The Unbeatable Foe

Chapter 2

Gellert Grindelwald, the most feared Dark Wizard of his day, looked very much at home as he leaned back in his throne like chair behind the massive desk in his office. Despite his golden curls and a beauty that six decades had not erased, there was a certain wildness to his expression that made him look the part. His blue eyes narrowed in concentration over his steepled fingers as he listened to the report of Ivar Patrylo, Head of Intelligence for his regime. Patrylo was a short, thin, entirely unremarkable wizard with an unruly shock of sandy-brown hair. His slouch and his rumpled black robes were almost aggressively unmilitary; only the sign of the Hallows pinned crookedly to his chest marked him as a member of Grindelwald's inner circle. But it was not for his martial appearance that Gellert had elevated Patrylo.

"You are sure a messenger reached Dumbledore?" Gellert interrupted his report.

"I am certain," Ivar replied, his face dispassionate. "Dumbledore had a drink with a guest at the Three Broomsticks, a public house and inn located in the Wizarding settlement adjacent to Hogwarts School. She registered under a French name, but our informant recognized her accent as from Eastern Europe. She and Dumbledore retired to her rooms, and our informant was able to overhear a snippet of their private conversation when he brought them dinner. Maria Herrmann was mentioned."

"But Dumbledore remains at Hogwarts?" Gellert asked.

"That, I regret I cannot say," Patrylo replied with a shrug. "The Easter school holiday has begun, which makes his presence or absence difficult to establish. If he is present, he is keeping to himself."

"A clever time to make a move in secret," Gellert opined.

"Indeed," his spymaster agreed.

Albus, as a junior member of the British Wizengamot, had been a thorn in his side since before his rise to power, Gellert mused. His tedious speeches on the rights of Muggles and the Muggleborn, and their 'mistreatment' on the Continent appeared occasionally in the press, and had some impact on public opinion. Enough that the odd member of the British Ministry sometimes threw a roadblock in the way of efforts at mutual cooperation and the like.

However, it was not Dumbledore's political influence that Gellert feared, though the man could coin a good phrase in a pinch. An ironic smile curled his lip as his eyes caught the imprint of the document on top of the in pile on his desk, embossed with gold letters that spelled out "For the Greater Good".

No, Dumbledore's greatest danger to him was as a wizard. In his youth at Durmstrang, Gellert had met no equals: not among his fellow students, and not among the faculty. Then, unexpectedly, while visiting his boring old kinswoman in the backwater of a hamlet in which she dwelt, he had met Albus. Passionate, intellectually brilliant, and his match as a wizard. Perhaps, more than his match... Gellert sighed regretfully as he considered what they could have accomplished together. But the balance was altered, Gellert reminded himself. After his rift with Albus, he had continued the pursuit of their joint dream, and was master of the greatest of the Deathly Hallows, the legendary Elder Wand. Still, it would be good to know more of Albus's intentions, to be prepared.

"I thought you had the Hermann woman's messenger in custody!" Gellert said, allowing his irritation to show.

"My people apprehended one Viktor Krum as he made his way across France, yes," Ivar replied. "It seems to me that the Resistance would have been better served to choose Maria Herrmann as their leader to begin with. Her late, unlamented husband was a brave man, but lacked subtlety. It seems his widow has the sense not to put all of her eggs in one basket."

"Meaning?"

"Krum was either a decoy, or what I consider more likely, one of a few people sent."

"You do not know which?" Gellert exclaimed.

"I have handed him over to Commandant Adler," Ivar replied with a shrug. "I presume he has been put to the question, but I have not heard what, if anything, has been discovered."

"I see. In light of your report, the matter takes on greater urgency. Thank you for the information. Please let Slava know on your way out that I wish her to send for Adler."

Patrylo performed the vague wave of his hand that passed for a salute with him, and took his leave.

A smile played on Gelllert's lips as he considered the contrast between his two most important supporters. He had no illusions about Patrylo's loyalty to him. The man had no exceptional skill for magic, but a brilliant and logical mind that was a rarity among wizards. He served Gellert because he preferred a master who recognized and rewarded this underappreciated talent, and would continue to serve so long as it remained to his advantage.

Ernst, on the other hand...his smile broadened. He was the heart to Ivar's head. Ernst was fanatically dedicated to him, and enthusiastic in the punishment of his opponents. His longing for Gellert's approval made him boastful to a degree that could be tedious, though also endearing in its way. In the normal course of events, Ernst really ought to have said something of what he had learned from this Krum over the private dinner they had shared last night...oh well, he would soon know.

Gellert placed his gold-rimmed reading glasses in his nose and distracted himself with skimming the document that had been left for him to sign, before dipping his quill into the inkpot on his desk to sign it with a flourish. As he put it into the out pile and reached for the next, his secretary entered the room.

"Ernst Adler to see you, sir," she stated briskly.

"Thank you, Slava. Send him in, please," he instructed her, folding his glasses and placing them aside on his desk.

Ernst strode in, halting before the desk to click his heels together and give a precise military salute.

"You asked to see me, sir," he said in a clipped voice.

A tall, slender man in his late twenties, he was young indeed for his position as commandant of Nurmengard, a position that carried also the responsibility for Grindelwald's personal security. This latter reason was why Adler had won the post. The recent attempt on his life, with the connivance of a senior member of his staff, had convinced Gellert that personal loyalty might be more important than experience, for this task.

"So, Ernst, what can you tell me of this Krum's mission?" Gellert asked him.

"I have nothing to report, sir," Ernst replied, his pale face flushing.

"Patrylo tells me that he was likely sent to Dumbledore, in Britain," Gellert told him. "Another of Herrmann's made it through. I want to know what she is trying to communicate to him."

"I regret I have failed you in this," Ernst said uncomfortably. "I have taken a personal interest in the case."

"This matter is a top priority, Ernst. Surely you have a competent Legilimens you could put on the task."

"I tried that, sir," Ernst replied with alacrity.

"I see. It seems, then, that I shall have to deal with him personally," Gellert said. "Take me to his cell."

As they left the office, Ernst gave a silent signal to a pair of the young wizards standing nearby, and they fell into step behind him. Their path took the four of them through the portal that linked the palace to the prison's entryway, and then down the narrow stone steps that led to the high security dungeons below.

Adler stopped before the door of a cell and tapped its lock with his wand. The door opened, releasing a wave of foul-smelling air into the hallway. Beyond it was dark, dank, windowless stone box of a cell. With a wave of his wand, Adler cast a spell to light the room, and preceded Gellert inside. The two young guards took their places just outside the open door, and Gellert followed Ernst into the room.

The prisoner, who had been huddled in the far corner of the cell, raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden illumination. At the sight of Grindelwald, his face twisted into a grimace of hate.

"You!" he said, and spat on the floor as he recognized his new visitor. He scrambled up to his feet and glared defiantly at Gellert, his black eyes blazing. "If you think I will tell you anymore than I told your lapdog there-"

"Think?" Gellert repeated lightly, a mocking smile on his lips. "I don't think you will tell me everything. I know it."

Drawing the Elder Wand, he flourished it at the prisoner. "Legilimens!" he said.

The prisoner stared defiantly back at him, and his mind remained dark to Gellert. So, Ernst's Legilimens might be a competent wizard after all, Gellert reflected. The prisoner was skilled in the art of hiding his thoughts from others. Focusing his mind, Gellert repeated the incantation, and a hazy image, and then a couple more, floated up to the surface, as they inevitably would, for no wizard could hope to block the magic of the Elder Wand. Abruptly, Gellert found himself looking back at the prisoner, who had broken eye contact he felt the spell take hold by averting his eyes.

"Ernst!" Gellert barked.

Adler walked up to the prisoner and jerked his chin up so that he faced Gellert, then cast a spell to freeze him in place, his eyes held magically open.

Refocusing, Gellert again cast the spell. "Legilimens!"

The trickle of images became a flood, some containing nuggets of information it might be worth passing on to Patrylo. Abruptly Gellert knew he was seeing the memory he sought, for he could sense the desperate fury and fear of the prisoner as the memory surfaced. Repeating the incantation, he focused on the memory.

Krum sat with three others in a darkened room. A woman, middle aged and buxom, was speaking. To each, she handed a sealed letter, and ... photographs. Gellert focused his will, and saw Krum take his and look at the top one. With a shock of recognition, he saw that it depicted another part of the prison complex. The one in which children of Muggles showing magical ability were studied, in hopes that the research might shed light on the possibility of enhancing the magic of wizarding children born Squibs, and help in the treatment of various magical disorders.

So this was the card the widow Herrmann had played, in her efforts to attach Albus to her cause. She could not have chosen better, did she know the whole of Albus's life story. A memory came to him, of Albus kneeling next to the dead girl, looking up at him, tears dripping from his blue eyes, their customary twinkle extinguished. His sister needn't have lived as a freak, a magical cripple; she needn't have died, if someone had thought to do such research before, Gellert told himself angrily.

Gellert flicked his wand at the prisoner, who collapsed back down into the corner, his hands covering his face.

"You have what you need, sir?" Ernst asked.

Gellert nodded.

"Avada Kedavra!" he barked, and a jet of green light from his wand hit the prisoner, silencing his sobs. Gellert turned on his heel and left the cell, with Ernst in his wake. The prisoner's information had given him much to consider....