Within Reach

March 29, 1993, 12:15 AM, Caverns Beneath Stonehenge, England

Gellert Grindelwald

The nights were beginning to get warmer, but at Stonehenge, with absolutely no cover from the winds, it was quite chilly, Grindelwald thought as he made his way to the center of the site.

His faithful, most trusted guard stood watch, hidden behind Disillusionment Charms and ready to turn away any fool who came— not that he expected anyone but the occasional adventurous Muggle at this time of year, and those were dealt with quite easily.

As Grindelwald approached the ancient stones, he could feel the latent power pulsing beneath the earth.

The winds howled around him, but he paid them no mind. His focus was on the task ahead, a culmination of months of planning and research.

The entrance to the caverns lay hidden behind a fairly subtle, and clever illusion, a testament to the depth of his skill.

Only those who knew about it could even see and pass through it.

He passed through the illusion, descending into the dark, winding tunnels, a single guard following behind him in case he needed assistance of any kind. His wand tip emitted a faint, eerie glow, lighting his way through the rough stone corridors.

Some time passed before he found himself in the heart of the caverns, in the massive room he had claimed as his own.

It was nearly completely empty, save for a few items he had brought over on his last visit. Other than that, it was wholly unremarkable to anyone but himself.

He, however, could feel it.

He could see it.

His time in the Abyss, however brief it had been, had given him the clarity of thought and soul required to detect the power sleeping in this place.

Oh, yes. Despite the staggering amount of potential energy, this place was still asleep.

Dormant.

It was amusing, in a sense; he’d learned the secret to unleash destructive power approaching that of the Muggle’s wasteful ‘atom bombs’, and yet this place had existed for millennia, undisturbed, but filled with enough power to level a country.

And that’s merely in its resting state.

Gellert smiled a little before going to work. He picked one of the lone soul threads hanging in the air and followed it, attenuating and reinforcing it wherever necessary as he set it back into the floor, shaping it into runes for stability and flow regulation.

To the average wizard, it appeared as if he were doing nothing at all, just poking pointlessly at the air.

His fingers moved with practiced precision, tracing a few more threads that wove through the chamber.

Each one was a series of souls fused together into one long strand, dormant but potent, waiting to be awakened.

He had spent countless hours studying these threads, learning their secrets, and understanding their purpose. Soon, he would be ready to bind them together, to weave them into a tapestry of unimaginable power.

Patience.

The runes he carved into the floor glowed faintly to his enhanced eyesight, resonating with the magic of the soul threads. As he worked, a low hum filled the chamber, the sound of ancient forces stirring in their slumber.

Gellert’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, but he fixed his gaze on his task.

He could not afford a single mistake. Every thread he manipulated, every rune he inscribed; if any single one was drawn incorrectly, or out of alignment, the result would certainly not be pretty. 

And though he was confident in his work, he nevertheless triple checked it, just to be sure.

Once he was done, he stepped back to admire his progress, the runes now a complex web of glowing symbols etched into the stone.

The chamber pulsed once, twice, and then a third time before growing silent. 

Gellert smiled. That was one task complete. He still had about an even dozen threads to go through, but the night was young and he had other things to attend to.

He reminded himself that all of his efforts would bear fruit, and relatively soon.

Gellert eyed the large basin he’d set a month ago, scrutinizing it. Within it floated a Dementor’s Cloak in a half-diluted solution of Basilisk venom. The cloak had begun to turn gray, but he estimated that it would still take a few more weeks for the process to complete and turn it white.

Only then would it be ready.

Grindelwald nodded to himself, his steely gaze giving nothing away.

All was proceeding well ahead of schedule. The cloak’s transformation was a critical step, a symbolic purification that would harness the raw essence of death and repurpose it for his ends.

Even now, he felt the dormant power within the room lightly brushing against the Dementor’s Cloak, as if it was unsure what it was dealing with.

Soon, it would know, and when that time came, he would have all of the artifacts ready to go.

All that was left was to acquire the final two pieces of this puzzle, and he would be ready to initiate the ritual.

The first was the Veil of Death, a mysterious and powerful artifact which he believed to be connected to the very essence of the Abyss. It was said to be capable of bridging the gap between life and death, and, with the right coaxing, it could serve as the key to his aims.

The second was a set of three Time-Turners, objects capable of manipulating the very flow of time itself. With it, he could ensure the perfect alignment of magical forces required for his plan.

He knew just one Time-Turner would likely not be enough.

Securing these final pieces would not be easy. The Veil of Death was hidden within the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, a place heavily guarded even before the magical world had been riled up.

The Time-Turners were less elusive, but that fact did not change his stance. His team needed to be effective and ready when the time came.

He’d come too far to be deterred by his own laxity or that of others. He had agents working tirelessly to plan the incursion to procure these artifacts, and he had every confidence in their success.

Once he had the Veil of Death and the Time-Turners in his possession, the ritual could finally commence.

The world was on the brink of a new dawn, one where his vision of magical supremacy would reign above all. 

The united front of the wizarding nations, the tournament meant to showcase their solidarity— these were but minor hindrances in the grand scheme of his plan.

They can play their politics all they like, but I am playing a different game altogether now.

Soon, they would all realize that, but it would be too late. They would all bow before the might he would unleash from the depths of this place.

With a final glance at the basin, he turned and resumed his work, his mind already plotting the next steps.

Of course, if he had the Hallows, he would not have needed to go this far. His current artifacts were but imitations of the real things: the Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Deathstick.

Gellert once again regretted not having taken his rightful wand back from Dumbledore’s hands when they had fought, but then, the Hallows were not truly necessary to his aims— they merely served as crutches to ease his burdens.

Besides, if he had indeed taken Dumbledore’s wand, the response by the Wizarding World would have been far more vicious, simply as a result of Dumbledore’s urgency.

He knew his old friend well, and he knew how to set him off balance long enough to enact his own plans. Taking the wand would have brought unwanted attention and possibly disrupted the delicate timing of his scheme.

Grindelwald’s mind briefly wandered back to that fateful duel. The power he had felt, the clash of wills and magic, had been exhilarating.

And though Dumbledore had seemingly lost a step, he couldn’t blame him. He had lived a peaceful existence for quite some time, and so he was not as vigorous as Gellert remembered him to be. 

Not to mention his age… The benefits of what a small dose of Elixir can do. He thought, bemoaning the fate of his old friend. Of course, it was his lack of understanding of my new tactics which won me the day.

Yet, despite his overwhelming victory, Gellert had chosen to let Dumbledore keep the wand, knowing it would keep his adversary preoccupied and off his trail.

And it had worked. Dumbledore was now so caught up in the affairs of the Wizarding World that he was unaware of Grindelwald’s true intentions and the depth of his machinations.

Returning his focus to the present, Grindelwald assessed his situation. The imitations would suffice for his purposes.

The Dementor’s Cloak, once transformed, would mimic the properties of the Cloak of Invisibility, enhanced by the Basilisk venom to hold even greater power.

The Veil of Death would stand in for the Resurrection Stone, its connection to the Abyss serving his needs perfectly.

The Time-Turners, the Mirror of Erised and the Eye of Ra— though none were individually near as formidable as the Deathstick, they would yet grant him the clarity, control and power necessary to guide the great collection of energy sitting beneath his feet. 

Waiting.

He relished the sensation of beating these challenges. For far too long the world had become stale and lax. Nearly fifty years, he’d spent in that cell at Nurmengard. He could count every single brick of stone on the ceiling in his sleep.

And while his foes hadn’t tortured him, they still hadn’t shown him much decency, dragging his name through the mud and trampling over his life’s work. 

He would not soon forget this, though he would not forget their merciful nature, also.

With the Veil of Death and the Time-Turner in his grasp, he would open a portal into the Abyss once more. This time, he would not be merely a visitor but master its dark secrets.

With a power beyond the comprehension of his foes, they would quickly learn to surrender. Those who didn’t, well…

Grindelwald’s lips curled into a small smile as he made his way out of the cavern. The future he had envisioned, a world reshaped by his will, was within reach.

He frowned, however. When he’d passed by his guard, he’d seen that his soul thread was writing in agitation— he was confused and mystified. Gellert resisted the urge to sigh; his troops were loyal, but he knew he was pushing it. He would have to make a few more appearances among his order to remedy this.

He had been sequestering himself in this place for far too long.

Already he could see the signs of his soldiers doubting his intentions. He didn’t blame them, of course; it had been more than half a year since the order was formed, and aside from their early actions gaining traction among the masses, they had since gone to ground, conducting raids in unknown territories as they amassed power— but to what end, none of the wizards and witches under his command knew.

As far as they understood, he was wasting time here.

This, naturally, would not do.

Grindelwald knew the importance of maintaining morale and unity among his followers. They were the backbone of his operations, the force that would help him bring his vision to fruition. He couldn’t afford to let doubt fester within their ranks. A few well-timed appearances, coupled with strategic reveals of his progress, would rekindle their faith in him and his cause.

As he made his way through the winding tunnels and emerged into the night air, the cold wind biting at his skin, his thoughts turned to Adam. The boy was the only other person who was able to see the work he had done.

Adam had also been to the Abyss, and his soul had been changed as a result. This made him a potential threat to Grindelwald’s plans, but he imagined his influence on the lad would limit the damage he could wreak on his order’s objectives.

Grindelwald had observed Adam closely when he’d been… visiting over the summer. Gellert noted the growth in his magical abilities and the potential that lay within him. Time would tell if the boy would become a boon to his plans, or the instrument of his downfall.

He welcomed the challenge. The boy was still rough around the edges, but given enough time, he would eventually grow to rival himself.

If he is not killed during his pursuit of greater magic, that is.

Returning his focus to the present, Grindelwald approached the encampment and made his way towards a well-concealed tent near the edge of the camp, where Matthias, his right hand, was stationed. He did not call his guards forward, instead trusting them to remain hidden and vigilant.

Matthias looked up as Grindelwald entered, his eyes widening with surprise.

“Gellert.” He said, not getting up from his chair. “You’ve come back early.”

“Have I?” Grindelwald said, checking his pocket. “It appears you are correct— but it is with good reason.”

“You have finished your work?”

“Oh, no.” Grindelwald said, shaking his head. “Though it will be done in… Two weeks’ time, I imagine. Perhaps less.”

“I see.” Matthias said, putting the report he was reading down and giving Grindelwald his full attention. “I sense there is another matter. What’s on your mind?”

“It is of no urgent nature.” Grindelwald said, raising his hand to put his closest ally at ease. “However, I believe it is time for me to address the order. There has been too much silence, too much doubt. We need to remind them of our purpose, our goals. In one week, I intend to speak to them all.”

Matthias nodded, his expression serious. “I was actually going to point their unease out to you by the end of the week— I will ensure everything is prepared, my friend. Our people are eager to hear from you.”

“Good, very good.” Grindelwald said, smiling. “Announce the meeting today. Let them know that I have been working tirelessly for our cause, and that soon, they will see the fruits of our labor.”

“As you wish.” Matthias replied, determination in his eyes.

Grindelwald left the tent, confident that Matthias would carry out his instructions flawlessly. The next week would be crucial, a time to solidify his plans and prepare for the ritual. The power within Stonehenge was nearly ready, and with the Veil of Death and the Time-Turner, his vision would soon become reality.

As he walked back to the cavern, Grindelwald allowed himself a rare moment of anticipation. The future he had envisioned, a world reshaped by his will, was within reach.

oooo

March 29, 1993, 3:00 PM, Unused Classroom, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

I leaned against the cool stone wall, relishing the breeze that wafted through the open window. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the unused classroom, its golden light dancing on the dust motes floating lazily in the air. My muscles ached pleasantly from the intense training session Mira and I had just finished.

“Merlin’s beard, it really has been a while since we’ve trained like this.” Mira said, wiping sweat from her brow. She grinned at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I suppose that’s what happens when you become Mr. Popular, eh? Everyone wants a piece of the great Adam Clarke these days— or is it Adam Black, hmm?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a small smile.

“Oh, come off it.” I retorted, running a hand through my damp hair. “You know it’s not like that. I can’t just train against one person all the time, or my skills would stagnate. Variety is key if I want to keep improving.”

Mira chuckled, shaking her head. “Always the practical one, aren’t you? But admit it, you’re enjoying the attention a little bit.”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly, and I turned to look out the window, hoping she wouldn’t notice. The Hogwarts grounds stretched out before me, the Black Lake glimmering in the distance.

It was strange to think how much had changed in such a short time. The tournament, the visions, the Blackthorns, the Horcrux ring…

“Maybe a little.” I conceded after a moment, turning back to face Mira. “But it doesn’t change anything. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than popularity contests.”

Mira’s expression sobered, and she nodded. “You’re right, of course. With everything that’s happening… it’s good to know you’ve got your priorities straight.”

I sighed, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settling over me again.

“Someone has to.” I murmured, more to myself than to Mira. The cool breeze continued to caress my skin, a momentary respite from the stresses of the day.

My mind once again drifted to the events which had happened the previous week; going in secret to Little Hangleton with Severus Snape, retrieving the Gaunt Ring, and now having to figure out how to destroy the ring Horcrux without damaging the Stone of Resurrection. Not to mention the horrible visions I had seen when I had gone to the Thestrals for answers on the nature of the void.

I blinked, suddenly aware that Mira had been speaking. Her voice, now raised with a hint of concern, pulled me back to the present moment.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, shaking my head slightly to clear the fog of memories. “I was… lost in thought for a moment there.”

Mira’s brow furrowed as she studied my face. “I asked if you were alright. You went all quiet and distant. Anything on your mind, Adam?”

I sighed, putting on a mask of mild exhaustion.

“I’m fine.” I said, forcing a reassuring smile. “Just tired from all the training and tournament preparations. You know how it is.”

Mira’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see she wasn’t entirely convinced.

“If you say so.” She said, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism. “You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?”

I nodded, maintaining my façade. “Of course, Mira. Thanks for that. I just need some rest, that’s all.”

As I looked at her, I felt a twinge of guilt. Mira was a good friend, loyal and caring. But the weight of the secrets I carried… they weren’t for her. The Blackthorn drama, the mission with Snape, the visions from the Thestrals— these were burdens I couldn’t share with her.

She wasn’t that sort of friend.

No.

My mind drifted to the one confidant I truly trusted with these matters: Helena. Her centuries of wisdom and her own experiences made her an invaluable ally. She alone knew the full extent of what I was dealing with, and was the person who was closest to my disused heart.

“Really, Mira, I appreciate your concern.” I said, injecting warmth into my voice to soften any perceived coldness. “But it’s nothing to worry about. It truly is just the tournament stress getting to me a bit.”

I saw a flicker of something— disappointment, perhaps?— cross Mira’s face before she nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. But remember, I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.” I replied, feeling the gulf between us widen even as I smiled. “Thanks, Mira.”

As we gathered our things to leave the classroom, I couldn’t help but feel regret over the matter.

It was necessary, I reminded myself. The fewer people involved, the safer everyone would be. Still, a part of me ached at the deception, even as I knew it was for the greater good.

As I turned the corner, leaving Mira behind, I nearly collided with another familiar face. My adoptive cousin, Tonks, stood before me, her hair a vibrant shade of purple today.

“Wotcher, Adam!” She greeted me cheerfully.

I blinked in surprise, momentarily forgetting about Mira. “Tonks? Are you on break or something?”

She nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, got a bit of downtime. What about you? Up to anything interesting?”

I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Actually, I was looking for a quiet spot to think. Somewhere away from… well, people.”

Tonks’s expression softened with understanding. “Oh, I see. Do you want me to leave you be, then?”

I considered it for a second, then shook my head. Despite my earlier caution with Mira, Tonks was different. She was family, after all, and her Auror training would make her a formidable ally, in time— or rather, more formidable than she already was. “No, you’re alright. I don’t mind you being around.”

Her face lit up at that. “Well, in that case, I might know just the spot. Somewhere quiet where you can think without being disturbed. Want me to show you?”

I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah, that’d be great. Lead the way.”

As we set off down the corridor, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. While I couldn’t share everything with Tonks, her presence was comforting. She had a way of lightening the mood without prying, and right now, that was exactly what I needed.

I followed her through the winding hallways of Hogwarts, curious about this secret spot she knew. Despite the weight of my thoughts, I found myself grateful for this unexpected encounter. Sometimes, it was nice to be reminded that I wasn’t completely alone in all of this.

Tonks led me to a painting I’d never paid much attention to before. The subject— a man engrossed in painting another man’s portrait, which was of another man painting a third man’s portrait of a house in the woods— looked up at our approach, his face initially creased with annoyance.

“Now see here, I’m in the middle of a very important—” he began, but his expression softened immediately upon recognizing Tonks. “Well, I’ll be! If it isn’t young Nymphadora!”

Tonks grinned, her hair shifting to a warm pink. “Hullo, Adelbertolomew! It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

What kind of name is that!?

“Indeed it has, my dear. Indeed it has!” The painted man agreed, beaming at her. “What brings you to my humble corner of the castle?”

Tonks gestured towards me with a tilt of her head. “Was hoping you might let us through to the Whispering Grove. My cousin here could use a bit of quiet reflection time.”

Adelbertolomew’s eyes twinkled as he looked at me. “Ah, I see. Well, any friend of Nymphadora’s is a friend of mine. The Whispering Grove awaits you both.”

With that, the portrait swung open, revealing a hidden staircase leading downwards. I blinked in surprise, turning to Tonks with raised eyebrows.

“The Whispering Grove?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

Tonks winked at me. “You’ll see. Come on, then!”

As we descended the candlelit stairs, I couldn’t help but marvel at how much of Hogwarts remained a mystery to me, even after all this time. The castle never ceased to amaze me with its secrets.

“So…” I said slowly. “You let him call you by your first name?”

“I do.” Tonks said, throwing me a look over her shoulder. “I only accept that from people who have names as ridiculous as mine.”

I smirked at that. “I see.”

“Don’t be getting any ideas.” Tonks threatened. “I allowed you to use that name a few times in the summer, but you wised up fairly quickly. It would be a shame if you went back to old habits, Adam.”

“Perish the thought…” I said as we made our way down. “So, how did you find out about this place, Tonks?”

She chuckled. “Let’s just say I had a knack for finding hidey-holes during my Hogwarts days. Came in handy more than once, especially when Filch was on the warpath— not that he’s ever not. Dusty old man.”

I grinned at that, imagining a twelve year old Tonks sneaking around the castle. It was a welcome distraction from the heavier thoughts that had been plaguing me earlier.

As we descended further, the stone stairs gave way to a dark tunnel. Without missing a beat, both Tonks and I murmured. “Lumos.”

Our wand tips illuminated the passageway with a soft glow.

“Now what?” I asked, peering ahead into the darkness beyond our light.

Tonks grinned over her shoulder at me. “Now we walk a bit more. Don’t worry, it’s not too far.”

I nodded, curiosity growing with each step. As we made our way through the tunnel, Tonks kept up a stream of light conversation, telling me about her latest escapades as an Auror trainee and asking about my classes. It was a welcome distraction, and I found myself relaxing slightly as we walked.

Finally, after what felt like ages but was probably only about ten minutes, I saw a glimmer of natural light ahead. As we approached, the tunnel opened up, and I found myself blinking in the sudden brightness.

When my eyes adjusted, I gasped softly. We were standing in a small, natural grove, tucked away in an opening of the Hogwarts cliffside. It was like a secret balcony, offering a breathtaking view of the grounds and the Black Lake stretching out below us.

The grove itself was a picturesque spot, with soft grass underfoot and a few gnarled trees providing shade. The air felt fresher here, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the lake.

“Tonks, this is… incredible.” I breathed, taking in the panoramic view. “How did you ever find this place?”

She chuckled, looking pleased with my reaction. “Like I said, I had a knack for finding hideaways. This one’s special though. Not many people know about it, if any. I made sure not to tell anyone, for my part.”

I nodded, understanding why she’d kept it a secret. It was the perfect spot for quiet reflection, away from the bustle of the castle. “Any couple would kill for the chance to be here.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Thank you for showing me.” I said sincerely, feeling a wave of gratitude towards my adoptive cousin.

Tonks smiled warmly. “Anytime, Adam. Sometimes we all need a place to just… be, you know?”

I did know. As I looked out over the grounds, I felt some of the tension from earlier start to ebb away. I took in the breathtaking view, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

“It really is beautiful.” I said softly.

Tonks smiled, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the afternoon sun. “I’m glad you think so. This place… it’s been a sanctuary for me. Whenever the world felt like it was closing in, when things got a bit too rough, I’d come here to clear my head.”

I nodded, understanding all too well the need for such a refuge.

“Peace and quiet can do wonders when the soul gets a bit bruised.” I agreed.

But then a thought struck me, a memory of the summer that didn’t quite fit with this gesture. I turned to Tonks, my brow furrowing slightly. “If you understand the need for space so well, why did you insist on hovering over me during the summer?”

Tonks’ hair shifted to a subdued blue as she considered my question. She sighed, running a hand through her color-changing locks. “Ah, well… To be honest, Adam, I didn’t really understand you that well back then.”

Her admission surprised me, and I waited for her to continue.

“I mean, I knew you were going through a lot, but I didn’t quite grasp… well, everything.” She explained, gesturing vaguely. “I thought what you needed was constant support, someone to always be there. It took me a while to realize that sometimes what you need is just… space to breathe and think.”

I felt a mix of emotions at her words— appreciation for her honesty, a lingering frustration from the summer, but also a growing understanding.

“I guess we’ve both learned a bit since then.” I said, offering her a small smile.

Tonks nodded, returning the smile. “That we have. And I’m still learning, mind you. But I hope… well, I hope this helps make up for some of that hovering.”

As I looked back out over the grounds, I felt a new appreciation for Tonks. She was trying, in her own way, to understand and support me. It wasn’t perfect, but it was genuine.

“It does.” I said quietly. “Thank you, Tonks.”

We stood there in companionable silence, watching the sun’s rays dance on the surface of the Black Lake, each lost in our own thoughts but somehow feeling a bit less alone.