3 Chapter Two, The legacy (rewrite)

Chapter Two, The legacy (rewrite)

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[A/N: The first four chapters, I only added a bit of content and not much else. I did change the rest of the chapters and will release them very soon. I might most up till chapter four tonight. And hopefully I should be able do post at least, once every two days.

Thank you for reading. Good day.]

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"GELLERT GRINDELWALD ESCAPES! DARK LORD AT LARGE! THIRTY-FIVE ICW GUARDS KILLED!" read the front page of the Daily Prophet, laying upon the desk.

"This is terrible Albus! Only three years ago You-Know-Who was defeated and now this!? I fear for what's coming! The children are scared, Albus!" a severe-looking witch garbed in dark green robes and a pointy hat shouted in a thick Scottish accent.

"Hogwarts will surely get through this, Minerva. And I doubt that he will continue in his endeavours." An old man in sparkly grey robes said, burying his face into the palm of his hands.

The witch sighed, "Yes, but we must still be prepared for the worst."

"I agree, Minerva," Responded the old man, he looked docile but exuded a powerful magical aura that one could not mistake him, Albus Dumbledore.

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A few weeks later,

An old man, looking as if he was only in his late fifties, with short silver white hair and an eyepatch, walked through the wrought-iron gates of St. Benedict's Orphanage and into the olden-days building. The old man was none other than Gellert Grindelwald.

Inside the foreboding, dark coloured walls and dreaded filled halls, Gellert was welcomed by a young matron who introduced herself as Carla Yeager.

Leading him to a small, stuffed, and mouldy office on the second floor, Carla tried to make some small talk. "You are Georg's grandfather?"

Gellert smiled while entering the office and sat down before answering her question, "Yes, that's right. I didn't know about his previously, because my son died seven years ago, and I hadn't had contact with him since then."

"Mrs. Yeager, if you don't mind, could you tell me how long Georg was here?" continued Gellert with a sad smile.

"Approximately seven years now, on the seventh of February if I'm not mistaken. He was such a beautiful baby boy, with his silver white hair where I now see from where he gets it from. The previous matron never understood why nobody wanted to adopt him, such a smart and angelic child… but then…" Mrs. Yeager didn't continue, she seemed at a lose for words.

Gellert stared at her for a second before he stood up and moved to the edge of the office and lifting the beige curtains, to peer out of the window with a view of the gardens.

Raising his eyebrows and with an inquisitive gaze, Gellert asked the matron, "Was there something wrong with the child?"

"I wouldn't say 'wrong' with him, but… Georg tended to be very silver tongued and seemed almost to read your mind. He always was quite unsettling," answered the matron.

Not leaving his eye off the gardens, Gellert grinned at asked once more, "Anything else about Georg?"

Carla seemed uncomfortable, she didn't want to talk about Georg in a bad light, fearing that he will be rejected but she also felt compelled to say the truth, "Ah, well he is an excellent student, with the highest grades in school. All of his professors consider him a true prodigy."

'Muggle schools,' thought Gellert with a frown before saying, "And what about friends? Does he have any?" Gellert leaned against the wall on his right and stared with a smile at the gardens.

The matron let out a sad smile, "Ah… well you know how children can be cruel when jealous… and well, Georg is a very handsome and smart child…" she hesitated.

"Continue," ordered Gellert, still not looking back.

"Well, we're a small orphanage receiving funds from the government, the children are desperate to be adopted by loving parents and they do anything to display their skills. And then, Georg shows up, a truly beautiful child, with a thirst for knowledge and an inquisitive mind. But then, strange things started to happen around the boy, devil child, freak he was often called by his peers. One time, the older kids tried to lock him in the basement and when they told me this, only a few minutes later because I had caught them red handed, I went to the basement to free Georg, he didn't deserve this kind of treatment. But instead I found the basement empty and Georg in his room. As if he just teleported back to his room," she finished with a frightened look and holding onto her wrists, shaking vigorously.

"Well, that's nice to know," muttered Gellert under his breath, "May I talk to him now?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, he should be in his room," she answered.

"No, no, he isn't… he's in the gardens…" grinned Gellert.

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Moments before,

The summer, soft but firm, warmed the bronze viper impeccably coiled on itself. The snake's skin was rough, the scales dry, deprived from its defensive viscosity under the warm sun. Minus the classical blues of a viper's sapphire eyes, because, today, the viper was asleep. Probably weakened by age or tired from a feast, as it laid, completely relaxed and still, not aware of the boy observing her.

No more than two meters away, crouched down on one knee, his head titled to the left, silver white locks of hair framing his aristocratic face, was the boy, probably no more than seven. Fascination was shown on his face as he just looked at the viper. Normally, any kid of his age would have ran away in fear but instead of running away, the boy calmly examined it and reached out his hand.

That was a big mistake, when the boy's hand was no more than a meter away, the viper awoke. By instinct, it hissed angrily and jumped at the boy, ready to bite him. But something very strange happened. The viper didn't move. It seemed to be almost immobilized by an invisible force.

Anyone who would have seen the scene at a distance would have been shocked. The boy was smiling, as if he was expecting this to happen. But the most surprising thing happened not a moment later, when the boy stood up, he lifted his hands in front of him, and moved his hands around like playing with an imaginary rope.

The viper seemed to struggle against an invisible force contorting it into various forms. It was spectacular, the boy seemed to be controlling the snake, bending and twisting it into knots from a distance. And then it started, the snake's neck tightened more and more, its hissing became frantic. And suddenly, it stopped. The snake softened and dropped.

An almost sadistic smile formed on the boy's lips. He was having fun manipulating the snake, controlling it with only thoughts and movements. He let go of his imaginary grip and approached the snake. With a glint of satisfaction in his viridian green eyes, the boy crouched down once more and grabbed the viper with his hands and brought it to eye level.

The viper had pretty eyes, not the sapphire blues of most, but of burnt topaz with black stitches in the centers. And above its forked tongue, two tiny slits twitching slightly. The viper's topaz like eyes slowly died out, its rough skin felt cold. The viper was dead.

Unexpectedly the boy jumped back to his feet almost immediately, letting go of the dead viper and diverted his eyes to the second-floor window of the orphanage, seemingly waiting for something.

And then it happened, what he was waiting for, the window opened, and the matron peeked her head out and called him out, "Georg, come up I have a visitor for you!"

"Yes Ma'am," replied the boy, puzzled at who could possibly visit him. He didn't have any family that he knew of and he certainly didn't have anyone who would come for him. For the past seven years or so, the boy lived here, at St. Benedict's Orphanage.

It was a typical government funded orphanage in the south of Birmingham. The olden-days building was surrounded by wrought-iron gates and behind it, was a small yard with dead grass. The halls of the orphanage were foreboding, dread filled the rooms, and the dark colored walls matching the ceiling and stairs didn't help. The place had an overwhelming sense of poverty and loneliness, with barely any visitors.

The only exception was him. The boy was brought here seven years ago without any information whatsoever other than his name, Georg. But by his bizarre looks, it wasn't farfetched that he was a descended of a rich family. The boy dreamed sometimes of his family coming back to save him. For the first part of his life, the boy had garnered a considerable amount of attention from his peers. He would receive looks of sympathy and smiles from the matrons and envious glares from his peers. His angelic beauty as many called, and innocent viridian eyes warmed the hearts of the matrons or the rare visitors.

He was no doubt a charming boy, and he knew this. He used such affections for his own gain, from asking more pudding at lunch to getting gifts on Christmas. But that didn't last long, when he reached six years of age, strange things started to happen around him, things he couldn't control, whether angry or sad, bad things would happen. Rumors spread, calling him all sorts of things from child of the devil to a freak. Eventually, he was shunned, forgotten, and alone.

Even with his charms, none would pay him any heed. His life had got from bad to worse, each day became hard just not to get beaten up or locked in the basement by the older kids, who no doubt despised his existence. Georg quickly learned that no one would help him or care for him in this retched world who he so desperately wished to escape. One time, he escaped the basement that some of the older orphans had locked him in. Georg didn't know what happened, one moment he was sobbing in a corner and then with a thunderous crack he appeared in his bedroom.

That day, Georg knew that he was different from the others, he was better than them. They were just envious, filled with hate because they knew that they were inferior. He knew that only pain, suffering and futility were the only real thing in this world. Even then, he still had hope that one day, he could save himself and others like him, from the accursed truth of human nature.

Running across the small yard, something else caught Georg's attention. It was a old man, peering through the same window the matron did, was he the visitor? Confusion filled his eyes, the old man had silver white hair just like himself and wore and eyepatch. Anticipation got to better of him, was someone finally coming for him?

Georg early ran into the building, past the dreaded halls and up the stairs carefully cleaning his muddied shoes on the lean edges of the wooden stairs, wanting to be a bit presentable.

Arriving in front of room number 3, which was his, Georg was met with the matron with a stern glare and the older gentleman giving him a jovial smile. The old man's cloths screamed wealthy; he wore a three-piece suit underneath a navy-blue frock coat. His white silver hair slicked backwards.

The old man approached Georg and extended his right hand for a shake, and in a deep but raspy voice he said, "Hello, you must be Georg. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Gellert Grindelwald."