There were not many paths open to Gellert. Power without right is a stick, not a wand, and the wand he wanted would stay a stick until taken by merit. He chose sense over pride.
"You are heir to two of my closest," he said, voice smooth and measured. "I see no future where I raise a wand against you. Not that I have one as of now."
Vinda let out a breath she had been holding. Grigori and Krafft did the same. Arcturus slid his wand back into its holster and gave the smallest nod.
Gellert stepped in. He offered the Elder Wand across his palm. Corvus closed his fingers around it and returned it to its holster. A quiet pact.
They moved together, they passed stone stairs and cold iron doors. Four cells opened on Vinda's word and Schattenwald's keys. The prisoners blinked into the light.
Nagel, dark skinned, lean, eyes like coals behind cracked lenses. An alchemist by training, a zealot by choice, scars along both forearms where bindings had burned him.
McDuff, pale and freckled, with thick wrists, a brawler's stance. His silence had always been his threat. He met Gellert's gaze and dipped his head once.
Carrow, brown hair cut blunt, mouth set flat. A duelist who preferred close quarters. She took the winter coat Vinda transfigured, and squared her shoulders.
Abernathy, American drawl creeping back the moment the shackles fell. Once a MACUSA clerk, now loyal to the idea more than logical. He flexed raw wrists and tried for a grin.
Gellert embraced each in turn. "You kept the faith," he said. "We will make the time you lost matter."
At the head of the stairs, he turned to Corvus. "Potions, Charms and Transfiguration. All at mastery at the age of seventeen. You are Vinda's pupil on top of that." He stopped his eyes, focusing on something in the past.
"Durmstrang expelled me before graduation. They disliked my appetite for the possible." A faint smile. "Even with parchment and seal, I would not have matched your record at seventeen."
They reached the entry hall. Wind howled through the ruined arrow slits. The motto over the gate caught what light there was.
For the Greater Good.
Gellert's eyes cooled. "I heard you tossed him to Azkaban," Gellert said, almost idly towards Arcturus.
"Azkaban will be mercy compared to where he is now." Arcturus turned to Corvus and continued. "He got him after the Department was done."
Corvus pressed a hand to his chest. "Grandfather maligns me. Albus Dumbledore is in a cell named Azkaban. I named the cell myself. I am nothing if not honest, you can be assured."
Arcturus scoffed. Sigibert huffed. Vinda shook her head once. Grigori laughed outright and clapped Corvus on the back.
They stepped out into the knife air of the Austrian winter. Nurmengrad rose like a black nail driven into the mountain. A single high spire, narrow windows like slits, walls slick with rime. The words over the arch threw back the wind as if the stone itself spoke them. Gellert paused on the threshold.
"I loved building this place," he said, tone light, eyes not. "I loved it so much that I want to watch it end. It will please me to see it go to ash. If only I had a proper wand." He shivered at the end of his sentence.
Vinda answered with action. Robes thickened on Gellert's shoulders to a heavy winter coat. Fur collar. Arcturus and Grigori did the same for Nagel, McDuff, Carrow, and Abernathy. The four murmured thanks and pulled collars high.
Austrian Aurors waited beyond the gate. They had seen the embraces. They had seen the nods. They had not yet seen what came next.
Corvus lifted the Elder Wand. "Fiendfyre," he said, almost a whisper.
Black flame spilt from the wand tip and took. It crawled first, then climbed, then roared. Beasts formed inside it, slick and sharp. A serpent's coil wrapped the western wall and bit down. A dragon's head rose over the tower and tore at the roof with teeth of night. Wolves of coal light sprinted along the parapet and leapt into windows, tails cutting furrows in the stone. Every impact ate, every breath consumed.
The heat hit like a wall and then stopped. The fire pressed to an invisible boundary a hand's span beyond the outermost stones, and did not cross it. Not one inch.
An Auror swore, voice small in the gale. Another lifted his wand, then lowered it when the fire shaped itself around a buttress and left the Auror line untouched. Schattenwald's remaining officers stared, mouths hard, eyes wide.
Vinda watched with something nearing awe. "Above mastery," she said, almost to herself. "Only one other I have known could bend that curse and keep it under such fine control."
Gellert's profile cut clean against the dark flame. "Blue would have been theatrical," he said. "Black is a choice. Though it suits your name."
Corvus guided the fire with his wrist and will. The serpent slid from the wall and dove through the great doors. The dragon pulled the spire down floor by floor, ribs of stone snapping like dry twigs. A tide of smaller shapes flowed after, manticores and hounds, birds with razors of black flame for wings. Where they passed, the stone went from black to bright to nothing. The motto cracked. The G in Greater fell and vanished in the coil of a fire snake.
Aurors edged back a step as the tower groaned. Corvus lifted two fingers, and the dragon's head turned away from the gate. The arch held until the last, then folded in on itself like a throat closing.
Snow fell again where the heat passed. The wind returned. The black tide drew inward, smaller beasts folding into larger ones, larger into a single column that spiralled and packed tight. Corvus breathed out. The column guttered and went out as if snuffed between finger and thumb.
Silence. A field of cooling glass where Nurmengrad had stood. The mountain answered with a soft rumble, then settled.
Gellert nodded once. "Thank you."
Nagel stared at the place where his cell had been. McDuff rubbed at his wrists. Carrow stood straighter and did not blink. Abernathy let out a thin, shaky whistle and shut his mouth at Vinda's look.
Schattenwald's senior officer found his voice. "We will see to the site," he said. "And to the records."
Arcturus looked to Corvus. Corvus gave a slight tilt of his head. "Do that," he said. "Mark it as a closed chapter."
Gellert turned back to the road. "We have work to do, not ruins to admire. Walk with me, Heir Black, it has been ages since I stretched my legs. We will speak about what you want and what I will give."
He started down the mountain path. The others fell in behind him. The cold bit. The sky opened a little. The glass field steamed and went quiet.
--
Ash rode the wind where Nurmengrad had stood. The last stones crumbled and went silent. Boots crunched on frost. Cloaks snapped in the cold. No one spoke for a long moment.
Arcturus stood with two of the freed acolytes. "Moira Carrow," he said, and the brown haired witch dipped her chin, eyes bright as she rattled through what she had heard of Britain. Trials, new departments and laws with teeth sharp enough to shred.
Lucien Nagel, the dark skinned wizard, was standing next to Carrow. His English carried a clear French accent. He took two steps and moved to Vinda's side, switching to French with her at once.
Grigori and Sigibert had Abernathy and McDuff between them. The Americans were listening while the other two were giving the shape of the storm in the Wizarding World and the countries that still stood by the Confederation. Sigibert's mouth curled at the right moments. McDuff barked in laughter once when Grigori mentioned the attacks on Ministry run greenhouses.
Corvus watched long enough to take the measure of each. Then he turned to Grindelwald. "Would you like to rest here a day or two, or return to England now?"
Gellert's gaze never left his people. "From all the glory and power I commanded, these people are what is left behind." He looked back at Corvus. "Your words were hard. They were also true. My campaign bled the continent."
Corvus held his eyes and said nothing. He had warmth for Vinda, for Grigori, even for Sigibert. For Grindelwald, though, he had nothing but caution.
"You forced the Confederation to yield ground," Gellert continued. "I did not. You put my acolytes to work for the betterment of their countries." His gaze moved over Vinda, Arcturus, Sigibert and Grigori. "So. Britain." He tilted his head. "What was the name of that old house Arcturus loved?"
Arcturus was already walking back. "Grimmauld Place, Gellert. Old age has finally nicked that famous mind of yours."
"Ah," Gellert said, with the ghost of a smile.
Sigibert gave the word to the Austrian Aurors. Arcturus distributed a line of portkeys for their return. Cold air became London soot and the smell of old wax.
They landed in the narrow hall at Number Twelve. Gas lamps woke in a row. The ancestral house listened. Arcturus and Corvus moved together, and the wards shifted. Old Black sigils brightened and sank again. Corvus added new restrictions on the Library, a veil over most of the Dark, Black and Family magics for anyone other than him and Arcturus. He set the permissions with a thought.
Arcturus took the time to place the freed four into the ward scheme. Grindelwald was already registered. Then he led them to the drawing room. Chairs drew back on their own. A service tray appeared, all silver and steam. No one reached for the cups, as a loud crack stopped them...
Tibby stood in front of Corvus, excited, chest puffed, jumping where he stood. "Master," he squeaked. "The smartarse baldy is dancing. Says he puts little wizards in glass eggs and they can hatch now. Master can have many, many wizard chickens."
Silence held. The fire gave a slow pop.
Corvus did not move. The words were laid out too much in one breath. If Wilmut and Campbell had done what Tibby claimed, then the zygote was cloned successfully, the growth vessel was artificial, and the timeline had skipped weeks. Yet the room he stood in was the worst place on earth to explain any of it.
Arcturus turned his head. Vinda's eyes cut to Corvus. Grigori's brows climbed. Sigibert bit down a grin. Gellert watched without a blink, the stillness of a man who filed everything away as he saw it.
Corvus chose the simplest answer. He twisted on the spot and vanished with a soft crack.
Tibby blinked at the space where his master stood a moment ago. Then at the line of elders. He bowed to Arcturus, ears flapping, and popped away.
Grigori was the first to huff. "Wizard chickens," he asked? "If it has anything to do with my Lizaveta, prepare for war, Arcturus." The amused smile on his face betrayed his words.
Sigibert rubbed his chin. "Glass eggs," he mused. "Now that is something I would pay for."
Vinda's voice was mild. She turned to Arcturus. "He left rather fast. Do you have any idea where and what he has his elf reported?"
Arcturus leaned back. "No and no." He looked at Gellert. "Tea?"
Gellert's eyes stayed on the place Corvus had stood. "You have a very strong, strange and effective heir," he said. He took the offered cup.
"My heir," Vinda quipped.
Moira Carrow had drifted to the mantel. She touched the edge of the portrait of Selen Black née Carrow. She was at a similar age to her painted ancestor. "Britain has moved," she said, quieter now. "It is not the country I left to join a war."
"The world has moved," said Vinda. "You will get used to it soon."
Lucien Nagel rejoined them, sleeves neat, cuffs straight. "Paris will go loud when word spreads," he told Vinda in English now. "They will come after us with everything they have."
"We will give them a welcome," Arcturus said.
Abernathy scratched his jaw. "He's really going to explain that egg business to us?"
"No," said Arcturus. "Not unless we catch and force it out of him."