Political Games

June 23, 1993, 11:45 AM, Phoenix’ Roost

Gellert Grindelwald

Gellert appeared with a faint pop at the edge of the grounds of Phoenix’ Roost. The moment his boots touched the cobblestone path, he straightened, blinking against the midday sun that poured through the scattered clouds. The brief journey from Stonehenge had left a lingering pull of longing in his chest— a sensation he always savored, as it reminded him of the power he was amassing.

The air here was crisp, imbued with the faint scent of pine and blooming heather. Grindelwald adjusted the clasp of his navy cloak, a simple yet elegant garment that flowed like ink in the gentle breeze. He took a deep breath, steadying his mind after the delicate work of inscribing runes all morning. The grounds stretched before him, members of his order milling about purposefully, their uniforms marked by subtle variations to denote rank— gold accents for senior operatives, silver for officers, bronze for base-level operatives and deep maroon for initiates.

As he moved toward the heart of the compound, his steps echoed faintly on the stone, drawing nods of acknowledgment from the figures he passed. They straightened at his approach, their expressions a mixture of respect and quiet awe. Grindelwald greeted them with small gestures— an incline of his head here, a murmured word of encouragement there.

These interactions, though brief, served their purpose. He understood the value of being seen, of reminding his followers that he was not a distant leader but one who walked among them.

A group of young recruits sparring in the yard caught his attention. Their stances were rigid, their movements hesitant. He paused, observing for a moment. One of them, a wiry boy with a shock of red hair, continued to hesitate as his opponent would initiate a spell.

Grindelwald waited for an opportune moment before his sharp voice cut through the air. “Confidence, young man. Strike as though you’ve already won.”

The boy froze mid-motion, his wide eyes snapping toward Grindelwald as the fight stopped for a moment. The leader’s expression softened into a small, approving smile.

“Carry on.”

The boy recovered, nodding fervently, and the duel resumed with renewed vigor. Satisfied, Grindelwald continued on his path, allowing himself a rare flicker of amusement. These moments, though minor, were the foundations of loyalty among the troops.

Without them, my wizards and witches would almost certainly lose confidence.

The mess hall came into view, its heavy oak doors propped open to reveal the hum of activity within. Inside, the space was cool, contrasting with the heat outside. Long wooden tables stretched across the room, laden with platters of roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming bowls of stew. Conversations rose and fell in waves, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of goblets.

Grindelwald stepped inside, the room quieting slightly as heads turned. He offered a nod and a faint smile, dissipating the tension. The air filled once more with the comfortable din of voices as he moved toward a table at the head of the room. A plate was promptly set before him, the server— an old woman with kind eyes— offering a respectful bow before retreating.

Grindelwald pulled off his cloak, placing it on his chair and sat, his movements deliberate, surveying the room as he began his meal— eggs, bacon, and some toast.

A simple meal, but nutritious and delicious all the same.

Each bite was methodical, his focus half on the food and half on the undercurrent of the room’s atmosphere. It was here, in these moments of supposed respite, that he often gleaned the truest insights into his followers’ morale.

All seemed well, as far as he could tell. It wasn’t surprising; bolstered as they were from the success of their operations of late, it was only natural they would be in a celebratory mood.

Still, it wouldn’t do for them to grow too lax. Grindelwald supposed that he needed to begin additional drills to keep the troops on their toes.

Footsteps approached, and Matthias Auer— his right hand— appeared at his side, his dark hair slightly disheveled and a stack of parchment tucked under one arm. Grindelwald gestured for him to sit without looking up, his tone mild but firm.

“You’ll not burden me with reports during a meal, Matthias.” He said, smiling slightly as he speared a bit of bacon with his fork. “There will be time enough for business later.”

Matthias hesitated, then nodded, stowing the papers in his pack and pulling a plate toward himself. “Of course, sir. Apologies.”

Grindelwald allowed the conversation to lapse, the quiet companionship punctuated only by the clatter of cutlery. Eventually, he broke the silence, his voice carrying just enough warmth to put Matthias at ease.

“And how is your partner?”

Matthias glanced up, a faint grin breaking through his otherwise serious demeanor. “She’s well. Dropped a rather unsubtle hint about marriage last week.”

Grindelwald chuckled, a low, rich sound. “Then we’ll have to toast to that tonight. For now, however, it’s time to begin.”

He rose with fluid grace, his cloak sweeping the floor, and gestured for Matthias to follow. Together, they exited the mess hall, the murmurs of the room fading behind them as they made their way toward the mansion. Grindelwald’s mind was already shifting gears, the brief reprieve replaced with the sharp focus required for the tasks ahead.

Grindelwald’s boots made no sound on the polished floor as he walked, Matthias trailing slightly behind. The air grew heavier with the anticipation of the waiting operatives.

At the double oak doors, the two stationed guards straightened, saluting him crisply.

“Sir.”

“Randall. Leita.” With a slight nod of acknowledgment, Grindelwald pushed the doors open, stepping into his private meeting chamber.

Tall windows framed the room, flooding it with natural light that spilled across the dark wood of the massive desk dominating the space. Behind it, shelves lined with books and artifacts stretched to the ceiling, their contents meticulously organized.

A map of the world hung on one wall, small colored pins loosely marking locations of interest— or so an infiltrator would imagine. The true map required several spells to be broken, and an attempt to decrypt it would likely result in a not-so-small explosion; not enough to harm the guards outside, but certainly enough to kill whoever was in the room.

His amassed books would be damaged as well, but they were mostly for show, anyway. All of the knowledge was already in his mind.

His operatives were already gathered, a mix of seasoned veterans and newer members who had earned Grindelwald’s trust. They stood in loose formation, their postures varying from disciplined to tense. As Grindelwald entered, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

He gestured for them to sit, taking his place behind the desk with Matthias to his right. The wood was cool beneath his fingers as he leaned back, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled group.

“Let us begin.” He said, his voice low but resonant. “Ilse?”

The first operative, a wiry woman with sharp features and a scar running along her jawline, stepped forward. Her name was Ilse, one of his most reliable intelligence gatherers. She unrolled a parchment with a flourish and began to speak.

“Sir.” She began. “The public response to the events at Hogwarts and the Ministry have been mixed, sir. While the Ministry has, of course, labeled the attacks as acts of terrorism, their narrative hasn’t gained the traction they’d hoped. The involvement of Longling and Castelobruxo has shifted the conversation. Many now question the competence— and unity— of the League of Nine. Or I suppose, the League of Seven, now.”

Grindelwald absorbed this information, his expression unreadable. He had anticipated this development. People mistrusted their governments on principle, and while this breach of allegiance had seemingly pulled them all close together, it was only a matter of time before their suspicion and paranoia overcame this idle sentiment.

“A wise wizard will always eventually distrust his neighbor.” Grindelwald finally said, inclining his head in a nod. “Please, continue.”

“Of course.” Ilse’s voice grew more confident. “It is as you say; the League is being spoken of with ridicule and derision. Our operatives report that while there is unrest, it hasn’t yet reached a tipping point. Anti-government sentiment is growing, but it will need more to become actionable.”

“Perhaps a few of our order spreading the word?” Matthias suggested, gaining everyone’s attention. “It will have to be subtle, of course; Perhaps we could send in operatives disguised as ordinary wizards towards various key locations in the country.”

“The plan has merit.” Ilse said, the idea growing on her. “Yes; a few disgruntled wizards and witches sharing a pint and speaking of the incompetence of government— a few harmless allusions, here and there.”

“Make it so.” He nodded, though he raised his hand before Ilse could leave. He steepled his fingers. “What of the schools? Their reactions?”

Ilse hesitated, reassuming her position. “Hogwarts and Bulgaria have doubled their security— Bulgaria especially.”

“Of course. I have history with them.”

“Yes.” Ilse said noncommittally before resuming. “Beauxbatons is rallying its allies, but Uagadou has chosen to adopt a somewhat neutral stance, as has Mahoutokoro. There’s no sign they’re aligning against us— yet.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Grindelwald’s face. “Good. Neutrality is as useful as outright support in these matters. What of the artifacts?”

At this, Ilse’s expression shifted, unease creeping into her tone. “Rumors have spread that several relics were safeguarded, after the Ministry attacks. Additionally, we’ve noticed a coverup concerning Azkaban, so we suspect a breakout.”

She paused for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out what to say. “We believe—”

“That the so-called Dark Lord Voldemort is involved.” Grindelwald finished, his tone calm but decisive. Ilse’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded.

“Yes, sir. How did you…” She said and shook her head. “Apologies for the outburst. I didn’t mean to question you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Grindelwald said. “It’s what I hired you to do; information gathering is what you do best.”

Matthias shifted beside him, but Grindelwald raised a hand, silencing him before he could speak. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“Ilse; send out feelers.” He ordered. “Begin with Lucius Malfoy’s people. Extend an invitation for a meeting. If Voldemort is building his power base, we must ensure that his ambitions do not interfere with our own. While we can likely afford yet another front to this war, it would be ideal if we didn’t have to.”

Ilse nodded sharply, retreating to her seat. Grindelwald’s gaze swept to the next operative, a broad-shouldered man with a rough, weathered appearance.

“Aric.” He said. “Your report, if you will.”

“Yes, sir. The status of the United States indicates a loss of more than eighty percent of their fighting forces.” Aric began. “Their assailants, the Outsiders, seem to have harnessed the ancient ritualistic magic of the Native American wizards.”

“I am quite familiar with the group.” Grindelwald nodded, smiling slightly. “Anyone who is familiar with American Wizarding history would know of the great Outsider skirmishes. That they have tapped into ritualistic magic is precisely the reason why our own plans have been delayed. Have we gained any information on any future rituals?”

“We have looked into it.” Aric said. “Several of their people have been interrogated thoroughly; no new information was released, and so we re-inserted into the Outsider fold under the Imperius Curse. Their orders are to collect information and report to our operatives in a month’s time. We had considered two weeks, but—”

“Of course.” Grindelwald waved his words away. “It would have drawn suspicion. I assume you will be alternating the reports between the operatives?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” Grindelwald said before giving him another nod and turning to the next person. “Proceed with your report.”

For the next hour, the remaining operatives delivered their accounts, one by one. Grindelwald listened intently, his mind piecing together the intricate web of information. The mood in the room shifted as he began to ask pointed questions, probing weaknesses and demanding solutions. By the time the last operative had finished, the sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the room.

Grindelwald rose, signaling the end of the meeting. “Thank you for your service. You have your orders. Take your ease for the night, and see these orders carried out swiftly tomorrow.”

“Sir!”

The operatives filed out, leaving only Matthias behind. Grindelwald remained standing, his gaze fixed on the map behind his desk. The heavy oak doors closed behind the last of the operatives, leaving the solar quiet save for the subtle creak of wood and the faint rustle of parchment as Matthias organized the reports.

Grindelwald moved a few steps before standing motionless near the map, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze lingered on the pins marking locations of recent events— Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic. Each pin represented a move in the intricate game he was playing.

Matthias broke the silence, his voice carefully neutral. “The reports were thorough, but some of them don’t add up. The breakout at Azkaban, for instance—it seems too coincidental.”

Grindelwald turned, his expression inscrutable. “Coincidence is not a word I rely upon, Matthias. There are forces at play here beyond what the Ministry or even we control.”

Matthias paused, digesting this. “You truly believe it’s Voldemort?”

Grindelwald approached his desk, his movements deliberate. “I know this for a fact. He has been stirring in the shadows for some time now. The possession of Marco was merely the beginning of his machinations. He will make his true presence known when he’s ready, but until then, we must prepare for the inevitability of his interference.”

The mention of Marco— a talented operative whose sudden disappearance had been chalked up to being killed in action— sent a ripple of unease through Matthias. “Marco— that was him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You knew?”

“I did.” Grindelwald said, frowning slightly when he saw Matthias’ displeased look. “Trust me, my friend. If he had known that you suspected him in the least, you would be dead, or at least his thrall.”

“I— I have been training.” Matthias said. “Improving! You said it yourself that I have reached a level few ever do.”

“And I spoke the truth, Matthias.” Grindelwald said, though his gaze turned hard. “But to the likes of Voldemort, even the exceptional fall short. You would have fought, and valiantly so; and you would have met your end.”

Matthias stared at him for a few moments before taking a deep breath to calm down. “If he’s establishing his power base, that complicates matters. Another competing force further destabilizing wizarding Britain could—”

“Could lead to outright chaos.” Grindelwald interrupted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And chaos is fertile ground for revolution.”

Matthias frowned. “That assumes we can control it.”

Grindelwald picked up one of the reports from the desk, flipping through it idly. “Control is an illusion, Matthias. Influence, however, is achievable. Voldemort seeks domination through fear and subjugation. We offer something far more appealing: freedom, self-determination, purpose. When the time comes, the world will choose which path it prefers.”

Matthias didn’t look convinced, but let the matter drop, moving to the next topic. “The caves. You mentioned before that the preparations were nearly complete. How much longer until they’re ready?”

Grindelwald set the report down, his expression softening slightly as he reached for a bit of parchment, writing in it. “The ritual chambers are progressing as planned, though not without setbacks. We still lack some of the artifacts required for the final phase, and our window of opportunity has been altered because of the events in America. Until we secure them and stymie the progress of the Outsiders, the portal remains an incomplete vision.”

“And when will the next opportunity arise to gather what we need?” Matthias pressed.

Grindelwald met his gaze, the weight of his presence settling over the room. “Soon. Patience, Matthias. Each piece must fall into place precisely, or all we’ve worked for will be undone.”

Matthias sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The longer we wait, the more time our enemies have to uncover our plans. The League may be fractured now, but they won’t remain disorganized forever.”

“Which is why.” Grindelwald said, turning toward the door and waving his wand to alert the guard outside. “We must ensure that any further attempts to hinder us are met with swift and decisive action.”

The door opened, and Leita stepped into the solar.

“You summoned me, Mr. Grindelwald.” Leita said, her tone crisp.

Grindelwald gestured for her to step forward as he rolled the parchment up. “Yes, Miss Leita. I have a task for you.”

“Of course, sir; I am at your disposal.” She said. “What would you have me do?”

“I wish for you to head to Location Alpha.” Grindelwald said, seeing her eyes widen. He tapped the rolled up note with his wand, and a soft glow seeped into it. Holding out the note, he continued. “Deliver this to Miss Zhenya, if you would.”

Leita’s dark eyes gleamed. “Very well, Mr. Grindelwald. It will be done.”

And then, she left.

The solar fell silent once more as Leita’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, leaving Grindelwald and Matthias alone. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows bathed the room in orange, highlighting the tension etched across Matthias’ face.

Grindelwald glanced at Matthias, who still seemed uneasy. “See? We have nothing to fear. When the time comes, everything will be as it should.”

“Yes, yes.” Matthias said, though Gellert could still tell that he wasn’t sure of himself. “Of course.”

Grindelwald got up and resumed his slow pacing, hands behind his back, his footsteps measured and deliberate. “Do you still doubt the course we’ve set, Matthias?”

“It’s not doubt, sir.” Matthias replied, his voice cautious but firm. “It’s… concern. Every day we delay brings us closer to exposure. The League may be fractured, but they’re not defeated. Those at Hogwarts— Dumbledore and the others, even the boy, Clarke— and their allies have already shown they’re more capable than expected. The longer we wait, the more opportunity they have to organize against us.”

Grindelwald paused, turning to face Matthias fully. “You are correct to be concerned, but do not mistake vigilance for fear. Dumbledore is my concern, and Adam Clarke is a boy, Matthias. Prodigiously talented, yes. Determined, undoubtedly. But he is still young, still learning the weight of the decisions he makes. He is not our true enemy— he is merely a symptom of a larger disease.”

Matthias raised an eyebrow. “And Voldemort? Is he merely a symptom as well?”

Grindelwald’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “No, Voldemort is something else entirely— a rival, perhaps. But unlike him, we offer a future worth fighting for. His vision is one of domination and servitude. Ours is liberation and renewal.”

Matthias hesitated before responding. “And yet, his methods may bring him allies we cannot sway.”

Grindelwald tilted his head, considering this. “Allies, yes. But loyalty built on fear is brittle, Matthias. It cracks under pressure and shatters at the first sign of weakness. Ours is forged from belief, from a shared dream. That is the difference between us.”

Matthias looked down at the reports still spread across the desk. “Even so, our operatives are stretched thin. If we’re to gather the remaining artifacts and keep our plans moving, we’ll need more hands. Perhaps even more allies.”

“Then we shall find them.” Grindelwald said simply. He gestured toward the map on the wall. “The world is rife with discontent. There are always those who long for change but lack the means to achieve it. We will give them that means.”

Matthias nodded slowly, though his expression remained troubled. “And the artifacts? The longer they remain out of our reach, the greater the risk that someone else will find them first.”

Grindelwald’s smile returned, though it held a sharper edge this time. “That is why I’ve sent for Vanessa. Her newly trained team will secure what we need. As for any others… their interference will be dealt with in due time.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Matthias couldn’t suppress a shiver. Grindelwald spoke with the calm certainty of a man who had already calculated every possible outcome.

“Now.” Grindelwald continued, his tone shifting to one of finality. “There is another matter to address. The whispers in the shadows, the rumors of betrayal. It is time to ensure that our ranks remain loyal.”

Matthias stiffened. “You suspect someone, sir?”

Grindelwald’s eyes gleamed with cold fire. “I suspect everyone, Matthias. Trust is earned, not given. And loyalty… loyalty must be tested.”

He turned back to the map, his gaze settling on a cluster of pins in Eastern Europe. “Send word to our operatives in Romania. Our contacts at the dragon handlers there have been opposed to our plans, and I would see them reminded of the importance of our cause.”

Matthias inclined his head. “As you wish, sir.”

Grindelwald’s voice softened, almost contemplative. “Our enemies believe they can outmaneuver us, that they can delay the inevitable. Let them try. Each step they take brings them closer to the precipice. And when they fall, the world will finally see the truth.”

Matthias didn’t reply, but the unease in his eyes lingered as he bowed and left the room. Grindelwald remained where he stood, his gaze fixed on the map.

The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the solar. The pieces were in motion, the board slowly being set for the final act.

He just had to ensure that every single one of his moves counted for his eventual goal.

His note would reach Vanessa shortly. She and her team would likely be, or were already en route to their target— a secluded valley in Eastern Europe, where the artifact they sought had been hidden for centuries.

Grindelwald allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. Vanessa was among his most trusted operatives, her loyalty forged in fire and unyielding. She had been with him since the earliest days of his resurgence, and her success rate was unparalleled among the troops.

“Vanessa will succeed.” Grindelwald murmured to himself, his voice calm and assured. “She always does.”

He turned from the window and approached the map adorning the wall. With a flick of his wand, he summoned an image of the caves that would serve as the site of his great work. The magical projection hovered in the air, rotating slowly to reveal the intricate runic patterns carved into the stone. The caves pulsed with latent energy, their potential brimming just beneath the surface.

Grindelwald raised his hand, and a stream of shimmering magic poured from his fingertips, weaving itself into the projection. The runes flared briefly before stabilizing, their glow deepening to a steady, ominous red.

“It’s not quite there, but it will be ready. Perhaps four more artifacts. Would that it could be finished now…” He said, his tone tinged with both pride and impatience.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention. Matthias had returned, a stack of additional reports in hand. He set them on the desk and hesitated, clearly waiting for Grindelwald’s acknowledgment.

“What is it, Matthias?” Grindelwald asked, not looking away from the projection.

“The gathering of operatives has stirred a little… unrest among the lower ranks.” Matthias admitted cautiously. “There are whispers that missions are being handed out, which are more important than anything else we’ve undertaken so far. Some are questioning why they weren’t chosen.”

Grindelwald let out a low chuckle, finally turning to face Matthias. “Ambition can be a powerful motivator, but it must be tempered with understanding. They question because they do not yet see the full picture.”

“And how do you plan to address it?” Matthias pressed.

“Directly, of course.” Grindelwald replied. “I cannot have dissent in the ranks— not at this juncture, my friend.”

He strode past Matthias and out of the solar, his presence commanding attention from every operative he passed. Word of his arrival spread quickly, and by the time he reached the main hall, a sizable crowd had gathered.

Grindelwald ascended the dais at the front of the hall, turning to face his followers. The room fell silent, every eye fixed on him. He let the quiet stretch for a moment, his piercing gaze sweeping across the assembly.

“I have received a few concerning reports… that there is doubt among the ranks.” Grindelwald said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. It was not a question, but a statement.

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, though no one dared speak.

“You doubt because you lack the vision to see what lies ahead.” He continued. “You think our new missions are more important than your own? You are mistaken. Every task, every role, every action you take serves a singular purpose— to bring about the world we have dreamed of. A world free from the shackles of mediocrity and weakness. A world where the strong can rise, and magic will no longer be hidden in shadows.”

The tension in the room shifted, replaced by a growing sense of resolve. Grindelwald’s words ignited something within his followers, a spark of purpose that burned brighter with each passing moment.

“Vanessa’s mission is vital, yes.” Grindelwald admitted. “But so is the work being done here, in the caves, in the cities and towns where our message spreads like wildfire. You are the lifeblood of this movement, and together, we will accomplish what no one else has dared to dream.”

He extended his arms, his presence larger than life. “Your time will come— in fact, your mission will be decided by the result of the current mission our other operatives are undertaking right now. What I need from you now is preparation. Our great work is close to completion, and you all need to be ready for when that comes, for it will be war.”

Grindelwald paced for a few moments, allowing his words to be fully absorbed before continuing. “So, I ask you now. Will you trust in me? I have led you through victory after victory— and the next one will be our crowning achievement! Are you with me!?”

The hall erupted in applause, a thunderous cacophony that reverberated off the vaulted ceiling. People’s cheers blended into a roaring wave of sound that seemed almost alive. Some clapped with frantic energy, their palms stinging from the force, while others whistled sharply, the piercing notes cutting through the din. A few shouted Grindelwald’s name, their voices raw with fervor.

The applause and cheers began to fade, ebbing like a tide as Grindelwald raised a hand, his calm yet commanding gesture urging the crowd to settle. The silence that followed was almost as loud as the noise that had preceded it, the stillness charged with anticipation.

“My friends.” Grindelwald said, his voice rich and resonant, carrying effortlessly through the vast hall. “Tonight, we will celebrate this victory together— a feast to honor what we have achieved and what lies ahead.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, a hum of excitement tempered by the prospect of what the evening would bring. Grindelwald’s eyes glinted with an almost paternal warmth as he nodded to the guards stationed near the edges of the room. “See to it that the chefs are informed. No effort shall be spared in preparing a meal worthy of the occasion.”

The guards bowed and departed swiftly, their long cloaks trailing behind them as they exited through side doors, their purpose clear.

The crowd began to disperse, albeit slowly, as though reluctant to leave the presence of their leader. Small groups formed, the murmured conversations blending into a low, buzzing undercurrent. Some lingered near the tapestries that adorned the hall, discussing the momentousness of the occasion, their voices hushed but animated. Others made their way toward the grand double doors, their steps measured, as if savoring the energy still lingering in the air.

A few loyalists approached Grindelwald, bowing deeply before offering words of praise or pledging their continued support. He listened to each with the same composed intensity, nodding or offering a word of gratitude before they too moved on.

By the time the last of the crowd began to leave, the vast hall felt quieter but no less imposing.

Matthias approached him once more. “That was… effective.”

Grindelwald allowed himself a small smile. “Words are a weapon as powerful as any spell, Matthias. Wield them wisely, and you can shape the world.”

Matthias nodded, his earlier doubts seemingly assuaged. But as Grindelwald returned to his solar, he couldn’t shake the sense that not all who cheered today would remain loyal tomorrow.

Time after the rally in the main hall passed in a blur of activity, but Grindelwald had retreated to his solar, the door shut and warded against intrusion. Their applause still echoed faintly in his memory— a reminder of the power he wielded over his followers.

He Summoned a glass of deep red wine with a flick of his hand and let the rich aroma settle over him as he studied the map of Europe spread across his desk. Small, glowing markers indicated key locations where his operatives were active: Vanessa and her team now confirmed to be en route to the valley, the ritual caves in Eastern Europe, and several covert cells embedded in the heart of enemy territories.

One thing caught his attention, however. A marker burned brighter than the rest, its orange hue pulsating with unsettling intensity. Grindelwald’s fingers hovered over it— a small village near the Bulgarian border. Reports from the area had been fragmentary at best, but they all hinted at the same chilling conclusion. Someone was operating there outside of his command, or any other.

Matthias entered without a word, the wards parting for him alone.

“Preparations for the feast are well underway.” He said. “Are you ready to—”

“Do you see this, my friend?” Grindelwald asked, gesturing toward the pulsating marker.

Matthias nodded. “I believe so. We sent operatives to investigate reported strange activity in that area— magic unlike anything we’ve encountered before. They didn’t linger long enough to gather more details.”

Grindelwald’s expression darkened. “Did they encounter resistance?”

“No, but they felt… watched. As though someone or something knew they were there. They described it as oppressive, almost suffocating.”

Grindelwald checked the stack of reports and opened the dossier, his sharp eyes scanning the sparse details. The reports were maddeningly vague, but one detail stood out: a symbol etched into the bark of a tree at the edge of the village. A snake devouring its own tail.

“The Ouroboros…” Grindelwald murmured, his voice low.

The room seemed to grow colder at the mention. Matthias shifted uneasily but remained silent.

Grindelwald closed the dossier with a sharp snap.

“I am not sure what this could mean.” He said. “A new player, perhaps?”

“Perhaps it is Voldemort?”

“I do not believe so.” Grindelwald said with a shake of the head. “He has no reason to travel so far east. It could be a new local wizard or witch, attempting to stake their claim? They have already marked their territory thoroughly.”

“Should we send a team to confront them?” Matthias asked.

Grindelwald shook his head. “Not yet. This person shows cunning, but they are also reckless. All we need to do is watch and wait. Let them make the first mistake.”

He set the dossier aside and turned his attention to another document— a list of names. Lucius Malfoy’s network had begun to resurface, their allegiance shifting with the winds of power. Grindelwald knew Malfoy would not align himself with him unless he believed Grindelwald had more to offer than the supposed Dark Lord.

This would be a dangerous game, but it was one Grindelwald was confident he could win.

“I will speak with Ilse again to adjust our message to Malfoy.” Grindelwald mused. “We’ll offer him a seat at the table.”

“…Can we trust him?” Matthias said, a frown on his face.

“Oh, of course not.” Grindelwald said with a smile. “But this will potentially delay them, or perhaps even offer us insight into their operations.”

Matthias inclined his head. “I’ll be sure to inform her. Now…”

“Yes, yes.” Grindelwald said, allowing himself a smile as he stood up. “Let us away— we have a celebration to attend.”