Luckily, she knew how to check whether it was just her imagination or real. So once she made sure she was alone, she began.
‘This is about to be really unpleasant, but I have to do this.’
“ētēowa mē tā sceadu t?s tōweardan, turh dōm and wyrd!” (Reveal to me the darkness of the future, through judgment and fate! )
She shuddered— It felt like an unknown entity was consuming her power.
“Shit! Fate is a real being here!” She cursed. Her bad feeling had made her fall back on her habits. This was bad. Very bad. She had to act quickly if she didn’t want to get consumed! Quickly putting together a ritual in her mind, she pulled a silver knife from her inventory and cut her hand while screaming.
“Ascynd tone onweald ?ltēodiscra mytica!” (Sever the influence of foreign mythics!)
She felt her magic getting drained even quicker, but the foreign grip on her power weakened, and she managed to wrest away what she’d tried to summon before cutting off the contact.
‘Was a bit more troublesome than expected, but it worked out after all.’ She thought, while around her, darkness spread. The air grew cold, and biting winds spread within the room.
‘Seems like my feeling was right after all. This is far beyond what Voldemort could cause. We’re in an AU for sure, and in a dangerous one at that. Seems like I’ll need to prepare after all.’
Azarynth hurried to Dumbledore. She had to do this fast— she had to prepare some more Grimoires after all. She reached his office and, after trying out a few sweets as passwords, finally had success using liquorice sticks. She walked up the stairs, calming down and making sure her stress was hidden.
“Hello, Albus.”
“Hello, Azarynth, what do you need from me?”
“Would it be alright if I left the school grounds while I don’t hold lessons? Some things just came up, and I need to deal with them in person.”
“Do those things have something to do with the darkness that spread in your classroom a few seconds ago? If so, I’d like to know what caused it, but you can leave, of course. Use Minerva’s floo when you do.”
“Yes, it does. I was performing a divination because I had a bad feeling about the future. I wanted to use it to soothe my feelings, but it turned out my instincts were right. Fate herself prevented me from seeing more, but the future is dark, Albus, very dark. So I will prepare for every eventuality. I will not let my students be swallowed by this darkness if I can prevent it. You should prepare too.” She began leaving the office
Stopping in the doorway, she left behind some last words, “Oh and Albus, don’t trust prophecies. They are given out by Fate on a whim, and she is obviously interested in spreading this darkness. The prophecy may be meant to lead us all into darkness.”
Dumbledore took a deep breath. Azarynth had just left his room after warning him of the prophecy. This was concerning. The darkness he had felt in her room was not inferior to Voldemort in the slightest, maybe even stronger than his, but it was also most definitely not him. And her warning about the prophecy… Maybe he would have to change his plan after all.
Her eyes weren’t those of a liar after all. And if Fate herself really was for the spread of darkness, then all his plans would be for nought. It might be necessary to take some drastic measures and dip his hands into the magic he’d wanted to leave behind.
‘No! I will only use that in the direst necessity. I’ll let her shoot her shot first.’
Azarynth had similar considerations. She wanted to make sure another person was preparing, so she informed the most powerful wizard in Britain of what she had seen. After all, she was sure he had some tricks up his sleeve that would most definitely come in useful if the darkness really began winning.
She was going to let him prepare while she did the same, and she already knew where to start. But for this, she would have to visit her old friends’ homeland once again.
“Hello, Minerva. Would it be alright if I used your floo?”
“Sure. Where are you going?”
“Visiting an old friend in Germany. I need to visit Gringotts first, though.”
“Sure, just call out Diagon Alley, and you’ll appear at Tom’s place.”
“Thanks, Minerva.”
Griphook’s year had gotten even more interesting. He’d somehow become the account manager of three of the richest and most influential houses in the history of the magical world, going from a regular desk clerk to one of the higher echelons, he’d complained about before, in one fell swoop. All thanks to one woman. Azarynth Veyloran had returned from the dead after five millennia and reclaimed her titles, and for some reason made him her account manager before going to Hogwarts as a teacher.
He was ripped out of his internal monologue by a woman entering his room. It was her, of course, Azarynth Veyloran, the woman responsible for the extreme changes his life has undergone in recent days. He had to do a double-take because of the expression on her face. She was actually concerned! This was not looking good.
“Good Morning, my Lady. What has you concerned?” The shock these words caused on her face was delicious. The pleasures of being polite as a goblin were truly immeasurable.
“Winter is coming, Griphook.” She said that in an ominous tone, as if she had told a big secret and not just told a simple fact of nature. Everyone knew that seasons change. That was no cause of concern, unless...
“Are you referring to darkness?”
“Ah, right. I forgot this is the wizarding world of 1995. Yes, it refers to darkness. Something is happening, something big, and we need to be prepared for it to go down, so I have decided to prepare. That naturally includes warning the other factions that could do something. I decided to start with the Goblins and continue with Grindelwald, as he might know more.”
“I apologise, but due to a magical contract signed in 1891, we are explicitly forbidden from directly interfering with the wizarding world’s conflicts. We are not only incapable of starting any, but also of interfering in a preexisting one, as long as we are not attacked first. Damn you, Ranrok,” He continued with a crafty smile, “Of course, this doesn’t hinder us from, for example, letting someone access Nurmengard’s floo connection we have here, as that has completely nothing to do with any incoming war. “
He saw a small smirk cross her face. “Thank you very much, Griphook. Do prepare for a future attack on Gringotts, though. I highly doubt you will be left alone by the chaos.”
“Oh, we will,” a battlethirsty smile crossed his face, “Trust me, we will.”
“Alright. I’m on my way. Where is the floo?”
“This one has access to Nurmengard. There are no guards there. Everything is done by wards due to his legendary silver tongue. The goblin wards there are currently experiencing a mysterious outage, no doubt caused by neglect from the ICW. Good luck.”
He had been here for a long time. Almost fifty years, according to the lines he’d carved into the walls of his cell. He hadn’t seen anyone except the occasional Goblin. No doubt to make sure he wouldn’t try to escape, by turning one of theirs to his side. Luckily for him, the goblins had been nice. They, surprisingly, made for great conversation partners when they weren’t trying to fleece every galleon you had.
It was at this point that he heard steps coming up the stairs.
“Too heavy to be a goblin,” he muttered to himself,” so my time has finally come.”
He stood up. It took everything he had, but he wanted to, at the very least, die standing. He had to lean against the wall to steady himself for a few seconds, but managed to stand up independently.
The woman who entered was not at all like he expected. She wasn’t in the standard hit-wizard clothing, instead choosing ragged but obviously enchanted and reinforced old robes. She even carried a Grimoire! And, as he now realised, a cup of tea, which she placed on a table she had just wandlessly conjured.
Grindelwald was old, in a way age alone could not explain. His eyes were filled with regret, his whole posture screamed of the pride of a man who believed himself dead already, and he was so thin she was confused he still had skin on his bones. She had literally seen skeletons who looked healthier than him.
Despite that, he stood up, using what seemed like pure spite and pride instead of muscles. Azarynth was impressed, no more than that, she was admiring his will. A man like that deserved admiration, no matter his circumstances and current state.
She conjured a table and put down the teacup she had carried up the stairs onto the far end, before conjuring two more chairs, one for him and one for her, before gesturing to the chair with the teacup in front of it.
“Sit down. I am here to talk.”
He sat down with obvious effort, and she once again found herself wondering how he managed to move in the first place.
They sat across from each other in silence for a while until he finally took a sip of tea, before starting to talk, obvious suspicion marring his face.
“I don’t know how you managed to enter this place, but I will not be helping you with conquering the whole world or anything like that. I’ve grown to understand the mistakes of my past.”
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Her admiration started turning into respect. A man who was obviously half-starved to death, outright refused to support something against his newfound morals. Someone like that was someone she wanted on her side in the coming conflict. There was no need for any more tests.
“Good. Lucky for you, I don’t want that in the slightest. Ruling the world sounds like a lot of paperwork, and just isn’t attractive to me in the slightest.”
He seemed surprised by that. The time in seclusion had obviously removed every ounce of control over his expression he’d once possessed.
“Darkness is rising. I have no idea what it is. I barely managed to wrest that much from Fate, and she nearly killed me for it. Whatever that darkness is, it is strong, and Fate herself supports its rise. The world will need all the help it can get, so I am searching for anyone powerful and willing to help. You came to mind. If you’d reformed and had a bit of training, you’d be the best recruit I could find. Lucky for me, you reformed. That much is obvious.”
She conjured a contract. “I will need you to sign this if you want to leave.
The Accord of Conditional Release
Commonly known as The Nurmengard Compact
Let it be known and bound,
That on this day, beyond the reckoning of mortal calendars, an Accord is forged between the following parties:
Azarynth Veyloran,
Hand of Balance,
Matador of Souls,
hereafter referred to as The Arbiter,
and
Gellert Grindelwald,
once Supreme Mugwump,
now Prisoner of Nurmengard,
hereafter referred to as The Bound Party.
- Purpose of the Accord
- The Arbiter has foreseen the rise of a darkness not bound to any known faction, prophecy, or mortal ambition.
- Said darkness constitutes an existential threat to the stability of the world.
- The Arbiter seeks capable agents willing to oppose this threat.
- The Bound Party has demonstrated genuine remorse, ideological severance from prior ambitions, and the will to resist said darkness.
This Accord exists solely to permit the Bound Party’s participation in the coming conflict.
- Terms of Release
- Upon acceptance of this Accord, the Bound Party shall be released from physical confinement within Nurmengard.
- Said release does not constitute absolution, pardon, or restoration of former status.
- The Bound Party remains magically bound to the Arbiter at all times.
III. Obligations of the Bound Party
The Bound Party shall:
- Act exclusively against entities, forces, or agents directly aligned with the rising darkness.
- Refrain from all acts of conquest, domination, ideological coercion, or governance.
- Abstain from influencing political structures, populations, or institutions for personal gain.
- Obey all direct commands issued by the Arbiter in matters pertaining to the Accord’s purpose.
- Submit to re-training, correction, or restriction as deemed necessary by the Arbiter.
Failure in any of the above constitutes Breach.
- Prohibitions
The Bound Party shall never:
- Attempt to rule, guide, or “save” the world according to personal vision.
- Seek followers, disciples, or successors.
- Employ mass-destructive magic except where explicitly authorised.
- Attempt to tamper with, obscure, or circumvent the bindings of this Accord.
Intent alone is sufficient to trigger consequence.
- Authority of Judgment
- The Arbiter alone shall determine:
- What constitutes the rising darkness.
- Whether the Bound Party acts in good faith.
- Whether a Breach has occurred.
- No external court, prophecy, deity, or Fate-aligned entity holds jurisdiction over this Accord.
- Consequences of Breach
In the event of Breach:
- The Accord shall enact immediate punitive enforcement.
- Said enforcement may include, but is not limited to:
- Reinstatement of confinement.
- Permanent severance from magic.
- Dissolution of body, soul, or both.
- No appeal shall be possible.
VII. Duration
- This Accord remains in effect until:
- The Arbiter declares the darkness ended, or
- The Bound Party is destroyed.
- Voluntary withdrawal by the Bound Party is not permitted.
VIII. Acknowledgement
By signing, the Bound Party affirms:
- Full understanding of all terms.
- Willing acceptance without coercion.
- Recognition that mercy is neither implied nor promised.
Signed in Will and Intent,
Azarynth Veyloran
The Arbiter
Gellert Grindelwald
The Bound Party
“If you want to make any changes to the contract, propose them now.”
“Add that you are not allowed to lie when it comes to the darkness, that only the real darkness can be called such and not all of your opponents.”
Azarynth quickly added the term before asking whether he wanted to make any more changes to the contract. Upon receiving a negative answer, she pulled out two silver knives.
“You know what to do.”
Both of them cut their hands before pressing their thumbs against the paper.
A connection arose between their souls, giving Azarynth the power to enforce punishment upon Grindelwald should the contract be broken.
“Thank you. Now stand up. You need potions and a ton of training to get back into shape.”
They both did, with Azarynth summoning a cane for Grindelwald.
“Due to Dumbledore, I cannot give you the Elder Wand back, but that should be a decent replacement.”
She handed him the cane and smiled happily as he saw his reaction. It was almost as pronounced as hers when she had gotten her wand. It was as she’d expected, a perfect match.
“Thank you,” He whispered, “for everything.”
He shook his head and quickly broke the increasingly emotional atmosphere. “We should go. The wards have no doubt already informed the ICW that you are here. I have no idea why you took the time for a nice tea party, but if we don’t move quickly, we will be swarmed by hit-wizards.”
“No need to stress. The wards have fallen, no doubt due to neglect from the ICW. The Goblins definitely have nothing to do with it.” She left and walked towards a fireplace. “Let’s floo to Gringotts. They will definitely have a polyjuice for the mysterious guest of the Head of House Veyloran.”
In front of the door to Sluggs and Jiggers Apothecary stood two figures. One of them was a well-known woman wearing a ragged robe, and the other one was wearing similar clothing and had remarkably similar looks. One could almost confuse them for one another, were there not the slight fact that the second figure was male. They were, of course, Azarynth Veyloran and Gellert Grindelwald, who now went by the name Gareth Rabenwald.
The goblins had a field day with the name, even going as far as to recommend Gareth Grindelwaldt as his new full name. Both Gellert and Azarynth were so taken over with laughter that they barely managed to refuse the suggestion. Finally, after other names like Grindelmann or Grindelmeier were refused, they gave up and accepted Rabenwald. It was at least not as obviously similar as the previous suggestions.
“So let’s get you your nutrition potions, Gareth.”
They entered the store and were received by an old balding man with a crafty smile.
“Hello, my dear customers! What do you require of my humble shop?”
“We’d like nutrition potions for my Grandfather. He was kidnapped many years ago, and we just managed to get him back. Sadly, he’s a Muggle, so we cannot bring him to St. Mungos, but he will die soon if he doesn’t receive assistance.” Gellert put on his most convincing, if slightly awkward, powerless-muggle-face, which luckily seemed to be enough.
“No problem.” The man took out a few boxes from behind him. “Take one of these twice a day. Right after waking up and right before going to sleep. Give it one week, and he’ll be right as rain. Twenty Galleons.”
“Thank you so much.” They left the money and bowed before leaving the shop.
Once outside he quickly thanked Azarynth, before both of them headed towards Gringotts. Gellert went to Winterfell to rest in a real bed for the first time in years, while Azarynth continued her recruitment efforts with some more help from Gringotts.
After Gellert was sent home, Azarynth finally sat down to talk to the current king of Goblins, Ragnuk the fifth, about the darkness she was preparing for.
“So let me get this straight. You used a ritual to peer into the future, circumventing Fate herself, almost got yourself killed due to it, but managed to cut her influence off, and are now preparing for the darkness that Fate apparently supports. Did I get that right?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. This just sounds ridiculous, but I believe you. That does sound like something that could happen. Now to prepare. Hmmm… You already realised that you need allies, and we will continue to help you with that by naming potential ones. It skirts the contract, but it doesn’t break it, so it’s fine.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. I’m saving my own skin just as much as yours by doing this. Now, the next person you should visit would be Maharishi Asim Jaggi. He is the most powerful wizard in India, if you don’t count Mahavatar Babaji, who hasn’t been seen in a few millennia. He should still be alive, considering his immortality, but you can’t very well recruit someone you can’t find. Still, the Maharishi is, at the very least, Dumbledore’s equal and is not nearly as soft-hearted, so he would be very useful as an ally.”
“Do you have a way to contact him?”
“Better yet. We have a floo connection to his office, and he is free for the next hour, so go along.”
He was tired. Not in the physical sense, of course, a wizard of his power could deal with that easily, but tired in mind. He was now 159 years old, and it had been over 50 years since he’d last taught students. Accepting the position of headmaster had been the worst decision of his life, especially considering how much of his time it took up. Still, he had to do something, and he was no longer capable of teaching anyone.
Magic had changed so much since his days… Gone were the days of wonder, where even the simplest of magic could fascinate someone for hours. Gone were the days of curiosity, where one would search for days, weeks, just to make a new spell possible or at least slightly better. Now the students all believed magic figured out. That the books were true, that the teachers were always right.
They didn’t understand magic. Not in the slightest. Magic wasn’t something you could bind with rules. Spells weren’t something you could assign to so-called domains. How did it get to this? How had magic deteriorated so much?
It had to be the education. Someone had to have made a mistake somewhere with the new students. But he didn’t know where to start looking. Had it been him? He’d always tried to show the students that so-called laws of magic were just guidelines, and he knew for a fact the other teachers of his era had tried the same, but now even his Professors seemed to believe the nonsense in the books.
An example would be Gamp’s law of Transfiguration. It claimed food couldn’t be conjured out of thin air. Doing so was as easy as breathing for him, but whenever he tried to show it, the teachers spouted some nonsense about how summoning was possible, or how he must’ve transfigured it back from the air he had no doubt made it into to teach them a lesson to not doubt Gamps’ law. How close-minded could you be!
He had tried and tried without success, and eventually just had to accept that two things are infinite. The possibilities of magic and the human capacity for stupidity.
What was even worse was that the teachers believed themselves to have reached the true pinnacles of their fields. Even that brat Dumbledore thought he had reached the pinnacle of transfiguration. Even he didn’t understand that there was no pinnacle in magic. Just like everyone else, he had lost the curiosity, lost the spirit of research, lost the future. And now… Now, even the great Dumbledore, a talent like no other, had turned to just another wizard without knowledge.
He had slowly seen how the last embers of knowledge, true knowledge, not the law nonsense, were snuffed out one by one. It turned out not even knowledge could withstand the sands of time, and so one by one his fellow professors, his fellow researchers and his friends died to their age, and their knowledge went with them. Now, only he was left. No longer trying to instil that sense of wonder as he once had. He had given up. It seemed it was just not meant to be. Books had won against mind. Legacy against curiosity.
Or so he thought. Because the woman who just entered the room obviously knew the truth about magic. It was visible in her gait, in her clothes, in her Grimoire, in her very soul. Everything about her screamed magic. True magic, not that make-believe science the new generation had made it into. It seemed he was not as alone as he thought, and from the respect in her gaze, it seemed she had just realised the same.
“It is an honour to meet you, Maharishi.” He said, to her confusion.
“Likewise, Maharishi Jasim Aggi.” She responded, despite her surprise at the title.
“You wonder why I call you that, don't you? Maharishi is a title given to those of great knowledge, or to be precise, it is given to great sages. Your knowledge of magic and wisdom suffices for that title.”
“Thank you very much, Maharshi.” She bowed to him in the way of the Japanese.
“No need for formalities like that. Just sit down and tell me why you are here.” He gestured towards the empty chair in front of him.