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Manipulations to War | ||||||
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Category: Pre-OotP Characters:Sirius Black Genres: Drama Warnings: Death Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 19 Summary: Sequel to Harry's second Christmas. James and Lily are dead, and Sirius, Remus and Anwen are living in the Potter keep with Harry. They want him to have a well balanced childhood, but the need to keep him safe is greater. Sirius is working to unravel where the Potter money went while Anwen wants to discover why they were in Godric's Hollow and not safely in the Potter's home. Hitcount: Story Total: 18921; Chapter Total: 685 Author's Notes: Finally, here is the new chapter this week. Thank you to my amazing beta and Friend Arnel. She sits with me and works through plots and is just amazing and wonderful. You should read her stuff, it's great! |
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Chapter 31: The Chess Player 12 September 1986 Auror Anwen Parker-Black wasn't frightened by much in life. She learned to control her fear when she was a little girl, surrounded by older girls in her music and dance school. If she showed any anxiety, they would have torn her apart. She never displayed the slightest fright while flying between Beaters twice her size or through the midst of a Quidditch match to get the Snitch; she would have lost the game. Being the smallest Auror meant she needed the thickest armour; taking down any Death Eater helped her maintain her calm. At this moment, though, she was frightened. "That castle," she whispered. "The Dark magic is just clinging to it like a shroud." It was the only way she could describe what she was seeing. What had undoubtedly once been a beautiful castle was now being held together by oily, thick, undulating magic. The pointing was flaking away between the stones, and the towers stood at unbelievable angles. The central tower, which had once been the prison, now stood as a decaying mass atop the rectangular building. No longer did the castle gleam in the mountain air; it was instead always in the shadows of the grey clouds the Dementors produced. This was not the place of life it had been built for –this place, Nuremgard Castle, was a place of death. “I can feel it,” Kingsley said to his partner. “Will you be able to walk through it?” “I’ve walked through Azkaban to interrogate prisoners; I can do this. You forget just how strong my Patronus is." The enormous golden griffin exploded into being and bowed to its caster with a flick of her fingers. It then turned and began walking toward the castle, tendrils of sparkling magic floating behind it, covering Anwen and Kingsley in a protective bubble. “You don’t have to show off,” he said with a grin. He loved taking the mickey out of her. Before her marriage, she'd had a beautiful kestrel that flew high above her when she needed protection or was speedy with her Patronus messages. After her marriage to Sirius, who’s dog was a precise copy of his Animagus, the pair changed and became a creature that was both earth and sky – the griffin. That they were both proud Gryffindors had nothing to do with the selection either, she was sure. On occasion, they could produce their old patronuses, usually just for messaging. “I forgot how enormous that thing is,” King said, and the griffin turned its head to look at him. “Or how temperamental.” “She’s only as temperamental as the caster,” Anwen said softly, looking ahead. They reached the security checkpoint and were soon inside. The British Ministry had requested the two Aurors be allowed a visit, and it was rapidly approved. Nevertheless, it had taken Anwen a month to get herself ready for the interrogation. This case had hundreds of moving parts she needed to put together like a puzzle until she could finally see the big picture. Alice had wanted to come, but it was decided that King would be a much better second for Anwen, as Grindelwald's prejudices towards those who were not only less than pure-blooded but also against those of any skin tone save alabaster were well documented. He was sexist as well. How better to get under his nerves than a half-blood witch and pureblood wizard of African descent. The pair had spent three days in the Potter-Black home preparing for this meeting, with different members of Team Harry coming in to help as they could. Anwen had always somewhat resembled her grandmother, but for this meeting, she was upping the ante. The young woman had chosen to give herself a helmet of soft curls pinned close to her face with magic. She'd also chosen a much deeper lipstick than she usually wore and used far more dark eyeliner than usual. In her tailored blouse and mermaid-style skirt, Anwen could have been a model from the late twenties. The cloche, which belongs to her grandmother, sat on her head. The outer robes were taken from the attic at Linden Hall and had been worn by Fee. Even Sirius admitted she looked less like his modern wife and more like her grandmother when she was in her twenties. Anwen wanted Gellert Grindelwald off balance from the minute she stepped into his rooms. The Auror who took them up to the third floor, where Gellert had been given an apartment within the castle complex, went over the rules. He confiscated their wands – they couldn’t risk the man getting his hands on one – although it was no loss to Anwen. She had to dig the thing out of the safe in the master bedroom to bring it with her today. Anwen could do far more damage with a flick of her finger than Gellert could dream of, even if he had a wand. “He’s unhappy his right-hand woman was destroyed last month,” the Auror named Anouk Holzer said to them as they climbed the stairs. “There was a violent thunderstorm, and when it had passed, Vinda Rosier was dead.” Anwen smiled slightly, knowing the storm were the Furies who had sought judgment against the one who had tricked a sister. “We used to keep him in the tower, but as you could see on your coming in, it has deteriorated greatly.” “Repressed magic will do that,” Kingsley said. “It attacks everything around it.” “That’s what they tell us. You’re certain you don’t need me with you,” he said as they approached the door. “You’re very…petite.” Anwen didn’t think he was referring to King. "Don't let her size fool you," Kingsley said defensively. "She's the mother of three and can still take down me, two other Aurors, and her husband, who was a Hit Wizard. Plus, her hand-to-hand is quite something. I’d need your protection more than she does." The other Auror looked at Anwen with respect and just a touch of fear. She'd need to buy Kingsley a stellar fifth of whiskey for that one. Auror Holzer tapped a series of knots on the heavy double doors, and they swung open. Anwen slipped her arm through Kingsley's bent one, it was all an illusion they were creating, and the pair went inside. They waited until the doors had entirely shut before they approached the wizard sitting to one side of a chessboard. Albus had warned her that he'd want one of them to play against him. It was a good thing she and Albus had played together for years while she was at Hogwarts and beyond when they had their weekly tea. "Come, come," Gellert said. "What does the British Ministry want with me now?" It was two in the afternoon, but it could have been two in the morning in this room. The room's architecture was fabulously retro, all in the warm golds and browns of twenties art-deco style. The accents were turquoise, coral, and blue. The wood pieces had intricate inlays in geometric styles, while the seating was all rounded and well-cushioned. On the walls hung many paintings – some the Aurors recognized as from the Lost Artwork listing the Aurors kept. They were all stollen, most likely from families who had been murdered by Grindelwald and his followers. Bile rose in Anwen's throat, but she kept her face placid and looked at the rich inlay pattern on the marble floor. Gellert Grindelwald looked surprisingly spry for a man in his early hundreds. He wore a suit that was styled after outfits from the First World War. Dozens of buttons went down the front of the waistcoat and the outer robes, which did not cut away at the waist to ease movement like modern ones did. His cuffs and neckline were tight, the jacket rising to just below his chin and the frill of his shirt peeking out above it. The cuff on the wrists covered the top half of his hand. There was even golden brocade on the shoulders, like epaulets. All of it was dark, save the shirt, which was stark white. His eyes were disconcerting, one blue and one so deep brown it appeared black. Albus had explained the damage had happened during an early fight between the two. The blue eye was a magical prosthetic, necessary because a Lightning Bolt Spell had gone awry and had burned out Gellert's cornea. The man liked his two mismatched eyes because they made people nervous around him. Grindelwald still had a shock of white hair, although it was more immense and more unkempt now and reminded Anwen of the Muggle scientist, Albert Einstein. Gellert had yet to look up, too interested in polishing his white queen, but he did once the Aurors were in the circle of light a lamp produced. Then, when Gellert's eyes took in Anwen, he blanched. 'Score one of for Team Harry, ' Anwen thought. “Elizabeth?” he softly questioned. Anwen smiled and cocked her head. “You should be…who are you?” “I see you know who my grandmother is.” “Elizabeth Hodgson died with her two sons. One of my followers killed her for her refusal to help me.” “Elizabeth Hodgson hid her sons and faked her own death, regardless of what your follower might have said. She then fled to live in obscurity and only came out of hiding because I needed her.” “And who are you?” “I am Anwen Parker-Black, and this is my partner, Kingsley Shacklebolt. We're from the Ministry for Magic in the U.K., and we have a few questions we'd like to ask you." “Are you like your grandmother? Can you conjure things?” Gellert asked. He’d yet to offer them seats or refreshments but felt fine in asking her to perform for him. Anwen nodded her head once before she conjured the missing black queen for the chessboard. Gellert clapped with glee like a little boy seeing his first card trick. If he had any idea what other magic Anwen was performing right now, he would have been wowed into silence and stupor. Anwen saw all the magic in the room. The majority was his, and it crawled and clung to him like a pile of rats scurrying on top of one another to get at the dregs of some meal. There was a slightly less repugnant magic – a sickly greenish yellow – which seemed to hang suspended near the rear door and by a particularly garish gold coloured chair. There was also the containment magic, sturdy and transparent, which prevented the windows and the door they came in through from being opened from inside the room. It hissed and spit like a live electrical wire from the Muggle world. She didn't doubt that it would sting someone if they ventured too close. The room itself had a magical hue, too, although Anwen could only see it clearly on the ceiling, where it wasn't diminished by overlaying magic. It was a beautiful opalescent pinkish gold, and she was sure that once the whole castle glimmered from the magic of the builders. "I suppose this means I have the privilege of playing you?" Anwen said, wrapping her fingers around the queen. Gellert laughed again, and Anwen flicked a finger on her opposite hand, casting a spell she liked to use around the older children. It would cause the other person to glow red if they told a lie or exaggerated the truth. It was helpful when small ones wanted to tittle-tattle on their friends. She summoned another chair to the table, a sturdy, padded one, for Kingsley and then sat down on the hard wooden one herself. Thankfully she could cast an invisible chair-cushion charm Sirius had created for her to use after the children were born. Gellert’s chair resembled a lushly padded throne; his ego was remarkable. "What do you know about the death of Leta Lestrange?" Kingsley asked as the game between Anwen and Gellert began. The man in question said nothing and did not even acknowledge that Kingsley was sitting at the same table. "Mr Grindelwald, what can you tell me about the death of Leta Lestrange?" It was a throwaway question; the two Aurors had a detailed report about what happened that night in Paris from both British and French Aurors as well as the report that they were never supposed to see. “Mr Grindelwald, you have to answer our questions,” Anwen said calmly as she took one of his rooks off the board. "I will speak with you," Gellert said without looking up. "You have magical royal blood in your veins and have married into the prestigious House of Black. He is a monkey." Kingsley expected this and allowed himself to huff and make a fist as a reaction. Even this response, however, was premeditated. Anwen’s spell glowed into reality and shown like a stop light on a dimly lit street. "You cannot say things like that about another human being," Anwen corrected Gellert gently, like she would a child. "Auror Shacklebolt is also from a magical royal bloodline, and unlike me, his family is all of wizarding stock. My mother is a Muggle." “Yes, that might be true,” Gellert conceded, “but you were not descended from the apes.” The spell flickered out. Gellert had never noticed the aura. “We all are, Gellert. That is scientifically proven,” Anwen countered. He stared at her confusedly. “Muggles have discovered this through science, the study of the natural world. A man named Darwin began mapping the relationships between the distinct species of birds, fish, and mammals. Humans are at the apex of the mammalian tree, but we are indeed related to apes.” Gellert turned up his nose at her explanation, much like Lizzy would at peas. “Fine, show me what else you can do, and I’ll answer his questions.” Anwen snapped her fingers, an utterly unnecessary move that drew Gellert's attention, and the trio's magic appeared. Anwen was not surprised to find Gellert's to have once been a brilliant blue, although now it was laced with the tell-tale black oil of Dark magic. Anwen snapped her fingers again, and it was gone. “So, you’ve seen our magic; answer my partner’s question,” Anwen demanded. "Leta died in Paris. She was killed by Rosier, who was saving my life. There is nothing left of her body; it was consumed by fire." His aura again flamed to life, indicating another lie. “Is that so?” King asked. “Then how did fragments of her bones turn up in Great Britain?” Again, Gellert froze for a second longer than was usual. “I know nothing about that,” he responded coolly. "Interesting, since the spells on those fragments match your magical signature, exactly," Anwen said. "The fragments were spelled to keep two people from asking too many questions. So why would you do that?" "A protegee asked me for help," he said slickly. Anwen had suspected it was one of Tom's followers. Someone in the inner circle, and she was sure it was after Regulus had died and Lucius Malfoy lacked the backbone to sit in a room with another of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of all time. That left only one. “Bellatrix Lestrange?” Anwen asked, taking away one of his bishops this time. She was winning the game, which surprised him. “Is that why you used Leta’s bones?” He nodded, and his skin returned to its usual pasty hue. “You’re intuitive,” Gellert said. “I can see why Albus liked you.” "He still does," Anwen said. Their renewed relationship had been kept secret, save from those on Team Harry, for several reasons. This was one of them. “The walls of his cottage are decorated with drawings my children have made. He’s a wonderful grandfather to them.” “He always was a sentimental fool,” Gellert said with a scoff. “Family weighed heavily on his heart, and it kept him from being truly great.” “I should say that being the Chief Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards is a level of greatness all on its own. Then there are his discoveries with dragon’s blood, the entirety of his work with dear Nicolas on the Philosopher's Stone. And, of course, he was Headmaster at Hogwarts for several decades and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of wizarding UK. Shall I go on?" "All conformist activities," Gellert said, leaving the chess match behind. "He never loved again. I have taken dozens of lovers over the years – men and women. So what has he had?" “Friends, students, family.” "Those things mean nothing in this world. Power is all that matters, and Albus had all the power any man could want, and he refused to take it. That is what makes him weak. We could have ruled the world. We could have raised the magical up so that they were in charge, but Albus didn't have the stomach for it." Gellert continued, spouting off about all the wicked and horrible things he'd done. Anwen remained placid and quiet, keeping her mind open so Gellert's performance could be played back for Team Harry when it came time. She also opened her mind to Sirius and sent him a one-word message. She felt when it had arrived and his quick response. “He never could see the whole board when we played. He always sacrificed his pawns to keep his king safe. I see it in the way he’s taught you.” "Then you haven't been overseeing the board," Anwen said, and she moved her queen to checkmate his king. "Checkmate." “You must have cheated!” “I did not," Anwen said. "You just lost sight of all your moving pieces. Now that this charade of a game is over, why don't you tell me about Tom Riddle." “He hated Albus almost as much as I do,” Gellert said. “He wasn’t unlike you – intelligent, powerful, determined. He was, however, easily manipulated. Too much guilt or anger makes you open to influence.” “I think you will find that I am not easily manipulated, Gellert,” Anwen said with a brittle edge to her voice. “Now, why don’t you tell me how exactly a fallen one came to be in your service and how the pair of you captured a Fury?” |
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