A fierce, biting wind howled mercilessly across the desolate, endless snow-covered moors of Sakha, in the northernmost reaches of Russia.
Gellert Grindelwald walked with a calm, steady stride along an ancient, rugged stone path, flanked by Vinda Rosier and Percival Graves. Their robes billowed violently in the blizzard, but none of the three seemed affected by the polar cold; the dense magical aura surrounding them kept them warm.
Before them, rising as majestically as it did menacingly atop a black rock cliff that defied the raging waters of the frozen sea, lay their destination. It was an immense, ancient fortress, carved directly into the mountain's volcanic rock. Its architecture was as brutal as it was beautiful, crowned with six dark, twisted towers that soared toward the gray sky like the outstretched wings of a colossal stone dragon. Jagged walls, reptilian gargoyles, and suspension bridges spanning unfathomable chasms gave the impression of an impregnable place for anyone who dared to enter without permission.
But what was truly unsettling was not the fortress itself, but the sentinels guarding the steep access path and the fortress itself.
They were stationed every few meters on both sides of the path. They were humanoid figures, abnormally tall with elongated, skeletal limbs. At first glance, they appeared to have neither skin nor clothing; instead, they exuded and were enveloped in a dense, thick black aura that billowed and surrounded them like smoke. As Gellert and his lieutenants passed by, the creatures turned their faceless, expressionless heads toward them; through the darkness of their being, one could make out two small, cold, piercing orbs, as bright as stars in the sky, which served as their eyes.
Vinda Rosier, maintaining her impeccable elegance despite the macabre company, glanced sideways at one of the monsters that was following them with its gaze.
"Gellert," Vinda murmured, her voice barely rising above the howl of the wind. "Are these things… some kind of Inferius we haven't heard of?"
Grindelwald shook his head slowly, a small smile curving his lips as he gazed with fascination at the dragon-shaped towers in the distance.
"No, Vinda. These... beings are entirely Kazimir's creation," Gellert replied, pausing for a moment to calmly point at one of the shadow creatures. "We could say they share a similar nature to that of an Inferius, since both undeniably require a corpse—preferably a fresh one—as raw material for their creation. "However, these things... require a magical process so twisted, complex, and dark that Kazimir has not revealed it to me. Nor do I believe or expect that he ever will. It is one of his masterpieces."
Percival Graves, who was walking with his hands clasped behind his back and a deep frown on his face, joined the conversation, observing the monsters with obvious distrust.
"With all due respect, Gellert," Percival began, his tone grave and measured as he searched for the right words, "given what this mind is capable of creating with mere corpses... wasn't it an unnecessary risk to hand Archmage Kazimir Volyov something as uncontrollable and dark as a Dementor?"
Gellert turned his head; his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the former Director of Magical Security at MACUSA. The Dark Lord's smile widened, brimming with that visionary arrogance that had brought the world to its knees decades ago.
"Perhaps, my good Percival. Or perhaps not," Grindelwald replied casually, resuming his walk along the black stone path. "Risk is the price of power. We know that all too well, but the only thing that truly matters to us at this very moment is that Archmage Kazimir Volyov is on our side in this war. And with him, this entire beautiful and deadly army of shadows."
Vinda and Percival exchanged a quick glance behind their leader's back. Both were powerful wizards, war veterans, hardened by a thousand battles, but the aura of that place and the madness of the Russian Archmage's experiments pushed them to the limits of what they knew or thought they understood about magic. But knowing that arguing with Gellert when he had that look in his eyes was futile, they decided to swallow their doubts and keep their comments to themselves for the moment, following him in silence toward the jaws of the dragon's fortress.
The interior of the fortress was as imposing and intimidating as its exterior, with high vaulted ceilings and torches burning with a fire that seemed to emit no heat.
No sooner had they crossed the great threshold than they were intercepted by an incredibly elegant woman, who appeared to be in her thirties and was dressed in garments of the highest quality.
With a courteous gesture, the woman gave them a slight curtsy.
"Welcome to the fortress. Lord Kazimir is waiting for you in his study," the woman said in a soft voice, pointing toward the main staircase.
Gellert smiled at her, nodded in thanks, and, accompanied by his two lieutenants, continued on his way.
They climbed an endless staircase carved into the rock until they reached the building's highest tower. Pushing open the heavy doors, they entered the Archmage's study. The room was crammed with books, strange artifacts, and grimoires best left untouched; everyone's attention quickly shifted to the figure standing before the immense window.
Kazimir Volyov, the feared Russian Archmage, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the frozen waters of the raging sea. He was an imposing man, tall, with extremely pale skin that contrasted sharply with his black hair and cold gray eyes. He sported a well-groomed, sharp Van Dyke beard that accentuated his features.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, my dear Kazimir," Grindelwald greeted him, stepping toward the center of the room.
The Russian Archmage didn't even flinch. He simply turned his head, completely ignored the greeting, and walked toward one of the tables in the room. He picked up a glass bottle and began pouring himself a glass of vodka.
"Would you like a drink?" Kazimir asked, without looking at them; his voice was deep and had a strong accent that echoed through the room.
Gellert, Vinda, and Percival nodded, accepting the unusual offer. The moment they did, three slender crystal glasses filled with wine materialized directly in each of their hands.
When they had taken their first sip of their drinks, Gellert got straight to the point.
"How is the task I assigned you coming along?" Grindelwald asked, weighing the glass in his hand.
Kazimir turned around. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and boredom.
"I have everything perfectly under control, Gellert. You shouldn't worry or even come all the way out here over something as simple as that."
Just then, the heavy study door swung open again. It was the elegant woman from earlier. With a gait so cheerful it clashed completely with the gloomy fortress, she approached Kazimir and handed him a small, strange, prism-shaped metal object.
The woman gave him a radiant smile, bid him a fond farewell, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Gellert frowned slightly, intrigued.
"And who is she?" he asked, nodding toward the door. "The first time I came to this fortress months ago, I hadn't seen her anywhere."
Kazimir took another sip from his glass and replied with complete nonchalance.
"She's my wife, Anastasia."
For a split second, Gellert, Vinda, and Percival opened their eyes just a little, completely taken aback by the revelation. It seemed inconceivable to them. They simply hadn't expected a wizard of such caliber—and with such a… notorious reputation in the wizarding world— A man who experimented on corpses and created monsters would have a family, much less a wife who looked so warm and charming.
The silence that followed did not go unnoticed by Kazimir. The Russian's gray eyes darkened. This was one of the reasons why people annoyed him.
Without warning, the Archmage unleashed a fraction of his magical power. The air grew so thick it hurt to breathe, and the windowpanes began to tremble under the pressure he exerted.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Kazimir asked, his voice taking on an icy tone.
Vinda and Percival, following their instincts, quickly shook their heads, taking a half-step back behind their leader. Grindelwald, sensing the threat, was forced to unleash a portion of his own magical power as well to protect his followers from harm. His aura expanded, colliding with Kazimir's and neutralizing the pressure in the air, creating a clash of forces between the two Archmages.
Gellert stepped forward, breaking the tension with a charming smile.
"You must understand them, my friend," Gellert said apologetically. "None of my companions back there have partners or families. They were probably just jealous of your good fortune."
The Russian Archmage clicked his tongue with obvious disdain. Nevertheless, he accepted the excuse and quickly withdrew all his oppressive magic.
Kazimir picked up the metallic prism Anastasia had given him and tossed it directly at Grindelwald, who caught it mid-air.
"One of my finest creations is already inside that school," Kazimir informed him, resting his hands on the main table in his study. "And it's handling the work from the shadows."
Kazimir stepped away from the table and approached Gellert, stopping a short distance away, his gray eyes shining with analytical curiosity.
"Tell me something, Gellert. Why are you so certain that the two relics you seek are located precisely at Hogwarts?"
Gellert smiled sidelong and winked his characteristic pale eye, which only annoyed the Archmage even more.
"Because the Deathly Hallows attract one another, Kazimir," whispered Grindelwald, his voice tinged with fanaticism and certainty. "They call out to one another from the darkness, unconsciously, patiently awaiting the day when they can be together again in the hands of someone worthy enough to be their true master."
Without another word, Gellert gently shook the metallic prism. The device immediately came to life, a bluish light streaming from its facets and projecting into the air of the studio.
Two magical figures materialized before them as if they were actually present in that other place. In one of the projections, Harry Potter was clearly visible, flying swiftly on a broomstick and practicing in the rain with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. In the other, the image showed Aurelian Gaunt, seated at a secluded table in the Hogwarts library, writing in an ancient book with complete concentration.
Vinda and Percival approached immediately, joining Kazimir and Gellert to observe their newest targets.
"Tell me, Kazimir," Gellert asked, without taking his eyes off the figure of Lord Gaunt, "do you think your 'masterpiece' will be up to the task? These prey are no ordinary wizards."
Kazimir flashed a small, cold, ruthless smile.
"It's designed to accomplish its objective at all costs," the Russian replied simply. "And if it fails… it will die on the spot, leaving no traces that lead back to us."
Percival Graves, hearing the lack of empathy with which the Archmage spoke of the life of his "creation," swallowed hard, averting his gaze toward the door through which Kazimir's wife had left, thinking, completely baffled, about how such a cold man could have such a charming woman by his side.
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