Welcome to the first chapter of the second arc! From CH50 onwards, the war arc begins! I can't believe it's taken so long to get here but finally, we're here!

Whilst I recommend that you read the Part I of The Odyssey of a Mage, it won't be entirely necessary to read it. Part II will make sense even if you have not read Part I.

Part I is very much world building heavy, exploring magic and the evolving personalities and characters of our main two protagonists.

If you would like to support me (your support means much, thank you to all my supporters and of course all of you readers! You make me happy to continue to write and write!), the next three chapters are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117

Enjoy!

-Break-

15th of September 1942

International Magical Press

ATTICUS SAYRE TRUE TO HIS WORD: JOINS FORCES WITH THE ICW AS DO MANY PROMINENT HEIRS AND LORDS OF BRITAIN

By Jules Jebson

At the Summer Equinox Wizengamot Session, Lord Atticus Sayre, age only seventeen, sent out a controversial rallying cry for the men and women of Britain to answer the call of magic to join the fight against Dark Lord Grindelwald, having pledged himself to join the fight in that same passionate speech.

Grindelwald, who took the French Ministry decimating the defending forces, has been for the past decade, more actively in the past three years, sweeping across the continent knocking down nations as his conquest continues at an unprecedented rate.

With the fall of France, the Dark Lord's influence over the continent rapidly increases causing many to fear a dark period to hang over Europe for decades to come.

As a consequence of that speech, Lord Harfang Longbottom, Lord Ignatius Prewett, Heir Albert Bones, Heir Charlus Potter, Scion Mycroft Bulstrode and Scion Parelius Parkinson amongst other prominent figures of society have joined the war against Dark Lord Grindelwald.

Such unprecedented...

Daily Prophet

MINISTER URGES SENSIBILITY OVER EMOTIONAL ACTIONS

By Rupert Scrimgeour

Following the swathe of men who followed Lord Sayre to the ICW to fight on the continent, the minister had this to say:

"I am aware of the duty that many people feel strongly about but taking emotional actions when caution and care is needed will only cause a serious situation to become a dangerous and perilous one. I urge people to be reconsider their stances and to come back to their sensibilities.

Actions against Grindelwald by our people will only invite retaliation and bring war to our Britain's shores"

Minister Spencer-Moon continues to advocate for...

28th of September 1942

International Magical Press

ATTICUS SAYRE CALLS BRITISH GROUP THE KNIGHTS OF MIMPOST

By Cordelia Smith

Last night Lord Atticus Sayre announced the formation of the Knights of Mimpos, a independent group who fight on the behalf of magic against Grindelwald.

"We fight for Magic and for Magical Society against the evil forces of Grindelwald who seek to destroy the foundations of our world and aims build upon the bones of thousands if not millions of their victims.

The Knights of Mimpost stand for honour, for justice and for the innocent. We will defend against those who seek to divide us, we will fight for our kin, for all of those who are Magic's children, with all that we have.

Grindelwald uses the term for The Greater Good to excuse the atrocities that he and his men commit against the Magical world. He claims that we should control the muggles for their own Good when it is nothing but a lust for power.

We reject that belief as do we reject that Might makes Right. No one has the right to strip us from our natural rights of self determination, of dignity and honour. We are the Knights of Mimpost and we will defend those rights for all of Europe!"

Those words were echoed by the men who have joined him in the fight against Dark Lord Grindelwald.

Lazar Fawley had this to say...

Daily Prophet

KNIGHTS OF MIMPOST: VIGILANTE GROUP OR NOBLE HEROES

By Barnabas Cuffe

Lord Atticus Sayre continues to be controversial with the formation of Knights of Mimpost. The group contains many of the British Nobility along with healthy number of conscientious citizens who believe in the cause that Atticus Sayre has raised.

The Wizengamot remains divided on the group as the topic remains firmly in deadlock as the boundaries between traditionalists and progressives are muddled as many from both camps have joined the crusade against Dark Lord Grindelwald.

"I think it is not appropriate that people are joining the war without the say so of the Ministry. We should leave it to the ICW and the Ministries around the world not form vigilante groups" a shopper in Godric's Hollow said.

"They are heroes! I think it is the right thing to do to fight for magic against evil men like that Dark Lord" a cheerful young Hufflepuff said in Hogsmeade.

Just like in the Wizengamot many in the Isles are divided by the group but most people agree that the Knights of Mimpost are trying to do the right thing...

21st of October 1942

International Magical Press

BRITAIN'S KNIGHTS OF MIMPOST MENACE GRINDELWALD'S FORCES IN FRANCE

By: Hubert Higgins

The Knights of Mimpost joined the war in late September and in the weeks since, they have been seen in Normandy harrying and routing out Grindelwald's forces from their fortifications.

It comes as good news as Normandy was reported to be a likely location whereby Grindelwald could have launched his campaign against Britain.

The ICW headquarters and temporary French Ministry had been relocated to Beauxbatons ever since the fall of the French Ministry. News has trickled out to the French resistance who have been destroying warehouses whenever they are found. The expectation...

GRINDELWALD SEEN IN EAST EUROPE

By Cordelia Smith

Russian and Polish fighters were beset by a coordinated push by a force led by Grindelwald himself. The battle reportedly incredibly brutal as heavy losses was taken by both forces though Grindelwald himself entered the fray when it seemed his followers were losing and forced a retreat of the defenders...

Daily Prophet

BRITISH MINISTRY BANS INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL OF UNDER 25s

By Barnabas Cuffe

The controversial Lord Sayre's rallying cry has seen an uptick of magicals signing up with the ICW amongst the younger population much to the concern of the Ministry.

"We are concerned that the future of this country are throwing away their lives by making an ill advised decision and as such we have acted in the best interest of our Country by restricting international travel for those under the age of 25." A senior official in the Ministry had said.

Many wonder...

29th of November 1942

ICW STRIKES BLOW AGAINST GRINDELWALD IN UKRAINE

By Hubert Higgins

Magical Ukraine had been one of the first nations to fall to Grindelwald in his push East and for the past two years were under violent occupation. The ICW, with the relief they received from the Knights of Mimpost in France, leaving them free to shift their forces to other contented territory, managed to retake the Ukrainian Ministry in Kiev having pushed through Odessa in days leading up to the liberation of Kiev...

15th of December 1942

INFAMOUS CRIMINAL GERALD VERMEER DEFEATED BY LORD SAYRE!

By: Jules Jebson

Gerald Vermeer, a dark wizard with prodigious talents in Charms battle magic was killed during an encounter between Grindelwald's followers and the Knights of Mimpost in the outskirts of Lille.

In the months since the Knights of Mimpost joined the war, several magical villages and fortifications have been liberated from the hands of Grindelwald and his followers. Lille remained to be a stronghold in Northern France until the early morning of the 14th of December where the two forces met and battled it out for control of Northern France

The fight (see the images on Pg 4) was reported to be 'an impressive display of magic' as they went head to head. Vermeer was one of the foremost combat specialists in the Wizarding World, reportedly said to be second only to Grindelwald in terms of duelling skill amongst his ranks.

Lord Sayre soundly defeated Vermeer in a duel whereby he showed off his prodigious talents in Transfiguration, pitting him against the Charms master and in the end killed him, ending the dark wizard who proved to be a deadly right hand to Grindelwald in his conquest of Europe.

With the death of Vermeer and the scattering of his men from the battlefield, Northern France is liberated much to the rejoicing of the French.

MACUSA pushed from the south and west and it is expected that the final push towards Paris will not take long...

27th of December 1943

STALINGRAD LIBERATED AS GRINDELWALD RETREATS

By Jules Jebson

Grindelwald continues to breach the Statute of Secrecy as he coordinates with the muggles to drive deep into Russia (muggle Soviet Union). In November the Russian muggles halted the German muggles allied with Grindelwald causing Grindelwald to personally oversee the fall of Magical Russia without the aid of his muggle co-conspirators.

Stalingrad fell back in August as Grindelwald redirected his attentions East but found much resistance as he pushed in deeper into Magical Russia, much like the muggles have found.

On the eve of Yule, a force led by an unknown mage (see pg 3 for more on this unknown mage), pushed Grindelwald and his forces out of Stalingrad, liberating the city that had been occupied by Grindelwald and his forces much to the joy of the locals.

The magicals fared better under the occupation than the Russian muggles who have been systematically purged by the German muggles but only marginally as Grindelwald and his men conscripted the natives forcibly to serve their occupiers...

29th of December 1942

KOLOMENSKOYE WIPED FROM THE MAP

By Hubert Higgins

In what many have called 'an act of senseless retribution' a mostly magical enclave has been wiped from the map, killing over 40 magical families causing a death of near three hundred.

The defiance by the Russians for the past six months has been an inspiration to many wizards in Europe as they continued to push against the onslaught that is lead by Grindelwald himself.

Many could not have predicted the sheer resistance that the Russians have managed to conjure up for this long and it would be hard to think of any other peoples who would be able to fight as long and as bitterly as they have.

There have been questions raised whether the Russians can sustain the heavy losses they are incurring any longer...

-Break-

1st of January 1943

International Magical Press

HOSENBURG SWISS MAGICAL VILLAGE RAZED TO THE GROUND

By Jules Jebson

Whilst Grindelwald is preoccupied on the Eastern Front, the ICW continues to press from the South of France whilst the Knights of Mimpost continue to break down Grindelwald's hold in Northern France.

The besieged forces of Grindelwald have reminded the world of their savagery as they brutally put down a revolt attempt in the magical village of Hosenburg, located less than a couple of dozen of miles from the French border.

It seems the villagers had been inspired by the acts of the Allies and the French Resistance but were all killed to the man, woman and child in another grim reminder of the evil that is being fought over at the continent.

Public outcry...

Nicolas Flamel POV

"Dear, you're going to be late" Perry admonished him. He looked above the paper and saw her walking into the dining room.

"The Minister can wait" he grumbled as he returned his eyes to paper. He'd been given a free subscription to the paper by what seemed to be the Rockwood family who owned it. Whilst the paper was a marked improvement from the Daily Prophet, and had several interesting sections, such as the 'Magicals Around The World' series that had a quite diverse selection of differing cultures and practices made known to the readership who tended to be ignorant of other magical cultures, he knew that the paper was not all that it seemed. The fact that Emily Riddle was in the same year as the Rockwood heir was reason enough to suspect a wider plot.

Several articles subtly influenced the reader to think about the Old rites that the majority of the population no longer practiced, expertly crafted with historical elements that left a sense of loss of cultural heritage. Given what he knew Atticus Sayre wanted to do in the future, the narrative of these articles tied in quite nicely with his desire. It amused him a little and it made clear that the two young prodigies were working together to bring about change and a future they wanted.

The hammer and the quill.

The paper was snatched from his hands and he looked at the offender with betrayed eyes.

"Don't look at me like that" she rolled her eyes before she fixed him with that look that she's perfected over the years...the 'I know better than you, you better listen' look. "Whilst we are free to run the school as we please, we do have to have good relationships with the locals."

"Fine, fine" he sighed as he took one last sip of his tea and made his way to get ready for the day.

The past few months had been busier than it has been for quite some time. The groundwork of the university had already begun, the campus had neared completion by the time he'd arrived but everything else had needed to be created from the ground up. It had been some time since he'd been involved in anything...new like this. The little alchemy projects he'd been doing were more...a force of habit more than anything else.

When he came down from his room, dressed and ready, Perry had been in the living room, drinking a cup of tea with her reading glasses on as she read the very paper she'd snatched from him. It wouldn't surprise him if she shooed him away to get ready just so she could read in peace, the devious wife of his.

She looked up from the paper she'd been looked at with a frown, a touch of concern marring her face. "I can't believe Hosenburg is gone. It was such a beautiful little village" she said disappointedly.

"When were we ever there?" he asked distractedly as he checked the time. They had an hour before they'd have to go.

She scrunched her face as she tried to remember "I think in...the summer of 1832?" she nodded to herself once she grew in confidence and turned to him "Yes, that summer before I took on Simone Aultier as an apprentice"

His eyes lit up. He remembered that girl. She was a feisty little thing, unwilling to conform to the expectations that she was levied with and preferred to further her studies in magic. They'd gone to Beauxbatons for a seminar of some topic or another and Perry had witnessed a curious interaction between the girl and what they'd later found to be her brother.

They'd gotten the story from the one of the Chaperones that oversaw Simone's year group. Simone was being pressured to marry an older heir where the intent had been to combine the two families efforts to corner the fashion industry in Europe as both families had significant market share over fashion shops in France and both were ambitious to seek to extend that influence into neighbouring Italy and Spain.

Unfortunately for both those families she had no intent of marrying straight out of Beauxbatons and wanted to continue her education in magic and at the very least obtain a Mastery in Charms.

Perry felt a sort of kinship with the girl and after she'd spoken with the teachers of Beauxbatons where it was made clear that the girl was a brilliant student, she went out of her way to offer an apprenticeship to the sixth year girl. It had the desired effect as her family backed down and were more than ecstatic to have a family member be apprenticed to one of the Flamels.

The girl had learnt from Perry, and from himself for the next six years and she was now one the most celebrated witches in France, having taken the post of Charms Professor at Beauxbatons not long after she finished with them and thirty years later she rose to become Deputy Headmistress, a post she held until she retired a decade or so ago.

"I vaguely remember it." He hedged as he sat down across of his wife. She looked at him sceptically but didn't dispute it. "It can be rebuilt. It's a wizarding settlement is it not?" he asked as he poured himself a fresh cup of tea.

"Most of the people there are dead. The Swiss are the most decentralised Ministry in Europe and rarely interact with other settlements in Switzerland let alone the rest of Europe." She shook her head minutely "No, the settlement is permanently gone and given the steep number of deaths, I doubt many of the destroyed villages across Europe will be rebuilt and populated until many decades later if at all."

He supposed that was true.

He sighed as he set down the cup. He knew his wife well enough the destruction of the village while unfortunate was not the real cause of her concern "What is truly bothering you?" he asked intently as he met his wife's eyes.

She pursed her lips before she looked at him in consternation "You know that I've been keeping watch of my brother's descendants." She stated a little lowly as a worried frown came across her face.

He nodded slowly. He'd been an only child and his father had been the same. He and Perry only had one child in their long life and that child of theirs only had a single daughter that eventually had a couple of children, one of which had remained childless until their death whilst the other married into Perry's maiden family.

Her family line, now long since dead but not their blood, had dwindled over the years until there were only a few alive all of whom did not know the links they held to Perry and himself.

They'd delayed having further children, deciding to have them so that they could focus on them after the Stone was finished, a decision they'd regretted ever since once they knew of the consequence of using the Stone. It made them sterile and no magic existed that could counteract it, at least magic they knew.

Perry watched over theirs and her brother's descendants from afar, a way to compensate for the lack of the possibility of having any further children. When they'd created their stone, they'd worked tirelessly to scrub their identity from the world, going as far as changing the records of Beauxbatons and altering her families mind to remove any connections that their enemies might use to obtain the Stone.

Their daughter had refused to take the stone, deciding that she did not want to watch her descendants die before she would and had remained the only one who knew of their secret until she'd passed. By the time they became known in the world, there was nothing to connect them to their past beyond Nicolas' family name and his record at Beauxbatons.

"Were any of them in that village?" he asked quietly as he eyed his wife.

She shook her head "No, they didn't call that place home but one of the families have their ancestral home not far from that village." She scrunched her hands as she fretted.

He got up, going around the crystal table and sat next to his wife and held her hands "We can use one of our usual contacts to check on them?" he offered.

She turned to him "Do you think they would be able to evade capture? Switzerland is locked down by now, I'm sure of it."

"It doesn't hurt to ask." He said in a soothing tone "If it proves to be something they can't do, we can go for...some of the more unsavoury wizards." They'd used a variety of people for different things whilst they kept their heads down. Evading people who desired their Stone was something they'd honed over the years. Sometimes there were those who would obsess over them and the Stone which needed to be dealt with. As such, their network of contacts was quite diverse.

"Alright" she nodded after some time and she offered him a small smile "We'll do that." She paused momentarily as her eyes flickered to the paper before they returned to him "Should that not work, we can ask Atticus to check in on them." She declared.

He nodded "I'm sure he won't mind" he frowned for a moment "Though his hands are quite full at the moment" he mentioned.

The boy's been busy for the past few months. The IMP seemed to have a direct line to the war, the readers constantly being informed about the status of the war. He had no doubt that Atticus was informing the paper given the positive slant of his activities. The Daily Prophet walked a tight rope, with the Ministry and the significant ownership the Sayre's had in the paper, as they reported in a mildly disapproving tone of the heirs and lords that joined the war without Ministerial approval.

The deadlock within the chambers only contributed to the Ministry being toothless to assert itself as none of the Lords truly wanted the Ministry being able to impede on their privileges.

She laughed a little as mirth entered her eyes "Oh, of that I have no doubt. After all, he's re-enacting most boys' dream by getting to play knight in reality" her expression sobered up "I doubt he'll find it as noble as the stories tell it...even if you ignore the blatant manipulation of the public with a name of such as the Knights of Mimpost"

He hummed noncommittally as he let go of her hands and wandlessly summoned his tea before he reheated it with a wave of his hand "You don't think he's quite aware of what he's getting himself into? He's already experienced the ugliness of battle when his family was attacked" he said in a curious tone before he sipped his tea and leaned back on the sofa.

"I think he knows." She agreed "But knowing and experiencing is quite different. He has taken life, that is true but he'd been on his own and it was against people who were attacking his family. Quite different when you're fighting against nameless, faceless people and being responsible for people who fight with you." She said shrewdly.

"Perhaps" he acceded before he eyed her "Do you know what Mimpost stands for?" he queried lightly.

She looked at him with a deadpan expression "Of course. It's a world play. Mimpost, Post of Mim or better known as Post of Mimir which is the alternative name for Yggdrasil. Knights of Yggdrasil."

He smiled at her "Yes, quite interesting that he chose to call his group that" he said in a ponderous tone.

"It makes sense after all he wants a greater connection between magicals with magic uniting us all. Different realms, different peoples, blood statuses, magical creatures, sentient or not" she said in a blithely tone.

He thought on that too. Whilst it was a positive idea and nice sentiment, he couldn't help but wonder a little at the intended undertone to it. He set down his tea once he checked the time and saw that the time was nearing and got up, stretching his back, cracking his back and sighing in satisfaction as he relieved the pressure in his back. He looked down at his wife.

"The wellbeing of each realm also depends on the wellbeing of Yggdrasil. I'm not so sure I like the implication that he considers himself to be a knight of Yggdrasil, of magic. You might well be right he is manipulating the public but I do hope he doesn't in turn manipulate himself into taking up a post that does not belong to him." He said with thinned lips before he shook his head.

Perry looked at him in understanding "Given how much he's putting in creating his floating land, away from the current places of power, I don't think we'll have to be worried about that."

He said nothing to that before he spoke next "No matter" he sighed. He clapped his hands lightly before he leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek "I will see you later when we meet with Trevallion."

She smiled at him and nodded.

He left the quarters and stepped into his office, the Headmaster's office. Cabinets lined the walls opposite the large window that overlooked the central courtyard of the campus. It hadn't taken him long to personalise his office. As he walked towards his oak large desk, he couldn't help but look down towards the courtyard.

The central courtyard was oval shaped, the shape moulded against the edges of the main building. Trees were wedded into the background of the courtyard with lusciously green grass lining the cobbled path that crisscrossed the courtyard, each leading to a doorway. There were seats and tables in the open air courtyard, intended to be open to all during the day, free to relax in the serene environment that is intended.

It was weather controlled, wards that protected the courtyard against nature as rain, snow and so on slid off a dome of magic that diverted snow or rain into downpipes that helped water the various plants and trees that were all around the campus.

There were quite a few people now, some couple of dozen people who they've recruited to this institute and he saw some of them conversing in the courtyard. It was only the beginning and soon enough that number would balloon.

He picked up a stack of documents from the surface of the desk before he made his way out of his office doors and into the long hallways of the main building. Spheres of light lined high up on the wall, illuminating the spacious corridors.

As he exited the building and walked down the cobbled path, the path that snaked down to the gates, he couldn't help but think on the campus.

The campus was located on one of the islands near the Inishkea islands near the western coast of Ireland, isolated completely by water whilst being near the coast.

Most of the smaller islands were rocky but with magic that was easily rectified. The total size of the Island was roughly 800 acres, though the actual campus was just over half of it leaving plenty of room for later expansion should it be needed.

The path that led to the gates was aligned with beautiful gardens amidst the sounds of the sea crashing against the hard rock of the shore. Ten feet tall statues tastefully added to the gardens and he couldn't help chuckle to himself for their intended design.

Atticus had done a lot of research into golems and into the Knights that defended Hogwarts. He'd been aware of the original enchantments that were on the knights, having had the opportunity to study them several centuries ago. These statues were based on those enchantments but the modifications he's done to these statues made the Hogwarts knights seem like childish animations. The boy had quite the devious mind.

Hundreds of these statues were all around the campus to add to the defence of the institute which was warded as heavily as possible, worked with Atticus himself to build the wards of the institute.

Atticus was not a Ward master, that was apparent. No, his talents lied in taking them down rather than the intricate weaving that Ward masters even if he was quite good at Wards. Luckily for them, Nicolas was quite excellent at creating wards, long life giving him the opportunity to effectively become good enough to be considered a master in many disciplines, including wards.

After all, they've needed such expertise and it proved prudent to be quite good at it. He also taught the boy how to falsify the age of wards, a useful technique to lure in interlopers and catch them in a trap, something he at times used. Most of the thousand plus years wards were powerful but they lacked significant diversity and uniformity, not like today.

Oh places like Hogwarts were unrivalled in terms of ward strength but that was a combination of protective wards that can sustain significant sieges rather than traps and so on. The Ancient Egyptians were rare in that front, their kind of trappings would not be seen for a long time until the past thousand or so years.

With Atticus' power and his own expertise, the wards of this campus were as good as they could make them. There were two leylines near this campus, less than half a kilometre out in the sea, that they were able to use, somewhat to help power the wards.

He suspected that the wards would take several hundred wizards many hours...several days, to take down the wards, even with someone like Grindelwald in their ranks. Not Hogwarts level but certainly approaching Durmstrang or Beauxbatons level.

When Grindelwald and his followers took down the wards around Durmstrang, it highlighted a huge flaw in massive, powerful protective wards that schools like it and Hogwarts had.

When those wards had been created, sieges – both muggle and magical – had been in mind. Blunt and explosive spells and weapons sapped away at the power of the wards slowly.

A hundred powerful wizards, sorcerer level, would take less than week to take down the wards and a hundred average ones at least several weeks.

All of that was proven to be invalid when Grindelwald and his followers took down the wards in one and a half days shocking the world. It had taken time but news had filtered through how he had done so and Nicolas had to admit it was ingenious.

The magical energy of wards pulsed in a certain way, all of them different of course but none the less they all pulsed...and Grindelwald, someone who'd spent years under those wards and had even studied them, had known how it pulsed and he specifically targeted this.

He'd solved arithmantically how to collapse the wards through sheer strain with his men located all around the school targeting a certain point with certain spells which resonated with the magical energy of the wards causing instability to rise very quickly and eventually collapse.

They'd considered this and had incorporated in the wards. They could not see, for now, how to account for this way of wardbreaking. He had no doubts that eventually the way the Durmstrang wards were broken would be filtered through to the public and it would create a new way of wardbreaking which was why they considered the wards to be capable of holding for several days rather than the weeks it should.

As he passed the midway point the wards alerted him to visitors. As he arrived at the bottom slope of the path, he saw them waiting by the 100 feet tall, inch thick gates that were made out of Adamantite that were artistically grooved with golden threads at the other side of the bridge. The bridge had been built connecting to another smaller island, passing over the turbulent sea, that lied just outside of the wards whilst the main island was completely warded.

Atticus had created them and they were heavily imbued with magic and was the first line of defence. The ornate spirals that interlocked the gates were able to move in a vine like way, lashing out at attackers over several hundred meters away. Should the wards fall, they'd have to pass the gates and should they be on brooms, there were other nasty surprises waiting for them before they ever set on foot.

The gates swung open as he neared and he walked at his pace without halting until he reached them. There were three others with him, two of them aurors whilst the other likely was his undersecretary.

"Minister" he said respectfully with a short nod.

Freyrie smiled at him widely "Lord Flamel, it's an honour to meet you" he said with a happy tint to his tone as he outstretched his hand that Nicolas took.

Freyrie's eyes flickered at the gates and Nicolas saw a hint of wonder at them before he returned his eyes to Nicolas "It's a pleasure, call me Nicolas" he acknowledged and offered with a small smile.

Freyrie introduced him to his undersecretary, a certain Roy Parrott before they walked towards the campus. As they walked up the path, Freyrie took in the place with an impressed look.

"I knew that Lord Sayre had been building here but this is the first time I've had time to come. This must have cost a fortune" he wondered as they walked up the path.

He hummed in consideration "I believe it's been considerably costly." He turned his head towards Freyrie "Ultimately though, I believe the cost would be well worth it once we're up and running which won't be too long now" he said with a polite smile.

"Oh?" Freyrie queried with a eager look.

And so Nicolas told them of their status during their journey until they passed the large set of oak doors that were a tribute to Hogwarts.

As they past the entry foyer of the reception hall, beautifully created out of marble stone with onyx woods contrasting elegantly against the back drop white stone, Nicolas began to show them the purposes of each building.

Each building was dedicated to a branch or branches that were similar in nature, for example Potions, Alchemy and Chemistry were within the same building. Each building had wings whereby students and masters could practice or conduct research along with dedicated libraries to their topics that were spelled to never be able to leave the building, something that Perry had done.

Once the tour was over, it had been time for lunch and he led them down the dining hall in the main building where they were met by Trevallion and Perry. Trevallion was their assistant, a half blood who'd been working as a research assistant at Edinburgh University that heard through the grape vine of the magical university that was being built and joined them.

"How will the muggle subjects be taught?" Undersecretary Parrott asked from across the table.

He looked to Trevallion who took the question "Well, Lord Sayre quite some time ago created recording crystals that could store years worth of video – live images with sounds – and he's been secretly recording muggle courses around Britain that students here can use. For the moment, there aren't many magicals who have studied muggle subjects, at least at university level so we'll have to depend on these recordings until we have the staff that can teach them." He supplied.

Parrott frowned and Trevallion headed him off "The Statute of Secrecy was maintained, the recording crystals were under disillusionment and muggle aversion runes." He informed them and Parrott was satisfied by that answer.

Freyrie's eyebrows raised "Useful invention" he commented.

Trevallion smiled and nodded "Yes, there are quite a few applications for it. I think Lord Sayre patented it, or is in the process of patenting it through the ICW." He shrugged.

One of the Aurors, Cleverly who looked offended a few times during the tour "Why would you want to teach muggle subjects?" asked derisively. Freyrie gave him a sharp look and he blanched a little.

Perry took pity on him and decided to take this one. She smiled at the Auror with a kind disarming smile "Did you know back when I was a student, we were taught these things in school?" she said with a gentle tone.

He shook his head mildly and she continued "Before the statute, the natural world was studied along with magic. Magic allows us to bend reality to our will, change it even, but to truly become excellent in magic, you should know the natural laws that are being bent. Many of the charms that are on your brooms are a product of decades of studies of the natural world" she gestured with her hands "Making things float is easy, making things fly is quite a bit more difficult. You need to know how the air moves, the forces that are on the body and what is the safest number that the body can take and so on." She smiled at the Auror "Knowing how the world works without magic ensures we know how to change it with magic with immense precision" she said finally and the Auror was easily placated as he fell to the kind disposition of his wife and the sound argument.

"Will it be a requirement to study muggle subjects?" Parrott asked curiously.

"No" Nicolas interjected. "It is advised that you take a corresponding mundane subject with your mastery but it is not a requirement. That being said...there are financial incentives to take the subjects. Students will be able to get a reduction in their fees should they take it up." They had a couple of other incentives to coax people into taking those subjects. Only the bullheaded ones would ignore such advantages and they weren't people they'd expect to have a long term relationship with anyway. Flexibility of the mind would be necessary for the future.

Parrott nodded approvingly.

"Besides, it's a little disingenuous to call it muggle subjects." Perry tilted her head as a small smile bloomed on her face that spoke of her elegance "The natural world does not belong to the muggles."

Trevallion nodded keenly "Yes, just so. I'd prefer to call it mundane than muggle, it would help soothe things over if it wasn't so associated with muggles"

Freyrie spoke up "I think that might be wise. Forgive Auror Cleverly's remark" Freyrie apologised for the rude comment of his auror with a pointed look at the Auror that Nicolas found amusing before Freyrie looked at Perry with interest in his eyes "That's something I haven't before..."

Perry regaled the Irish Minister with tales of their time at Beauxbatons, using the story of the COMC to ease them further as she charmed them.

Soon enough, he was in his office with only Freyrie there as Nicolas handed over a glass of muggle Irish malt whiskey.

"So has there been a decision with the name?" Freyrie asked before he sipped on his drink. Nicolas gestured him to sit down which Freyrie did before he followed suit.

"Name of the university? Not quite. We're thinking of honouring one of the gods of wisdom from the Ancient world...Something like Seshat Institute of Magic and Science. Though there is reason to name it something entirely new" he shrugged. They would come up with something in the next few weeks. Atticus had given him freedom to name the school.

Freyrie looked surprised "Lord Sayre doesn't want to name it after himself?"

Nicolas chuckled and shook his head "He thinks it's distasteful to name it after himself. That it cheapens what we're trying to do and I can't disagree with that" he said with approval in his voice.

Freyrie contemplated that for a moment before he nodded. His posture changed from relaxed to one of attention.

"You mentioned that you wanted to discuss a delicate topic?" Freyrie asked with a serious expression, breaking the silence. Nicolas reclined in his seat whilst his right arm was perched on the arm of the chair with his glass in his hand.

"I did" he confirmed as he met the gaze of the Minister "I'll get straight to the point. You've noticed that there are several buildings that I did not take you on a tour to. Those buildings are for branches of magic that I would like to see approved for study and research" he said more bluntly than he usually did.

Freyrie narrowed his eyes. "What branches?"

"Rituals, Blood magic, Shadow magic, Shamanism, Dark Arts" He listed off in a jovial tone. There were quite a few other branches he'd like to teach but he'd go with the easier ones for now.

Freyrie's eyes bulged "What?" he exclaimed outraged almost dropping his glass.

Nicolas looked ponderous for a moment "I would have said Soul magic too but we can leave that for another day" he waved off.

Freyrie's eye twitched "I cannot allow you to teach such dark and forbidden magicks on Irish soil" he said through gritted teeth before he visibly calmed himself and glared at Nicolas. "Those branches are banned, with exception of shamanism which is mostly restricted-" Nicolas raised his hand stopping Freyrie in his tracks as he sent a pointed look at Freyrie.

"The ICW actually doesn't ban those branches, merely requires that such topics are heavily regulated and controlled. You're thinking of the laws marking these branches that most of the European Ministries have enforced rather than the ICW. Many other Ministries, most of them in South America and in Asia have no such bans on magic, rather heavily restricted conditions in which someone can be taught, all of it enforced through oaths and contracts. The ICW regularly employs many of these graduates to their ranks to help deal with dark wizards and criminals who are playing with magic that they're often careless with." Nicolas said.

"Nonetheless, the potential of misuse is too high" Freyrie rallied as he shook his head. "I can't allow such reckless actions."

"Is that so?" Nicolas murmured as he tilted his head "In that case, you should probably ban most of the spells used in healing" he paused for a moment "After all, most of those spells have great potential of misuse. Many of the Dark Arts spells have their roots from modified healing spells after all."

Freyrie was unimpressed "Don't be facetious. Most of those branches have little use in society"

It was Nicolas' time to look unimpressed. "You do realise that the average magical these days, at least those studied in the Great Schools, are significantly less skilled and knowledgeable than those who have studied before the 1600s? Whilst it is not entirely because of the banned branches, it has significantly contributed to the slipping standards of education." Nicolas leaned forward as he sent a piercing gaze at Freyrie.

"There are ways to ensure that misuse is prevented, Minister. Over my very long life, I have discovered many ways to ensure people adhere to the conditions set, a rigid form that would disallow any of the knowledge they've gained from these branches to be used against people except to heal and to research counters." He said with an even tone "Not to mention, much of the knowledge would be available to many ancient families that collected such knowledge before the Ministries around Europe banned them wholesale. All it did was weaken most of the population whilst making Dark Lords more difficult to take down because the knowledge they'd collect tended to be of darker nature and more obscure as circulation of said knowledge was removed from the general public. There will always be books on these subjects Minister and ensuring more people, people who we know are responsible, know of these subjects, bound by oaths never to use maliciously against another being, will only benefit us all." He finished.

Freyrie looked at him with blank eyes. "Did you come up with this or Lord Sayre?" he asked in a measured tone.

Nicolas smiled a little "It was my own idea" he inclined his head before he laughed a little and a bemused glint entered his eyes "Atticus did not believe I could get the proposal accepted." He took a sip of his malt whiskey befre he eyed Freyrie over his glass "We actually have a bet on." He said with a wry smile "I'm quite eager to ensure I win, it's quite a bet, you know" he said with a large smile on his face as he cupped his glass in both hands in his lap.

Freyrie's eye twitched and moments passed before he sighed tiredly and then knocked back his drink. He glared balefully at Nicolas "You know that many in my government won't be happy with this. I won't be able to get it agreed"

"I can help you with that" Nicolas offered. He needed to get the university independent from the Ministry anyway and he was going to ensure it. "I will provide you with the structures of the oaths and contracts and I will talk them round." Of course some gold will probably help win them over. He found it a little amusing, the way that wizards' eyes shined when there was gold and yet they mocked and insulted goblins over their greed with gold.

Freyrie remained silent for a moment as he mulled it over. Nicolas decided to push him over.

"Many of your laws with regards the bans of several branches of magic are carried over from the time you were part of the British Ministry are they not?" Nicolas pried and Freyrie narrowed his eyes. Nicolas smiled inwardly. He knew that Freyrie knew where he was going and likely didn't quite like being manipulated like that but it would be an easy direction to take with reversing the bans.

Nicolas continued "You can make provisions in your laws that still can prosecute to the fullest extent of the law if it is found that people are practicing these branches of magic in Ireland without the oaths sworn and contracts signed." He could see that it was enticing the man.

This was a woolly subject in truth. It might have been easier to create an institution in lands not occupied or governed by a Ministry but that would have invited ICW scrutiny which was unwelcome. Ministries were permitted to teach what they liked, as long as they were responsible for it. The ICW above all else was an organisation that maintained the Statute, it had no true right to meddle, at least in this era, with schooling and the kinds of magic that were available, bar a few.

"Very well, we can discuss this further with my cabinet and if they're convinced, we can continue to convince the others." Freyrie sighed as he glared at Nicolas "Mr Flamel, this better be worth it" he muttered.

Nicolas laughed "It will be" he assured the man. He did believe that.

Freyrie slumped slightly in his char and glanced at Nicolas with a wry smile "What is the bet anyway?" he asked in an amused tone.

Nicolas laughed a little louder and his eyes shone with mirth. He leaned forward in his seat and spoke in a conspiratorially tone "The bet..."

-Break-

9th of January 1943

Elphias Doge POV

Elphias walked towards the run down 'Fleecem's Pub' in Knockturn Alley. The bell on the door chimed as he walked in, heads swivelling towards to the sound. They eyed him warily and suspiciously as he calmly strolled through the pub, before normal conversation resuming soon after. Normally he wouldn't be here, it's been over a decade or so since he last was here but he was contacted by an old associate of his about a curious situation that could lead to an artefact.

Elphias was a collector of sorts. It'd begun in his Hogwarts years when he'd been befriended by Albus in his first year. He'd been an awkward child, not particularly impressive in any way and had quite terrible self confidence issues making it difficult to make friends.

He remembered it clearly, the day that Albus sat next to him in the Great Hall. At that time, Albus had been another lonely child...someone who had the stigma of a muggle killing father, a muggle child killer at that and he'd been sorted in Gryffindor. Suffice it to say, he was eyed warily, none more so than in Gryffindor where he'd also been in.

That day he sat next to him changed his life. For some reason, Albus took him under his wing when he had no reason to. Albus had soon developed his own legend, the prodigy that could outwit the smartest Ravenclaw, the diligent student who worked harder than the hardest working Hufflepuff, the ambitious teen that had grander visions of the future than the most ambitious Slytherin and of course the noblest of Gryffindors.

Simply being in his sphere was enough to appreciate magic in a new sort of way and through that contact, he developed a keen interest in lost artefacts that passed into legend and myth.

He spotted the reason he was here and made his way towards him.

"Belsing" he acknowledged as he sat down at the table.

"Doge" Belsing returned. "Drink?" he offered and Elphias nodded. Belsing signalled the barman and soon enough he was drinking a refreshing pint of mead.

"You said you have something interesting for me?" Doge got to the point. Belsing was someone he met during his forays in obtaining leads to obscure artefacts. More often than not, he came through though he didn't quite like the man. He was seedier than he'd liked but this business tended to be like that.

"Cast a muffling charm before you ask, for Morgana's saggy tits' sake." Belsing berated Doge before he withdrew his wand and muttered out a muffling charm. Belsing looked a little nervous to Elphias but it could simply be his shady character.

Belsing's eyes leaned forward, both of his elbows on the desk as an unholy gleam entered his eyes. "You know that symbol that Dark Lord brandishes about, you know the triangle, circle and line symbol, the Peverell coat of arms?"

"Yes, yes, everyone knows of that symbol. What about it?" Elphias asked impatiently.

Belsing scowled lightly before his eyes turned sharp "Not too long ago, I came across that symbol in a place I never expected" his eyes shifted around momentarily. Elphias straightened out as his eyes narrowed.

He knew that the symbol was more than just a random banner. How could he not know? It was part of the Peverell coat of arms. A symbol that he knew had once caught the attentions of his friend before he'd dismissed it as a simple tale. There were tales of course, of the Elder Wand, having passed from one wizard to another in bloody fashion, death following wherever that wand went.

Dark Lords and their defeaters all fell prey to the wand, in one way or another. If the tales were to be believed. He'd never thought it would ever be verified if the Elder Wand was real or not and in all honesty, he didn't want to know about it.

He'd rather not be chased around the world with people looking to take the wand from his corpse.

"Where?" he almost demanded to know.

"On a marked grave." He confirmed before he continued "I was chasing a lead on Rhongomiant, you know that spear of King Arthur that been crafted by Dwarf King Volmar, before he got Excalibur? Well that search lead me to this place on the western coast in the midlands. I was using one of the old enchanted measuring devices, you know the ones that can pick up old traces of magic?"

Elphias waved him on impatiently and Belsing continued "Well, obviously it was a bust on the whole spear front but instead I managed to pick up a trace of some old, about seven or so hundreds years of magic coming not too far of where I was." Belsing was smiling at this point, excitement in his tone "It lead me to this strange forested place, where mist was quite dense, even in the middle of the day with the sun at its peak. As I walked through the forest, it lead me to an open mausoleum, a marble stoned one with statues in the middle of nowhere! Unfortunately I couldn't get any closer to it, the place was warded." He eyed Elphias with a strange glint in his eye.

"You know I'm not all that shabby with wards, nature of the business and all that. Can't go grave digging in Egypt if ya can't dismantle wards or have a bit of sense, you know? Anyway, the wards on this place, from what I could tell were old, like seven hundred years old and not only that, they are deadly. Well beyond me." He shook his head "I couldn't even tell you what some of them were only the strength of it. There must be a damn leylines underneath the grave, at least until I knew better" he said with a deep sigh.

"It was strange, I tell you. A statue of a man kneeling in front of the mausoleum in a prostrate position, almost as if he was begging forgiveness." He squinted "I think there might be something in the open palms of the man in the farscope" Belsing shook his head "It was kind of depressing. Anyway, that Symbol was etched on the front of the Mausoleum and given the pleading of forgiveness and the wards, you kind of have to wander if there are any artefacts there."

Elphias narrowed his eyes "Why bring this to me? You could have hired a wardbreaking team" he questioned with suspicious eyes.

Belsing scoffed as he looked at Elphias incredulously "You really think it's a good idea to include people I don't know, people who, even under a contract would know what I found?" Belsing shook his head "No...it's not for me, this treasure. It's far too much trouble for me all things considered. Especially given the name I saw on the mausoleum" he simply stated.

Elphias felt a burst of excitement in his stomach. This could be something important. "What was the name?" he asked evenly, belying his interest in this.

Belsing's eyes glinted for a moment before he nodded "Millicent Peverell." He answered with a smug tone.

"Where is this place?" Elphias demanded to know as he placed his hands on the table.

Belsing smirked and extended a open palmed hand and raised his eyebrow as he made a beckoning motion "You know how this works, Old Dogey" he said with hard eyes.

Elphias gritted his teeth and reached into his inside pocket. Belsing would often come to him with information like this, places that he decided not to go into for one reason or another and tended to trade the location of the place for gold. More than often it worked out and he'd make a tidy profit on the things that he didn't want to keep, once he studied them, if he could anyway.

He threw the bag on the table and looked at Belsing with a glare that didn't concern Belsing as he pocketed the bag of gold.

"Now answer" Elphias said with forced calm. This could well be absolutely priceless.

Belsing didn't lose that self satisfied smirk "I don't know" he said easily enough with a pleasant expression on his face.

Elphias only just kept his anger at bay. "What do you mean?" he said with restrained annoyance and anger that he couldn't help but leak out a little.

Belsing lost that expression and sighed as he leaned back into his chair, almost slumping into it. He glanced at Elphias "Well, you know how I told you that this place was in the middle of a forested place with all that mist? Well, the next time I went to the exact location, it was gone!" he said with a frustrated tone.

Elphias looked at him confused so Belsing continued "The place shifted Doge, I swear it to you. Somehow, the place was gone from where it was and the forest was just clear. I spent weeks on and off trying to figure out where it was until I finally caught it again" he took out a folder from his pocket and slid it over. Elphias frowned and opened the folder and his eyes widened as he looked at the images.

It was as he described it and his eyes hungrily took in the symbol that was etched on top of the arch of the front of the mausoleum. He couldn't quite see a stone in the picture but he could see something in it. The black stood out against the gray statute.

"I was prepared this time and took pictures through the farscope with a borrowed enchanted camera. As you can see, it's real."

"You could have falsified it to get easy gold out of me" Elphias said with thinned lips as he looked up from the images. Belsing looked murderously at him that made Elphias regret saying it.

"I don't cheat in a deal, Doge" he spat out as he glared at Elphias "Never say that again." He said in a threatening tone.

Doge scowled but nodded tightly. He'd forgotten that Knockturn Alley frequenters don't cheat others in a deal. They'd cheapen out on you, they'd try to oversell you but they'd never cheat on the terms of the deal. It would be an easy way to death if you messed with the wrong person.

Plus it would be an easy way to get a terrible reputation and terrible reputations can get you blacklisted.

"When you went back, was the second place nearby the first?" he questioned Belsing.

Belsing nodded slowly "Somewhat. Almost fifty miles away from the coast this time. I tried to tag a tracking charm, more than a dozen in fact and none of them stuck and I wasn't interested in trying to find it again once that didn't work."

Ah...that's why. Not because of the wards but because he couldn't find it again.

Elphias narrowed his eyes "You know something else though, don't you?"

Belsing smiled shark like "I do. And it'll cost you 15% of what you can make out of the sale of whatever artefacts you find." As he met Elphias' eyes.

"And before you say that I'm cheating you" he said with a warning in his voice "I'm giving you the two last locations for the gold. What I've observed however, is independent of that" he finished.

Elphias pursed his lips before he glanced at the images. If Belsing observed something, then that meant that there was method in this shifting magic. If there was method, then he could find it himself. Trouble was, there were too many unknowns factoring in.

He turned to Belsing. "10%" he countered.

"13% and not a single cent less" Belsing said with narrowed eyes. Elphias scowled before he nodded resignedly.

Belsing smiled triumphantly and got another stack of papers from his pocket "The exact distance from the first location to the second is 49 miles." Elphias glanced at the stack and saw it was a map of England.

"As you can see, there is a magical sense to it. Mind you, it could be random but I don't know if it is the case. I also don't know if it will always be 49 miles. It could be simply 7 miles, it could be 14 or 21. Who knows. But there is a chance that there is such a link to the location." Belsing finished.

Elphias could see why it might be relevant. Coincidences in magic tended not to be that. Even so, it was weak. But it would prove useful if it panned out.

He got up from his seat before he took the maps "You will get your 13% if this pans out." He said curtly and turned on his heel towards the door.

"Pleasure seeing you again Old Dogey" Belsing hollered out after him.

"Prick" he murmured under his breath before he shook it off as he walked out of the pub.

When he got home, he perused the maps during the evening, making sense of Belsing's findings.

He frowned as he looked over the coordinates and notes. It almost...it almost looked arithmancy was applied. He grimaced. He had no head for arithmancy.

He sighed before he slumped in his chair, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He'd been looking over it for hours, he wasn't anywhere near close to figuring out any kind of hint of where it might appear. It was impossible, he had only two coordinates, one distance and nothing else. There were too many things to consider and it was almost certainly an arithmancy problem.

He turned his head towards the grandfather clock and saw it was approaching midnight and decided then to turn in. He got up with a groan and stretched his back.

"I think I'll have to contact Albus a little earlier than expected." He murmured to himself. Albus always had a head of arithmancy after all.

-Break-

13th of January 1943

Grindelwald POV

"My Lord, the interlocked anti apparition and portkey hexes are up. The containment wards are stable" one of his followers informed him with a bowed head as he knelt in front of him.

He glanced at the man with disinterest. The rigid posture, even in a knelt position was easy to see. The reddening of the ears, the stress of the past few weeks permeated through his body.

He kept his follower in the corner of his eyes as he nodded almost imperceptively. "Keep watch at the perimeters of the wards." He said turning away from the man but not before a cold glint was observed by the man, the threat of severe punishment hung in the air and was understood as he walked away with a curt bow and a tentative tense gait. A slight tightening of the jaw was all that he was permitting to allow to come to the forefront before he eyed the compound in front of him.

It had taken him some time to determine who that unknown man was but it was undeniable once he reviewed some of the spells he had used.

It seemed, unfortunately, that he was not so dead after all. Savage delight seeped into his being as his eyes glimmered in impatient anticipation, the searing prospect of rectifying such interloping interference burned through him, his blackened magic humming and thrumming under his skin as the time of vengeance neared.

It had taken considerable resources to determine where he was, to track him, the country being scoured for his presence. Until they found from multiple sources that this was where he was located.

His magic burbled under his skin as he strode powerfully on the thick snow, his magic compacting snow into ice before his feet crunched the ice of Russian winter. The freezing bite of the height of Russian winter evaded him, as the whistling winds veered clear from him like great stones diverted rivers from their natural paths.

His eyes were as frigid as the cool winter as he eyed the compound with rigid cords in his neck, apocalyptic rage rose with every step as restraints within him faltered and buckled as he neared the compound.

Stalingrad had been an unacceptable failure. His idea of aiding and using the muggles had been aptly disregarded as scores of Russian wizards aided their muggle compatriots in ensuring that his men could not destroy the Russian military.

Though he managed to kill tens of thousands of Russian muggles with devastating army killing spells, the Russian mages countered many of his spells by working in concert.

He was capable of duelling dozens with relative ease but combined with muggle weaponry and a powerful wizard, an archmage at that, it left him little choice but to withdraw lest he find himself in a more precarious position. War would not be won with just himself.

He was power incarnate, his wand slipped into his hand and he gently pressed his long pale ragged fingers against the elderberries, his finger tips feeling every little rough patch of the surface, every little imperfect perfection.

The wielder of the Death Stick, the scythe of Death himself.

And yet, he was not able to turn the tide in any acceptable manner, at best he'd have turned it into a pyrrhic victory with most if not all of his men dead. The mass of the forces would not have allowed him to split his focus and thus they would have died under the sheer number of bodies that would be thrown at them.

Given the new developments on the West, he could not afford to lose more than he had already lost. Killing the man he held responsible for the failure would go a long way of regaining the advantage. With Vinda recalled to come with reinforcements and take over from him, it would stymie the losses once she picked up where he would left off. She wouldn't be permitted to go deep into Russian territory, merely ensure they are kept within Russia until he could return. It would leave him to go to the West and deal with pesky resurgence inspired by the few English lordlings and he'd deal the upstart himself.

He'd seethed when he heard the child killed Vermeer, that useless Belgian couldn't even deal with a mere child, emboldening his enemies even further as the upstart rallied people to his cause. He wasn't blind. Atticus Sayre was not unlike himself and Albus, creating a cause and an image to rally swathes of people to their cause. He banished those thoughts, not allowing it to distract him from his current mission.

He gazed contemptuously at the compound. It was a grotesque thing, economical and Spartan, an insult to the creative mind as he looked at the sharp square features of the dull rancid grey building. It seemed not even Russian mages were free from the concepts of Marxism.

He analysed the wards as he neared the building as he lazily whirled his Elder Wood wand. He narrowed his eyes. The wards were nothing special. His men had already disabled the perimeter alert wards that had been weaved into the surrounding area and on the wards themselves.

The wards were rudimentary, many of them were on Ancient manors but he knew the evasive man was far more skilled in the construction of wards. A sense of weariness entered him.

No matter.

There were many ways of breaking down wards. The slow and cautious method involved unravelling the wards, pulling apart the wards at the very seams.

The more difficult method would be to cut through the wards with precise and immense understanding of magical energy and the techniques of ward weaving, leaving the wards intact but create a path whereby you could pass through unimpeded.

The brutish way was to simply tear down the ward with brute force, to pull away the wards through power and manipulation of magical energies.

The truly heavy warded homes and castles were the most difficult to tear down given the immense power it would take to tear it down though it can be destroyed through concerted efforts.

Death wards were unique wards that not many manors employed given the dark and insidious nature of them. Imbued with dark curses and hexes, these wards could not be overwhelmed without first unravelling the death wards which only the very best of Ward Masters could achieve without rare artefacts. Most death wards in one way or another destroyed or ripped apart organic material, most of the time blood and tissues were burnt, boiled or eviscerated.

Perseus Black had not answered the kinds of wards that were on their ancestral home but he was given the distinct impression such wards would be difficult for him to bypass even with the Death Stick. Regrettably he hadn't remembered to obtain such information when he came to blows with Perseus and his father.

He slowly raised his wand and methodologically whirled and twisted his wand in slow deliberate manner as he began to feel the ward. His eyes dimmed momentarily as his magic unfurled itself from his tight control. Power that had roiled underneath his pale skin broke through the crevices of his body as waves of power that had ebbed and flowed turned into murky black tendrils of magic. The snow that had surrounded him steamed as his magic made physical contact with it, as if it eager to escape the insidious magic that boiled from him.

His magic eked out of him in slippery spidery black malignant tendrils. He raised both arms, lazily, languidly, his hands hanging in the air as his wand pointed at the ground, a sharp gesture away from pointing at the wards that surrounded the compound.

His face was set in stone before a minute, near invisible twitch of his brow marked his state of concentration as the tendrils of his magic hugged the domed magical energy that surrounded the compound. The tendrils climbed the dome, suctioned onto the magical energies as if they were tentacles grabbing onto their prey as they partitioned, as they split into hundreds of little silk threads.

A cruel curl of the lips broke the stone expression like cracks in pavement as malice danced in his eyes before he pulled with his magic, the threads sinking hook like tips into the wards before he ripped them off with sudden and sharp movement, as if the wards were nothing but a table cloth with cutlery and crockery left standing despite it all.

The density of the air tripled under the weight of his magic, steam rose from his surroundings as the fabric of reality gave way to his will while the wards were torn apart. He felt the wailing magic of the wards disperse back into the magic of the world, cruel satisfaction run through him as he begun to walk unimpeded towards a wall of the compound.

The wards his men set up extended some way from the compound and would keep them in. Apparition within the wards would work but if anyone attempted to cross them without the added exception...well...not much would be recovered. The containment wards were strong and even he would take some time to take them down. The wards would flash if anyone was beginning to take them down so he had no concerns of anyone escaping him without his notice.

He eyed the stone walls as he walked sedately towards it.

Subtly was not needed. Not tonight. Not now. The air rippled as a wave of power erupted from him, directed at the grey stone that was blasted apart, the stone crumbling before him. He walked through the new door he created, his steps echoing in the hallway, an eerie, calm rhythmic sound that was in tune in the marching beat of his heart.

His magic seeped into the walls, surveying, touching each little detail of the building as he checked for anything...unexpected. He found none. He tilted his head slightly, deciding whether or not to be offended by the lack of effort.

He could feel his presence in the distance, the distance that closing with every echoing step. It was calm, collected, almost serene, something that he did not like.

He was never calm or collected. He was an earthquake of barely controlled madness, chaos and comedic tragedy incarnate.

He stepped through a set of doors that were hanging of their hinges that looked that would fall off from the slightest of pushes and he wondered if it was a hidden joke that the man delighted in.

The courtyard that he entered was built from the same insipid stone that the walls of the compound was made of, that grey, colourless stone that seemed to suck the life of anything that dared gaze at it. His eyes fixed on the figure that sat by a fountain, a fountain that looked out of place, the only thing that had any colour. His eyes flickered to the stone statue. It was a woman, a woman he recognised. The statue was clad in a bright red dress, the skin of the statue a warm tone with her cheeks slightly reddened. Her eyes were bright, large and grey as the black hair fell down her front in velvety waves. The expression of the face was one of melancholy, one that spoke of loss and sad acceptance whilst the eyes were distant, lost in remembrance.

He continued to walk, his steps reverberated around the courtyard, a break from the dull silence that permeated the room until he reached the edges of the inner section of the courtyard. His eyes returned to the figure who faced away from him, looking up at the large statue, his expression hidden in his limp frizzy salt and peppery hair that obscured much of his face.

He was wearing standard black robes with a furred collar that reminded of the Russian heritage of the man. He uncrossed his arms and pulled back behind his back as his posture changed to one of a straightened back.

Gellert watched intently, waiting in anticipation. Even with his wand palmed, even with his magic darkening the courtyard as his magic ebbed from him, he remained unconcerned, remained calm and collected as though nothing was out of place, nothing existed that could disrupt his day.

"She was very shy you know" his raspy voice croaked and creaked like the hinges of a rusty iron gate as he spoke in Russian. He remained fixed in his place, his eyes on the statue, his unkempt limp hair, the long hair that reached past his shoulders, swayed a little as he spoke.

"She was a mouse of a thing, easily misunderstood as being haughty when she was merely painfully shy, a terrible shyness of such fragility that" he unclasped his hands that were locked behind his back and made a articulate slow gesture that implied breaking "could crack at the slightest pressure, break under the lightest of blows." His raspy voice slowly lost its croakiness before it cracked like a leather whip.

"The only time she was not shy, the only time she was as hard as diamond, was when she played the piano. In those moments, she was magnificent" He said with a voice as hard and sharp as the blade of a sickle whilst his tone held a measure of respect and fondness. He turned around as he finished speaking, finally to face him.

Gellert took in his appearance. He hadn't changed over the years, a quite a few more white hairs but other than that, he was the same haggard man. His face was as gaunt as ever, his beard hung from his face like a bell from a grandfather clock.

His face was pale, near as white a skin could get before it turned to sickly grey, his bone structure sculpted too closely his skull as little muscle and fat lied underneath that thin withered wrinkled skin. The man's black eyes were dead and yet at the same time, a mad glint existed under the veneer of dispassion as his eyed fixed on Gellert.

"Rasputin" the words dripped from his words, disdain clear and apparent in his tone.

Gellert eyes flickered at the woman. "You captured her image well" he drawled in a delicate deliberate way that was hollow and bereft of a grain of kindness before his eyes returned to the man, watching, assessing his reactions.

His expression didn't change, he didn't move but Gellert saw the deepening madness that was slowly rising to the surface, for the moment like a calm blue whale that was on a path towards surfacing to suck in precious air.

"I thought so too." His opponent said with a voice that scraping, that was gnarly and emotionless. It belied the slight flicker Gellert felt in the man's magic.

"Curious though" Gellert mused softly as he eyed the man with inspecting eyes. "You would think that you would not be so keen to idolise her" his lips smacked together as his eyes shone in mocking delight "Given she exiled you."

The man smiled, and it was a smile that somehow managed to be acidic, amused and amiable at the same time. "You think I idolise her?" a cold, contemptuous laugh emanated from the man.

His crazed eyes glinted "She was MINE" he roared in unfettered rage, the foundations of the man breaking into a thousand pieces. His face was twisted in an ugly, cadaverous way as spittle burst out of his mouth, his yellowed teeth was bared at him.

He heaved as his magic grew erratic, as it grew torrential before he normalised his breathing, as just abruptly and sudden as his rage came, once more in control.

Gellert raised his eyebrow, mildly impressed at the way he managed to rear in his magic in such a quick way.

The man raised his grained scabby hand and wiggled his index finger that had dirt under the long nail at Gellert "You sowed chaos where chaos was not wanted" he accused in a tone that was as frigid and freezing as the air that surrounded them.

"Come now Grigori..." he drawled as a wicked gleam entered his eye, his body shifting ever so slightly. "Are you saying you interfered because you lost your muggle pet?" He asked in a velvety voice, his tone ripe with honeyed mockery.

Rasputin's magic was roused...Gellert felt his magic rise from him like a rising storm, the first grains of snow moving, precipitating the oncoming avalanche.

He continued "You cannot truly blame me for that" he said with false cheer as a derisive half smile cut across his face, mockery and provocation completely intended. "The muggles killed her. Surely you know this?" he drawled as his eyes gleamed in vindictive mockery. He might have escalated things but the Romanovs were always going to die.

This truly brought out the Rasputin he knew and heard of.

He'd met the man in his youth. An experience that had left him wary of the man, and a rude awakening that he had a long way to go. Rasputin was old...no one knows his true age, only that he is more than a century and a half old. His origins are not truly known only that he was from a peasant background. Whether he is a mudblood or not is unknown.

But what is known is that there he is a man steeped in the arcane. No one knows who taught him, where he was from but all did acknowledge his knowledge of magic. He knew much of the Old Arts, before diluted schooling took root in the magical world. His knowledge of blood magic was well known, he employed it to heal Prince Alexei consistently.

The ICW despised the man, not because of his dark leanings but because of his blatant use of magic to heal the Prince and general lack of discretion. The magical Romanovs had intervened on their distant cousins behalf, citing that Alexei was a squib therefore exempt from the Statute. He was aware of Rasputin being subjected to numerous assassination attempts by the ICW until they stopped when they discovered that no one they had could kill him as Rasputin left nothing of his would be assassins behind.

Gellert would not have chosen to make him an enemy if only for the reason of his unpredictability and the difficulty of countering his magic. He took precautions tonight, to ensure blood magic could not be used on him, an ancient Sumerian rite that he modified to ensure that his blood could not be used against him. He'd already taken precautions in his youth...with Albus...but he was sure that Rasputin had tricks that he might not foresee.

Alas, he had not counted on the...attachment, Rasputin felt for young Alexandra Feodorovna. It was a mystery as to why Rasputin cared for the woman, she was nothing but a common muggle, not even carrying a drop of magical blood like the Romanovs. It did mean however that his plans needed...creativity. The Romanovs, both muggle and magical had to go. They had too much power and their empires held populations that required being broken.

He was a scholar of history, he knew that the muggles had difficulties with dealing with Russia. A united strong Russia was not what he desired, one that would interfere with his plans in Europe. And so, he aided the communists as much as he could, subverting muggles with mind magic to make them more susceptible to treason. Rasputin had not flaunted the Statute given that the muggle...well squib Romanovs were clued into the secrecy but it played into his hands. The great dislike the nobles in court felt for Rasputin and in proxy Alexandra allowed him to drive a wedge between them all. Rasputin had to be far away from the royal family to ensure they all died.

And it all went to plan. Rasputin had survived his assassination attempt when he'd been shot but he'd faked his death, returning with another face and Alexandra had been spooked by the assassination attempt so much she ordered him away, even if he appeared with a different face, never to return as she feared for the safety of her family should he remain. And yet, in that single act, she sealed the death of her family.

The magical Romanovs had been just as easy to dispatch, the idea of removing the royals had seeped through magical Russia as well, especially amongst the poor purebloods and half bloods who had been neglected by the magical royals.

Rasputin's magic raged at the mockery, his eyes were a swirling mass of madness as Gellert felt the pure hatred in his magic. Rasputin's face remained stoic with flared nostrils, unmoving belying the depths of his hatred. His body heaved as he breathed heavily. He straightened himself out, his wand falling into his hand and subtly shifted himself into position as he faced Gellert at a slight angle.

"You do not see true beauty" Rasputin's voice was low, Gellert almost thought it serene. "She was little better than a curiosity, like a new species of flora that fascinated me, at first. Over time that changed and I saw her for what she was, something pure that had an innocence I have not seen for a long time, not since I was but a boy. Something I thought was long gone in this world of ours." His eyes began to glow faintly as his magic ebbed from him "It was the most precious possession of mine, something that belonged to me, something that only I could see." Gellert eyed him amusedly. It seemed Rasputin truly was mad.

Rasputin's face twisted in a grotesque facsimile of a toothy smile that showed his jagged yellowed teeth that contrasted sharply with the thick bushy beard. "You took that from me. You were responsible for her death and that of her family. You sowed chaos to further your agenda. You will reap what you have sowed, Grindelwald." He rasped out.

"Gregori..." Malice danced in Gellert's eyes, as the words passed his curled lips, whilst he rolled his shoulders, limbering his body in intense anticipation.

Moments passed as the magic roiled from the pair of them. Blackened magic against Maddened magic.

His lips curled in wicked glee. "The Master of Death always Reaps" he snarled out as he flicked his wand towards Rasputin with blinding speed, a purple blue curse, Demergo Puteus Onus, left his wand, a gravity curse that warped the gravity around the target. The purple blue curse sped towards Rasputin.

Cobbled stones rose from the ground to meet the curse and the cobbled stone crumbled in on itself as the ground in a perfect ten metre diameter cracked.

Magic crackled in the air as within milliseconds action broke out. The walls of the building blew apart as vicious furious spells were exchanged, the building torn asunder as great beasts were created and destroyed within seconds, the roof of the building collapsing on top of them only for it to be transfigured by a massive Hydra by Rasputin.

The eerie pale half moon hung in the cold air as it illuminated the battleground.

The great beast defied logic as it sped towards Gellert with blistering pace who swept his wand in a wide arc in a lightning quick fashion, creating a millimetre thick blade of wind that scythed the transfiguration in two before he jabbed his Death Stick and blew apart the two halves in thousands of spears that he sent to Rasputin.

Rasputin hadn't been idle and pointed his wand at the ground and with sharp wand movements spelled the ground before he disapparated with a silent pop evading the spears that pierced and penetrated the place he'd been by the thousands.

Gellert disapparated on the spot when he felt the change of the ground half a second before a great beast of molten lava erupted through the stone, casting off broken stone debris all across the place.

Gellert reappeared opposite Rasputin on the roof, the building now ripped apart in two, each of them on the other side with the magma creature rising through the air in the gap between them.

His magic hummed in his veins, black tendrils of magic were made visible in the light of the pale moonlight.

Rasputin magic manifested in shadow, smoky, extensions of himself. He was like a mirage, his body rippling like waves of the sea, such was the form his magic took.

Gellert had to admit, it was an impressive manifestation. Not many could manifest their magic for any extended period, certainly not in a way they wanted. He took a moment to glance downward.

The great magma creature dripped pools of molten rock, the earth quaked and shook the building, collapsing more of the compound as it climbed from the depths of hell before it sprouted wings and flapped its massive wingsuntil it managed to, somehow lift itself of the ground. The heat emanating from the creature caused swirls of hot gas to cloak its form, its hot exterior clashing with the biting cold of the air.

The magma creature soared and rose through the air, its great form momentarily blocking each others vision and the battle began once more.

Tentacles of shadows rose from the crevices of the broken building tearing through the remaining standing pillars of the building causing several sections of the roof to collapse and it was heading straight to Gellert.

The magma creature roared, its roar reverberating the dead of night, so powerful was the roar that it sent tremors through the air. The creature dripped molten rock even as it hung high in the sky, its wings, somehow, keeping it afloat.

He disapparated mere moments before the shadow tendrils ripped through the spot on the roof he'd been standing on, reappearing high in the sky above the magma creature. He glanced upward and saw that the boundaries of the wards were only a hundred or so metres above him. His cloak flapped in the cool air as he remained free of gravity for half a moment before his descent back to the earth began.

The creature reared its head towards him and opened its great maw and spewed a stream of molten rock at him at blistering speeds.

His eyes gleamed as his blood sung. Somehow the creature could sense him indicating that there was much more to it than he realised. The shadow tendrils ripped through the remaining structure of the compound, the entire place crumbling as hundreds of tendrils raced towards him, strengthened in the pale moonlight.

As he fell back towards the earth, into the direct path of the scorching stream of lava that was coming directly towards him, he pointed his wand directly below him with a series blindingly fast flicks and twirls, he condensed the air in front of him in a miniscule point, the area surrounding that point warping around the point.

Time slowed as the magma crossed the distance as he continued to fall towards the earth. He raised his free open hand as he waited for the right moment until finally, with a jab, he sent the condensed air careening into the lava.

He turned to the racing shadow tendrils and he snapped his wand towards them, the tip of his wand glowing an eerie white blue colour as a ball of light, a ball of searing light similar to a Patronus, grew until it was larger than himself. His free hand remained in control of the condensed air whilst he jabbed his wand towards the shadow tendrils and the ball of light shattered into thousands of jagged pieces of physical light that tore through the shadow tendrils, eviscerating them inside out as the jagged pieces wormed their way in, exploding within creating miniature suns. He turned his eyes towards the condensed air that neared the lava.

He closed his free hand and the condensed air collapsed in on itself before he reopened his straining hand and a massive shockwave ripped through the lava, breaking it into tiny red hot drops of rock. The shockwave spread through the air and hit him hard enough to halt his momentum and sent him back into the air. He righted himself in the air and watched for a few moments as he hung in the air, slowly falling again.

The shockwave continued to spread until it hit the magma creature, disrupting its flight before he conjured wide, thin steel spikes that he banished towards the creature, their speed breaking the sound barrier and tore through the magma creature causing the creature to fall towards the ruins of the compound.

The creature crashed into the ruins with a huge thud that sent debris flying across the land but the creature reconstituted itself and got up, the damage it sustained being repaired quickly.

He raised both his hands, his Elder wand pointing right in front of him. Swirls of strands of water converged to a single point, the size of the ball of water growing rapidly until it was dozens of metre wide in diameter. With a series of wand movements he infused the globe of water with a necromantic spell that darkened the water from blue into black blue before he sent it racing at the magma creature with a simple flick.

Gellert halted himself mid air before he disapparated back onto the ground, his feet landing softly on the dense snow, opposite Rasputin who had glowing orange runes in front of him, in ancient Norse runes. He narrowed his eyes imperceptively at the runes. Battle Runic magic hadn't been used for many centuries, mostly because it was deemed inferior to spell casting and because it telegrammed your actions.

The runes were nothing special and he couldn't perceive why Rasputin was using those runes and that worried him...almost.

"That was fun" Gellert drawled as he rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck before he readjusted the sleeves of his cloak. A pained howl reverberated in the night, loud sounds of steam whistling through the air as his globe of necromantic water ate through the life force of the magma creature until the earth shook slightly as it collapsed for a final time.

He eyed Rasputin with inspecting eyes. "You could have tried to take down the wards and try to escape" he stated curiously.

Rasputin's magic rose as he began to glow with power as he looked at Gellert with dispassionate eyes that didn't match his mocking smile "There is no escape for either of us" His form was surrounded by shadowy smoky waves of magic as Gellert braced himself, his magic thrumming in gleeful anticipation.

Gellert smiled at him that didn't reach his eyes. He raised his wand. "Then let's truly start our duel then, Gregori?"

Shadows spewed from Rasputin in all direction and Gellert brandished his wand, a bright flicker of flame sprouting from the tip of his wand.

The shadows formed into behemoth titans that seemed to suck the light, the life from the world as the earth they stood on withered and died under the heels of their feet.

The flicker of flame grew abruptly and rapidly as fifty feet constructs of Cyclops were created to match the shadow titans.

The two groups of awesome creations of magic hurled themselves at each other, their massive weapons and hands smashing into one other, the forms rippling and reconstituting themselves as they battled it out.

The runes that were in the air glowed ethereally before Rasputin with a jab sent them forward before they sunk into the earth. Gellert raised the earth around him, launching himself into the air on a podium that carried him into the heavens as the ground rippled, the earth undulating in capillary waves until it melted into sickening green acid that replaced what was once frozen soil.

Gellert swept his wand towards towards the battling behemoths that were reduced to a simple few, most of his Cyclops subsumed by the shadow titans and sent a pink yellow spell at the middle of the remaining creations. The spell savaged both groups before it reduced them into fiery and shadowy wisps before they were dispelled back into the world.

Rasputin flicked his wand upward and the acid rose in the air before he swished his wand and hurled the mass of acid to Gellert. He looked contemptuously as the acid before he snapped his wand towards the incoming acid and froze the acid before he transfigured the acidic ice into murder of crows before sending them towards Rasputin.

They swirled into a spiral tornado like formation as they dived towards Rasputin who with a lazy gesture vanished the crows before he launched series of spell chains at Gellert disapparated from the podium which was torn apart by seconds before he was gone.

He arrived opposite Rasputin and they exchanged terrifying salvos of spells that would have eviscerated the other had they been hit. Great and terrible magic was churned out by the pair of them as they clashed. Spells were countered, returned batted away with immense expertise and skills.

They radiated immense power as they fought, magic thickened the density of the air to incredible heights, the air shimmering with streams of blacks, of greys, of kaleidoscopes of awesome colours, the world becoming a canvas with magic as the paint and they, the brushes that imposed their wills and their power on the world.

The terrible beauty of their battle belied the awful nature of the magic that spewed, that was created as they danced a deadly duel to the music of life and death.

If the earth could speak it would howl at the torment and abuse it was suffering as its body was transfigured, transformed, destroyed throughout their battle. The soil died a silent death as necromantic and dark magic was seared into the earth.

Gellert spun on the spot before he created a swirling shield made of liquid metal that absorbed and deflected the constant stream of curses, some of those curses had grazed him but not enough to cause injury, that Rasputin sent his way before it ruptured causing Gellert to dance and turn away on the spot from the curses before he flicked his wand and vines with razor sharp hook sprouted from the ground forcing Rasputin to crouch and leap away with impossible strength as he landed dozens of metres away.

Gellert conjured a black sphere of energy that he dashed towards Rasputin, the ominous sphere of energy crackled in the frigid air as it raced towards Rasputin who conjured a shield of stone but the black sphere ate through the stone, meeting only half a moment of resistance before it continued towards Rasputin.

For the first time in the battle, Gellert saw surprise in Rasputin's eyes. Rasputin disapparated away from the sphere but the sphere changed course and went after him.

Rasputin continued to disapparate and apparate again and again as Gellert rained down volumes of spells at him even as the energy sphere chased after him. Rasputin zigzagged around the grounds, never standing still long enough for the spells to hit, even apparating into the air several times. No countering or dispelling spells managed to stop the black sphere of energy.

It seemed he had enough as Rasputin finally stood his ground, batting away, countering and shielding against the curses Gellert was sending him but not fast enough, not nimbly enough as some of his curses hit their mark and Rasputin took damage as one of his shearing curses hit him, taking a small chunk of Rasputin's upper left arm, through the protective robes.

The black sphere of energy closed the distance and Rasputin cried out a furious howl as waves of magic erupted out of him, finally managing to cause something to the black sphere before he snapped his wand and a stream of pure magic emanated from his wand, finally destroying the black sphere of magic.

Gellert hadn't been idle in that time and decided put on layers of anti apparition hexes over them, linking them to the wards that covered the grounds before he restarted his assault on Rasputin.

Rasputin ducked and weaved out of the hail storm of spells Gellert sent his way, each moment slowing ever so slightly more as Rasputin slowed.

He flicked towards the earth and tonnes of earth ripped from the ground that he with a brandish, sent careening towards Rasputin.

The tones of earth cracked apart and debris was flying towards Gellert before Rasputin transfigured the dirt into sickly yellow poisonous gas that he sent swarming towards Gellert.

Gellert swirled his wand, the tip of his wand growing wisps of fire until it grew into a firestorm that flew towards the gas with blistering speed until it made contact and burnt it all away. Rasputin hadn't been idle as he placed his wand on his throat and a violent shriek emanated from his throat that sent a wave of red white energy towards Gellert.

"Arrghh" he cried out before he wrapped his head with a cancelling charm, ending the assault on his ears. He gritted his teeth in fury as the wave closed the gap. The air distorted obscenely as it sped towards him and he raised his wand. The air rippled as rupturing waves of energy ripped through matter.

"Fortis Aegis" A golden shield came into existence that formed around him before he increased the power as he set his feet into ground.

The wave of energy crashed into his shield, causing him to grit his teeth as the energy didn't dissipate as it hit his shield. He narrowed his eyes at the magic.

He didn't recognise the spell but he recognised the familiarity of the magic. It was a form of evocation magic, he was sure of it.

He sunk deep into his magic as he closed his eyes and a deep well of magic burst as he called on it "Yeaargh" he cried out as his magic exploded out of him, through the golden shield, pushing out the wave of energy before he dropped his shield once his magic forced the wave of energy away from him that was sent back towards Rasputin who with a complex wand movement cancelled the wave of energy before he sent a flurry of spells at him.

Gellert dodged and ducked under the assault before he leapt out of the way of the orbs that left craters where he'd stood.

He landed and with a crouch in a sprinter position sped forward as he whirled his swirled his wand before his other hand flashed towards the ruined ground. His other hand strained and vividly shook as he sent waves of dark curses with his Elder wand.

The ground shot out dozens of cannon sized iron balls that raced towards Rasputin who was weaving his way out of the curses.

Rasputin glowed an ominous grey as the cannon balls neared him whilst Gellert kept up the pressure on him with dark curses that were all high energy curses designed to shear and tear through bodies and shields.

Gellert's eyes widened as Rasputin turned incorporeal, his body changing to literal smoke as his form rippled in waves. The iron balls tore through his smoky form just as the spells did though Gellert could see the strain on Rasputin's form.

He'd not seen that kind of magic before and he'd rip it out Rasputin's head before he killed him if he could. It seemed like the form effectively allowed him to be gaseous, allowing him to bypass physical and spells but he had a suspicion. He raised his wand, the tip of his wand crackling a dull yellow white lightning that shone radiantly in the dead of night as the pale moonlight touched the earth with its luminescence.

With a jab, the crackling yellow white lightning grew into a orb teeming with power that was sent racing towards Rasputin smoky form that was gathering itself at an astounding rate but not fast enough to dodge the lightning as it directly hit Rasputin and the world was filled with his screams of pain as the lightning fried him in ways Gellert knew had to hurt everywhere in his body.

Rasputin finally materialised, one of his knees on the ground as his dishevelled form heaved and twitched from the exposure to lightning. Rasputin looked up and looked at Gellert with hateful eyes.

Gellert brandished his wand and continued his assault with unrelenting dark curses. Rasputin got to his feet hastily and ducked and dodged out of the first spells.

Rasputin was slow, too slow to continue to dodge his way out of the spells and Rasputin tried to disapparate and hastily created a shield when that failed act cost him the rhythm he built. Gellert knew that Rasputin would not be able to take it down, not when he wouldn't give Rasputin the reprieve he'd need to attempt it.

Gellert battered the shield that Rasputin created incessantly with pause, the shield gonging and straining against the assault as Rasputin movement was restricted. Rasputin created seven hexagonal brass constructs that floated around him that alternating in taking some of the curses, lifting the strain that his shield was under.

He did not let that deter him as he sent a blindingly fast salvo of killing curses at Rasputin who used the brass structures to intercept, causing each of the brass constructs to deform and explode under the malicious magical energy before Rasputin turned the debris into blue silver fiery hawks that he sent towards Gellert.

He withdrew his wand and brought his hands together, a feet apart before he clapped and a shockwave of wind erupted from his hands before he palmed his wand again and with a swirl and a flick cast at the shockwave twisting it into a growing whirlwind that he fed magic into until it grew over hundred feet tall. He jabbed at it and sent it careening towards the blue silver fiery hawk and the whirlwind broke the structure of the fiery hawks before Gellert grabbed hold of the magic of the flames and imbued his whirlwind with the flames, creating a fiery silver blue tornado that raged towards Rasputin who Gellert could see was on his last legs.

"Protego Diabolica" Rasputin snarled as he turned on the spot, conjuring black blue flames around him in time to protect him against the firestorm that crashed against the protective dark flames.

He could feel the strain of the magicks that were pitting against each other. His eyes gleamed as a vicious smirk grew on his face. He raised his free hand and he poured more magic into the silver blue firestorm that grew and grew.

Waves of superheated air ebbed from the crash, the earth melting all around Rasputin as the firestorm grew in size, reaching hundreds of feet into the air with Rasputin in the eye of the storm.

With both hands raised, his Elder Wand in one and his other almost clawed as he controlled the firestorm, he proceeded to close the gap as he walked towards Rasputin.

He pushed more magic into the spell, Rasputin disappearing into the depths of the fires that raged against each other. He could feel the demonic shield buckling against his firestorm and his teeth bared in triumph as halted his movement, his eyes transfixed, his magic raging.

Rasputin cried out in exertion, his voice rising above the crackling and burning sounds of the fire. His hands held a slight tremor as he felt Rasputin give a push, likely his last before Gellert gritted his teeth and poured even more magic into the firestorm, finally shattering through the shield.

Rasputin's screams were music to his ears before he arced his wand and withdrew his magic, the firestorm reducing into a pittance of it was before it dismissed.

Rasputin was slumped in the middle of a lake of molten lava and Gellert with a series of quick flicks froze the earth, the quick change of temperature causing massive steams that caused Rasputin to rasp out a cry much to his sadistic joy.

He walked sedately on obsidian glass, his arms by his sides though his attentions and focus were still battle ready as he reached the burnt living corpse of Rasputin.

With a flick, he forced Rasputin upright and Gellert smiled viciously at the damage Rasputin suffered. His face had melted, his skin turned into liquid wax as hair was burnt off, leaving a burnt and bloody scalp in its place. His robes were burnt, the protective spells seemingly kept most of the damage away not enough as some of the robes melted into his skin. His left side was exposed to the elements as his body smoked a little into the cold air. Rasputin rasped in pained gasps, his eyes burnt out and his eye sockets covered by droopy liquid blackened skin.

He flicked his wand and took the burnt wand and scanned the man for anything else hidden in his robes or body. He found nothing.

"I'm honestly impressed you're still conscious." He said with a tinge of respect in his voice "I have to say...you look awful. Though I have to say it might actually be an improvement." His lips curled in savage amusement.

He watched Rasputin gasp, his ruined lungs straining to suck in air. He tilted his head in fascination.

"I have to thank you Gregori." He said with an easy tone as he flicked his wand, levitating Rasputin in the air, the movement causing him pain.

"It's been a while since I had such an interesting battle." He tilted his head "You might not know it but you certainly were not a trifle. It's a shame you never were a fighter really."

Gellert sighed when he saw Gregori drift into unconsciousness and with a series of twirls of his wand, undid some of the damage to his lungs and numbed the pain.

"Don't die yet, Gregori, I haven't yet given you leave." Gellert chastised a little, enjoying the sight of a defeated foe that was not weak, a foe that interfered where he had not right to.

He wouldn't be able to rummage through Rasputin's mind to that smoky form evocation spell with the destruction of Rasputin's eyes. For a moment he felt annoyed at himself for not taking care of how he disabled Rasputin.

Gellert set Rasputin down again, on his knees. He looked down at Rasputin whose head was bowed and only Gellert's magic was keeping him from sprawling down on the floor.

Rasputin rasped out "Ddo" he tried as he gasped in air "Yyou zink yyou wwon" he said with severe difficulty. He began to raise his head, the act pushing Rasputin more than anything. He tilted his head, his hideous, grotesque melted face turned to Gellert. Rasputin raised his hand, slowly and tremulously. "Yyou ccreate ggrggreatt ennnmies...jjjob ddddone" His grotesque face warped into a monstrous visage as the remaining muscles in his face strained in what could only pass as a vile smile. With a sharp and quick jab that caused Gellert to raise his wand and point it at Rasputin but he halted, curiosity winning over, Rasputin sunk three fingers into his exposed side, into his chest.

A stream of blood splurted onto the ground, the blood painted against a obsidian black blackdrop that glistened in the pale moonlight as it hit the growing pool of scarlet red liquid at the right angle.

"Mmmy-" Gellert swept his wand and Rasputin's head rolled from his body, the headless corpse collapsing to the ground. The act of stabbing himself, somehow with enough energy to pierce his body, was not a start of a ritual, he could not feel any energies but he would not allow Rasputin to continue to speak words that might empower a ritual.

However, it seemed, it was too late. The earth began to glow ominously red as orange runes floated over Rasputin's body. He felt the swirling mass of energy and the runes that seemed simple, unfurled themselves as a dozen runes grew into two dozen, then three and on and on.

It chilled him to the bone.

He disapparated but he was thrown out as he collided with the growing magical energy, thankfully he cancelled it without splinching.

Faster than he'd cast before, he banished himself high into the air "Fortis Aegis MAXIMA" he bellowed out as the magical energy in the surroundings rose to a crescendo and it wasn't long before the world exploded into a cacophony of destruction. He hissed as blinding light surrounded him, as the destructive wave of whatever Rasputin did crashed against his shield that began to crack under the weight of the magic.

Gellert was worried, more than he'd been worried in a long time as spidery cracks grew as the world was drowned out in massive waves of energy, of sound until another wave washed over his shield, deepening the crash. He could not break the spell for he'd certainly be hit by whatever that magic was, he was uncertain he'd survive.

He strained as he felt his magic drained dangerously quickly, the strain of sustaining a shield against the massive amount of energy, a shield that was almost destroyed, was draining him.

One last wave hit him and it was enough to destroy his shield and he just about cash another shield, an instinctive one that created a bubble around him, as he dropped into unconsciousness from the force of the remnants of the wave of energy.

"...ord!"

"...My...sir!"

Gellert strained to open his eyes. "My lord!"

"Cease your prattling" he muttered annoyed and pained.

He opened his eyes fully and saw he was surrounded. One of his men came forward and Gellert waved him away as he forced himself up. He could not show weakness. Not now.

He got to his feet and looked around him with inward begrudging respect at the madness of the Russian. He was in a massive crater, easily half kilometre wide and deep.

"Explain" he ordered as he kept his calm and his eyes on his surroundings.

"I...my lord, I can't explain. All I could see was a blinding light and an earthquake that took us off our feet before a wave of air threw us off." One of his men explained. He swivelled his head and looked at the man with an intense glare before he broke up and stared at the sky that was obscured.

"How long ago did that explosion happen?" he asked sharply. How long was he out for?

"An hour or so sir! The explosion threw us far" one of his men explained. An hour out? Well, it could have been worse...all things considered.

Before he could question anything further, Gellert turned on the spot and drew his wand, the tip of his wand glowing. Someone apparated in and it was a young man, someone he recognised but he didn't put down his wand even as the expression of his follower was one of shock and fear at his surroundings, at the level of destruction, as he looked wide eyed at the wand that pointed between his eyes.

The young man caught himself as Gellert looked at him with displeased eyes. "My lord!" he hastily said as he got to his knees and bowed his head.

"Why are you here?" Gellert asked in a low dangerous tone.

He raised his head and Gellert could see deep fear in his eyes. "My lord! We're under attack!"

Gellert didn't wait for anything further and dived into his follower's mind. The follower stiffened under the assault and half a minute later, gasped out in mild pain as Gellert let off a subconscious growl.

He swivelled his head sharply at the men who'd come with him. "Some of our men have reported that they're under attack, simultaneously. Go to all of our bases north of Minsk and they are to retreat causing maximum damage to the Russians. I suspect that it is a concerted effort to dislodge us from Russia. Nothing can be allowed to be used by our enemies and they are to show no mercy." He narrowed his eyes dangerously as his men looked at him with surprise on their faces. "Make certain that they are to activate every single trap." he said with a fury lacing his voice. "Is that understood"

"Yes my lord" they intoned as they apparated out.

Fury burbled beneath his skin as realisation dawned on him, why Rasputin let himself be found. He'd dismissed the notion at the beginning, a man like Rasputin who'd evaded men for longer than he'd been alive when he didn't want to be found.

He turned around and looked at the kneeling young man. His eyes must have been have rage in them because the young man looked like he was about to pass out. "Leave" he said in a rumbling soft tone, belying the sheer anger he felt and how close he was to losing his patience.

The young man said nothing else as he got to his feet and disapparated out with a loud crack.

He stared for some time at the crater. He'd come close to death today. He'd undergone a number of vitality and healing rituals that would repair his body at a fast rate, just as it is repairing now.

Gellert set his jaw as his fists clenched, the noise of the clenching permeating the distance. Rasputin was a trap. He was in no condition to fight today, nor was he in a condition to fight tomorrow. Enough time to push them out of entrenched positions.

'Yyou ccreate ggrggreatt ennnmies...jjjob ddddone' Rasputin's voice whispered in his head.

That had greater meaning, meaning that he would have to dedicate time to. He'd taken steps to compartmentalise his forces into cells, none knowing exactly beyond their cells, who in turn reported to men who'd sworn loyalty oaths and who in turn reported to his lieutenants. He had his favourites, three now instead of four but he had a dozen lieutenants, all competent. If there were traitors, they should have been discovered given the measures that he'd employed and had his men use.

He shook his head minutely. He could not dwell on it, not until he recovered, mentally and magically.

He felt his magic and he knew he was nearing exhaustion. He unholstered his wand and weaved it around, feeling the magic of his surroundings. He couldn't sense or determine much but the taint of dark magic was there.

"Blood magic" he murmured lowly.

"Those runes..." He must have set the ritual then...his death must have been the activating aspect of the blood magic.

He gritted his teeth. He'd underestimated the man. He'd gotten out fine, if just barely but he was growing too confident, too sure of himself that none could beat him. He glanced at his wand with narrowed eyes.

He looked away and shook his head. "No...It's not the wand." He denied softly. Rasputin had prepared the battlefield well in advance, well before he'd arrived. No one could have done this without prior work.

The runes were part of an activation sequence, the death the final one. The simultaneous attacks to the duel he had with Rasputin, the final measure of Rasputin to gravely wound him if not kill him causing him unable to be interfere for the duration of the attacks.

He smiled grimly. "Well played Rasputin." He might despise the man, but he couldn't help but have a hateful respect for the man who caused significant damage to his cause. It seemed he'd soundly lost this. The death of Rasputin was proving to be bitterer than he had imagined.

To think that all this was partly because of a weak dead muggle...

He withdrew a small palm sized smooth stone from the inside pocket of his robes and held it in front of him before his eyes flickered to the crater.

His campaign in Russia was a failure. The grim look on his face didn't fade for sometime as he stared at the crater. He'd need to be more careful and more importantly, he needed victories and fast. Men were fickle. None more so than those who followed the strong.

His cause was righteous and necessary but it would not sate the fears of men. Weakness begot weakness and at the moment, he could ill afford such perception.

The Mad Russian must be laughing himself silly in whatever hell he was in, mocking him.

His eyes hardened. He would achieve his goals, no matter the cost, no matter what he'd have to do. His hand clenched tightly around the stone.

"For the greater good" and with a swirl, he was gone, his mind fixated on Rasputin's croaking, mocking, haunting laugh reverberated in his mind that he was sure was reaching him from the depths of hell.