C062 - A Dark Lord Reaching Out

AN: Last time I updated this chapter and put up the timer before heading out for a day on the bike, the votes on chapter 60 were at a tie between raven and eagle. I'm almost sure the last few to vote did that on purpose, but I don't really mind.

So we're doing another short poll, but not between those two animals because I'd just go with my own preference. Instead, you guys can vote whether or not Talion will have two animagus forms. I have two reasonings I could apply other than just saying 'it works like that for him because reasons' (Heimdall's Isu blood or obscure knowledge that European animagi don't work with from the book on African animal magics Talion found). Same rules apply, I'll count the messages for the two options and decide when chapter 063 comes out:

- Yes, let him have two animagus forms: Raven and Eagle.

- No, decide on just one.

-----

Astronomy had just ended, and all my classmates were packing up their telescopes and notes amidst countless yawns and rubbing of tired eyes. Just as I finished and was about to follow Hermione, Mandy, and Isobel, a sudden 'caw caw' caught my attention.

With mild bewilderment, I walked over to the blackest crow I had ever seen sitting on the railing of the Astronomy tower and for some reason, I seemed to be the only one to see or hear it. With my Eagle Vision active, I saw... this bird wasn't even real. Not truly - it was a spell, not an animal!

Cautiously backing off when that realisation hit me, I took out my wand and readied myself for an attack.

"Ugh, you brat. Just pick up the letter and the mirror before you force me to send another, less friendly means of communication!" The crow suddenly scoffed in an old but all too human voice and dissolved into black ink that slowly joined the long shadows of the night.

Left in its place, I found a folded parchment and a mirror lying where the crow stood. I needed to learn that spell!

Looking back to see that nobody was looking my way, I used every spell I knew to check for curses and jinxes and curiously found none. I packed the items up and resumed going back to the common room with the girls as I continued to ignore Harry, who seemed fine ignoring me.

Back in our room, I fed Nyx and Hedwig and sent them outside for a nightly hunt before I got into the bathroom and locked the door.

'Talion,

The mirror that came with the crow spell is a magical two-way mirror. Something that the Potter family invented centuries ago, but magicals seemed to not recognize it for its sheer value in all things warfare and logistics. They keep it as a toy since they could just use apparition to talk face to face or floo calls to contact one another, as if those were more convenient than a mirror that they would just need to find cheaper ways to craft for and stick into their pockets.

Fools.

Simply hold it up and unlock it with the words 'Deathly Hallows' so that we may have the chance to talk in words that would not suffice to be put on simple parchment.

May magic bless you,

Gellert Grindelwald'

That, of course, set off countless alarm bells in my mind, and I redid all the spells I knew for the detection of curses and the like.

Still coming up short, I started to think about whether or not I wanted anything to do with Grindelwald. In canon, he willingly died at the hands of Voldemort instead of telling the noseless dark lord one of Dumbledore's secrets. Well. A shared secret between the two once-lovers about the Elder Wand. It showed where his loyalties laid in the end... and I wasn't sure if I wanted to give the headmaster any more ammunition right now.

Maybe it was the remaining faint influence of the horcrux that made me more reckless or my desire to speak to a dark lord that actually had my respect because his goals weren't just murder and destruction... but I held up the mirror and spoke the words after casting another silencing ward at the door.

"Deathly Hallows."

Instead of showing a reflection of me, the mirror suddenly switched to show an old unwashed man with two very distinct and different-colored eyes blankly staring at something next to the mirror. The geezer perked up just as quickly as he appeared and turned to look right at me.

"Took you long enough, little wizard," Grindelwald scoffed with a warm smile that looked a little threatening.

"Mister Grindelwald. You wished to speak with me?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Call me Gellert. I've long lost my majestic demeanor that commands the respect of the masses. Someone as interesting as you is certainly worthy to utter my given name," the old wizard waved away, and I saw a book float up from his lap and land on a decrepit shelf behind him.

"Your magic isn't restricted? Why would you choose to look like you do if you have access to your magic? At least shave and wash yourself. You look like your room smells like a Quidditch locker room," I asked in disdain. And once more, I wasn't sure why I said something as ridiculous as that to someone so powerful. The influence of the horcrux should have lessened considerably already.

Maybe it was the new me?

"Heh, sure," Gellert countered with a derisive shrug and theatrically snapped his finger.

His scruffy beard disappeared. His unkempt hair suddenly looked washed and properly cut. His dirty shirt turned white, buttoned up, and looked ironed. The messy room he was in looked a lot less grimy. And it all happened in an instant as if an illusionary screen was taken away. Maybe it was.

"If you look like you let yourself go, people will let you get away with much more. They don't give me any books on magic, but I've read countless muggle novels and got quite a bit of inspiration from the fantasy and sci-fi genres. They even give me newspapers to keep up to date with the global political landscape. They wouldn't do that if I still looked like I had all my marbles with me," Grindelwald said in a lecturing tone.

Huh.

"Well, I can respect that," I uttered with an impressed nod in respect. But I also inwardly thought about maybe sending an anonymous tip to the ICW to have that amended. It depended on how this talk was going to go.

"Now, little wizard. A common acquaintance of ours recently reached out to me to ask me for my counsel. The topic, curiously, was you. It was the first time in a decade that he talked about someone who wasn't that fool Tom or that Potter boy. Naturally, I was intrigued," Grindelwald explained with a look full of schadenfreude. For whom I didn't yet know, but I guessed it was for me.

"Oh? What did he want to discuss with you?" I asked as I tried to steer the conversation to yield as much information as possible.

"Hehe, good question. But we'll get to that later. Albus described in minute detail your... lamentable upbringing. Even talked a bit of your poor mother," Grindelwald retold and keenly watched my expression at the mention of Selena Macnair. Not seeing anything he liked, he continued, "And apparently you are a once in a lifetime prodigy in martial magics. My old friend even allowed me to see the memory of your final match in Italy so that I may see where his 'concern' came from."

"And that warrants an audience with the great Gellert Grindelwald?" I asked in suspicion.

"Why do I get the feeling that you respect me as a person but not what I stand for? With my more reluctant followers, it was the other way around. With my steadfast followers, they respected both. And my enemies only respected my strength, but loathed both me and my purpose," Grindelwald asked as he tilted his head a little.

"Your first goal, a more prosperous world for magicals. I respect it. But you went about it the completely wrong way because you seemingly lacked patience and, of course, ultimately lost all good will with anybody who isn't a hardliner when you started aiding the nazis in that muggle war and even began turning against the magicals with ties to the muggle world. One of your generals even started hunting these magicals and ended entirely bloodlines," I pointed out with furrowed brows.

"Oh? How would patience have aided me?" Grindelwald asked as he ignored my clear distaste for the French wizard Patrice Gemir. Someone I only read about once I was in this world. A clear sadist who enjoyed slaughter and torture that did not appear in the books and movies I remembered about this world - for good reason, I figured the more I read about the attrocities he committed.

"I wasn't there for your speeches, but you seemed to have unending charisma. Had you not alienated the more muggle alligned wizards early and placated your more bloodthirsty allies, you could have become the ICW instead of joining its council or even something better in its place as a global voice for the betterment of the magical world. A voice against the sick stagnation I see every time I walk through Diagon Alley," I argued a little more hotly than I originally anticipated. "Ruling over the muggles when their ignorance of our ways and powers is a ridiculous fantasy to begin with. Us being hidden from their view, for as long as we still can be, is an advantage that has been squandered for centuries. They went from cold swords to muskets and cannons all the way to being able to send satellites into space to look at our universe, even send men to the moon, and, of course, their crowning achievement of warfare: nuclear warheads. For magicals in Magical Britain, the fashion sense didn't even really change in the last 150 years, and there are two 'revolutionary' potions that were discovered."

"Much more interesting than I thought this was going to go," Grindelwald uttered under his breath as his eyes lost the playful shine they used to hold. Now, he looked at me with actual interest, and what I hoped was a little respect.

"Gellert?" I asked with a raised brow when he merely looked at me but didn't comment further.

Eventually, he asked me more about what he could have done differently, and we discussed why he hadn't or why he personally simply wouldn't. It was almost three in the morning when he taught me the spell to animate shadows to become a bird and how to speak through it which was when we ended the discussion.

Dropping into bed in exhaustion after putting away the once more sealed mirror, I noticed Harry stir, but since he didn't speak up, I fell asleep almost instantly.

-----

'Wizengamot in its greatest crisis since the war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's forces'

After a night of talking politics with one of the smartest and likely most dangerous men I ever talked with, I looked at the Daily Prophet on the table with keen interest. I noticed more nuances in the writing than I usually analyzed passively, but that wasn't what caught my attention. No it was that after a hearing of the Wizengamot on Sunday, the dark faction realised that they lost quite a few members among them and not all of them had offspring old enough to take their dead family head's seat.

A little over a hundred-twenty seats used to be active in the government body with roughly forty in each faction: Light, Grey, Dark - a delicate balance. I managed to kill thirteen seat holders at the Quidditch finals, and all but one grey family head were from the dark faction. Allowing for proxies and regents to sit on these seats brought with it a complication the dark faction put into place long ago to slight the other two factions: limits to proxies a faction can hand out and still vote for the faction.

They argued that a lone family or a small group of them from a single faction shouldn't be able to hold enough proxy positions to counter an entire faction in the voting - and they were right, of course - but they dropped the stone on their own foot as they scrambled to have the law either reversed or amended.

To me, it was funny because the dark faction had this law put into place because most of the people who died in the war with Voldemort were those from the other two factions, even if the dark faction suffered its own share of 'unfortunate' deaths.

The biggest winner of this whole debacle seemed to be the grey faction as a few of the more moderate dark families chose to jump ship and join the winning faction, the grey. Most prominently was Lord Parkinson, who was quoted in the article on this day to have forged an alliance with Regent Amelia Bones, one of the grey faction's leaders.

I looked up and saw both Pansy Parkinson and Susan Bones looking at each from across the Great Hall with letters in their hands.

"It's been such a crazy few months. First Lord Black gets released after being pronounced innocent, then a whole bunch of people die at the Quidditch World Cup Finals. And then it is revealed that most of them were actually Death Eaters and now this. My dad is actually working overtime these past few weeks," Isobel idly commented as she read the article over my shoulder.

I met with the man before my emancipation hearing. I very much doubted he was going to overwork himself as he drank whiskey with his fellow pureblood lords...

"And all those horrible things they had to say about Talion," Luna added with a sigh from the other side of the table. "Say, Talion. Do you want to give my daddy an interview? I bet he has a thousand very good questions for you. We'll never paint you in a bad light like the Prophet did unless you're secretly a dark lord."

Looking at Luna for a short moment, I shrugged and answered, "Sure. I'd love to meet Xenophilius Lovegood if he managed to raise someone like you. How about next weekend? I think I'd be allowed to go to Hogsmeade for an hour if I ask properly."

"Sure. Can I ask Nyx to send my letter?" Luna agreed with a wide smile as she penned a letter for her father with the most ridiculous-looking quill I had ever seen that she took out of a pouch inside her robes.

"Yeah, I don't think I have any letters for her this week. And, uh, is that a peacock feather quill?" I asked as I watched the monstrosity dance around and even tickle Hermione's nose when Luna signed with an exaggerated flourish - which I think Luna did on purpose.

"No, that's silly! It's a peacock feather pen. Did you see me use an inkwell?" Luna asked as she looked at me like I was an idiot.

I shot the small imp a little glare before I simply ignored her for the moment and turned back to Isobel.

"You'd think there'd be a bigger uproar over a dozen sitting Wizengamot members being involved in a terrorist attack. It boggles my mind that the ICW isn't sanctioning Magical Britain or even going as far as declaring martial law or something after that fiasco. Sure, the Death Eaters never made it close to the international guests, by design I suppose, but almost an entire faction of our ruling body is complicit in being part of this group, even if openly there's 'only' a dozen," I said with a small frown.

I looked toward the Slytherin table, and many of their students looked upset and unsure as they discussed today's Daily Prophet. Many more than just that one insomniac who was the first at the breakfast table each day had deep rings marking their eyes. It seemed that the actions of their fathers, their families, seemed to catch up with these young wizards and witches.

"Well, that's only because of our headmaster. I doubt Minister Fudge had the political power to placate the ICW. My dad said the French and Italian delegation were ready to more or less occupy the British to root out 'the filth' and apparently, Fudge and Malfoy embarrassed themselves on that day? The dark faction lost quite a few members because of Lord Malfoy after the finals, and I don't mean those who perished. It was Professor Dumbledore who calmed everyone down the day after," Isobel calmly narrated.

'That wasn't in the papers... but I suppose through all my dislike for the man, Dumbledore has to serve some purpose. He can't just hole himself up in his office and think about how to best meddle in the life of orphans,' I thought with narrowed eyes. 'I'll still have to watch what I reveal about my plans to Grindelwald. It's a good reminder about all the power Dumbledore wields. And not just magical power. I can't be too careful.'

"Talion, I heard whispers about you trying to become an animagus this year. I'd like to join you," someone I quickly recognized as Penelope suddenly whispered into my ear.

With a small shiver running down my spine, I slowly turned to my side and looked the witch who stood behind me as she leaned down to look into my eyes.

"I don't mind. Need help sourcing the materials? Wait, did you read up on what you need already?"

"I have a big, strong dueling champion who read tens of books about it all year last year. I was hoping he'd pity me," the prefect countered with a sly grin.

"He does," I quipped with a playful condescending smirk and earned myself a pinch to my ribs.