Grindelwald

Nurmengard, Sept. 1 st

Days passed.

Seasons changed.

He grew old.

Staring out of his small window, Gellert Grindelwald watched the cold waves of the Norwegian Sea strike the side of his prison.

His prison.

The irony always bothered him - he supposed that was the point. While he had long ago questioned some of his own methods, Gellert would never get over the insult of being trapped by his own magic. Nurmengard was more than just a building; it was a work of art, a true magical masterpiece.

He had designed a prison so formidable and terrible – both from the inside and the outside – that the International Confederation of Wizards had deemed it too cruel to use on common prisoners. Only the leaders of his Dark Army had ever been imprisoned here. His army, more than any others, knew just how much effort their master had put into the spells guarding these walls.

There had been no escapes from Nurmengard. No one had even dared to attempt it.

The ICW had once asked their own enchanters to add protections to the prison, afraid that Grindelwald and his men would know some hole in the magics that would allow them to escape.

It wasn't necessary.

Truly Grindelwald's mind, one of the greatest in the history of wizardry, had continually upgraded and improved upon his prison over the entire course of his campaign. Gellert knew of every enchantment he placed on Nurmengard, and he knew there was no way around them. When the ICW first sent their team of enchanters to increase the security for his cell, they thought they found several flaws in his containment spells, as Grindelwald knew they would. They tried to correct the flaws, only to spend their last moments alive wondering why their necks were bleeding.

In the years that would follow, no less than five guards were killed as they attempted to fool around with the prison's enchantments. The last death led to the virtual abandonment of the upper levels of the prison; house-elves were left to deliver food and remove any waste from the few surviving prisoners.

It was a bit of a surprise, then, to hear the sound of footsteps on the cold stone floor. Only the base of the prison had any guard presence and Gellert knew he was the sole surviving occupant of the prison, and no one ever came to visit him.

The sound of footsteps grew louder and louder until Gellert saw several Aurors through his cell's bars.

"Johann, William, keep your wands trained on Grindelwald at all times." The Auror paused before adding, "Orders are to stun only."

Curious about the sudden influx of visitors, Gellert asked, "May I ask why I have the pleasure of your visit?"

As soon as the first word left his lips, Gellert felt a surge of indignation. His once smooth and cultured voice was now weak from disuse. He hadn't had a reason to have a conversation with anyone since Dmitri Blagojevich died almost three years prior.

"Orders from the higher ups." The lead Auror said, eying Grindelwald with thinly veiled disgust. "Take two steps out of the cell, Grindelwald. And do it slowly."

Grindelwald reluctantly complied, eying the lead Auror with a dark glint in his eye. As soon as he was clear of the cell, and the unforgiving enchantments placed upon it, the Auror captain muttered a soft incantation.

Recognizing the spell, and knowing it would have no effect, Gellert said, "I can assure you, captain, I am no Animagus." Grindelwald fought a grin at the sudden stiffening of the captain and his subordinates. "But I do admit to being curious as to why you would check for that talent now?"

Seeing no harm in answering, a younger Auror replied, "The Brits went and fucked up. Lost a prisoner who was an animagus. The I.C.W. wants to make sure you didn't get any ideas about trying to make an escape. Not that it matters. You probably wouldn't survive the transformation. Hell, you look half dead already old man."

Gellert stared at the young Auror, his Occlumency perfectly concealing his cold fury. He knew prison hadn't been good to him. The poor food and exposure to the frigid environment were slowly killing him. The fact that he'd managed to live as long as he had –long beyond many wizards and witches who were younger and better treated than him in the prison– was a testament to his magic and his willpower. Still, while his mind was just as sharp as the day he was thrown into prison, his body hadn't fared as well.

His hair was the first to go. His blond locks fell from his head only a few months after he was locked away in Nurmengard – to this day Gellert suspected his rapid hair loss was the result of some botched poisoning attempt by the guards. Years without access to hygiene charms had caused his teeth to rot in his mouth, his fingernails to turn yellow with poor nutrition and possibly some kind of fungus, and the the continued exposure to the elements and poor food resulted in his body thinning dramatically, until he had become the skeleton of a man that he was now.

His piercing blue eyes, sunken into the depths of his skull, were the only feature that time had not faded. Perhaps it was fate's cruel joke that he would be blessed with perfect vision, yet have nothing to see besides the never-ending waves of the Norwegian Sea crashing against the base of his prison.

His eyes still locked on the smug young Auror who had dared to insult him, Gellert quietly commented, "There was a time when I would have ripped off your jaw for speaking to me in that manner. Do be careful on your descent back down to the first floor. The prison's enchantments – my enchantments – have proven dangerous to your comrades in the past."

"Back into your hole," the captain ordered, growing more uncomfortable with the exchange. He watched as Grindelwald walked back into his small cell before he stepped forward and manually closed the cell doors. "Johann, William, head downstairs. I'll be right behind you."

The two younger Aurors gave one final glance at the now grinning Grindelwald before turning around and leaving him.

"Going to curse me, captain?" Grindelwald asked once the other Aurors had left. "I admit it has been some time since an Auror has vented his rage upon me."

"Don't get your hopes up. I have no desire to curse the half-dead." The Auror smiled slightly. "Besides, from what I hear, your mind is just as sharp as the day you were caught. Sitting around all day and contemplating your fuck ups, knowing you'll never get a chance to rectify your mistakes or reshape the world like you wanted is probably a better torture than any curse I could come up with." A slight smile appeared on the guard's face as he continued to look at the feeble prisoner. "Tell me old man, would you care for some recent reading material?"

Gellert did his best to appear indifferent, but it was difficult. He could feel the Auror's emotions through Legilimency, and he knew the man was greatly enjoying taunting him. Still, Gellert would take any new reading material he could get. Normally, he was only given a new book every year on April 8th – the anniversary of his famous defeat to Albus Dumbledore. The fiction stories were always the most boring, poorly written, and ill conceived pieces of literature in the world – honestly, who would believe an elite school of assassins would be in Canada? – and he had long wished for some kind of connection to the outside world.

The soft thud of a magazine being dropped into his cell brought Grindelwald's attention back to the Auror. "I would suggest that you start on page five. You should find the topic entertaining."

Reaching down, Grindelwald greedily snatched up the magazine in his hands, never breaking eye contact with the Auror until the man turned and left.

Returning to his small cot, the former dark lord was pleasantly surprised to discover the magazine in question was a fairly worn, but recent, issue of Transfiguration Today. Unable to hide his interest in what feats of magic had been pioneered over the last half century, Grindelwald quickly flipped open the magazine and began to read it from page one.

As soon as he read the headline on page five, Gellert understood why he had been given this particular magazine. His eyes took in every word of the article. He read and re-read about the young magical prodigy at his old school.

"You finished yet, old man?"

Gellert turned to see the young Auror William, the one who had insulted him, had returned; he sported a typical arrogant smirk on his face. He immediately turned his attention back toward the more deserving magazine.

"No."

"Well I'm afraid your time's up. Captain sent me up to get the magazine back. You're not allowed any contraband in your cell." Removing his wand the Auror lazily said, "Accio magazine."

Holding the magazine between his hands, Grindelwald easily fought off the Auror's weak spell.

"What the hell?" The Auror said in surprise. "Accio magazine!"

Once again, Gellert felt the magic wash over him, and, yet again, the summoning spell failed to even tug at the magazine in his grip.

"What are you doing old man?" The Auror demanded. "Turn over the magazine immediately!"

"No."

"Accio magazine!"

Grindelwald smiled and he turned his back to the Auror, gleefully turning the page to re-read Harry Potter's interesting final projects.

"Accio magazine! Accio magazine!"

"Are you quite done?" Grindelwald asked in a bored tone. "My desire to keep the magazine far surpasses your desire to take it. Therefore, you're extremely unlikely to be able to overpower me for it. Has the magical education system really fallen so much since my imprisonment that you never learned such a basic concept?"

"Accio Grindelwald!"

Gellert laughed for the first time in years. Turning around, he slowly stood up and faced the Auror. "Regardless of what my body might appear, my magic remains quite strong. If you think you can overpower me with a summoning charm, you're deluded."

Noticing that Grindelwald was standing less than an arms length away from him, the enraged Auror reached through the bars and grabbed the front of Grindelwald's tattered clothes. Pulling the old man closer, the Auror snapped, "Give me the magazine."

"Why should I?" Grindelwald hissed maliciously. He was inches from the Auror's face, now, and the sudden awareness of just who this prisoner used to be – and still was – hit the young Auror faster than the old dark lord's hideous breath; Grindelwald didn't even have to use Legilimency to sense the sheer terror that was radiating from boy in front of him.

With all his strength, the Auror pushed Grindelwald away, sending the old man tumbling backwards and falling into the stone floor.

"Captain said we shouldn't bother cursing you," the Auror said shakily, slowly gaining back some confidence at the sight of the fallen Grindelwald, "but I think you're just asking for it."

Ignoring the pain in his back from the fall, Grindelwald hid a smile and pushed himself as far back into the cell as he could.

Drawing his wand, the Auror extended his wand arm between the bars of the cell to get a clean shot off.

The sound of a piercing scream, quickly followed by a blaring alarm, alerted the Aurors at the base of the tower of a cell's defensive measures being activated. The four man response team raced up the stairs to the only occupied cell. Upon arriving, they found their comrade writhing on the ground. The young Auror's face was covered in blisters and his right arm was severed at the shoulder. Glancing inside the cell, the Aurors saw a pile of ash just inside, and a content looking Gellert Grindelwald sitting on his cot, casually flipping through a magazine.

"I did warn the boy." Grindelwald spoke up ominously, surprising the Aurors. "I told the boy that my enchantments were quite dangerous. Honestly, reaching through the bars with a wand." Grindelwald scoffed with a small smile on his face as the armless Auror moaned in pain. "Surely this simpleton knew there was a reason I had to be checked for magic outside of the cell."

Gellert watched as the Aurors quickly stunned and levitated their colleague away. The Aurors would get their revenge, he was certain. They'd sabotage his food, or tell the house elves to remove his bed's sole blanket. Still, the look on the arrogant boy's face when he realized what a huge mistake he had made was quite priceless. Yes, he might have made some mistakes in the past, but that didn't mean the undeserving didn't need to be put into their place. For the Greater Good, indeed, he thought, a content grin twisting his lips at the thought of his old slogan.

With a smile on his face, Grindelwald flipped back a page to the photo of Harry Potter and his Transfiguration Professor.

"Thank you for the entertainment this evening, Mr. Potter," Grindelwald said to the waving figures in the photograph, "and my deepest congratulations."