Magic Retold

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It is several months after the disaster of the election and the Qilins and the Confederacy of Wizards and of Dumbledore and his words and his eyes.

Grindlewald prowls his castle, once a high tower from where he planed his campaign- now a bunker from where he'll rot. The high vaulted ceilings and long empty hallways are more crypt-like with each passing day- a memorial for Grindlewald's own ambitions. 

It was quickly becoming a gravestone for his movement and his following as well- he was losing more members every day, and his talk of ruling the world of muggles seemed hollow after his defeat in the Himilayas. 

Hollow words, hollow eyes, hollow victory, Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore.

His cloak swished about him as he paced from his room down the hallway, his face the color of ash, but twisted in an iron mask of resentment.

Some of his closest advisors saw him from further down the hall- but they quickly made themselves scarce- better to not give the ex-usurper a target for his next outburst.

Grindlewald didn't even notice.

It was the obscurial who cost him his victory- CREEDENCE- he took the brat in and this is how he repaid him? The brat had nothing nothing and Grindlewald could've given him everything. 

Curse the spawn of Dumbledore, curse them all the filth. They'd be sorry, they'd all be sorry...

Unknowningly, his feet had taken them to the room where Creedence had stayed. A mess. 

His eye caught on a mirror at the back of the room. He kicked detritis from out of his path as he walked towards it. He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

What had become of him? Didn't he have the upper hand not so long ago? How had Dumbledore done it? How had he...

But, as though thinking the name of his former love had summoned him, he saw Dumbledore in the mirror. 

He recoiled, hissing. 

Then he recalled how Creedence had often looked to the mirror whenever Dumbledore was mentioned...

Could it be, perhaps a portal? No... a way of messaging Creedence?

That would be just Dumbledore's style. No, never think of using force or violence- but all for worming into someone's head with kind words and promises of family. Grindlewald knew those words all too well. 

He sat down in front of the mirror, and just saw himself. He was not out of cards to play. It had taken him a while, but he felt rekindled just seeing the man he once loved. He slowly draws out his wand, and holds it to the mirror. 

"Are you ready?" He carves into the mirror's surface, signing it with the Peveral coat of arms. Dumbledore would know what that meant. 

----

Dumbledore stared at the words being carved into the mirror. He knew what it was- Grindlewald wasn't going to give up after all. That's why Dumbledore loved...used to love him. 

Dumbledore had seen it, he couldn't pretend like he hadn't- the flash of Grindlewald across the mirror's surface. It brought back memories. 

Memories of love and trust and betrayal and heartache. Grindlewald's leering face. "Who's gonna love you, now, Albus?"

He turned and looked at his own reflection. He opened his mouth. 

"I'm not a scared little boy. I'm fucking magic."

He wiped tears turned back mirror. He used  his leaking eyes to write on the mirror: "Are you happy?"

He paused and for a second, then wrote: "I don't need you anymore."

----

Grindlewald sat back in his chair as he saw the messages appear in the mirror. Well well well. 

The iron mask twisted into a smile, the spectre of a handsome face. 

He wasn't done yet. 

Neither was the magic. the magic of fate of the magic.

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