Secrets Unleashed

July 22, 1993, 6:30 PM, Grimmauld Place

Adam Clarke

Sirius slouched in an armchair, his dark eyes glinting with a familiar mix of impatience and amusement. Harry perched beside me on the lumpy couch, his quiet presence steadying my nerves, while Remus stood by the mantel, his calm gaze urging me to start.

In my hands was a letter from the Blackthorn patriarch, its wax seal long broken. Months ago, he’d written to mend fences after I’d bloodied his son up— a fight everyone in Wizarding Britain knew about. In fact, I’d basically been ostracized for some time over it.

I’d ignored the letter, tossing it aside as unimportant, but now it felt like a loose thread I had to acknowledge before diving into the real storm.

Another secret let out. I smiled despite myself.

I cleared my throat, my voice rough.

“This, I got from the Blackthorns.” I said, holding up the letter. “Blackthorn Senior wants to make peace over that scrap I had with his kid.”

Sirius snorted, leaning back. “Took you long enough to mention it. Been sitting on that one for a while, haven’t you? How many more secrets do you have?”

I shrugged, heat creeping up my neck.

“Too many. This one… it just didn’t seem worth bothering about.” I glanced at Harry, who gave a small nod, his eyes warm with trust. Remus tilted his head, already knowing the story— everyone did— but waiting for me to go on.

The room felt heavy, their gazes pinning me down. Sirius’ smirk held an edge, like he was testing me. Harry’s support kept me grounded, but I knew the Blackthorn mess was just a footnote. What really mattered— what I’d been avoiding— was the flood of secrets ready to spill. My heart thudded, pushing me to get it out, to finally share what I’d kept locked away.

“It’s not about the fight.” I said, my voice steadier now. “The letter’s just… something I should’ve dealt with. But there’s bigger stuff— things I’ve seen, things you need to know.”

I set the letter down, its words— offers of reconciliation— fading against the firelight. “I’m done dodging it. You deserve the truth.”

Remus’ eyes sharpened, curious. Sirius leaned forward, his amusement fading. “Truth? What else have you been hiding, Adam?”

My throat tightened, but I met his gaze. “A lot. Stuff that’s been eating at me.”

I shifted on the couch. Their eyes were locked on me, waiting, and my stomach twisted. I’d dodged this moment for too long, but the visions clawing at my mind demanded to be shared. I took a shaky breath, my hands clenching as I dove in, ready to paint the images that haunted my nights.

“I’ve been seeing things.” I started, my voice low. “Visions. A huge portal, glowing like it’s torn open to another world. Stone giants— massive, carved figures— stirring from the earth, moving like they’re alive. And powers, old ones, waking up everywhere, humming under the ground.”

Sirius leaned forward, his brow creasing. “Giants? Portals? That’s not at all what I thought you were going to say, Adam.”

“And these aren’t just bad dreams?” Remus said, tilting his head slightly. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, ignoring the jab. “I don’t know. They feel real enough. I see this portal pulsing, like it’s calling something through. The giants— they’re guarding it, or maybe they’re part of it. And the powers… they feel like magic, but deeper, stronger.”

Harry’s eyes widened, his voice soft. “What kind of powers?”

I struggled to find words, the images flickering in my mind.

“Like… the world’s heartbeat— just like how Cassius said— but it’s angry, restless. It’s really tough to put into words.” I looked at Remus. “They can’t just be mere dreams. They mean something. That talk Sirius had with Cassius has all but confirmed it for me.”

“Shame I missed that.” Remus said, throwing a look towards Sirius, who’d crossed his arms, still looking somewhat skeptical.

“They’re too vivid.” I insisted, my voice rising. “Every night, the same images, sharper each time. I feel them— like I’m there, standing in front of that portal, hearing the giants’ footsteps.”

My hands shook, and I hid them under my thighs, hating how exposed I felt. Harry’s steady gaze kept me anchored, his belief a lifeline.

Remus looked up, his tone gentle. “Have you seen where this portal is? Somewhere we can check?”

“Not exactly.” I admitted, frustration creeping in. “It’s blurry— like looking through fog. But it’s tied to what Cassius showed us, I know it.”

I met Sirius’ eyes, daring him to doubt me. “There’s a threat coming, something big. These visions are warning us. Dumbledore already knows I have visions, and he’s confirmed their truthfulness.”

The room grew quiet, the fire’s crackle the only sound.

Sirius’ skepticism left him completely, replaced by a flicker of concern and annoyance. “So, Dumbledore knew? I suppose he had you sworn to secrecy?”

I didn’t answer, allowing Sirius to come to his own conclusions on the matter. Remus set down his pen, his expression thoughtful, while Harry patted my arm, a silent vote of confidence. I leaned back on the couch, its warmth doing little to ease the chill creeping up my spine.

“There’s more.” I said, my voice rough. “I see things— soul threads. They’re like… glowing strands tying people together, showing who they are, deep down.”

I paused, glancing at Harry, whose eyes widened slightly. “And then there’s the threads of destiny. Fainter, harder to catch, but as far as I could tell, they seem to be setting the world on a path.”

Sirius’ jaw twitched, his voice low. “Destiny? You’re saying that, on top of visions, you see the hands guiding the future?”

“No, not exactly.” I replied, my hands twisting in my lap. “I don’t know if there’s anything guiding the threads— that’s what bothers me. I can see them, but they seem to move of their own accord, or in response to what someone does.”

Remus’ gaze sharpened, intrigued as he tried to peak above him to the golden thread he could not see with his own eyes. “That is fascinating. What do they look like?”

I closed my black eye and watched Remus’ thread undulate in response to his curiosity. “Soul threads can be bright— gold, blue, green, red— but sometimes they can be dark as ink, pulsing with who you are. Destiny’s threads are a different beast altogether— they seem to be every color, and none. It’s hard to explain.”

I opened my black eye again, meeting Sirius’ stare. He leaned forward, saying. “And you kept this quiet because…?”

I bristled, my voice sharp.

“Would you blab about something you barely understand? Something people might laugh off— or fear?” My cheeks burned, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down. “I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

Harry’s gaze held steady, unwavering. “We don’t think that.”

Remus nodded, his voice calm. “You’re right to be cautious, but we’re listening now.”

“Thank you.” I said. paused for a moment and pulled a worn map from my pocket, its edges frayed from weeks of obsessive study.

Sirius’ gaze followed my hands as I spread the map on the table, my finger tracing four spots that burned in my mind like beacons.

“I’ve been digging.” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “These places— four of them— line up with Cassius’s warnings about the west. Here’s one in southern England, a few miles off of Stonehenge. Another in a Welsh valley, hidden by mist and all treacherous ground. One’s on a rocky islet in the North Sea, and the last is a cliff in the Hebrides.”

Sirius tapped the map, his brow furrowed. “What makes you think these are the ones?”

I met his eyes, forcing confidence. “Old texts, rune patterns, notes in the archives. They’re all ancient sites, pulsing with magic— except Stonehenge, but I can’t shake the feeling there may be something near. At any rate, it’s exactly what my visions point to.” I pointed to the Welsh mark. “This valley’s got ruins tied to Merlin’s time. The Hebrides cliff— it’s been rumored to hum when storms hit.”

Harry leaned closer, his voice soft. “You think the portal’s at one of these?”

“Maybe.” I said, frustration creeping in. “They all have different pieces that seemingly fit, but I can’t pin it down yet.” I glanced at Remus, whose eyes was studying this map with the intense studious gaze I’d grown to associate with his great interest. “Cassius showed us the energy twisting west— these spots match that flow.”

Remus looked up, his tone measured. “That’s thorough, Adam. Any signs of what’s there?”

I shook my head, my stomach knotting.

“Not enough. Just… echoes in my visions— power, movement. A presence trying to claw its way out.” I hated how vague it sounded, but I pushed on. “We need to check these places out. One’s got to be the key.”

Sirius’ fingers drummed the table, his skepticism softening into thoughtfulness. “That’s a start. Dangerous, but a start.”

Harry’s eyes traced the map, his quiet intensity lifting me.

“We’ll figure it out.” He said, simple but sure.

I nodded, a flicker of pride warming me. They were listening, really listening, even if I didn’t have all the answers.

“So, what’s at these sites?” Sirius said, gesturing at a few spots. “Obviously Hebridean Blacks in the Hebrides, but I can’t seem to recall the others.”

“That’s because there’s little to no information on the others.” Remus said, tapping his finger against Stonehenge. “This one isn’t even considered magical, but a place that was set up as a prank on Muggles.”

I hesitated, my throat dry.

“I wouldn’t discount that place, I’ve a feeling about it.” I admitted, hating how weak it sounded.

“I just wish my visions were clearer. All I’ve been going on is a portal and stone giants. Or it could be a ritual site, something to channel massive power.” My hands clenched, frustration bubbling up. “It’s like a puzzle with half the pieces missing.”

Remus tilted his head, his tone calm but pointed. “Let’s start with that. A portal, but to where? Another realm? Or something else entirely?”

I shook my head, staring at the map’s inked lines.

“I don’t know. I see flashes— light spilling from a tear in the air, stone giants standing guard, power humming so loud it hurts.” I glanced at Harry, his eyes steady, urging me on. “Sometimes I think it’s a gate to somewhere… outside. Other times, it feels like a spark to wake something ancient.”

Harry’s voice was soft, encouraging. “Maybe it’s both?”

Sirius grunted, his impatience clear. “Too many maybes. We need more than guesses.”

“Wish I had more than this to give.” I said, my own frustration clouding my judgment in my tone. “Whatever’s at those sites, it’s tied to the Earth’s energy— the chaos Cassius showed us.”

A short silence passed.

“There’s more.” I said, my eyes flicking between them. “Grindelwald’s involved. He’s hunting relics; powerful ones, like the Mirror of Erised.”

Harry’s ears perked up as we shared a look. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “That’s how Dumbledore knew my vision was real— we went to check for it, and it’s no longer in his possession.”

“I see…” Harry said. “And what does Grindelwald want with it? It just shows someone’s desire.”

“I’m not too sure—” I stopped for a moment. “I have a few ideas. The Mirror does show someone’s desire, and if it’s known, then it can be reflected onto something?”

“Used as a focus to channel one’s desire and intent— much like a wand.” Remus nodded as he finished my own logical chain. “The same basic concepts of wandlore applied to the Mirror’s powers. Well reasoned.”

“And Grindelwald has it?”

I nodded, my throat tight, though a small blush came with the praise. “As far as I know, yes. That’s probably why he’s been interfering with the tournament. He’s gathering artifacts to tap into that portal or ritual. Dumbledore’s been tracking him, I think.”

Sirius nodded, a look of displeasure on his face. “He should have told us.”

I shrugged, uneasy.

“Maybe he’s keeping it quiet. The fewer who know, the less of a scramble it is.” I glanced at Harry, whose hand tightened on my shoulder. “I know, Harry. I know— sounds like me, doesn’t it?”

Harry shook his head in both amusement and annoyance.

Sirius exchanged a look with Remus, a wordless conversation flashing between them— doubt, worry, frustration.

“If Dumbledore’s holding out.” Sirius muttered. “That’s a problem. His games are what got the family destroyed in the first place.”

Harry’s voice cut in, firm. “Adam’s telling us now. That’s what matters.”

I swallowed, gratitude swelling for Harry’s faith.

“I didn’t know for sure until recently.” I said, my voice earnest. “But the relics— they’re keys, I think. To open that portal or wake whatever’s sleeping. We need to move before Grindelwald does.”

Remus leaned back, his brow furrowed. “He’s got a major advantage over us, to be sure. An army of willing recruits, getting bigger by the day. Worse than that… Relics like the Mirror— Dark magic, Adam. Dangerous beyond the ability of most wizards.”

“I know.” I said, meeting his gaze. “That’s why I’m telling you. I can’t let him get there first, but I can’t do it alone.”

Another silence followed my words. Remus spoke first, his voice gentle but firm. “Adam, why keep all this to yourself? These visions, Grindelwald— secrets like that could’ve helped us sooner.”

Sirius leaned forward, his tone harder. “Yeah, you’ve been sitting on a bloody bombshell. Why hold out?”

I bristled, my chest tightening with defensive heat.

“You think I wanted to? I had dreams— vague, crazy dreams. Would you have spilled your guts if you thought no one would believe you?” My voice cracked, frustration spilling over.

Harry’s grip tightened, his voice quiet. “I believe you.”

Sirius let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with something like recognition.

“Fair point. Trust’s a tricky beast, especially with family.” He paused, his gaze distant. “I thought my brother was like me, but my mother’s poison got him in the end. Betrayal’s a lesson you learn early in this house.”

I swallowed hard, his words hitting close.

And yet he came back to the good side in the end, even if you didn’t know it.

I saw the pain flicker in his face, raw and unguarded, and it mirrored my own fear— of being cast aside, doubted.

“I get it.” I said softly. “You never know who’ll turn on you. That’s why I kept quiet.”

Remus nodded, his expression kind. “But you’re telling us now. That’s what counts.”

I met Sirius’ gaze, my voice steadier. “I’m done hiding. You’ve got everything— well, almost.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but his smile was wry, not accusing. “Almost, huh? What else are you hiding?”

I managed a small smile, though my heart raced. Two secrets lingered, one heavier than all the rest combined, but the one about Regulus… I could share it.

I’m not telling them about the Resurrection Stone, though. Not yet. Their minds would break from its use— all of them. Harry, especially.

“Regulus— his life, what really happened in the end.”

Sirius stiffened, his face paling as if I’d struck him. He leaned forward, eyes guarded, though I could see his soul thread twist in agitated desperation. “Regulus? What do you know about him?”

I hesitated, the weight of his pain crashing into me.

“Regulus wasn’t what you think— not just your mother’s pawn.” I saw flashes in my mind— Regulus, young, slipping through shadows, clutching a locket, his face torn between fear and resolve. “He chose a path, Sirius, one she didn’t control.”

Remus leaned forward, his voice tense. “Adam, what are you saying?”

I pressed on, my words careful but sure.

“He fought back, in his own way. Against Voldemort, against what he was raised to be.” I said. “He wasn’t like you thought he’d turned out.”

Sirius’ breath hitched, his eyes glistening. “You’re telling me Regulus… what? Turned hero?”

“Not hero.” I said softly. “Just… human. He made choices— hard ones. He paid for them, and in the end, he made amends.”

Sirius’ voice was a whisper, almost like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ve seen this? In a vision?”

I shook my head. “No. Not a vision. Kreacher!”

Kreacher appeared by my side with a soft pop. Before he could say a word, I bid him to tell the truth about Regulus’ death.

He did.

oooo

4:00 PM (EST), near the Catskill Mountains

Vanessa Zhenya

Vanessa trudged through the dense forest, her boots sinking into the soft, loamy earth with each deliberate step. The Summer sun beat down through the canopy, its heat a stifling blanket that made her skin prickle with irritation. She longed for winter’s sharp embrace, where her ice sang, turning breath to frost and blood to crystal. This endless summer slog, however, felt like a punishment— a tedious assignment she had chosen, expecting thrill, but finding only monotony.

Her wand hung loosely at her side, its holly surface cool against her fingers. Grindelwald’s orders echoed in her mind: seek out the tribes, stop their rituals disrupting his plans. She had leapt at the chance, craving battles worthy of her skill, but the reality was a string of disappointments. The forest buzzed with life— chirping insects, rustling leaves— mocking her with its vibrant chaos, so unlike the serene stillness of a frozen tundra.

Vanessa’s lips curled in disdain as she recalled her so-called foes.

The “Outsiders”, as they were called, had fallen too easily to her power, their bodies piling up without challenge. She had expected warriors, not chaff to be swept away by her ice. Her thoughts drifted to the MACUSA, its storied might crumbled under these weaklings.

A snort escaped her— pitiful. Subterfuge and rituals might have been their weapons, but it only deepened her scorn for an institution too slow to see the knife coming.

She kicked a stone, watching it skitter into the underbrush.

She wondered when she’d face a foe worth her time, someone to test the edge of her magic. The tribes she sought were elusive, their defiance a faint spark in the haze, but even that felt hollow. Had they all been slaughtered already? Or were they hiding, mocking her with their absence?

She pressed deeper, the heat clinging to her like a second skin, each humid breath stoking her irritation.

Still, Grindelwald’s orders pulsed in her mind: halt the tribes’ rituals, clear his path. She respected his vision, his ruthlessness, but this mission tested her patience.

The forest’s clamor grated on her nerves, a mockery of her restless hunger. She recalled a duel years ago, a wizard whose fire magic had pushed her to her limits, forcing her to weave ice into armor and spears. That was a fight, a dance of equals. These Outsiders? They were nothing, their deaths barely registering beyond a fleeting satisfaction. Vanessa’s boots crushed a twig, the snap echoing her growing scorn.

She wondered if the tribes hid stronger warriors, or if this was all they had; ants scrambling before her storm. Behind her, her five-person team trudged, their steps heavier than hers, their breaths laced with fatigue. She heard their muffled grumbles— whispers of aching feet and endless wandering— though none dared voice them directly to her.

Vanessa’s lips twitched with disdain; weakness, even in her own ranks, was a splinter she longed to pluck out. She had trained this team— Lars, with his knack for hexes; Mira, quick with shields; and the others, each honed for combat— yet their weariness now grated on her. Grindelwald’s mission demanded endurance, not complaints, and she expected nothing less than iron resolve.

Her patience frayed as the grumbling grew bolder, a low mutter about needing rest. She spun, ready to lash out, her voice already sharpening in her mind— useless, soft fools— when a prickle danced across her senses. Something, or someone, watched them, just beyond the edge of her perception. The forest’s noise seemed to dull, the air tightening with unseen eyes. Her anger shifted to intrigue, a cold spark igniting in her chest.

Without betraying her alertness, Vanessa called out, her tone deceptively light.

“Fine, we’ll rest here. Make camp.” The team exhaled in relief, dropping packs and setting up with practiced efficiency. Lars unrolled a tarp, Mira sparked a small fire, and the others moved in sync, oblivious to the shift in her demeanor. Vanessa sank onto a fallen log, her posture relaxed, but her eyes scanned the trees, sharp and unblinking.

The unseen presence lingered, a whisper of magic teasing her senses, too clever to be caught. Vanessa’s pulse quickened, not with fear but anticipation. This was no ordinary foe— no stumbling Outsider to slaughter. She let her team chatter, their voices a mask for her focus, while her mind raced, plotting angles, traps, and strikes.

She sat on the log, her posture deceptively relaxed as her team set up camp in the forest clearing. The air clung to her skin, still as mind-numbingly humid and thick as ever, but her focus was elsewhere, drawn to the subtle shift in the forest. Her magic stirred within her, a cold thread weaving through her senses, alerting her to presences lurking just beyond reach. They were being watched— she was certain now— multiple figures, stealthy, circling like wolves waiting for an opening.

Her team’s chatter filled the space, Lars joking about the locals’ stubbornness, Mira tossing kindling onto the fire. Vanessa let their voices drone, her ears tuned to the forest’s whispers— the snap of a twig, the hush of leaves too deliberate to be wind. She counted at least a dozen watchers, their magic faint but growing bolder, tightening the noose around the camp.

Her lips curved slightly, a predator’s smile masked as boredom.

“Lars.” She said casually, her voice low. “Locals don’t take kindly to outsiders, do they?”

Her fingers flicked— a subtle signal, wand at the ready. Lars caught it, his grin fading, hand easing toward his wand. Mira’s eyes flicked to Vanessa, then away, her posture shifting to guard. The others followed suit, their training kicking in, no outward sign of alarm.

Vanessa’s mind raced, mapping the terrain— trees for cover, open ground for spellfire, choke points for her ice to trap foes. The watchers were cautious, staying outside her full range, but not cautious enough. She felt their intent, a mix of hostility and curiosity, and it thrilled her. This was no random patrol; this was a planned move, and she relished the chance to crush it.

“They think this is their land.” She continued, her tone conversational, eyes scanning the shadows. “No patience for anyone, ally or not.”

Another signal— two fingers tapped on her knee, meaning spread out, prepare. Her team complied, unpacking gear with deliberate slowness, wands now in hand, hidden by sleeves or packs. Vanessa approved; however annoying they may have been, they were her blades, sharp and obedient, ready to carve at her command when the time came.

A voice sliced through the stillness, bold and mocking.

“Outsiders need no allies. We’ve handled our troubles alone.” Shadows shifted, and twenty-five wizards and witches emerged from the trees, their wands glinting in the firelight. They fanned out, encircling the camp, robes blending with brush and bark. Vanessa rose slowly, her team following, their movements fluid, betraying no fear— only the eager glint of fighters she’d forged.

The leader, a wiry man with braided hair, stepped forward, his eyes burning with defiance. Vanessa met his gaze, her smile cold as frost.

“You’re the ones stirring trouble.” She said, her voice cutting. “Stop your rituals, and we walk away. Keep playing, and you’re dead.”

The leader laughed, a harsh bark that echoed through the clearing.

“Fools, coming to our land. You think you can command us?” His wand twitched, signaling his group. “Fools; you’ll die before the day is out.”

Vanessa’s grin widened, her blood singing at the challenge. She sized up the enemy— some young, others weathered, all eager for blood. Her team spread out subtly, Lars’ fingers flexing, Mira’s stance low, ready to shield.

She noted the enemy’s formation— tight clusters, overconfident, leaving gaps she could exploit. Her ice magic coiled tighter, ready to carve through flesh and bone. These weren’t the weaklings she’d felled before; their numbers and boldness hinted at something more, and it thrilled her. Grindelwald’s orders felt distant now; this was her arena, her chance to unleash devastation.

“You’ve chosen poorly.” Vanessa said, her voice a velvet threat. Her team’s eyes gleamed, mirroring her hunger for battle, a trait she’d instilled through relentless training.

The leader’s sneer faltered, sensing her confidence, but it was too late. The clearing was a powder keg, and Vanessa was the spark, her wand an extension of her will, itching to freeze the defiance from their faces.

“Kill them.”

The forest clearing exploded into chaos after his words. Vanessa Zhenya moved like a winter storm, her wand slashing through the humid July air, unleashing a volley of ice shards that tore into four wizards before they could raise their wands. Blood sprayed, freezing mid-air, as their bodies crumpled, faces locked in shock. Her lips curled into a savage grin.

Spells lit the evening— curses in red, shields in silver— clashing around her. Lars’ hexes toppled a witch, while Mira’s barriers deflected a barrage, setting a few trees alight. Vanessa danced through the fray, her senses razor-sharp, spotting three foes converging on her left. She spun, wand flicking, and razor-thin ice blades sliced through their robes, severing arteries. They fell, gurgling, as she stepped over them, her boots slick with frost and blood.

A witch charged from behind, her wand spitting green light. Vanessa’s reflexes surged, her body twisting to dodge while her free hand summoned a jagged ice spike. It pierced the witch’s shoulder, pinning her to a tree. The scream was music, sharp and fleeting, before Vanessa snapped her wrist, freezing the witch’s hand solid.

“Pathetic.” She hissed, shattering the limb with a flick. An ice blade followed, silencing the cry, blood pooling beneath the roots.

The forest pulsed with violence, trees splintering under stray spells, the air thick with smoke and copper. Vanessa’s team held strong, their training evident in their ruthless efficiency— six enemies down, more falling. She relished the carnage, her magic flowing like a river, cold and unstoppable. Each kill fed her hunger, but she wanted more— a challenge to match her, not this fodder crumbling under her frost.

A wizard lunged, his curse grazing her cloak. Vanessa laughed, untouched, and retaliated with a whip of ice that wrapped his throat, tightening until his eyes bulged. She released him, letting him choke, then drove a shard through his chest, watching life drain from his face. The thrill coursed through her, her magic a living thing, eager to consume. She scanned the clearing, counting bodies— fifteen down, ten left— her team unscathed, their wands flashing in sync.

A sudden tremor shook the earth, and Vanessa’s senses snapped to attention. A massive oak, roots torn free, hurtled toward her, its branches clawing the air like a beast unleashed. She reacted instantly, her body launching upward, flipping with catlike grace over the tree’s bulk.

It crashed behind her, splintering, and crushed the witch she’d just slain, blood and bone pulping beneath bark. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, dust swirling in the July heat.

Vanessa landed lightly, her grin feral, her ice magic pulsing with delight.

“Clever.” She purred, scanning for the source. Her team regrouped, wands raised, their eyes alight with the thrill she’d instilled in them. The enemy— now down to eight— faltered, their leader’s shouts growing desperate. Vanessa ignored him, her gaze locking onto a new figure stepping from the shadows, his presence a raw, snarling force that made the air hum.

He was young, no older than fifteen, with wild hair and eyes burning with primal rage. His magic crackled, untamed, shaking the ground beneath him. Vanessa felt it— a power unlike the others, heavy, visceral, promising the fight she’d craved. Her wand twitched, her ice coiling tighter, eager to test this boy’s strength against her own. The forest seemed to lean in, its clamor fading, as if recognizing the shift in the battle’s tide.

The boy’s glare met hers, unyielding, and she laughed, a sharp, crystalline sound that cut through the din.

“Finally.” She said, her voice laced with hunger. “Something worth breaking.”

Her team held position, taking on the stragglers, leaving her free to focus.

Blood stained her cloak, the witch’s corpse at her feet a forgotten trophy. The tree’s wreckage smoked, a testament to the boy’s power, and Vanessa’s pulse raced, her magic a blizzard ready to erupt.

She stepped forward, her smile cold and lethal, ready to carve her name into his defiance, to freeze his fire and claim the forest as her own.

The heat faded against her ice magic’s chill, her wand steady, her grin sharp. The boy snarled, vowing her submission, and Vanessa laughed, blowing him a mocking kiss.

“Try it, little beast.” She taunted, her words a barb to unsteady him.

He charged, and the fight ignited. His magic surged, enhancing his body— speed blurring his form, strength shattering her ice shards mid-air. Vanessa’s blades grazed him, drawing thin lines of blood, but his skin seemed to harden instantly after, deflecting her followup cuts.

She unleashed a volley of spells— stunners, cutters— yet he took them head-on, his roar shaking leaves from branches. Intrigued, she danced back, her movements fluid, testing his limits.

Vanessa’s mind raced, analyzing his power.

No wand, just raw force— physical, magical, woven into his flesh. She shifted tactics, her wand tracing arcs, freezing the ground beneath his feet. He stumbled, caught, and she struck— ice shards rained from all angles, sharper than before.

His flinch and bellow of pain were music, but he stood firm, eyes locked on hers, defiance unbroken. She grinned wider, her blood singing; here was a foe worth her time.

He lunged again, faster, his fist grazing her cloak, the force of his punch rattling her bones. Vanessa spun, summoning a whip of frost that lashed his back, drawing a hiss. He turned, undeterred, his skin gleaming like stone under the dappled sunlight.

She cast a binding hex, but he ran through it like it hadn’t even there. Her respect grew, but so did her hunger to break him. She wove a cage of ice spikes, trapping him briefly, only for him to shatter it with a primal scream, shards flying outward.

Vanessa raised a shield, protecting her team, her eyes never leaving the boy. His power was wild, unpolished, but potent. She intensified her assault, frost swirling around her like a blizzard, pelting him with relentless shards. Blood streaked his face, his roar faltering, yet he stood, chest heaving, hatred burning. The forest trembled, as if bowing to their clash, the air thick with magic and menace.

She stepped closer, her voice low, teasing.

“Not bad, boy. But I’m better.”

His responding glare sent a thrill up her spine.

“Hm? Did you think you’d win, boy?” She mocked, her wand steady, its chill a pulse in her grip. “All of your friends are done for.”

Her team stood behind her, wands lowered, the last foes finally dispatched— twenty-five dead, their blood soaking the earth. The boy’s gaze darted, realization dawning as he saw his comrades’ bodies, their defiance snuffed out by her relentless frost.

Wariness flickered in his eyes, a crack in his bravado, and Vanessa seized it, her grin cold as a glacier. “Well? What will you do now?”

“Kill you!” He roared, charging with desperate strength, his enhanced body a blur of muscle and rage. Vanessa moved like winter’s breath, slipping behind him in a heartbeat. Her wand flicked, conjuring twin ice blades— thin, precise, glinting like moonlight. They pierced his ear canals, burrowing deep, and the boy’s scream shattered the silence, raw and anguished. He stumbled, clutching his head, blood trickling as he vomited, disoriented, his primal power faltering under her cruel strike.

Vanessa watched him collapse to his knees, his body trembling, then crumple to the forest floor, unconscious. Satisfaction surged through her, her magic humming with triumph. She stepped closer, nudging his limp form with her boot, her lips curling at the sight of his defeat.

The boy was hers now— a prize, a trophy of her dominance, his strength no match for her ingenuity. The clearing was silent, the forest bowing to her victory.

Her team gathered, their faces flushed with exertion but unbroken, their loyalty absolute. “What now, boss?”

Vanessa’s gaze swept the carnage as she savored the moment, her blood still singing with the thrill of conquest, the memory of his pain a sweet note in her symphony of violence.

“Pack up. We’re done here. It’s clear that we need to learn more about these people— otherwise we’ll just keep killing them until there are none left. Mr. Grindelwald wouldn’t like that.”

It was half a lie— she wasn’t remotely interested in sparing these people. Gellert, however, would want to avoid killing them all. More importantly, the boy would come with them, a gift for her amusement.

She couldn’t wait to play with him properly, just the two of them…

Lars suppressed a shiver at the look in her eyes, but followed her obediently.