Warning: I changed the last chapter because I didn't like it and I finally had time to rearrange it to something I like – so you might want to read it again (even if some parts stayed the same). I hope you like it more like it is now.


Disclaimer: not mine. All Rowling's.

Information: all in fat-italic is from 'Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them'.

The chapter is influenced by the movie 'Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them'. I tried to minimize spoilers (only the next chapter will truly contain anything about the movie)!



To HarrisEjaz of wattpad:

I am quite sure that you're not ME so I'm also quite sure that simply copying my work and then change the name of a chapter or two as well as the story's name doesn't make my story yours! In other words – TAKE MY STORY DOWN FROM YOUR ACCOUNT!

And do the same for preciousann, from whom you stole her 'Courage and Cunning' renaming it 'Bravery and Intelligence'.

I repeat: Copying doesn't make a story yours!


To some of my 'nicer' readers:

I find it interesting that you want me to confess that I have a 'writers-block' – just because I can't manage to update a story of about thirty to forty pages per chapter as fast as a story of two to three pages per chapter.

Of course, adding to that that I wrote master thesis (which I told repeatedly beneath nearly every chapter for the last chapters!) and started training (an apprenticeship if the other word is too hard to understand) as a confectioner, meaning I work eight to ten hours a day/ a night while having to learn for confectioner school while (I repeat) writing my master thesis (!) the only explanation is that I have a writers-block!

Next time, think before you write something like that again.

With all my sarcasm,



To the rest of my readers:

I am sorry I took so long and I appreciate every kind word and every encouragement, every 'I love your story' etc. you send me until now.

Thank you for that and sorry for my rants before starting this chapter



Now on to the story…


1926-1945 AD

The Lifes And Lies Of Gellert Grindelwald


"Mr Scamander, do you know anything about the wizarding community in America? We don't like things loose."

Sal and his people were standing in the shadow of one of the best viewing points in Nuremberg – on the wall of the Imperial Castle, looking down at the city while staying in the shadow of the castle itself.

"Nürnberg," Newt said and looked at the city in awe, using the German version of its name – a version he was a lot more used to than the English one considering that he had lived as a German wizard for quite some time before he was found out a spy.

He stepped closer to the edge of the wall and looked down on the maze of tiny streets. The six narrow houses that stretched themselves over half of their view of the city were old and half-timbered buildings in different kind of colours. Behind them, they could see the historic centre of the town.

"We should have guessed that Grindelwald would have found a way to have his prison and his headquarters here," Theseus Scamander said. "He was obsessed with this city even the first time he tried to gain power over Europe."

Newt inclined his head.

"He was," he agreed and looked down on the streets by leaning himself over the wall. "But until now, there was no evidence that he had managed to find a place anywhere near here."

Sal sighed and looked around as well.


He had been here before.

He knew the maze of the tiny streets of the old town like the back of his own hand – he had lived here for a while, after all… even if it had been centuries since then and the city had changed a bit, a lot of things had still stayed the same. There was still St. Laurenz, the church with its two towers nearly hidden behind the half-timbered house on the outer right side of the six houses – a church which had been still worked on the last time he had seen it. There were other houses just as old or at least on the same places like the last ones Sal had known.

And yet, Nuremberg had changed as well. It had grown, it had been modernized and it had turned into the home of the most dangerous wizard in the whole of Europe.

"How far away are we from his new headquarters?" Sirius Black asked while following with his gaze Newt's own which had settled on the people in the streets.

"'Bout an hour and a half," Newt answered and followed with his gaze a young boy running down the street. Considering that there was a war all around them, this day was surprisingly calm.

"From here where to?" Pollux asked and leaned onto the wall to follow Newt's gaze with his eyes as well.

"To the East," Newt answered and pointed towards his left side, his body facing the city. "A bit more to the North as well, but not that much."

Pollux nodded thoughtfully.

"And the wards?" He asked.

Newt waved it off.

"Impressive, but not that far from the building as well," he said. "The muggles know the place as a small moated castle called Oberbürg. They have no idea that in the middle of the castle courtyard there's another, hidden inner bailey – the bailey of Nurmengard."

"Nurmengard," Sal repeated and closed his eyes. "Grindelwald's headquarter and prison."

"Yes," Newt agreed before sighing. "I guess you want me to lead you through Nürnberg's streets to Oberbürg now?"

"If you please," Allaric agreed, his eyes alight with unholy light. "I think it should be late enough that we will reach it when the night descends right now."

Newt pouted but in the end nodded.

"Alright," he agreed. "Follow me!"

And with that he turned away from the wall and instead left the Imperial Castle through its winding entrance back to the streets.

They would go by foot – because unlike magical transportation, Grindelwald hadn't accounted someone nearing his headquarters by foot who wasn't an ignorant muggle…

But then, Grindelwald had always underestimated Sal or his men even in the past…



The return to war started with an innocent letter, send by an old friend from New York. It was plain, and relatively simple in writing – but the context made more than up for the missing flowery speech the rest of the wizarding world favoured.

It didn't even have a half way respectful beginning. "Sal" was the word it started with – and as plain as that it continued.



I've been in New York this year and I've some distressing news for you. I stumbled upon Grindelwald here, hiding in the American Ministry of Magic itself. With my help, he was taken to prison, but he escaped again. Keep an eye open, if you please. He might return to Europe.


PS. I will miss our lover's spats.


A simple letter, yet, such a grievious content.

It looked like it was time to rise the Knights again…


"What're ye looking at, lad?"

Sal looked up from the letter clutched in his hands and into a pair of big, blue eyes, hidden behind thick glasses.

"A letter from a friend," Sal answered the man with a sigh and his gaze automatically returned to the words written on the parchment. "There's trouble."

The man frowned.

"What kinda trouble?" He asked Sal.

Sal just sighed deeply again.

"The wrong kind of trouble," he answered. "The absolutely wrong kind…"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on the letter in front of him, then he looked up at the huge eyes of the man – made huge by the glasses – and went into more detail than before.

"Grindelwald might come back," he said. "There're people to contact, safe houses to organize, countries to warn…"

He shook his head.

"It will be bloody difficult to reach all those who need to know in time and it will be even more difficult to find people who will believe me that he's coming back and that they'll have to fight to survive," he told the other man without sugar coating it at all. "Sadly, a lot of those people will be more inclined to stick their heads in the sand instead of interested in preparing for the worst possibility."

The other man frowned.

"So what?" He asked. "Ye need a transport?"

Sal snorted.

"It's not that I'm unable to apparate myself," he pointed out. "It's more like that I'll be tired out before even reaching half of the people I need to contact and that contacting them by owl post might take too long. The letter is more than a few weeks old. For all I know, Grindelwald is already back in Europe, strengthening his army."

"Tha's indeed a problem," the other man said and then held out a hand to Sal. "I might be not really useful meself, considerin' tha' I'm not really tha' strong o' a wizard – but at leas' transport, tha' can I do."

Sal stared at the man next to him on the bar stool in befundlement.

"You have nothing to do with the war," he said confused.

"Naw," the other man said. "Bu' I lived in Switzerland at the time o' the last. Unlike my other fellows here, I remem'er the Resistance."

At that, Sal looked at the other man sharply.

The man shrugged.

"Heinrich Eberstadt was a dunderhead," he said. "I'm all for helpin' ye guys out this time around."

With that, he shook his hand, clearly wishing Sal to take it.

Sal just hesitated a second, then he clasped it.

The man grinned, revealing crooked and yellow teeth.

"I'm Ernest Prang," the man told him. "Bu' most people jus' call me 'Crazy Ernie'."

Sal raised an eyebrow at that.

"Crazy?" He repeated in disbelief and the other man's grin broadened.

"Crazy," he replied, not elaborating further.

Sal shook his head, but shook the other man's hand nevertheless.

"Nice to meet you, Ernie," he said. "I'm Salvazsahar Malfoire, but most people call me Sal."

"Ah!" The man exclaimed. "Sal Sanctuary himself! A pleasure ta meet ya, Herr Sanctuary!"

Sal roled his eyes at the man.

It seems as if he always managed to pick up the weird ones…

Unfortunatelly that thought would only be further enforced when Sal had his first ride with Ernie Pang's car service.

Ernie had one of the most modern cars in all of Britain right now – and of course, he had decided to modify it to his needs. Sadly, what he saw as his needs, others saw as an accident waiting to happen – at least after they were subjected to Ernie's driving for the first time. Of course, considering that the car only had a textile roof and no windows… well, it might be easier to understand if Sal would be able to find another comparision but the one he had thought of even after two thousand years between his last ride before Crazy Ernie.

Even after two thousand years, there was just one comparition that fit that ride.

"Knight bus," Sal thought while leaving the car on unsteady feet. "That ride felt like the one I had with the Knight bus back then."

In the following years, Sal's men would feel at the same time thankful as apprehensive every time they needed the services of Crazy Ernie while too wounded or too tired to leave the battlefield without his help.

As for Grindelwald – it would take another four years until he finally started to surface again. By then, Sal would have contacted everybody and ensured that safe houses and other necessities were taken care off. And while some people claimed that he was delusional after not hearing from Grindelwald for month that turned into years, the Blacks under their new head Sirius Black as well as the Scamaders, the Ollivanders, the Potters, Allaric Moody and some others never doubted him. Just like Ernie Pang.



The first traces of Grindelwald after his long absence, were some rumours. It wasn't enough that most politicians wanted to listen to Sal, but it was enough for his old group to gather with concern edged into their faces.

They met inside one of the safe houses Sal had organized. It was plain and in the middle of the country side of southern France. The room they met in was made of wood – wooden floors, wooden ceiling, wooden walls and only lit by the light of a few candles. It had no windows - not that it would have mattered much, considering that it was night outside and therefore dark there as well.

When Sal entered the room, it was crowded by conjured chairs and grave faces.

Sal looked around the room, his eyes going from one face to the next.

"There've been rumours about recruitments of known criminals into something bigger," he started his speech darkly. "I haven't been able to find out more, but with Grindelwald on the run again –"

"There's a high possibility that he's stirring up Europe again," Theseus Scamander finished sighing. He was a bit older than before, his handsome face showing lines where there hadn't been any the last time they saw each other. He was sitting in the back of the room, leaning heavily against a red-head in a blue coat and a green, stick like creature sitting on his other shoulder – his brother, one Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.

Sal inclined his head at Theseus in agreement.

"So," Jêrome Delacour, the Lord Delacour, said. He was sitting nearly on the opposide wall of the room than Theseus and looked like he was in the middle of a lavish banquet instead of a meeting of rascals. He was wearing the finest linen and sitting stiffly while listening avidly. "What do we do?"

"We'll prepare," Sal said sighing, slouching a bit at that answer. They hadn't even started yet, and he already felt tired – but then, they had been waiting and looking out for signs for the last four years. A constant watch was as tiring or even more tiring than open warfare could ever be.

"Prepare how?" Sirius Black asked and leaned forward, his brother Arcturus next to him.

Sal sighed and then shrugged.

"Recruitment," he said and pinched his nose. "Building a political power base in Britain; listening to rumours and act the moment we find something more concrete than we have now."

The others looked at each other, then some of them nodded slowly.

Charlus nudged Sirius a bit amused.

"I think you might be able to help with the whole political side, don't you, my Lord?" He asked amused and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Just because I'm now the Lord Black, I don't think that it will help a lot," Sirius answered with a sigh. "My father was for the resistance as well – and yet, with everybody listening to Dumbledore, he had no chance to get the help we hoped for for us."

Charlus snarled angrily.

"Yes," he said unhappily. "That man is the most troublesome man I've ever met – especially considering how he's been treating my father and everybody else who goes against him!"

Allaric raised an eyebrow at Charlus.

"Your father?" He teased. "I thought that Henry Potter was your uncle, Charlus!"

Charlus rolled his eyes amused.

"As if anybody here doesn't know that my actual name is Fleamont Charlus Potter," he said and waved his words off. "I'm not about to lie to my comrades in war when I don't have to!"

Ollivander snickered.

"Well," he said jokingly. "I could use an Obliviate if you don't want anybody of us to know about that anymore."

Charlus rolled his eyes and Allaric cuffed the other man over the head.

"One would have thought that you had grown up in the last decade – sadly enough, this doesn't seem to be the case at all!" He declared not annoyed at all.

"Well," Ollivander drawled as amused as Allaric. "Unlike you I didn't make the mistake and marry – so of course I managed to stay as insane as I have been before!"

"Not that much of an achievement considering you're an Ollivander and your father and grand-father already proved that you're all insane!" Sirius countered amused.

Ollivander just smirked.

"It's not the Ollivanders who are known for their inherited insanity," he countered grinning.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"It's not my fault that we Blacks are always interpreted wrongly by everybody else," he countered and his brother nodded.

"We just grin innocently at somebody – and suddenly, we're considered insane by everybody who sees us," Arcturus Black added sadly.

Cygnus, the last of the brothers, just nodded as sadly as his other brother.

"People simply don't appreciate our smiles anymore," with that, his face twisted into a smile that could only be called unhinged. Of course, his brothers followed up with the same smile just a second later.

The others around the room snorted.

Newt and Theseus Scamander smirked before mimicking the insane smile as well.

"Seems we must be related to the Blacks," Theseus pointed out.

Newt nodded.

"Maybe the Blacks should introduce Thes to some of their daughters – we definitely need a way to combine the insanity of our two lines… and Thes is the only one who still can do that!" He said grinning.

Charlus groaned.

"No!" He exclaimed. "I object! Anything but a marriage between the Blacks and the Scamanders!"

The Scamander brothers and the Black brothers exchanged an amused smirk.

"Then I guess we will have to look forward to a marriage between House Potter and House Black in the future," Newt said amused. "Or how else should I understand that sentence?"

Charlus threw the spy-master a disgusted glance.

"As if I'd ever marry a Black," he said with a shudder. "I've enough trouble with the one Black I call my best friend right now!"

At least, this would be Charlus's opinion until young Dorea Black would walk into his life in 1937. Sadly – at least sadly for the Potter heir – he would fall to her charm right after the first spell he'd see her ever cast…



Sal raised his eyebrow when Sirius Black stepped into the tent he was currently using as a base. He knew that the other man had been home for the last two months, so he was a bit surprised, that the man was back here, when he was needed in Britain after taking over the lordship of his father, Phineas Nigellus Black, and therefore also taking over his seat in the Wizengamot.

"Sirius," Sal greeted the man nevertheless. "What are you doing here?"

The man grinned a bit madly.

"I'm here to present you some help we didn't have before," he answered, grinning a grin that was full of the rumoured Black-insanity.

Sal raised an eyebrow at the insane man.

"Whom?" he asked.

As an answer, Sirius stepped aside and gestured for the people behind him to enter.

"This is my nephew Pollux, his brother Marius and his sister Cassiopeia, their cousins Callidora and Cedrella as well as my own children: my sons Arcturus Sirius, his brother Regulus and their sister Lycoris," he said proudly while gesturing at each of the entering young adults. "They decided to join our little alliance."

Sal raised an eyebrow.

"Are you planning to bring the whole Black family into the war?" He asked amused.

Sirius shrugged.

"If I hadn't brought them, they would have rebelled," he countered. "I'm not that eager to be subjected to Marius' ingenious mind so I decided to take the line of the least resistance and just brought them with me."

One of the boys – Marius, as Sal would learn soon – grinned.

"Uncle knows us too well, it seems," he said amused.

"You mean he knows you too well, Marius," his brother Pollux objected. "I wouldn't dare to threaten the Head of our House with pranks if he doesn't do what I want!"

The other man crossed his arms and pouted.

"It's not as if I'd threaten our Head of House if it wasn't important!" Marius countered. His cousin Arcturus Sirius just ruffled his hair at that exclamation.

"Of course you wouldn't," he said fondly. "And believe me we're all thankful for it!"

Marius rolled his eyes.

"Oh, stop it, Archie!" He cried and slapped away his cousin's hand. "You're just unhappy that I can do stuff you can't! It's not my fault that you don't understand technik like most of the wizarding world!"

"Well, we've got you to explain it to us," Arcturus Sirius shrugged. "At least you can put the whole stuff into words I actually understand – and not those made-up words that muggles use!"

Marius raised an eyebrow at his cousin.

"Since I'm a squib, I'm not better than a muggle," he pointed out to his cousin, oddly unbothered by his lack of magic.

"You know how magic works and you can brew potions," Arcturus Sirius countered. "You're much more like us useless wizards than those useful muggles!"

Marius rolled his eyes at his cousin.

"In other words I'm as stupid and as insane as you," he said half-amused, half-exasperated. "What a nice assortment of my character!"

This time it was his brother who slapped his back.

"No, little brother," Pollux said earnestly. "We all know that you're not at all as stupid and as insane as we!"

Marius raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not?" He asked, clearly used to the brickering with his siblings and cousins.

Pollux smirked.

"Of course not!" He exclaimed before adding with an even deeper smirk. "You're worse!"

"Hey!" Marius objected, but before he could add something else, Lord Sirius Black spoke up again.

"Stop brickering, boys!" He interfered. "I don't need a prank war in the tent of the leader of the Resistance!"

Sal just looked at them in amusement.

"I'd prefer some less war in my tent as well," he said. "But if you want to invent something to drive Grindelwald crazy – be my guest."

Maybe, Sal shouldn't have said that – because the Black family would truly make some use of that promise not too far into Sal's future…


Barely a month after the joining of the Blacks, the discussion of the war in the Resistance would be taken up a new notch.

Grindelwald had started his own attack up again – but this time, the Resistance didn't plan to sit back and wait until Grindelwald was as strong as he had been before he had been taken down by the Resistance the last time.

This time, the Resistance had the chance to take action way before Grindelwald was up to his play – and the Resistance would do everything to use that to its benefits.

"We should think about our strategy. We might be able to step up our attacks this time around," Theseus said, frowning thoughtfully. Theseus Scamander and the rest of the Resistance had gathered in Sal's tent for a meeting. It was something that didn't happen often, but with Grindelwald starting to step up his attacks, Sal appreciated the opinion of everybody working with him – even if some of the ideas he might get would be something he would have to get used to over time…

Of course, especially the Scamander brothers had shown their unusual way of thinking in the past – but that didn't mean that Theseus Scamander and his brother were the only insane ones in Sal's Resistance.

"We should be able to step up our attacks this time around," Theseus added determined. "We just need to rethink our strategy and change it in a way Grindelwald would have never thought off or predicted!" His brother Newt nodded at that and leaned forward eagerly, nearly dislodging his brother by doing so.

"We got some interesting help this time around, after all," he said, grinning at some newcomers – most of them of Black descendant. The answer was a matching grin from them as well, tinged with something, that later might evolve in the all too well known Black-insanity...

Then one of the new Blacks spoke up.

"If we're stepping up the attacks on Grindelwald's men, then I formally ask you to add a new devision to our Knights."

Oddly enough, it didn't matter how long Sal persisted in calling his devision's by their actions – the moment Newt or Theseus Scamander heard about the new devision, it was renamed to their liking. To Sal's frustration, everyone else would soon use the new name instead of his descriptions. So if Sal wanted it or not, his spies were "Iron Bellies" or "the dragon devision", his attack group was the "knight devision" or the "knights", his rescue teams were "Smugglers" and them and his Oblivator squads, often also called "Lullabies", were part of the "Ghost devision".

At least, those names frightened and confused the enemies…

Sal looked at the speaker in inquiry.

The Black, being a Black took that as a means to continue and leaned forward as well, her face determined.

"My cousins and I had the idea that we should attack first for once, maybe," the woman said, looking at him coolly.

It was a good, if simple idea. It just had one mature flaw…

Sal sighed.

"We're not enough people to go head on against Grindelwald's men," he said tiredly and rubbed his face. Four years to prepare, and yet, there were only a handful of people who were willing to listen to him when it came to a possible return of Grindelwald in the near future... "We can't oppose his people directly. If we did, they would win."

There were grim looks all around and more than a few of the old-timers nodded in bitter agreement. They had seen the last war – they knew what to expect and they more than knew that the idea might be good in theory, but unmanageable in reality.

This was reality.

They might have some people, but compared to Grindelwald's legion, they were just a handfull.

They had no chance in a direczt fight and no way to gather more people when most preferred to stick their heads in the sand instead to fight…

The Black seemed to notice the dark faces, but wasn't discouraged by the looks of the others.

Instead her mad grin broadened.

"I don't propose that we go against Grindelwald's people head on," she said, grinning. "Callidora and I had the idea of a support team to the Knights. Air support. We thought about a division of light and not all too tall people."

Several people blinked at that in surprise.

Air support?

Sal leaned forward in amusement.

"Alight, Cassiopeia, I'm listening."

The answer was a deepening smirk from Cassiopeia Black. Soon enough the smirk spread to the rest of the room as well.

"Dorie and I talked and her idea goes like that…" she said, before explaining in detail, ending with the most important part. "Of course, considering that Dorie's just fourteen right now, she won't join us here for at least another two to three years or so – let's hope that the war won't last that long – but she's genious and we truly should try to implement her ideas…"

For a moment, there was silence in the room after her proposal, then Allaric Moody spoke up from his place next to Garrick Ollivander who was sitting to the left of Sal.

"This idea has merit," he said slowly. "We will have to hash it out a bit more, but in the end it might be something that Grindelwald's men will learn to fear very soon…"

That, of course, sparked an avid discussion of merits and ideas for the next few minutes.

"Anything else?" Newt asked after silence descended in the room once again.

"Well," Ernie Prang spoke up from his corner. "I heard you had some trouble with getting the injured off the battle field –"

Others nodded darkly.

Ernie grinned.

"Well…" he said slowly. "I looked into busses… you know, I played with them and magic a bit… and I might have a solution about that…"

The others exchanged a look while Sal tried not to turn green at the thought of Ernie Prang driving…

"So what?" Newt finally asked.

Ernie's grin just broadened and he looked at Marius, whose grin had broadened as well.

"Marius and I experimented a bit," he said grinning. "And we found out how to make my car even better hidden and useful for travelling – and then we managed to rebuild the whole magic construct onto a bus."

Pollux looked at his brother, clearly a bit confused.

"So what?" He asked.

Marius grinned.

"So we have a transport that can help with the wounded!" Marius exclaimed happily. "And don't worry – we ensured that it's absolutely safe!"

Sal decided to not say anything at all to that. Instead, he just inclined his head to show that he had listened before asking again.

"Anything else?"

When nobody said anything else, he sighed and then elaborated his own troubles.

"I at least need some people who will help me to recover everything we can about Grindelwald's past and his plans," he told his people, pinching his nose. "We got his name and that he's been to Durmstrang thanks to the Iron Bellies last time, but we were to preoccupied to look into it back then. I tried to do that within the last years, but his family is dead as far as I could find out, so gaining more information was next to impossible."

"We'll look into it anyway," Newt replied. "I've been doing that spy thing for quite some time now, don't worry, I'll find something."

Sal frowned at Newt.

"You met Grindelwald in New York, Newt," he pointed out. "Even if your cover would have still been intact by some miracle after the end of the last war, that meeting –"

"I'm well and truly uncovered as a spy now, I know," Newt said and waved it away unconcerned. "And yet, even in New York, he still underestimated me. He knew who I was and who I had been, he knew what I had done – and yet, there he was, underestimating me again."

At that, Sirius Black, sitting to Sal's right, snorted.

"Of course he did," he said, sounding more amused than the situation actually called for. "You've got a puppy dog face. Nobody, and I repeat, nobody ever will suspect a competend wizard when you look at them with your huge, blue eyes, stuttering around and being awkward all over the place!"

Newt just leaned back in his chair at that, making his brother yelp when he nearly squashed him in the process.

"Is that so," he said, looking at Sirius with a sad and innocent expression on his face. "It sounds as if you're accusing me to actively trying to make people underestimate me!"

Sirius snorted and crossed his arms.

"Stop it, Baby Scamander," he said. "You can act innocent all you want. You and I know both that you have enough power and knowledge in that stick of a body to keep up with Grindelwald for more than a few minutes if you want to!"

Newt looked at him with a hurt expression.

"I…" he stuttered. "I don't know what you mean?"

His hand went to his hair, carding through it in an awkward expression of unease.

"'s not as if I know a lot of things if it hasn't anything to do with creatures," he pointed out, blushing slightly.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the other man.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Sorry, Baby Scamander. I saw you running around with a mad look on your face before and I know better to underestimate you after you played spy for us for more years that I even want to know in Grindelwald's army."

Newt's flustered face morved into a mad grin.

"Is that so," he said and leaned forward again which resulted in his brother nearly tumbling to the ground and cursing to himself and Newt that the man he had selected as his pillow had to move that much. Newt didn't even acknowledge his brother, instead he continued to speak as if nothing happened. "And yet, Grindelwald still sees the socially awkward, creature loving magizoologist when he looks at me – even after finding out that I deceived him for years."

"Yes," Charlus Potter injected. "But Grindelwald always only saw the mask – unlike us who saw the devious mind behind the mask as well. Believe me, I understand why Grindelwald continues to underestimate you – but you also have to admit it's a lot harder for us to do so after seeing how dangerous it is to fall in that trap with you!"

Newt pouted.

"You're no fun," he complained before shrugging and turning to Sal.

"I don't plan to continue spying if that's what you fear," he said. "It's more like that I plan to lead the dragon devision. I guess I'll be your spy master from now on. I'll coordinate and all that stuff. Don't worry, I'll be good at it as well."

Sal snorted and shook his head at the younger Scamander.

"I don't doubt it for just a second," he assured the other man and Newt grinned.

"I'll look into Grindelwald's past for you," he said. "I unearthed everything we needed until now. I will unearth that as well!"

If anything, that promise just told Sal that Newt would succeed. The man was far too damn stubborn to break a promise he made, after all… So in the end, Sal just nodded and left it at that. He trusted Newt to find out at least a little bit more and in a lot less time than Sal himself had needed. The man might be a creature fanatic, but he was still one of the best intelligence officers Sal had in his team, after all…

"Alright," he said aloud. "Anything else?"

"We'll also try to recruit some more," Theseus spoke up and carefully leaned back onto his brother's shoulder, clearly wary of said man's constant moving around.. "When Grindelwald finally returns to the open, he will have his army back. If we're still as few as we are now, we won't stand a chance."

"If it's true that he's recruiting there might be a way to regain some Iron Bellies," Newt added a bit eagerly and his brother immediately removed himself from Newt's shoulder, fearing that the man would lean forward again. Only when nothing happened even while Newt continued speaking, he returned to his previous position with still a wary eye on Newt. "We just need some people who are dark enough that they won't look admiss if they say that they want to join his cause."

Charlus snorted.

"You do that, Newt," he said amused. "And I'll go back to Britain and look for some help over there. They kept themselves apart the last time, if Grindelwald truly returns stronger than he was, there's no way that they will be able to do that again."

"If they don't join we'll simply leave them to their fate," Newt said, waving off Charlus' words, nearly hitting Theseus in the process. Said brother looked at him in discruntlement, but didn't move. "That should wake them up in the end…"

Theseus shook his head, leaning back further against his brother's shoulder.

"I truly wonder how more than half of the world thinks you're harmless, innocent and cute, Newt," he said. "A harmless expert in magizoology, solely interested in his creatures – as if! You should have been in Slytherin, not in Hufflepuff, my brother dearest!"

Newt flashed him a grin at that.

"If you say so, Thes," he said amused. "And now back to more important things than my sorting…"

It would take Newt some years to trace Grindelwald's family and his path in life, but in the end, they found a connection they hadn't known about: one Bathilda Bagshot, Grindelwald's great-aunt, told them about the one summer he fantasized with one Albus Dumbledore about taking over the world and finding the Hallows – not that they knew that information. But at least they finally had another source of knowledge: one Bathilda Bagshot.


"I have visited lairs, burrows and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle."

The walk through the city was done in the twilight. Not one of them spoke until they finally reached the end of the city. The castle they were heeding to – Oberbürg – was situated a bit outside of Nuremberg, half hidden inside of a forest.

The moaded castle to muggles would have looked as innocent as every other uninhabited castle – and yet, the wizards of the Resistance could feel the wards that surrounded the castle, ensuring that muggle's wouldn't see the true castle hidden within the small looking moaded castle and that wizards wouldn't come near the castle at all.

Sal and his warders exchanged a glance.

Then Sirius Black nodded and gestured for his ward-breakers to start their work.

The other warders stepped up next to him.

The younger Arcturus Black was paired with the older Arcturus – one ward-breaker, one ward-holder.

Pollux Black was paired with Regulus Black, Sirius Black's younger son.

Sal Sanctuary was working with Lycoris Black.

And Charlus Potter was again Sirius Black's partner – like always.

Always a ward-breaker and a ward-holder… always one who was forced to take on the ward and one who might loose their lives if the wards backlashed…

"Be careful," Sal told them, but the determined look in the ward-breaker's faces Sal already knew that they wouldn't listen. If they had to die to take down the wards – they would do it…

And there was nothing Sal could do to stop them…

When Sal insertet himself into the wards, he couldn't help but feel impressed. The wards truly were a work of art – and it was clear that after all of the attacks from the Resistance Grindelwald had learned a lot about wards.

But it didn't matter how good Grindelwald was – he had not as much experience as Sal when it came to wards.

"There's a mistake in the muggle wards," Sal pointed out to Sirius and Charlus. "We can use that mistake to ensure us an entrance into the wards."

It spoke for Sirius and Charlus experience and abilities that they were able to manage to pinpoint what Sal had seen and locate the mistake as well.

"We will unravel the wards here," Charlus told him before Sal could even attempt to start unravel the wards himself.

"I'm a lot more experienced –"

"And your experience might be needed when we confront Grindelwald, Uncle," Charlus pointed out reasonably. "You don't have enough magic to unravel the wards now and confront Grindelwald later!"

That, Sal couldn't object to, so he did the only thing he could do – he did a magical and mental backstep and let Charlus and Sirius take over the unravelling of the wards.

But then, Sal had long since learned that he couldn't do everything alone…



Two years.

It had taken another two years until they had found someone who could tell them more about the man who had slowly but surely taken other criminals under his wing and was not subtle influencing not only politicians in the magical world but in the muggle world as well.

Last year, Grindelwald had had his hands in Italy, starting the Second Italo-Ethiopian War. This year, he was active in Spain and Sal's people were trying their best to stop the man from spreading war over there.

Then, Newt had come with news about Grindelwald's past – finally.

Sal looked at the house in front of him. It looked old and nearly uninhabitated.

"And you're sure that this is the right house?" He asked the man next to him.

"It is," Newt told him earnestly.

Sal frowned at the house.

"It doesn't look like much," he said.

The other wizard frowned at it as well.

"It doesn't," he said. "It's still the right address."

Sal and Newt exchanged a glance with each other, then Sal stepped up to the front door and knocked.

For a few minutes, there was no reaction but shortly before Sal was able to knock a second time, the door opened and admitted an elderly lady with grey streaked blond hair and brown eyes.

She looked at them for a moment with a forbidding face until she actually looked at Sal.

Her eyebrow raised.

"I know your face," she said, frowning. "I somehow know your face."

Sal crooked his head at her, frowning as well.

"Mrs. Bagshot," he said, but was stopped by her immediately.

"Miss Bagshot," she corrected him. "I was never married."

Sal inclined his head in understanding.

"Miss Bagshot," he agreed. "This is Newton Scamander and I'm Sal Malfoire. We're here to talk about your great-nephew Gellert."

She answered with a frown, but surprisingly, her attention wasn't on the part of Sal's speech about her great-nephew.

"Malfoire?" she asked frowning. "Sal Malfoire as in Salvatio?"

Newt turned and looked at Sal in confusion while Sal's eyes narrowed.

"Bagshot…" he repeated thoughtfully. "Bathilda."

"Yes," she said. "Your… father?... may have talked about me a time or two. I was in his Ancient Runes class until 1887 when I graduated."

Sal frowned at her. It took a while to go over his memories and to find the right one. After two thousand years, even with his unusally good memory, he simply couldn't remember everything.

"Miss Bagshot," he agreed. "I remember."

The answer was a blending smile.

"So he talked about me," she said smiling. "It's nice to know that my most beloved professor in school liked me enough that he talked about me to his son."

Sal snorted.

"As far as I remember, you where quite a wild girl, always making trouble," he corrected her amused. "I'm not quite sure how that translates to him being your most beloved professor…"

The older woman laughed at that.

"I was," she said amused. "But he was the only one who actually looked after me anyway."

Sal looked at her in surprise.

"I never thought that you'd think that way," he confessed.

She smiled amused.

"Like you said, I was a wild girl," she told him. "But that doesn't change the fact that I always felt like he was looking after me."

Sal smiled at her a bit amused.

"It's nice to know," he said, before his smile vanished to be replaced by a sever expression. "But now, you might be the one to help me this time around. We need to know about Gellert – everything you can tell us might help."

Bathilda Bagshot frowned at him.

"You're here because of the things he did in Europe," she said.

Sal inclined his head.

"I am," he told her truthfully.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What has the son of Salvatio Malfoire to do with Gellert and his idiotic idea of ruling the world?" She asked him.

Newt frowned at Sal, but Sal just looked at Bathilda calmly while contemplating his answer.

In the end, he decided to speak plain English.

"I'm not his son," he told her, startling her.

Bathilda frowned at him at that.

"You look like him and your name –"

"It's the same like his," Sal confirmed.

She frowned.

"So how can you not be his son?" She asked him confused.

Sal sighed, but answered truthfully anyway.

"I am he himself," he answered. "Not his son. I was the one who taught you back then."

She looked at him in surprise.

"You look so young," she said confused.

Sal grimaced.

"There's an explanation for that," he said with a sigh. "But I fear I can't tell you the reason."

Bathilda looked at him in surprise, but in the end nodded and then stepped aside.

"That doesn't explain what you have to do with Gellert and his way to 'greatness'," she told him.

"It doesn't," Sal answered. "But someone has to work against him – and if that has to be me, so be it."

She looked at him, her face showing that she understood his reasoning – understood that there was more to his way of doing thing than she knew.

Then she gestured to them to enter her home.

"Come on in," she said. "I will tell you everything you want to know about Gellert and his best friend Albus, Professor Malfoire…"


It had taken another three weeks until Sal had finally been able to hunt down the man who might help them by telling them more about Gellert Grindelwald's plans…

"Mr. Dumbledore!" The man kept moving. "Mr. Dumbledore!"

It was just before the man reached The Three Broomsticks that Sal finally caught up with him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dumbledore!" This time, the red haired man stopped and then turned around to face him.

"May I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"I hope so," Sal answered sincerely. "Would you mind giving me a few minutes of your time?"

The red haired man – one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – shook his head with a smile, "don't worry, lad. I don't mind."

Sal inwardly scowled at the moniker 'lad' but since Dumbledore was already in his fifties and Sal looked to be merely twenty for convient's sake – people were more agile in their twenties, after all – he guessed that he would have to grit his teeth and bear it.

"Do you want to talk here or are you fine with entering this lovely ettablisement and find a quiet corner in there?" The older-looking wizard asked in that moment. Sal sighed at that, but gestured to the door anyway.

"Lead the way, Mr. Dumbledore," he said.

Just a minute or two later they had found a quiet corner and Sal had discretely put up a runic ward to hide their conversation from others.

After they had their drinks, Dumbledore again turned to Sal.

"Well, maybe you can start now with who you are and why you are here," he suggested while taking a sip of his butterbeer.

Sal inclined his head at that.

"I am Salvazsahar Malfoire," he said. "I'm from France. I came to Britain when a lead brought me here."

"A lead?"

"I'm researching a rising Dark Lord," Sal answered sincerely. "He's causing trouble all over Europe and it has already started to spill into the muggle world. I'm not keen on it spilling further."

Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow at that.

"Spilled in the muggle world?" he asked disbelievingly.

Sal nodded darkly.

"The Spanish are in a Civil War right now," he said. "The raising Dark Lord has been dabbling into their politics for some while now and just before the war started, he pulled some strings to kick-start it. I'm not sure what he is planning, but he is using the war to not only gain followers but also to subordinate the Spanish wizarding world bit by bit. If we don't stop him soon, he will have Spain in his clutches and will then start onto the rest of Europe. For all we know he might start another World War in the muggle world just to be able to use it to hide the rest of his actions. We can't let him do that, so here I am."

Dumbledore frowned at that.

"I'm not quite sure why you come to me with that," he said. "I'm just a professor. If you need help, you should go to the government."

At that, Sal regarded him darkly.

"The man who started to rise as a dark lord is Gellert Grindelwald," he said finally.

Dumbledore's eyebrow shot up at that, but then he leaned back and started to sip at his drink again.

"It still doesn't explain why you are coming to me with that," he said. "Like I said, I am a mere teacher –"

"And you were once best friends with Gellert Grindelwald," Sal intercepted. "Believe me, Mr. Dumbledore, I did my research."

Well, Newt did the research, but in the end it was the same…

Dumbledore just frowned at that.

"So you came here to make me do what?"

"Nothing grave," Sal assured the older-looking man. "The only thing I need you to do is to tell me about him. What interested him? How was he like when you were friends? Were there any indications that he might turn evil? What is he after?"

"I fear that I can't help you with that," Dumbledore replied fatherly. "I also don't think that knowing anything like that will help you, lad."

Sal sighed and pinched his nose.

"Believe me, Mr. Dumbledore, any information I gain about him will help me. We need to understand him to stop him. For all I know he's even working on another goal behind the goals he's showing the world and when we stop him from taking over the wizarding world, he won't be affected at all but rise to new power somewhere else where we didn't even suspect it –"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoire. There's nothing I can do," Dumbledore replied, stopping Sal in his explanation abruptly. "I don't even know how you came to the conclusion that I could help you in your quest –"

"Grindelwald's great-aunt Bathilda Bagshot told me that you –"

"Anyway! I fear I have to go now. Good luck with your quest, Mr. Malfoire," and with that, Dumbledore emptied his bottle of butterbeer, put down the bottle and some money and left.

Sal's eyes followed him darkly.

"I didn't ask anything of you but to give me the information I need to stop him myself," he whispered darkly. "Even if what your brother told me was true and you were in love with that man, this shouldn't have been too hard. He was partly at fault for the death of your sister, after all."

And Albus Dumbledore had been his only lead.

The great-aunt had not been able to help him very much and there was no other family left. Albus Dumbledore had been his only way to gain any important information about Gellert Grindelwald – and Albus Dumbledore knew something. Sal had been able to see it in the other man's surface thoughts. Would he have had a little bit more time he would have been able to find out what it was as well. As it was, Sal had nothing but the confirmation that Dumbledore had known Grindelwald and that the other man knew what Grindelwald was looking for.


Sal guessed that he would have to do it the old fashioned way – heading into danger without having enough information and hoping for the best like he had done in another life-time when he had still been living in the future…

"If this is the reason for the Second World War, Albus Dumbledore, I won't let this slide!"



The true start of the war, was another three years later, when Gellert Grindelwald finally surface with his army – and controlling the muggles as well…

Before that, there had been some skirmishes with Gindelwald's men, but until now, it hadn't been a full out war, spilling in the muggle world…

"Sal, my Iron Bellies brought some news," Newt said, stepping into their hide-out. "Muggle Britain and France declared war on Muggle Germany."

Sal closed his eyes tiredly. He had been working tirelessly on stopping the war before it truly began – even with the knowledge that history had already happened and that there was no way for him to change it.

"There goes my dream of a missing World War," Sal said dryly. "Alright, Newt, tell the others we need to meet."

Newt nodded and then left, but not without clapping Sal on the back reassuringly.

A few minutes later, the elite of the Resistance was situated inside the room.

"So, what do we do now?" Jêrome Delacour asked darkly, standing stiffly at the entrance. "The Muggles are at war as well and Grindelwald –"

"We're going to step up the war," Sal intercepted him. "Oblivator squads, Smugglers, everything will have to work around the developing Muggle war from now on."

"What about our fighting devision?" One of his other, new advisors asked. His name was Marius, he was a squib – and their technical genius with more knowledge about muggle fighting techinques than it might be good for Grindelwald's men.

"We will step it up as well," Sal said and Marius grinned.

"Good," he said satisfied. "I've got some things I would like to test."

Grindelwald's men soon would wish that they had never been born. Soon, Grindelwald's men would cry and hide behind their mothers when just hearing his name.

"We also request some further training," Cassiopeia Black spoke up in that moment. "You have helped my devision a great deal, but we've still some issues and I'd like you to take a look at them. You have a knack in fixing problems others struggle with for the longest."

Sal just inclined his head at that.

"Anytging else?" He asked.

Newt grinned.

"Another one of my Iron Bellies found one of Grindelwald's hide-outs," he said. "He promised to beacon it tonight, but he needs some help to take down the wards."

Immediatelly half of the room looked at Sal pleadingly. Sal rolled his eyes.

"No newcomers," he said. "Sirius and Regulus, back-up Charlus and Arcturus. Smugglers have a new route to plan. We lost the one from Germany to France. The Oblivator Squads –"

"Lullabies!" Half of the room objected. Sal rolled his eyes and continued.

"- have their usual hounds tonight," he said. "There's a planned attack on Seville, Spain, so I need some of you there and another planned attack in Aschaffenburg, Germany, so we have to split."

He didn't even have to split his teams himself. Within minutes they had decided who went where.

"The rest of the wizards have guard duty," he ended the briefing. "The witches stay behind tonight."

Grindelwald had not a single witch in his troups. A witch didn't fight. It simply wasn't done.

And yet, Grindelwald feared the women of the Resistance the most…


Once, Gellert Grindelwald was one of the most powerful wizards in the whole world.

Once, he was the master of chaos, the lord of Europe.

No opponent could stop him ultimately.

His men were the most feard, the most ruthless and the most dangerous men in the wizarding world.

Muggles listened to him and starting a war was a child's play – yet, this was before he was about to regain exactly that fearsome influence he once had in the first world war and would some times in the future regain before the second world war.

Of course, in 1939 he yet hadn't regained his influence at all and because of that, his people were a lot more susceptible to superstition and fallacy.

To Gellert Grindelwald's misfortune, the Resistance had been able to utilize that fear to their own merit.

"Sirius, Charlus – you take the wards," Sal said, while leaning over the map in front of him.

"Sure thing, Sal," was the immediate answer from both of them. "They'll be down in half an hour or less."

"Good," Sal nodded in agreement. "Garrick – oblivators."

"Of course, uncle! Lullabies to me! I'll ensure that you'll be in position before the wards come down!" Ollivander said, smiling creepily.

Sal rolled his eyes at the fake-shiveres of the other Oblivators.

"Allaric – smugglers," he said instead of saying something about the mentality of the 'Lullabies'.

"I knew I would get stuck with them," Allaric grumbled good-naturedly. "First I raise them to be the best and yet I'm unable to get rid of them! Should have seen that coming before I got roped in!"

There were snickers all around at that and some of the other Smugglers – those that ensured that people got to safety while the fight continued – shot some harmless prank-spells at him.

"Jêrome, Thes – diversion," Sal continued.

"D'you think that I could ask some of Grendel's men to play quidditch with me?" Theseus Scamander asked amused.

"I could help you in organizing it," Jêrome said grinning.

Sal snorted while the others called out different suggestions whatever else they could do.

"Archie –"

"My name is Arcturus, Sanctuary!"

"My name is Malfoire, Archie!"

"Shut up!" A spell was lazily thrown at Sal, but hit a shield instead of him.

Sal rolled his eyes in amusement.

"Arcturus – direct attack," Sal told the young heir of Black. The twenty-four year-old man rolled his eyes at him.

"Of course direct attack," he said matter-of-factly. "What else? I'm far too danger-addicted to work with the wards."

"I wish you weren't," his father, Lord Sirius Black, spoke up with a sigh.

Some of the other Blacks sighed as well or rolled their eyes at them.

Sal just continued on.

"Newt – intelligence," he said.

"Sure thing," Newt said. "The dragon division is ready to go."

There were some more discussions, but in the end, the Resistance was ready to go.

"Alright!" Sal said. "Let's go!"

He stood up, but just before he actually left the room, he turned back once more, to look at the women in the room.

His eyes raked over them.

He knew that in Grindelwald's army, no woman was allowed to fight.

In the end, he smiled at them while deciding what to do with the women who were part of the Resistance.

They were women, after all.


They were light, not as strong and thanks to the structure of the Resistance not involved in the knights, the smugglers or the lullabies…

"Witches," he told them. "Stay behind!"

With that, Sal and the others left – the witches staying back, like demanded…


Grindelwald's men were in the middle of organizing their own raid, when death descended upon them.

It would take overhearing the talk of the people in the Resistance to give death a name – but the fear was sown that day.

It was late in the evening and dark, when it happened.

One second, everything was normal and the next, the wards they were under broke and hell descended.

There were explosions.

Spells out of no-where.

And above it all was death, riding beneath broomstick – not on it, but bound to them and steered by the ankles. The riders were light, lighter than most men and smaller, wearing formfitting black clothes and masks. If people would actually see them better against the dark night sky, they would have seen that every rider was female.

They all were equipped with explosive potions and their wands – later in the war, with the entrance of 'Mad Marius', their equipment would get even more deadly.

Grindelwald's men had nothing to counter their attack.

The moment the black rider descended upon them, they were the prey instead of the predator.

"Duckt euch!"

The potions exploded around them.

"Gare à toi!"

Men fell to spells, landed on the floor screaming when potions hit him.


The wards which had come down around them gave way to the Knights of the Resistance.


Muggles who had been captured by Grindelwald's men were freed by the Smugglers and the Lullabies of the Resistance.


Tents caught fire, people ran around without rhyme or reason.

"Au secours!"

There was fear and chaos everywhere.


There were people fleeing and screaming.


And everywhere the Resistance was winning against Grindelwald's men.


Yes, the entrance of the witches into the war was something that Grindelwald would never forget – and would never be able to counter.

He had his dragon devision, but the dragons were less flexible, less fast and less agile – they had nothing to counter the fast broom devision of Sal Sanctuary's Resistance.

Of course, the moment Theseus and Newt Scamander heard about the devision, the name changed from "the broom devision" to something a bit… more fanciful.

"How are the Knight Witches?" Theseus asked with a grin the moment the Resistance met after their first aggressive fight against Grindelwald's men.

"The Knight Witches are formidable! Exactly like I knew they would be!" Callidora Black exclaimed proudly.

The other Blacks who entered behind her snorted.

"Of course you were formidable! You were led by Blacks!" Pollux Black – one of the younger Blacks snickered.

Sirius Black playfully swatted him.

"Shush, you!" He said amused. "Stop bragging – even if it's actually true!"

"Blacks!" Charlus Potter exclaimed amused and stepped in behind the Black family.

"Oh! Shut it, Potter!" Sirius said grinning and searched his place at the table.

Yes, Grindelwald's men gained a new nightmare the day the knight witches descended upon them the first time.

Of course, it didn't help that not a lot of time later, young Marius Black – a squib who had been taught muggle science thanks to his family, decided to add to the concept…

"You know," Marius said, leaning over the 'wing' he was currently working on. "Those potions comined with that little explosive will make a nice big bang…"

"Oh," Dorea Black said and leaned down to look at the potion her brother had pointed to. "It will?"

Marius nodded enthusiastically.

"It will!" He assured the young girl. "And then there's that. It works like a flash of light. Combine it with this potion and the wards it will be thrown at might self-comburst as long as there's a ward to hide them from muggles active…"

"Oh!" Dorea said. "Nice! Do I get one of those, too?"

Marius looked at his sister with a frown.

"That's your first flight," he pointed out.

Dorea returned his look with pleading eyes.

Marius cackled.

"Don't worry, sweety," he told his sister. "I have far better things for you…"

Of course, in the end, it would be on the battlefield that Dorea and Charlus Potter would interact for the first time.

The only thing Dorea would later say to that would be: "It was love from the first spell. But then, that's known to happen in love and war…"

Grindelwald's men on the other hand would gain two more nightmares with the entrance of the siblings from hell – one Mad Marius and one Dorea Potter.

Of course it didn't help that they would hear the name of the broom devision for the first time from Dorea's mouth and misunderstanding it.

Years later, the 'knight witches' were forgotten – but the name Grindelwald's men had for them would follow them even into the first war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters…

"Nachthexen! Nachthexen!" Grindelwald's men cried when the moon showed the black wings full of poisons, potions and mad experiments of the knight witches.

"By Merlin and Morgana! Night Witches! Run for your lives!"

Sadly, a warning like that, always came way too late for Grindelwald's men…


"You're a Legilimens?"

"Mm. Yeah. But I always have trouble with your kind; Brits. It's the accent."

They were half-through the rest of the wards when Sirius and Charlus finally managed to poke a hole into the wards, using the mistake Sal had pointed out to them – a hole big enough to let through some of the people.

Of course, that was also the time everything started to turn wrong.

"There's another ward hidden –"

Sadly, Sal's warning came too late.

The hidden ward had already been triggered before Sal was able to warn Sirius and Charlus.

The hole in the wards had triggered another set of wards – a set that alerted Grindelwald of their coming. A second later, Grindelwald's men were swarming the bailey of Nurmengard.

The moment, the men turned up, Allaric Moody took up his position as one of the leaders of the Resistance.

"Jêrome!" He called out. "The left flank! Prince! The right! Smugglers – try to get through! Now!"

Sal turned his attention back to the wards, but was stopped to immerge himself into their structure by his godson.

"Uncle Sal," Charlus called out the moment he noticed the alert ward they had triggered. "We can't all continue to hold the wards! You are our leader! Your part in this isn't by the wards – it's by keeping Grindelwald from our men!"

For a moment, Sal wanted to object, but when he saw the first of his men fall to Grindelwald's hands, he finally handed over the wards to one of the other, more competend people when it came to wards – one Garrick Ollivander.

Of course, this wouldn't be the last thing that went wrong that day that would end the second Grindelwald war…

But then, the whole war had gone wrong long before that point in time – especially when it came to one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…



Sal was in Britain again.

Actually, he shouldn't be here. He had enough to do as it was. Within the last few years he had organised the Resistance, started to smuggle people out of the countries in Grindelwald's grasp – especially those that refused to bow to him and their families – and organised counter-attacks to slow down Grindelwald's take-over of Europe. Sal also was the one who organised the oblivator-squads that tried to stop the leaking of the existence of magic into the muggle world.

The concequences of Sal's actions were numerous, especially for him: he was bone-tired, he hadn't had a bath for days and his robes were in a worse condition than even Sirius Black's when he met the man in third year.

And yet, Sal was standing in front of the Wizengamot in Britain, a plea for help on his lips.

"Europe will fall if you don't help us now," he pleaded. "If you don't want to send fighers, don't, but taking in refugies, sending supplies, anything, could help us against Grindelwald. Even if it's just voluntary assistance by your people, whatever help we gain would be welcomed – just think about it, please!"

He had been talking to them for two hours now, had explained why he asked them for help, what they were fighting and how it would affect the British Wizarding World if it didn't step in now. He had brought up all his abilities in politics to get those men in front of him to understand, but –

"We all know that the typical British citizen has no chance at surviving a war against Grindelwald," Albus Dumbledore said. "He's also statuated just over the channel in France. You and I know that your little group of… fighters… won't be any help to us if we declare war on Grindelwald. He will swamp us with his army and destroy us before the day ends."

"I'm not talking about a direct attack!" Sal countered tiredly. "I'm talking about subtly helping us. I am talking about aiding fellow wizards and witches who had to flee their homes, children who –"

"I think we all know that you want us to fight your war for you, Mr. Malfoire," Dumbledore intercepted. "Believe me, I have heard your fellows pleading often enough to know what you want. You aren't the first who came to me, asking me to take on Grindelwald –"

"I'm not asking you to fight Grindelwald!" Sal protested heatedly. "I'm asking you to help us! I'm asking for supplies, for sanctuary, mayhap even for healers! That has nothing to do with asking Britain to join the war – and especially nothing with asking you to do so, Mr. Dumbledore!"

"Lord Dumbledore," Dumbledore corrected coolly and Sal closed his eyes defeatedly.

He wouldn't gain any help here today.

Sure, he could take the throne and force them – but he also knew that by taking the throne he would make Britain a greater target on Grindelwald's list. He wasn't willing to risk even more innocents just to gain a few more fighters. No, Britain had to join the war as it was, because then it was just another country among many targets – just like it had been all along. Having a king would change that because a king had power over the land and could draw more magic from it like the average witch or wizard.

There was also the fact that everybody with magic born in the land of a king was automatically sworn to him by birth, so if Sal took the throne and asked, everybody would fight for him until he asked them to stop or they died. There was a reason why Grindelwald had gone after the ruling families of Europe the last time he had tried to rise to power. Grindelwald, being raised in Durmstrang would know that and he would see the threat in a fully united Britain and would act to stop them even if he had to annihilate the whole country – which he would have to do if Sal as a king asked them to fight – so convincing had been Sal's only option.

Regretfully, Albus Dumbledore had refused to even truly listen to his pleadings and the man had a lot of influence in the Wizengamot thanks to the friendships he could claim and the magical power he whielded.

"I am sorry, Mr. Malfoire," the Minister said in that moment. "But Britain won't enter into the war you have with Gellert Grindelwald."

At that, Sal turned his deathly green eyes towards the British Minister.

"As you wish," he said coolly. "Just don't expect us to help you if you need aid in the future."

And with a last glance at Albus Dumbledore he left.



The last mission was a catastrophe.

Grindelwald's men had been more prepared for them than they had anticipated – and that had cost them dearly.

Theseus Scamander was leaning heavily on his brother who was bleeding from his head. Charlus Potter was unable to stand anymore, both of his legs broken. Jêrome Delacour was unconsciousness and Sal was leaning over him – also heavily bleeding from a chest-wound – while trying to ensure that the man whose heart nearly had been ripped out would live.

Not too far away from them, the Blacks were surrounding one of the fallen – one Cygnus Black.

They had won the fight – but the price had been high.

Too high.

The only one who was half-way in any condition to do anything else was Allaric Moody, who was hurt, but at least still alive and well enough to stand.

It was him, who in the end raised his wand into the sky, waiting for the one transport that they always could count on.

Just a second later, there was a loud blast, and then a violet bus was standing there, the side of the bus having printed on three words: "The Knight Bus."

The next moment, the door of the bus opened and Ernie Prang stepped out.

He looked around, his eyes grave.

"We need help," Allaric told him while holding his side. "You will have to bring us back to headquarters immediately."

Ernie's grave eyes swept over the wounded and dead.

"Of course," he said before stepping up to help Charlus Potter stand. "Let me take care of you…"

The moment Ernie Prang had left the hurt and wounded at headquarters under Sal's care – he turned around to return to his Knight Bus, his face determined.

He was just surprised when he was met at the bus by Newt Scamander whose head had been bandaged but not healed.

"Newt," Ernie said, but it was Newt who intercepted any objection the other man might have wanted to utter.

"Cygnus is dead," he said, his voice a lot cooler than even the Resistance was used to when he was in any kind or way serious. "I will not stand by and wait until the others are back to health to get my revenge. Grindelwald shall feel my wrath now – so that he finally knows that attacking and hurting us won't go unpunished in any way or form!"

"And we won't let you two go alone," another dark looking man added while stepping up behind Ernie.

Ernie turned just to look into Allaric Moody's and Garrick Ollivander's icy eyes.

"Er… alright," Ernie stuttered.

The four grinned at each other maliciously.

To their surprise, this was when Marius Black stepped out of the shadows of the Knight Bus.

"Let me help," he said, his eyes gleaming with darkness. "They killed my father – I have every right to help."

Next to him, Dorea Black stepped up, her eyes as fierce and dark as her brothers. Her sister Cassiopeia and her cousins Callidora and Cedrella following her, their eyes as serious as their sister's.

When the war would be recorded later on, this would be recorded as the day that Grindelwald had one of his greatest setbacks in the entire war.

After that day, his people would truly fear a few names of Sal Sanctuary's Resistance…

"Nachthexen!" They cried.

"Night Witches! Run for your lives!"

But this time, there was no mercy and not a lot of survivors.

"The Knight Bus! The Knight Bus! Duck!"

But explosions thanks to potions thrown by Newt couldn't be stopped that easily.

"It's Mad Marius! Run! Run away as fast as you can!"

But the mad man, drenched in blood of his enemies and the insane Black-grin on his face, was unstoppable even with magic…

This would be the night Grindelwald would learn to fear Mad Marius even more than he ever feared or would ever fear the rest of the Blacks…

When Grindelwald's men would throw down their weapons the next time Mad Marius would take a step onto the battlefield, Sal would only raise an eyebrow at Mad Marius's Uncle.

"Seems like your nephew managed to gain a bit more of a reputation than you ever had," he said dryly to the other man.

Sirius just raised an eyebrow at Sal.

"Truly?" He asked interestedly and slightly sarcastically. "I thought it was normal that people would flee from my nephew when he cackles like he does right now…"

Sal snorted.

"Guess that could it be as well," he answered before turning back to the rest of their won battle. "But then, whatever it is, I won't object to the consequences it brings with it…"

From then on, not a lot of Grindelwald's men would dare to fight against Mad Marius… or any of his associates – like Newt Scamander, Garrick Ollivander and Allaric Moody.

Of course, not once would a follower of Gellert Grindelwald ever enter the Knight Bus – even in the future, way after the war…



The last years had been one of the hardest Sal ever lived through – and with his years of experience that meant something. He had worked against Grindelwald since the raising of said man and it was solely thanks to his organisation that the wizarding world was still hidden from the muggle world – of course, the Second World War, in part curtesy of Grindelwald, had helped to hide magic as well, but a lot of it had been thanks to Sal's underground organisation.

Sal's people had worked ceaselessly to not only keep magic hidden but also to pull out endangered families and organise disruptions of Grindelwald's operations. Grindelwald had long since gotten irritated by them but until now he hadn't been able to find their headquarters or their leader – there were some advantages of being a few thousand years old and having more knowledge of magic than anybody else.

Still, it had taken Sal years to organise everything. His first priority had always been the people and their safety, so taking down Grindelwald had to wait until Sal had been reasonable sure that even if something went wrong the innocent would have a way to hide from Grindelwald, still.

"You look like you contemplate falling down dead right here," a man next to Sal said in that moment and Sal looked up tiredly.

"Pollux," he greeted the man. The dark haired, thirty-three year old man was one of his advisers, Pollux Nigellus Black.

"The Ukrainian Iron Belly got us the ward scheme. Charlus Potter says that he can do it," Pollux said when he saw that he had Sal's attention. "Regulus is his back-up and Uncle Sirius and Arcturus are willing to take on the second ward the moment Charlus has brought down the first."

Sal nodded at that.

"What about the rest of the wards and the attack itself?" he asked, while turning back his main attention to the potion he had been brewing. "I'm not willing to risk it if we don't have a chance after taking down the attack-wards on Numengard."

It was odd that it were the Blacks of all the wizarding families of Britain who had decided to screw the politics of their country and had left to help in a war the British still tried to ignore – not that they could do that anymore since Grindelwald had finally started to attack them just a few months ago.

The Blacks instead had joined Sal's organisation just a few months after Sal's last stint to Britain and had been with him ever since. Cygnus Black had even died in the war just two years ago. And with the Blacks had come some of their allies: the heir of House Potter, Charlus; the heir of House Moody Allaric; and some more, like Prince, Nott and Greengrass. All in all, they weren't a lot, but they brought good councel and a lot of magical knowledge and power – they were a blessing for Sal's Resistance.

"The attack group is assembled," Pollux replied. "Allaric Moody and Iacomus Prince are leading the left flank attack, Jêrome Delacour and Garrick Ollivander the right. Pablo Eugenides and Konstantin Krum are willing to lead the primary attack group and Johannes Aichinger told me that he and his daughter Loni would be willing to take down the rest of the wards. The Ukrainian Iron Belly will pull out his people the moment the wards fall and they will take over as a back-up if anything goes wrong, but since they aren't many, we definitely shouldn't rely on them solely."

Sal nodded at that.

"Alright," he said. "Tell Geronimo Rossi that I need his team as back-up for the main attack. I won't risk too much of us going in without any other back-up in place."

Pollux nodded at that and Sal turned down the heat by pulling the cauldron of the flames.

"The attack will be tomorrow morning. I want everybody at the best condition, so go to bed early. I'll be done here in half an hour and then I'll take a nap as well."

Pollux snorted at that.

"You, Sal Sanctuary, need more than a nap to be even half-awake tomorrow morning," he said and Sal rolled his eyes.

"I promise I'll sleep the next five years the moment we've taken down Grindelwald," he answered dryly. "And stop calling me that! I'm not a place!"

Pollux snickered at that.

"No, you aren't," he said. "But you can't deny that the moment you are somewhere, everybody else around you is safe. Besides, you have objected to that nickname for years now – what makes you think that we will change it now when we're preparing the hopefully last attack on Grindelwald?"

"Oh, come on, now, brother! He's hopeless! He will never accept that he can't escape that nickname ever again!" another man intercepted before Sal could even think about replying. Pollux snorted at that.

"Right you are, little brother," he said amused. "How are the distractions coming along?"

"I keep getting distracted," the other man, Marius Black replied dryly. "Now, tell me again why I am the one working on them?"

"Because they're technology and I'm bonkers at it?" Pollux suggested.

"Nope, keep going," Marius said while raising an eyebrow.

"Because my magic would blow them up if I got frustrated?" Pollux tried again. Marius thought that over before shaking his head.

"Could be valid but isn't accepted."

Pollux frowned at that before deciding to go for the killing blow.

"Because you are my little brother and you are awesome?"

At that, Marius nodded gravely.

"Exactly! And don't you dare to forget that!"

Years later Marius would be blown of the family tree by Walburga Black, his own niece, for being a squib, but at that point of time not one of the Black's cared and so, when Marius had insisted in joining the fight against Grindelwald Sirius Black, the Lord of Black only had asked one question: "Alright. What can you do?"

And just like that, Sal's Resistance had gained a technological defence that left Grindelwald's men reeling. Not one of them had ever figured out what spells Sal's men were using – no wonder since technology definitely wasn't explainable with magic.

The Resistance loved it.

And just like that they also loved their technilogical genius in their midst.

"So, Sal. What else do you need me to do for tomorrow? Some more bombs? Some electric shock equipment? Some awesome light-show?"

Sal just rolled his eyes at that and then shooed away Pollux with the words, "off you go! I've still some work to do for tomorrow!" Before explaining in detail what he needed from Marius.

The next day was hell on earth – a hell, that would never leave Sal's mind ever again…


When Sal let go of the wards to take on Grindelwald's men, he had no idea, that this would be the last time he would see some of his men ever again.

Allaric Moody would die that day.

Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Lycoris Black and the older Arcturus Black would loose years of their lives that day.

And in the end, the history would write itself like Sal had been taught it all those thousands of years ago…

When the attack of Grindelwald's men came to it's peak, it were the ward-breakers who decided to sacrifice themselves for their comrades.

"It's us or them," Sirius Black panted. "Either we break the wards and take the backlash or we watch our comrades die right now!"

"Sirius," Charlus said, his eyes wide, knowing what his friend was asking him to.

Sirius just looked at him gravely.

"There's no other way," he told his best friend. "No other way."

The other Blacks and Garrick Ollivander nodded.

Charlus sighed, but in the end gave in.

"We even it out – if we loose our lives, we will loose it all together, do you understand, Black?"

Only when Sirius and the others nodded, Charlus turned back to the wards and ripped them down instead of dismantling them gently.

The backlash went through him and hit his ward-holder Sirius Black. The other ward-breakers and ward-holders just followed their example.

In the end, the backlash of the wards would not only hit the warders, but also confuse Grindelwald's men – an avantage which would ensure that the Resistance would gain the upperhand and Grindelwald's men started fleeing.

It would be a decade later when Charlus Potter understood that Sirius Black had lied to him that day. Like Regulus Black who would die 1959 at fifty-three years of age, Arcturus Nigellus Black who would die also 1959 at seventy-five years of age and Lycoris Black who would die 1965 at sixty-one years of age, Sirius Black had taken the brunt of it and would die in 1952 at seventy-five years of age. The decision of the Black family would cut short the ages of several of their members for more than just a few decades of their lives – and even Sal who stopped to stabilize the fallen warders after Grindelwald's men had retreated couldn't change that the Blacks' lives had been cut short…

And Sal would never forgive Dumbledore for disregarding this sacrifice of the Black-family and belying it in Britain with his words alone – words that were believed more than the words of an unknown cousin of the Potters, a Hogwarts-drop-out, a mad wand-maker or a Black…

In the end, the only thing that Sal could do was to stabilize the warders who had suffered the backlash and rush on.

Grindelwald's people were many, but Sal had been planning the attack for years and his people knew exactly what to do. Even if they were less, they were winning.

Marius' bombs, granates and other electronic devices – all usable the moment the wards came down – where definitively effective if it came to taking out a lot of people at once. So naturally, they were winning.

That was until Grindelwald entered the fight.

He swung his wand at Sal's people, ready to take them down with one strike, when Sal stopped him by drawing a ward into the air and releasing it just in time to prevent the attack.

Sal's ward shattered under the brunt force of Grindelwald's attack, but his people remained unharmed and Grindelwald turned his eyes onto Sal.

"It seems that the pathetic group calling itself Resistance has some undeveloped potential in its midst," he said, scrutinizing Sal coolly.

Sal returned Grindelwald's gaze with a deadly green glare.

"I don't think that my abilities are undeveloped," he said coolly. "After all, you haven't found me or our hideout for more than twenty-five years."

At that, Grindelwald raised an eyebrow.

"Ah… the mysterious Sal Sanctuary," he said and Sal wanted to groan. He was known to his enemy by that name?! "I heard that you visited my dungeons some time ago and decided to leave there with… most of my prisoners…"

Sal shrugged at that.

"I've always been interested in dungeons," he said. "And your prisoners were freezing. I thought that they would feel better elsewhere…"

Grindelwald snarled at that before launching his attack on Sal.

Sal knew that he had no chance in winning the fight if he concentrated on brute force. Grindelwald was a powerful, fully grown wizard – Sal on the other side had the magic of an average fifteen-year-old. He couldn't win in brute force, but he didn't plan on it.

Pulling out his wand with his right hand he did a shield-spell while at the same time he started to draw runes in the air with his left. When the spells of Grindelwald reached him, he ducked. His shield-spell shattered but the curses hurled over his head harmlessly anyway.

Grindelwald laughed when he saw the shield-spell shatter.

"Seems as if you have taken on a little bit too much, Sal Sanctuary!" He cried amused.

Sal refrained from answering and instead hurled a silent spell towards the dark lord.

Said lord did a shield-spell – and then managed to duck out of the way just in time when Sal's spell wasn't stopped by his shield like he had intended.

Well, there were advantages in being a very old being – knowing spells everybody else had forgotten was one of them.

He could see the surprise in the dark wizard's eyes when the spell went through the shield and the dark wizard had barely enough time to duck out of the way of the spell.

Sal threw out his runes.

Grindelwald meanwhile had cast attack spells again, and Sal dodged, knowing that the strength in the spells would shatter his shield again. Sal returned the spell-fire with another two spells, all the while watching his runic spell creeping through the stones of the walls and floors of Numengard.

There wouldn't be a lot of prisoners left when Sal's spell was done – and Sal's group would have some more help from those who had been held prisoner until now.

Not that Sal's group needed help.

While Sal preoccupied Grindelwald, his people had started to take down Grindelwald's troups as if those were ants and not fully grown wizards. The little task-forces Sal's group had splitted in were a lot more agile than the army-trained wizards of Grindelwald. Adding to that their unusual technological equipment – some of it solely invented for the war against Grindelwald – and the other knick-knacks Marius had insisted that they would take with them, and the other side looked oddly ill-equiped to deal with the Resistance. The military like group of dark wizards truly had no chance.

And Sal guessed that they would have won against Grindelwald like they planned it, if the British wizards hadn't interfered suddenly.

As it was, the British wizards appeared just before Sal's people were able to take down the last of Grindelwald's men, wands blasting and hitting people left, right and center – not caring if they hit Sal's people or Grindelwald's. Three of Sal's people went down within the first minute and didn't get up again.

Sal cursed and activated the emergency runes he had on his people, shielding them before the British could kill them with their careless spells.

That distraction used Grindelwald.

With a single spell he hit Sal, throwing him against the wall.

"Well, little wizard," Grindelwald said grinning. "Seems like I am winning."

Sal snarled at him, but he was still empowering the runic shields around his men, so using complex magic was out – it was oddly like shielding Camelot back when he had still been young and naïv.

But that didn't mean that Sal was without a way out.

Without hesitation he pulled one of his daggers and rammed it into Grindelwald's side.

The dark lord hissed and let go of him to hold his injured side. Then he looked up at Sal darkly.

"You are something else, aren't you, Sal Sanctuary?" He said half-impressed sounding, half-amused. "Muggle weapons against a wizard – that's something I definitely haven't heard of before."

Sal grinned at that, showing the dark wizard a bloodied smile.

"You have no idea what else I'm capable of, Grindelwald," he said, but before he could do more another spell slammed into him, hurling him out of the way and then Dumbledore entered the scene.

"Stop baiting children, Gellert!" Dumbledore said and Grindelwald turned to look at his one time friend.

"I wasn't baiting any children," he said icily and Sal wondered if it was wrong of him to suddenly feel a bit of kinship with the dark lord in front of him.

"I have eyes in my head, Gellert," Dumbledore said. "I saw what you were doing!"

Grindelwald snarled at that before turning to Sal.

"I fear I will have to take a break in our duell. I need to take out another idiot first!" He said to Sal and Sal blinked at that. A dark lord with manners, huh?

"Sure, go ahead," Sal said amused. He had definitely enough to do with shielding his own people without adding the troubles of fighting Grindelwald to his worries.

So while Dumbledore and Grindelwald engaged into their epic battle, Sal turned towards his men and the trouble they were in thanks to the British.

"Stop it, now!" he hissed at the British who tried to herd of his men together with Grindelwald's. "Some of them are mine and I definitely won't let you take them as if they were some kind of criminals!"

"You were all part of Grind –" One of the British started when finally Arcturus Black, the heir of House Black, managed to come to the front.

"We were fighting those bastards, you dunderheads!" he said coolly. "Or do you truly think that you could have apparated in here without us taking down the wards just half an hour ago! I swear to you if my father dies out there because you dunderheads decided to destroy our operation by barging in here without being invited I will call a blood feud with you!"

It took just a minute for the British to recognise Arcturus Black.

"Heir Black!" He exclaimed. "I thought you were in the Resistance!"

"I am, dunderhead! Like the most of us are – or do you think it's natural for Grindelwald's men to fight each other?"

At that, the British looked at each other sheepishly before releasing not only Arcturus but everyone else he told them to.

Then Arcturus turned to Sal.

"You mind taking a look at my cousin Pollux and at my brother and father?" He asked and Sal shook his head.

"Gather the wounded outside," he said. "I'll treat them there."

And with that, he left.

In the end, Dumbledore was hailed the defeater of Grindelwald and ten of Sal's men were dead, thirteen others' lives were cut short – they would die within the next ten to twenty years – and another fifteen were scarred for life. Considering that Sal had gone in with only fifty men, a lot of them had gotten hurt – and at least half of them wouldn't have been if the British hadn't intercepted their mission.

"You should be thankful that we came when we came," Dumbledore told him after Grindwald had been restrained. "You would have been annihilated within the next five minutes."

Sal just stared at the man in front of him.

"I would have preferred it if you hadn't meddled," he said coolly, and Dumbledore patted his head.

"You don't have to thank me, lad," he said.

"I don't think he was," Arcturus Black said in that moment, stepping up next to Sal. "Was it your idea to come here with your people?"

"Of course," Dumbledore answered. "I noticed that the wards of Numengard lost its strength, so we decided to come and use the chance we got. I guess that you did the same?"

Sal gritted his teeth at that.

"My father and brother shortened their lives to bring down the wards," Arcturus said icily. "My Uncle Cygnus and a lot of others died to ensure that we even got to that point. We didn't simply wait until 'the wards lost its strength'!"

"It was a little misunderstanding," Dumbledore said. "My men definitely didn't plan on killing some people of the Resistance. We're all on the same side, after all."

At that, Arcturus looked at Sal and Sal closed his eyes.

"No, Mr. Dumbledore," Sal finally said. "We're not. If we were, we would have fought side by side from the beginning."

And with that he turned away. He had enough. He had begged the man in front of him to help them for years, he hadn't begged for someone to fight his battles but to either fight with him or at least help him and his men in any other way. Britain had refused, Dumbledore had refused.

Neither of them could ever claim that they were on the same side like Sal and his men.

"It was a win for both of us," Dumbledore said. "We won today because of the good cooperation between us – so of course it's our victory! Of course we are on the same side!"

Arcturus just looked at Dumbledore icily.

"The House of Black refuses to ever again be named next to the House of Dumbledore," he said. "At least not until House Dumbledore recognises the debt it now owes House Black!"

Dumbledore frowned at that.

"We saved you and your men, Heir Black," he said. "You should be thankful to us, even if you might be bitter for the hurt my men inflicted upon your family without meaning to…"

Sal just shook his head when Arcturus opened his mouth to say something else.

"He won't understand," Sal said. "He's blinded by the fact that your leader lacks the magic to even think about taking on someone like him head-on. He's blinded by the fact that we were few and the enemy many. He's blinded enough so that he will never understand what we have done today and what he did by entering into a fight that wasn't his. Let him have his glory, let him have his power. He has just lost the most important thing: He has lost the trust of several families not only in Europe but in Britain as well."

With that, Sal walked of.

For a moment, Arcturus stood there, scrutinizing Dumbledore.

"If my family will ever have to choose again, not one of them will ever work for you again. We might help the Potters when the Potters help you, we might help others who are connected to you, but when you ask us who we will chose, them or you, it will always be them. We will never work with you again – even if it means we will have to chose a dark lord over you," and with that he followed Sal.

"And I guess that my own child will never go to Hogwarts," Newt Scarmander said darkly. "You might have fought for me back then when I needed help and I still respect you for that – but that's not enough to not keep my family at a distance from your… interesting ways of thinking."

Then Newt followed Sal.

The rest of Sal's people did the same.

Dumbledore would never understand why the Blacks and a lot of others stopped supporting him in the Wizengamot. He would forever blame Voldemort for the split of the Wizengamot between 'dark', 'light' and 'neutral', never understanding that the split hadn't occurred with Voldemort but with the day he won against Grindelwald and refused to acknowledge the sacrifice those families made so that his duel was even possible.

Of course, Dumbledore never even felt a little bit of regret, even after finding Allaric Moody's body – killed by one of the men Dumbledore had brought with him.

And whatever Sal tried to tell the British wizarding world, in the end, the Resistance consisted of a disregarded Potter – a Potter who couldn't reveal himself as the heir if he didn't want the political backlash to hit the House of Potter – a mad wand-maker, an even mader creature-fanatic the 'evil' Black-family and a man not known to anybody anymore…

No, in the end, Dumbledore's version would be the 'truth' in Great Britain – and Sal would never forgive the future Headmaster of Hogwarts who destroyed the sacrifice of the men and women who fought by Sal's side for all those years…

But then, he wasn't the only one – even if others would never say it as plainly as the Blacks or Sal Malfoire himself…

"It would take months to contradict every other wild assertion in Ms. Skeeter's book... it is true that I was the first person ever to capture Gellert Grindelwald, and also true that Albus Dumbledore was something more than a schoolteacher to me. More than this, I cannot say, without fear of breaching the Official Magical Secrets Act or, more importantly, the confidences that Dumbledore, most private of men, placed in me."


That's it for today. I hope you liked it.

'Till next time,