Donation
They paid little heed to the Ministry of Magic's authority and had long established themselves as fiercely independent. There had been numerous cases where Gringotts seized vaults belonging to old wizarding families after their final heirs had died.
In Grindelwald's case, no one had ever anticipated he might one day leave prison. After decades behind bars, Gringotts had likely assumed he'd never return and reclaimed his wealth prematurely.
Fudge leaned back in his chair and addressed Grindelwald. "Gringotts has branches all over the world. Why have you come to our British Ministry for this matter?"
Grindelwald exchanged a glance with Dumbledore before responding smoothly. "All of my property in the wizarding world is stored in the Gringotts here, in Diagon Alley. I never opened a vault elsewhere." His tone was casual, almost light-hearted, but it carried weight.
Dumbledore's expression tightened, clearly not comfortable with the situation.
Fudge, however, felt a sense of dread creeping in. This wasn't going to be simple. If he refused Grindelwald, who knew how the man would react? Despite his outward charm, he was still a former Dark Lord. But helping him presented its own set of challenges.
Gringotts wasn't an institution that could be pressured easily. The goblins had their own ways of handling things, and forcing their hand could lead to unintended consequences. And what would Grindelwald do if the Ministry couldn't recover his assets?
Sensing Fudge's hesitation, Grindelwald smiled. "Of course, Connelly, I would never expect the Ministry to do such a favour for free." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping.
"If you can help me resolve this matter, I will give you one percent of the wealth in my vault as a political donation."
Fudge blinked, taken aback. Grindelwald continued, his voice smooth. "You may not need it right now, but the next election for Minister of Magic isn't too far off, is it? Consider it a little preparation in advance." He leaned closer and whispered a sum into Fudge's ear.
The number made Fudge's eyes widen and his pulse quicken. One per cent of Grindelwald's fortune was no small amount—it was a sum that could ensure his political future.
His eyes gleamed with excitement. "You can trust me, Gellert," Fudge said, trying to maintain his composure but unable to suppress the eagerness in his voice.
"The Ministry of Magic will help you reclaim what is rightfully yours. These greedy goblins will have to learn who truly holds the power in the wizarding world."
Grindelwald raised his cup of coffee, taking a slow, satisfied sip as he watched Fudge. "I look forward to your success, Connelly."
From across the room, Dumbledore's face had darkened. He finally understood Grindelwald's true purpose. It wasn't about retrieving his wealth.
Grindelwald could have dealt with Gringotts himself, especially given his reputation and influence. But by coming to Fudge, Grindelwald had found an opportunity to bribe the Minister of Magic and insert himself into the centre of the Ministry's power.
With that kind of money, Fudge would be indebted to him for the foreseeable future, likely even under Grindelwald's thumb.
Once the meeting ended, Dumbledore's face remained grim. If Grindelwald had only been seeking to eliminate the Department of Misuse of Magic to help Blake, it would have been one thing.
But this was far more insidious. Grindelwald was positioning himself to control a key figure in the British Ministry of Magic, possibly even more than that.
As they stepped out of Fudge's office, Dumbledore's frustration boiled over. He flicked his wand, freezing everyone and everything around them. Time itself seemed to halt.
Grindelwald stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly, a knowing smile on his face. "What is this, Albus? Are you planning to attack me here?"
Dumbledore's voice was cold. "From the very beginning, this was your plan, wasn't it?"
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What plan are you referring to?"
"Driving to pick up Blake, orchestrating his expulsion notice from the Ministry—all of it. You've been calculating every move to get to this point."
Grindelwald's expression hardened. "You're overthinking this, Albus. Why would I need to do such a thing?"
"Because you needed a reason to convince me not to interfere. You wanted me distracted."
Grindelwald folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "And what exactly do you think I've been trying to accomplish?"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "You've used this opportunity to insert yourself into the British Ministry of Magic, to gain influence over Fudge. It's not about Blake or the Department of Magic at all. That was never your true aim."
Grindelwald said nothing, but the silence was telling. Dumbledore pressed on. "The bribe to Fudge—it was more than just securing your wealth. You're trying to reassert control over the Ministry itself. If Fudge accepts your 'donation,' he'll be in your pocket. And given the scale of that bribe, he'll do whatever you ask of him."
Dumbledore's voice grew colder as he continued. "You never abandoned your original ideals, did you? This is just the beginning. I suspect you've done this in other countries too. How else could you have secured enough votes from the International Council of Wizards to be released from prison?"
Grindelwald's face was impassive, but Dumbledore could see the flicker of truth in his eyes. He had suspected as much—Grindelwald's release hadn't been purely the result of good behaviour or legal processes. It had been orchestrated, carefully crafted through political influence and manipulation.
The silence stretched before Dumbledore finally broke it again. "But what you've done to Blake is unforgivable. He trusts you, and he's been trying to defend you all this time. And this is how you repay him? By using him as a pawn in your schemes?"
Grindelwald's face twisted with anger. "Is that what you truly think of me, Albus?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "Yes, I've used manipulative methods to free myself, and yes, I want influence in the Ministry. But you're wrong about one thing—I never intended to use Blake."
Dumbledore's eyes remained cold, unconvinced. "You expect me to believe that?"
Grindelwald sighed. "You think I'm the same man I was all those years ago. I'll admit, I wanted control over the Ministry, and I saw an opportunity with Fudge. But Blake—he's different. I wouldn't have done this for just anyone."
Dumbledore's grip on his wand tightened. "What are you saying?"
Grindelwald's voice softened. "Blake is family. He carries the blood of the Grindelwalds. But it's more than that. I'm old, Albus. I have no interest in ruling the world anymore. That dream died the day you defeated me."
He paused, his gaze distant. "I've been trapped in that cage for years, with nothing but my regrets. When Blake appeared in my life, something changed. I don't know why, but I felt like I had a new purpose. I wouldn't use him. I'm doing all of this to protect him."
Dumbledore stood still, watching Grindelwald closely. Gripping his wand tightly.
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