- Gellert Grindelwald -
"Okay, I think that's enough preparation," Gellert murmured to himself, placing an old leather book onto the pile stacked haphazardly beside him.
His gaze lingered on the disorganized stacks, a strange sense of delight welling within him. It was a tangible reminder that he was finally free.
"Not that I would have hated it as much if they'd bothered to give me a book once in a while," he complained silently, his fingers tracing the worn covers.
He chose to ignore the blinking thing in the corner of his vision, his feelings toward it still complicated.
He groaned as he stretched his upper body, wincing at the sharp protests from his joints and muscles. He was clearly too old to sit and read for days on end. Yet, for all the aches and the lingering pain from years of physical neglect, a profound sense of happiness remained. It was the same joy he remembered feeling as a child, back when he first began learning magic—a time full of wonder, fascination, and pure excitement.
Oh, what a joy that had been.
A soft smile touched his lips as the memories flashed through his mind. He slowly lay back on the soft carpet, his spine gratefully loosening as it met the plush surface.
His gaze drifted upward, tracing the lines of the well-lit room before settling on the chandelier magically suspended in the air, its candles flickering a few feet above the endless rows of bookshelves.
This was his secret, private library, the very one he knew—without a doubt—that almost everyone who still remembered him wished to lay hands on. A library filled with books he had "liberated" in his day, though to him, it was nothing more than a cherished remnant of a forgotten dream from his youth.
"It's not as if it was ever possible for me to succeed, apparently," he mused, taking a strange comfort in the thought. He remembered reading Albus's brutally honest analysis in the Archive: a pure, neutral dissection of why his movement—and indeed, almost every Dark wizard's crusade—was fated to fail, no matter the fervor or the time invested.
He could almost picture his old friend's smug face as he'd written it. Although, if he was honest with himself, he only imagined Albus as smug because he couldn't picture him any other way.
'Still, this magic is truly remarkable,' he thought, finally reaching the limit of his patience and opening the flickering little window. It bloomed into the full interface hovering before him. He could feel it now, after spending days shaking off the prison's effect on his psyche—this was the crystallization of Albus's magic, his dreams, his passion. A place to share everything with the world, in the hope that they, too, would become more educated, more independent, more productive. It was so quintessentially Dumbledore. So... professorial.
"It's for this very reason that I don't trust it, though," he muttered, his eyes losing focus as he delved into the memory.
He knew Albus. He knew that while his old friend was what people might consider a nice person, he was also deeply dark. Gellert doubted anyone knew that Albus had killed three Muggles as a teenager. Sure, he had done it to defend Ariana from a fate he didn't care to think about, but he had done it without blinking.
That incident had been the catalyst for their dream of reigning supreme, born after Mr. Dumbledore took the blame for his son and was sent to Azkaban for Albus's crimes.
It was funny, in a twisted way. He had dreamed of ruling over Muggles and wizards alike to prevent a war, while Albus had wanted the same, in part, because he was just... sulky.
"Not like any of that matters now, though," he chuckled softly. "I doubt he's killed anyone since. And if his current philosophy is anything like what I've read, he wouldn't start anytime soon."
Let's not think about this any longer. He rubbed his eyes, forcibly changing the direction of his thoughts. He blinked and once again clicked the bell-shaped icon in the upper corner of the screen.
He had done this a few times since last Thursday, checking the announcement periodically to remind himself that someone had already beaten him to the punch, that someone else had already caught up to Albus while he was procrastinating.
'It's not that I'm procrastinating for nothing,' he thought, a transparent attempt at self-justification that he saw right through.
He did have a reason, however slight, for not using the Archive more. He simply felt uncomfortable with it. Sure, he had already absorbed almost all the necessary knowledge, chosen his research subjects from Albus's notes, and even used the so-called simulation function to delve deeply into his memories, but…
He still preferred the feeling of a book in his hands, the sensation of flipping pages, the simple enjoyment of reading a physical text himself instead of parsing it on a floating screen or having it downloaded directly into his mind.
"I am old, aren't I?" He chuckled sarcastically…He truly was.
Yet, none of that was the true reason he avoided the magic. No, the main reason was his fear of losing himself. He understood the immense risk of those simulations; for all their preparatory value, they also slowly chipped away at the user.
He'd first noticed it after his initial session, when he rediscovered a habit he thought he'd lost in prison: the instinct to periodically cast a tidying charm on himself, to ensure he was always presentable.
It was then that he began to see the Archive for what it was, and it was also then that he pinpointed what truly bothered him about this new Dumbledore and the whole situation.
What if this Dumbledore was more like his younger, colder self than the older, wiser one?
That was a question he did not want answered. The young Albus had been far more arrogant and cold-blooded. He was a man who loved only himself, his family, and those few he personally acknowledged—and no one else.
There was a reason they had clicked together like water and dye. They were too similar, and that terrified him. He was old now, and he'd had far too much time in a cell to think and reflect. He knew exactly how alike they were.
He knew without a doubt that if their conflict hadn't happened, if Ariana hadn't died, they would most certainly have succeeded.
'There's no need to dwell on the past,' he thought, slowly sitting up and supporting his weight on one hand.
Huuf~
He stared at his slightly shaky hands—clear evidence of how weary he truly was—and finally made up his mind.
There was no need to fear losing himself when he would always be Gellert Grindelwald. Sure, he might regress a little, but that could also be a good thing; it would make him more malleable, something he found difficult in his old age.
He nodded to himself, the internal debate settled, and raised his head.
"Tipsy," he called aloud, summoning his trusty old house-elf.
"Tipsy is here, Master Gaylert…" A house-elf with a wrinkled face and a pair of eyes too big and innocent for his aged features appeared. His long, droopy ears framed a face clad in a butler's costume.
Gellert's eyebrow twitched slightly as he readjusted, for the thousandth time, to the butchering of his name. It was pointless to retry teaching Tipsy proper pronunciation after all these years.
"Yes, Tipsy. I need you to do something for me."
"Tipsy is ready to serve, sir!" The bright, hopeful eyes staring back at him made Gellert feel a pang of guilt for not freeing the elf before being sent to prison. But he also knew Tipsy would likely have chosen to die rather than be freed.
"Alright, Tipsy. First, take me back to my bedroom. Then, please prepare something for me to eat."
"Yes, sir!" Tipsy saluted before extending his wrinkly hand. "Your hand, please, sir Gaylert."
Gellert sighed and did as he was told. With a soft pop, they vanished from the library and reappeared in his bedroom.
As soon as they arrived, his old house-elf bowed and vanished with a soft pop to prepare the meal, leaving Gellert to his own devices.
Gellert walked slowly toward the large window that overlooked a turbulent ocean, its waves crashing against the rocks of a cliff far below, generating a soothing, rhythmic sound.
Of course, none of it was real. The scene was an intricate illusion woven into the glass itself, designed to appear perfectly realistic to the viewer. In truth, the safe house was nestled invisibly within a bustling Muggle housing district.
Gellert swiped a hand through the air, and the scene outside the window shifted. Now, it showed a deep forest with towering trees and lush greenery, the sounds of birds and hidden animals making the illusion feel almost tangible to anyone who didn't know better.
This house was a masterpiece of enchantment and warding, so subtle that no magical less sensitive than he could possibly distinguish it from the other homes on the street.
Now this is how you make a safe house, he thought smugly, turning as he heard the distinctive pop of his trusty house-elf returning with the food.
A small table set for one stood a few feet from the bed. A vase of blue roses served as the centerpiece, flanked by three plates of food, a napkin, and polished silverware.
Gellert sat and began to eat while Tipsy stood attentively at his side, one hand behind his back and the other holding a towel over his forearm. Gellert had no idea where the elf had learned such formal service, nor did he wish to ask. He lacked the mental fortitude to decipher a house-elf's thought processes—a pursuit he had deemed far too effortful long ago.
"Tipsy, I am going to be unconscious for a while. A week, maybe more," Gellert said after swallowing a bite of food. He cut a piece of his steak as he continued. "I need you to check on me periodically to ensure everything is alright and give me a full report when I wake up."
"Is Master Gaylert be doing a rank-up, sir?" Tipsy asked, his tone innocently curious.
"..."
"You know about that?" Gellert asked after a beat of silence, using the moment to process the fact that his house-elf seemed privy to the workings of the Archive.
"Of course, sir," Tipsy answered with a shallow bow.
"How?"
"House-elves be talking, sir. And magic be doing."
"..."
"Of course," Gellert said, choosing to cease his questioning immediately. What was I even thinking?
"Well, as you seem to know what's going to happen, I need you to check on me and report everything back to me later."
"As you wish, Master Gaylert."
Gellert continued eating his slightly late lunch, savoring the flavors while mentally preparing for the ordeal to come.
"Oh, right, Tipsy. I have a few letters on the nightstand. Please deliver them to their respective recipients later."
"Of course, sir. This Tipsy will do it," the elf said, snapping his fingers. A stack of letters sealed with Gellert's personal symbol appeared in his hand, which he promptly stuffed into his coat.
Gellert, of course, chose to ignore this and simply continued eating. There was no need to question it. That was a rabbit hole he refused to go down again.
Soon enough, Gellert was done with his food, and it was time for a small dessert: a chocolate soufflé, one he had asked Tipsy to learn how to make long ago, as it was a particular favorite.
Five enjoyable minutes later, Gellert had savored his dessert and was now sitting on his bed. It was time to jump into action. He couldn't afford to stay stationary any longer.
"Tipsy, I will be starting now, so pay attention," Gellert called out to his house-elf, who was muttering to himself about Merlin knows what.
Was Tipsy too old and demented already? he wondered, though he quickly scratched the "demented" part—the damn elf had always been crazy.
"Do not worry, Master Gaylert! You are safe in the hands of your loyal servant, Tipsy!" The elf performed a deep, ninety-percent bow as he spoke.
Gellert looked at his elf, raised his own wrinkly hand, smacked his forehead in a gesture of resigned affection, and lay back on the bed.
He then opened the interface screen, navigated the usual menus, clicked a few icons, and finally selected the option to begin the process for real.
{ Warning! This attempt is your only chance this year. Are you sure? }
After clicking Yes, the warning vanished, and he found himself standing in what looked like an incomplete and slightly damaged library.
"This looks familiar," he muttered, taking a closer, more examining look. "Isn't this our old house's library?"
No, that wasn't quite it. This place felt different from what he remembered. This had to be his mindscape.
I knew it said I would be diving into my mind, but this place caught me off guard, Gellert thought, surveying the old, dust-filled library. The shelves were tilting, the walls and interior were crooked, and the sigil of his own house was only half-complete.
"Even my own mind is telling me I'm old," he chuckled, and he started to clean and tidy the place. He understood instinctively that this was the first step. He didn't know how, but he believed it was pure instinct.
So the Archive works as a bridge. Good to know.
He had no concept of how long it took, but he felt himself fall into a kind of trance as he rebuilt the entire place to resemble the library he remembered. It took even more effort to expand, change, and reorganize it, but for some reason, he felt no exhaustion.
I feel like I'm forgetting something…
Anyway, let's actually start reading this. He sat down at the table, summoning book after book, going through memory after memory. And as time passed, so did his urgency, until all that remained was an old man, summoning one book after another.
— Memory book Number??? —
A room with high walls adorned in gold, two grand arched windows with golden inlays, and a large golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
The silhouette of an old man, his back slightly hunched, stood beside a child who was dry heaving at the edge of a large bed. The child's hands shook as he clutched his knees, his skin pale, the corners of his eyes glistening with nascent tears.
"It's that dream again," the child stuttered.
The old man standing by his side watched, a pained look on his face.
— Memory Book Number ??? —
A young man in his early teens knelt before two newly made graves, his sobs audible to anyone in close proximity.
"I told you to be careful…" the teen whispered, his hands clenching and taking handfuls of mud. "I warned you. Why didn't you listen?…"
He seemed too immersed in his sorrow to notice the now more transparent silhouette of the old man patting his back in a silent gesture of, condolences and assurance.
— Memory Book Number??? —
A teenager with silver-grey hair, heterochromatic eyes, and a sharp face walked down a small, slightly muddy street. He was dressed in a dark blue three-piece suit with a long coat over it—attire far too formal for a fifteen-year-old.
The young man looked around, ascertaining that no one was watching, before drawing a wand from his pocket. With a quick movement and a muttered incantation, he shimmered slightly and vanished as if he were never there… though he seemed to have forgotten the footsteps he had left in the mud.
After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at a small, isolated area near a cemetery. In the corner stood a dilapidated shack, its old, cracked wood squeaking under the slightest pressure. This place had been his secret practice spot. But today, when he was still a few feet away, he heard sounds from within.
"Expelliarmus!" "Petrificus Totalis!"…
It seemed someone was using his usual setup for themselves.
He cast a foot-muffling charm and crept closer. Through the half-open door, he saw a boy around his own age standing in the middle of the room, wand pointed at a wooden practice target in the far corner.
He wasn't about to let the intruder go unpunished. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the boy and, with a flick and a near-silent incantation, sent a Stunning Charm flying.
What he didn't expect was for the boy to drop to the floor at the last possible second, dodging the spell.
He dodged it, huh? Not bad, he thought. He pushed the door open slowly and walked in. Still, I have to teach him why you never touch Gellert Grindelwald's things.
The young Gellert was about to speak when he sensed a sneak attack coming his way, forcing him to hastily cast a Protego to protect himself before retaliating with a swift Disarming Charm.
The boy dodged again and cast a spell of his own. What followed was an impromptu duel that lasted a full fifteen minutes—unsurprising, as neither dared to cast anything beyond Disarming, Stunning, Leg-Locking, and Shield Charms for a variety of practical reasons.
"You're good," the boy said first, a smile on his face as he panted. "I haven't met anyone else my age who can do that."
"You're good too. I'm Gellert, by the way."
"Oh, I'm Albus. Nice to meet you, Gellert."
"It's nice to meet you," Gellert said, his smile holding a hint of something else—a reminiscing feeling that should not have been there.
— Memory Book Number????—
Gellert stood a few feet from the backyard of Albus's house, waiting for his friend to finish up so they could have one last duel before they were separated, each heading off to a different school.
"Albus, please, take me with you." Gellert heard a girl's voice and turned to look.
"Not now, Ariana. I promise I will take you to Diagon Alley later."
"You always say that, but then you go out and come back late…" The girl, Ariana, stopped as she caught sight of him standing there. She furrowed her eyebrows, looking between them before glaring directly at him.
"Are you the one who's been taking my brother away from…?" Ariana couldn't continue as Albus put a hand over her mouth. "Hmmmm, hmmm!" She struggled, but to no avail.
"Hello, I am Gellert Grindelwald," he introduced himself with an exaggerated half-bow. "Please forgive me if I have wronged you, fair maiden. I was not aware you had plans with your big brother."
Ariana gave him a deadpan look before twisting her head—still in Albus's grasp—to give her brother an inquisitive look. Is he okay in the head?
"Cut it out, Gellert," Albus sighed. "And Ariana, I promise I will take you to get ice cream later."
"Ah, there's no need for that. We can just take her with us," Gellert interjected. The suggestion immediately brightened Ariana's face.
"But…"
"Don't worry," Gellert reassured his friend with a smile. He didn't know why he did it, but it just felt right…
— Memory Book Number???—
"Did you find anything in the Durmstrang library?"
"I did not. I was expelled, too. Something about me being 'too obsessed with dark magic' and becoming a 'dangerous factor' at school. What about you?"
"I did not find anything either…"
The mood was somber for a while as both young men sat there, trapped in their shared frustration.
"How is she? Is she okay? Does she take her potions regularly?"
"Yes, yes. You can visit, you know. She misses you."
"I wish I could, but…"
…
— Memory Book Number ???—
"Are you ready?" Gellert asked, looking at the freshly graduated Albus.
"Yes, let's go." Albus said, levitating his bag without a backward glance.
Just as they were about to leave, the door behind them cracked open and Aberforth stormed through, his eyes and face as red as a bull's.
"Albus, where do you think you're going?!" he yelled.
"Aberforth. Calm down…"
"Don't tell me to calm down! Where are you going? What are you doing? How are you planning to take care of Ariana while I'm in school?"
"Ariana is old enough to take care of herself. Plus, we have Mrs. Lindy checking on her every hour, just like when we were at Hogwarts. I don't see how this is any different."
"Oh, wow. You really are brainwashed. Is this because of that filthy Dark wizard friend of yours?" Aberforth yelled, jabbing a finger toward Gellert.
"Filthy? That's an unsavory term," Gellert said, his voice cold.
"Shut up, you filthy Dark wizard! I don't know what you said to Albus or what nonsense you filled his head with, but I'm not letting him leave with you!"
"Aberforth!!! Calm down. You'll wake Ariana!"
"Oh, you shut up too! Do you think I haven't heard your stupid plan? Do you intend to have the whole wizarding world coming after you? And do you think you'll be the only ones affected by it? You've gotten more stupid the longer you've stayed with that fucking, filthy Dark wizard! I'm sure you'll come to your senses if I beat both of you a little!" Aberforth drew his wand and pointed it at them.
"Okay, that's enough!!" Gellert declared, drawing his own wand.
"Put down your wand, Gellert!" Albus drew his, now pointing it at his friend.
"You're pointing your wand at me?"
"Calm down and put it down. I will handle this," Albus said, but Gellert just stared, his hand aching as an invisible chain seemed to tighten around it at the very thought of fighting Albus.
There was a beat of silence as the realization that this situation could escalate quickly and things might go horribly wrong was clear.
"Oh, screw this!" Aberforth yelled, firing a spell.
Gellert was quick to erect a shield. His eyes glowed slightly as he retaliated with a Bone-Breaking Curse. He couldn't cast another, as Albus sent a Stunner toward him, hoping to stop the conflict.
The fight escalated quickly, the curses growing more violent and variant with each passing second. A flash of light—and then Ariana's voice, yelling at them to stop.
They did.
But their spells, already in flight, met in the middle. A loud bang echoed, deafening, making their ears ring.
He turned his head toward the stairs.
Ariana lay on the ground.
Everything around him seemed to distort as the ringing in his ears intensified. He could do nothing but watch as the two Dumbledore brothers rushed to their sister, checking on her before their cries of anguish began.
He didn't know what happened. He couldn't understand it. How? What spell? Why? The questions bounced inside his skull, and he felt suffocated.
He bolted from the room, running, desperate for air, trying to process the unimaginable.
…
…
…
X_
• Somewhere in the Dimensional Gap •
• DxD World •
While Gellert relived his memories and Dumbledore lay face-down in the desert, a meeting of cosmic significance was underway in a different world entirely.
Within the Dimensional Gap, in a place devoid of concepts like light or dark, a circle of beings had gathered. They were forms of pure energy, shaped into humanoid figures of varying heights and sizes. Some possessed extra arms or a third eye, but all shared the same essential nature: sentient power given temporary shape. The only distinction was the density and color of their energy, some a shade or two fainter than others.
These beings were Gods. Or at least, that's what they preferred to be called.
"Let's get this over with quickly," one of them, a being of crackling blue lightning, boomed in a voice like thunder. "Some of us have work to do."
"We all have responsibilities, Zeus. Be silent and be still," replied another, a mix of grey, silver, and faint gold, his tone calm and collected.
"Ugh, can we please start the update before these two start biting at each other?" a feminine voice interjected, warm yet fierce, her tone more resigned than anything.
"I agree with Amaterasu. Let's begin before Zeus and Odin start arguing over… well, everything," added another.
"Alright." A single, calm voice cut through the chatter, drawing the attention of all. It belonged to a being of crimson energy, so dense, condensed, and tightly leashed it seemed to warp the space around it. "Let's begin. Zeus, your update. Have you found anything substantial?"
"Nothing new, Shiva," Zeus replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "We managed to send more monsters through the spatial cracks on schedule, but we lost all connection the moment they crossed. On a separate note, our domains are fluctuating—weaker one day, stronger the next. Is anyone else experiencing this?"
"No. My domain of Wisdom has only grown stronger, while the others remain stable," Odin stated.
"Mine is unchanged, though my raw divine energy has increased."
"Yeah, mine too."
"Same here."
"Shiva? What of your pantheon?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary yet," Shiva replied, concise as ever.
"Any news from Great Red? Or Ophis?"
"No. We have been unable to contact either. Indra attempted to reach Ophis, but she vanished weeks ago."
"Do you think she left through one of the cracks?"
"..."
"It's a possibility."
"I'd rather not consider that."
"Agreed."
"And Great Red? All he's told us is that 'the worlds are merging,' which we deduced the moment we felt the outside interference."
"Sigh. This is a mess," Zeus grumbled. "A more practical question: has anyone sensed a secondary realm forming elsewhere? I've started feeling an access point flicker in and out of existence in the U.S."
"One of the Angels' domains, then?"
"Will there be a war? Can I join?"
"Oh, shut up. You know we can't fight amongst ourselves now, especially not with the Abrahamic Faction."
"Why, are you scared?"
"Are you not? Must I remind you how they all banded together to help the God they were fighting take down two Heavenly Dragons simply for intruding on their war?"
"..."
"Let's table discussion of the Abrahamic Faction. They lack a unified chief god, so they should be manageable… I think."
"I would not be so sure of that…" Shiva interjected.
"What do you mean, Shiva?"
"Brahma reported a trace of holy energy. It was faint and lasted only for an instant, but it was there."
"Eh, that's their problem. Let's talk about something else. Where do we stand on reaching out to our domain holders?"
"You Olympians and your simplistic ideas…"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"First, we have no idea if such an action would accelerate the merger. That would be disastrous, as our forces are not prepared for potential threats from the other side."
"The shiny bulb is right. For all we know, there are Primordials—even dragons as powerful as the Red Dragon—waiting over there."
"But what if it's the solution?"
"Are you a fool, or do you simply enjoy being called one?"
"What did you say? Do you want to settle this?"
"Ugh. Here we go again…"
"Okay, before you start fighting, let's consider the possibility that we might be merging with mirror versions of ourselves from the other side. Shouldn't we at least try to prepare for that?"
"..."
"Okay, he has a point."
"I didn't think of that."
"Would it be so bad, though?"
"What do you think, Odin?"
"I think I will initiate a periodic, week-long scan of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. If that possibility holds any truth, it will be revealed, and we can prepare accordingly."
"That's a sound idea."
"That Wisdom Domain of yours is showing."
"Keep it up."
"Alright. So, we met, didn't figure anything substantial out, turned down Zeus's… ambitious idea once more, and planned our next steps. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. There's news about Ajuka Beelzebub attempting to predict the spatial fractures. He's creating a new device to implant in Stray Devils to gather data from the other worlds."
"When did you receive this news?"
"Today. One of the old Satan Faction members reported it to me in exchange for a favor."
"We can't allow him to do that."
"Agreed. We must stop him from destabilizing the situation before we understand it."
"Should we send him a warning?"
"Yes, let's do that. And send one to Azazel as well, for good measure."
"Who should we send?"
"How about we let Shiva decide this one?"
"I'll have Indra handle it."
"Okay, that works."
"Yes."
————
A/N:… advance chapters on P@treon/hunter20