The Last Horcrux

Day After

Lucius and Rodolphus walked through the imposing iron gates and up a steep rough trail. The boulders and rocks that were scattered along the way were lit up garishly by the full moon. They were able to avoid falling, although both men were breathing hard. As they approached the castle something shrieked. The high eerie sound echoed back and forth against the stony mountains. Dark figures, cloaked in tendrils of misty black, swooped down upon them. Their faces were white and skeletal, their eyes blank. "Wraiths!" cried Lucius, raising his wand and ducking.

Rodolphus stood, unflinching. "They are spectres only," he said, though his voice quavered. "They are merely an illusion, to protect the castle." Resolutely he mounted the stone steps and knocked at the door. Lucius followed.

The door was opened by a bent servant, his steel grey hair pulled back from his gaunt face. He was dressed all in black. There was something wrong with his back and he walked with a limp.

"Greetings," he said softly. He led them to a room with large windows that looked out over the sweeping view of the mountains in the moonlight. A fire blazed in the hearth. He seated them at a large table of gleaming polished wood and served them mugs of warm mead.

Then he sat down.

"I am Antioch Grindelwald," he said. Lucius stared at the man he had taken for a servant. He was so different from his younger brother, Cadmus, who was so charismatic and imperious. Lucius vividly remembered his commanding presence from the midnight meeting under the catacombs in Paris. This man was nothing like him. He was .... Aged......dark....deformed....

"You have found me," said Antioch.

"You did not make it easy," Rodolphus replied.

"I know what you think," Antioch said. "I keep no servants. Untrustworthy gossips, the lot of them. I manage with magic. My needs are few. I am nothing like my brothers. They resemble my father - handsome, aggressive men. Talented. Charming. I was like that once too. I was my father's favorite, you see. Then, when I was thirteen, I had an unfortunate accident. I was experimenting, trying to impress my father. Well, the spell went wrong and broke my back. It left me as you see me now. After that, my father could not stand the sight of me. I, the first born. I was supposed to be master of the Elder Wand, the Deathstick. Now, I can barely walk. I am ugly, disfigured. My father despised me. He banished me to this castle and I have lived out my lonely days here.

"But know this." Antioch looked up and stared at the mountains outside the window, bathed in the bright moonlight. "I am more talented than either of my handsome brothers. And they need me to achieve their ends. They need my gift and I... I need the Elder Wand to deliver the power that they crave and fulfill my father's dream." He cackled. The lamps in the room dimmed for a moment, and Antioch's skeletal face was thrown into sharp relief. His sunken eyes glowed.

"I received your letter," Antioch went on. "I know what you seek. You believe that if the Hallows are reunited you will have the power to achieve your ends. The repeal of the Statute of Secrecy. The ascendancy of the wizarding race. Perhaps the resurrection of the Dark Lord himself. And you are correct, that the Deathly Hallows hold great power. But I warn you, my brothers have their own aims, their own agenda. They are not to be trusted."

"And you?" said Rodolphus. "What is your goal?"

"I wish only to fulfill my father's dream for me. To find the Elder Wand and gain mastery of it at last. I have no use for the world, for other men and women and their treachery. I would keep the wand safe, here in this castle and live out the rest of my days in peace."

"We know where the wand lies," said Rodolphus in a low voice. "And we know its master."

"I too, know these things," replied Antioch,with a bitter smile. "Don't imagine that I do not have my spies. I have followed the events in your country with a keen interest. The demise of your Lord Voldemort was a most unfortunate event. I know of the betrayal of Severus Snape, and his refusal to claim the wand that is rightfully his. I know that the wand lies at Hogwarts in the grave of Albus Dumbledore, that great friend of my father's youth, who turned against him. My father never got over that insult. It burned within him until the end of his days."