but I did tend to have that effect.
-Scene Break-
I turned to Reginald.
He coughed.
"My Lord." He straightened when I approached. "I trust the evening was productive?"
"Productive enough." I joined him at the railing. "I wanted to speak with you before I leave."
He nodded slowly.
"I could use someone like you in Orario," I said. "You and your family. What is your final say on the matter?"
Silence stretched between us.
"It's a generous offer," Reginald said finally. His voice was heavy with regret. "More generous than I deserve."
"But?"
He sighed, staring out at the moonlit peaks.
"This is my home, my Lord. For all its darkness. My family has been here for generations." He turned to face me. "I want to stay. To build something here, in your name."
I studied him.
"You're certain?"
"I am." He bowed his head. "I hope this does not displease you."
"No." I shook my head. "Stay, Reginald. When I return, I expect to find something worth returning to."
"You will, my Lord."
I took my new items.
The Tome of runes and the set based on ritual magic. I wondered what would happen if I empowered it with souls? I didn't really need it, but I imagined it would have useful functions.
Next time, I decided. Next time I would stay longer. Perhaps bring Hestia with me.
The summoning pull came soon and Sebas moved closer slightly, acting as the perfect shadow he seemed to be becoming, seriously it was beyond impressive how he could simply stand so still that I almost forgot he was there.
I let it take me.
Reality twisted and spat me out in the familiar surroundings of our manor.
"Zephyrion!"
Hestia slammed into me before I could get my bearings.
"You're back!"
I smiled, returning the embrace.
"I'm back."
That was interesting.
I spotted Artemis a ways away, arms crossed and staring flatly at me.
I opted to give her a wave as well.
The look away made me outright laugh with Hestia in my arms.
-{Clint}-
Three days after Lord Gremory departed Clint sat in his quarters staring at the ceiling. He suddenly sat upright as the realization hit him.
He cursed.
He forgot to ask him for more contracts.
He ran a hand through his messy hair. It was not ideal but they still had the one secured in the vault before the departure. One contract would have to be enough for emergencies.
It would be safe anyway, he would just make sure no one was granted access and hold the fort until then. They had only had one contract before as well, but with a lot less attention.
The attack came without warning at midnight.
Clint was reviewing schedules at his desk when the first explosion rocked the entire building. The walls shuddered and dust rained down from the ceiling.
He snatched his wand and rushed into the corridor.
Chaos had already taken over. Screams echoed through the halls. Bright flashes of spellfire lit up the smoke filled passages. Dark hooded figures moved through the haze.
Death Eaters a voice shouted from somewhere ahead.
Clint ducked under a bright green curse that shattered the stone wall behind him. He fired back with a sharp cutting hex. The masked attacker dropped to the ground with a gurgling cry.
Even with more just below double the numbers they were dominated. More came. Far more than they had faced before.
"Rally to the main hall." Clint roared over the noise. "Don't let them advance."
His people responded quickly. Months of rigorous training showed as wizards and witches fell into practiced formations. They created overlapping fields of fire that turned every corridor into a deadly trap for the invaders.
For a while it looked like they might hold. The Death Eaters had expected a quick slaughter but met fierce and organized resistance instead. Then the temperature in the building dropped sharply. An unnatural silence spread through the halls as if all sound had been swallowed.
Clint felt it before he saw him.
The oppressive presence that made the air itself feel heavier.
Voldemort stepped through the smoke at the far end of the main corridor. His pale snake like face emerged from the shadows. Red eyes glowed with cruel satisfaction. His black robes billowed around him though there was no wind. The Death Eaters parted before him.
Clint stomach turned.
He knew instantly that they could not win this fight. Not against the Dark Lord himself. Staying here would mean death for everyone including him.
With gritted teeth Clint made the hard decision.
"Retreat." he bellowed.
He wasn't a coward, not anymore. But he wouldn't win. That was irrefutable and trying so would be a waste of a leading officer next to Reginald. It served no purpose.
He fired a final series of curses to cover the withdrawal then turned and ran toward the emergency apparition point. His jaw remained clenched tight with frustration. He hated running but he was not stupid enough to die pointlessly here.
Voldemort did not even glance in his direction. The Dark Lord seemed far more interested in the deeper sections of the building and the valuable items he had come to claim.
Clint apparated away with the last group of survivors in a series of sharp cracks.
Hours later after the Death Eaters had left the site Clint returned with a small team under heavy disillusionment charms. They approached the ruined building carefully.
The place had been thoroughly ransacked. Walls were blackened and cracked. Bodies of both sides lay where they had fallen. Clint led them straight down to the lower levels. His steps grew heavier with every floor they descended.
They reached the vault door. The heavy door stood slightly ajar. The powerful wards had been torn apart with brutal ease.
Clint pushed the door open fully and stepped inside.
His blood ran cold.
The vault had been completely emptied.
The pedestal where the precious summoning contract had been stored was bare. Every shelf every chest every artifact they had collected was gone. Nothing remained except dust and a few scattered papers on the floor.
Clint stared at the empty space in silence for a long moment.
It is all gone.
Including the contract…
"F-fuck."
-{Dumbledore}-
Dumbledore had received an emergency summon from Gringotts shortly after the auction concluded.
His heart pounded.
So fast.
Zephyrion Gremory had made him reevaluate his stance on him at that fateful auction.
The boy was dangerous.
This was a threat that wouldn't destroy the wizarding world, it would mold it into what he saw fit and lead it into a reality where he was worshiped as a monarch.
He could see it.
Thus, after his threat Gringotts had found itself with a massive Auror patrol.
The goblin king hadn't been happy but had appreciated the concern that had led to dozens of armoured goblins stationed at the main door alone, with hundreds inside.
Yet…
It had all been for naught.
The note weighed on his mind.
"Your presence has been requested most urgently by Gringotts bank in regards to the breaching of your vault."
He had expected to find dead bodies, hundreds of them.
It was the dark Lord way when someone stood in front of them, to make a lesson out of it.
While the boy was more reasonable, he still held the capacity for murder. That much he knew.
Instead, nothing of the sort greeted him and a single grim goblin met him in the entrance hall.
The creature wore formal black robes trimmed with silver and carried a ledger under one arm. He offered only a curt nod and gestured for Dumbledore to follow without a single word of greeting.
They proceeded through the main lobby where other goblins glanced up from their counters with sharp eyes. The pair descended into the lower tunnels that branched away from the public areas.
The air grew cooler and heavier with each step along the stone passages lit by flickering torches.
The goblin led the way past several guarded intersections and down a long spiral ramp that wound deeper into the earth.
Their footsteps echoed in the silence broken only by the occasional distant clink of coins from other vaults.
At last they reached the entrance to Dumbledore's personal vault.
The goblin inserted a key into the lock and turned it with a series of precise clicks. Heavy mechanisms within the door shifted and groaned before the massive barrier swung open.
Dumbledore stepped into the chamber. The shelves that had once held neat stacks of galleons now stood completely bare.
Every single coin had vanished from its place.
The floor appeared swept clean except for a single note that rested precisely in the center of the stone surface. He crossed the empty space and bent to retrieve the slip of parchment. He unfolded it and read the message written there in elegant black ink.
"Tax for causing my subordinates needless stress - don't worry, I'm sure the goblins will cover it."
Dangerous indeed.
-END-
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